Poetry by Jomer Macapaar Pajares | December 13, 2021
anti-theft laptop bag
anti-theft drawer
anti-theft portable refrigerator
anti-theft suicide vest
anti-missile camping tent
checkout
Jomer Macapaar Pajares is a 22-year-old writer born in Marawi City. He is currently studying Bachelor of Science in Secondary Education at Eastern Samar State University. If not writing, he draws on MS Paint.
Poetry by Jomer Macapaar Pajares | December 13, 2021
Because nothing was impossible
for visionaries like them
Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk
built a school somewhere in Africa
that only offered space courses
so the people wanting to be teachers
beekeepers
firefighters
artists
farmers
would be forced to become astronauts
because of lack of money
Soon the school produced the first-ever
depressed African astronauts in space
and they did space therapy
Jomer Macapaar Pajares is a 22-year-old writer born in Marawi City. He is currently studying Bachelor of Science in Secondary Education at Eastern Samar State University. If not writing, he draws on MS Paint.
Poetry by Nal Jalando-on | November 22, 2021
Every morning I reach into my bag of memories
and pull out who to be for the day.
Sometimes it’s an old receipt,
half-remembered.
Other days it’s a photo of smiling faces
of loves frozen,
unrepeatable.
And there will be times when
I pull back my empty hand
and I am lost, for what will I be then?
Like lace and latticework;
to be defined by what is not there.
Everyday I look back and I feel myself disappear
because in turning my head to what was
I see my Eurydice crumple to the ground;
the snake clamped on her heel is now my pain,
her tumbling back into the dark my loss,
the forgiveness an aftertaste to my regret
But if I keep my eyes locked to what will be,
how will I know, with absolute certainty,
that I too,
had lived?
Nal Jalando-on lives in Koronadal City. In her free time – which is all the time – she reads and occasionally writes.
Poetry by John Ferdinand Torralba | November 22, 2021
Siya ra gyuy nasayod
sa kanunayong pagpuga sa luha
sa iyang mga mata
nga mingbisbis sa iyang
daan ug bug-at nga unlan
Siya ra gyuy nasayod
Sa kabugal-bugalon sa iyang huna-huna
mga storya nga gubot ra
sa iyang alimpatakan
Suod niya ang kadaghanan
Alegre ang palibot ug naa siya
Makatakod ang iyang ka hapsay
Apan luyo sa katim-os sa iyang mga pahiyom
Adunay kahuyang, adunay kahadlok
apan siya ray nasayod
Igo nalang ako sa pagpamalandong
Apan ngano ako musulay pa og salom sa iyang mga hinyap?
Ngano og samukon ko pa usab akong kaugalingon?
Kung mao ang iya, iya gayud
Kung ang ako, ako gayud
Ug di niya ipa-ambit kanako
ang iyang kasakit,
dawaton ko nalang
ang kahadlok nga nahimugso sa iyang panit
John Ferdinand Torralba is a web-developer, Mechanical keyboard modder, and coffee addict in Davao City.
Poetry by Karen Kae Ferraz Dicdican | November 15, 2021
like its first line –
the first bite
of a cobra that coils you,
like your hand
on my nape
with the other on my chest.
like a garden of metaphors,
full of unbloomed roses
and unbirthed scents,
anticipating the warmth
of your eyes that set upon me.
like a sonnet
with the perfection
of its measure
and the sound of the syllables
singing together.
like an epic
telling the story
of the adventures
of your touch tracing
my curves and shapes,
conquering continents
of my mind.
I wish I could be all these words
and be all the poems
you wish to write –
in your papers,
behind your armchair,
on your sweaty palm,
or in your prayers
and in your moments
like a recurrence
through this lifetime.
I wish I could be as good as the poems
that you have imprinted in me
with the whispers
of your mouth –
the faint breath of our sounds
but you
have refused
to write
me.
Karen Kae is a junior high school teacher from Davao City. In between teaching and writing reports, she enjoys decluttering and playing shooter games.
Poetry by Daisy M. Corpuz | November 15, 2021
Katahum sa panan-awon
nag-atubang sa Pasipikong kadagatan.
Bungtod ug kabukiran
sa Kasadpan, baybayon sa Silangan.
Makadani ang turquoise nga linaw,
giladman wala mahibal-an;
pahulay sa pino nga puti nga balas,
matagamtaman ang cerulean ug tubig daw crystal,
ingon naa ka sa tunga sa mahimayaong dagat ug
bihagon ka sama nga naglutaw sa panganod.
Paminawa ang maabiabihong pagpangamay sa balod,
ang Sunrise Boulevard pamalandongi sa imong pag-agi!
Batia ang kainit sa tuburan, ug mahingangha
sa emerald na bugnawng langoyanan.
Madanihon usab ang kurtinang busay
labaw pa sa gatos nga lebel,
Baganga….
Daisy M. Corpuz is an educator. Born in the province of Loreto, Agusan del Sur, Daisy was raised at the heart of Davao City. She graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in Language and Literature at University of Southeastern Philippines. She would love to contribute in language documentation and preservation.
Poetry by Gerald Galindez | November 15, 2021
Ok lang yan
Jose Mari Chan
Kahit ginapagtawanan ka nila
Hindi mo kontrol ang gina isip nila
Iba na ang panahon ngayon
Makapal na ang mga kubal
Maalala ko noon mas malaki pa ang Krismas tree sa akin,
bakal na gi twist na rebar at gipinturahan ng puti
gipalibutan ng silver na plastic na palamuti,
habang ginalagyan niya ng krismas lights ang San Francisco
ginapatugtug ka ni mama sa Karaoke
habang gina ayos niya ang bahay
Sing a song and light up the lights
We need to make this Christmas bright
Hang your favorite dream on a star
Wish upon it Christmas night
Habang ginapag away ko si RoboCop at Elisa Masa action figures sa kwarto
Maamoy ko ang bagong floorwax na sahig
Gina imagine ko ito ang amoy ng snow
Alam ko na krismas na
Magsabit na kami ni ading ng medyas sa bintana
Magdating si Mommy Tess galing maynila
On a beautiful day that I dream about
In a world I would love to see
Is a beautiful place where the sun comes out
And it shines in the sky for me
Kabait ng mga tao sa isat-isa
Hindi na ginakuha ni papang ang kambyo niya sa nagatinda
kahit kami ni ading hindi naga away
ati-ati lang kami sa lahat ng bagay
Sing a song of gladness and cheer (gladness and cheer)
for the time of Christmas is here (is here)
Look around about you and see (look around about you and see)
what a world of wonder this world can be
Perstaym ko nagpa Gensan
Nag grocery si mamang sa Gaisano
Parang ilog ang daloy ng mga tao
Hanggang doon marinig kita
Jose Mari Chan
Habang nagapila sa cashier si mamang
Can you hear the sound of life
Heard in the laughter of children at play
Can you hear the sound of voices sing
Feel the magic and joy they bring
Pag may naga caroling baya kay
Depende sa pagkanta ang ginabigay
Magalit si papang pag hindi ginatarong
Kapag gina yaga yaga ang pag kanta
Christmas children peep into Christmas windows
See a world as pretty as a dream
Christmas trees and toys, Christmas hopes and joys
Christmas puddings rich with Christmas cream
Ang palabas sa Starmovies kay home alone 1-2-3
O Batman returns – forever – robin
Ayaw ni mamang sa patutin kaya manokin
ang noche Buena namin
iba talaga ang lasa ng pagkain
pag ikaw ang ginapatugtug
Jose Mari Chan
Pero
Ngayon
na alam ko na kung sino ang tunay na santa klaws
At matanda na si Macaulay Culkin
At si Ben Affleck na ang Batman
ginahanap kita
pati ang Karaoke
pati ang krismas tree
ginahanap ko sila Robocop at Elisa Masa action figures
ang tunay na lasa ng manokin
ang mga naga caroling
wala naman sila
nawala ka na rin
gihalungkat ko na ang bahay ngayon
nawala ka na man
ginahanap kita
ginahanap ka ni mamang
hindi nya na daw maramdaman ang krismas
simula noong nawala ka
wala nang december sa kalendaryo namin
pati ang Karaoke
gibenta na sa bote bakal
ang krismas tree gikain na ng kalawang
wala na
wala na
wala na
o baka
mali ako ng gihanapan
baka nandito ka lang
sa puso ko
Gerald is a Teacher/Poet of Tacurong City, Sultan Kudarat, South-Central Mindanao. He writes in a Hybrid form of Tagalog mixing Binisaya, Iluko, and Hiligaynon which is a common unifying language among the diverse cultures of South Central Mindanao. His works have been published by Anthologies, E-Journals, and Journals all throughout the Philippines. He advocates the use of SOX Tagalog in the literary community. He lives with his wife and eight fur babies. He hates needles.
Poetry by Ruben Tabalina | October 18, 2021
who does not want me.
The city was a three-hour bus ride
away. The pens, notebooks, and two handfuls of clothes
felt like rocks in my backpack, anchoring me
to my seat. At the city’s terminal,
I had to use all my strength to move. The city
never stopped moving. It never learned to shut up.
I left Nabunturan for a city who does not want me.
I sat on my bed that night, whispering
against the dust on the sheets. The dust—a gift
from the previous boarder, the Engineering student
who had left the fields his father had tilled
in exchange for the city’s comfort.
This city had tricked us. We thought
we were coming home.
I left Nabunturan for a city who does not want me.
My Nabunturan, I chose this city
because my passion lies beneath the battered pillars
of a university who taught me nothing but to miss you.
Now, I am writing this amidst the noise of the jeepneys
in front of Bankerohan bridge, where constructions
of buildings spurt like mushrooms only to be abandoned.
I write this while inhaling scent of the river
and the garbage beneath it. But I am not bothered
at how the scent tugged at my nostrils. In this city,
I am an orphan. I wander the streets in search of things
to write about, finding comfort in the poems the city
has taught me to create. But in Nabunturan,
my Nabunturan, with you I am a child
breathlessly running to see his mother
when he returns home after school:
shoes muddied, hair drenched in sweat,
skin that bore the sun’s kisses. Tell me, again,
why I left.