Category: Poetry

Wildflower

Poetry by | November 20, 2016

Weed, they say
Of the sprout
That blooms in concrete.
Wild, because its color
Is sunkissed.
This weed they curse,
This weed they raise their fists,
This weed they fear.
Yet be the wild blossom
That stands unwavering,
That waltzes with the wind.

Stephanie is a creative writer, blogger, and enthusiast of all things creative. She graduated with a BA in Literature at De La Salle University – Manila. She has attended two Mindanao-based workshops, namely the 1st Cagayan de Oro Writers Workshop (2016) and the 2013 Davao Writers Workshop. She’s currently working on her first work of poetry, Animalia: a collection of animal poetry. The poem, “Wildflower,” is from her collection of works entitled “Found.”

Unsaon Pagpatay sa Ok-ok

Poetry by | November 6, 2016

Pag- andam og tsinelas,
kanang baga, kanang malaparo.
Pag-andam og tirongan,
kanang talinis, kanang taas.
Pag-andam og silhig ug sako,
kanang dako, kanang lapad.

Tuktoka sa iyang panimalay.
Kon makit-an nimong
gakamang-kamang ang mga ok-ok
sa Boulevard, hinay-hinayag duol.
Unya kalit walupa
sa baga nga tsinelas.

Ug makaikyas unya musukol
ang inahak, kuhaa ang tirongan.
Tusoka sa lungag kay tingali
misuksok sa Brgy. 23-C.
Tusoka gyud hangtod madunggan
nimong napislat ang iyang lawas.
Unya kuha dayon kag silhig.
Hiposa, tapoka, isulod sa sako
panaghoy murag daw sawaay.

Inig kadlawon ilabay sa kasagbotan
Ug aron mahimangnoan ang tanan
butangi og pasidaan,
ok-ok ako huwag ninyong tularan.

Sayon ra patyon
ang mga gagmayng ok-ok.
Perog kung dinagko
na Insekto na gani,
Ayaw sa patya,
kay istudyohan pa.


Errol A Merquita is a free lance writer based in Davao City. He believes that even cockroaches can go to heaven.

Friendship

Poetry by | November 6, 2016

It is cosmic. But why do we try
reducing it precisely to habits?
Perhaps it sleeps, too, and wakes
to a new day like we do.
It sits momentarily, reviews a list of needs
and few serviceable tasks in a day.
Perhaps it looks for a quick inspiration, too.
A good call, or a response to a message
which has not been read for a couple of hours.
Neither circumstances nor excuses will ever
lose its value. After conflicts and neglects,
it restores and seeks itself again.
Perhaps it finds a new space
sometimes: once in a week, a month or two.
How long can it travel alone? It learns
where it stumbles upon itself.
It does not know it loves
because sometimes it reads too much.
It raises a mirror to itself and gazes
long at what it only wants to see,
and throws a question it cannot even answer.
Only when it demands, it delivers
a disappointed look.
It also hates and does not accept,
even itself. When it is in pain, it goes back
to where it once found itself easy.
It strangles with both hands but stops
to a sight of love, open as widening palms.
Then it goes home, empties out its pockets
full of ever-hefty disquiet.
Later, before it rests, it remembers
and holds a new precious thought.
Only it knows how it always wishes itself best.


Arian Tejano graduated from UP Mindanao. She’s currently residing in Dumaguete City in pursuit of writing, her transition and a new life.

Hugot sa Uway

Poetry by | October 30, 2016

Ang kakusog
sa hangin mipalid
sa balod,
aron gaan inig layag
ang bangka nga misugat.

Kay sa langtod,
ang baybayon gahulat,
andam moduyog nimo
bisan asa.
Layo sa kaniadto,
layo sa ilaha
padung sa kaugmaon
padung sa imong
kaugalingon.

Rhea Valdez is a third year student of Ateneo de Davao University taking up BSED-English.

Going home

Poetry by | October 30, 2016

I leave today behind
in the jeepney
like snakeskin.
i leave it
in the blur of city lights
and hair waving like flags.
i leave it
in the sway
of sleeping strangers’ heads,
in the noise of traffic
drowned
by the still silence
of passengers—
skin to skin
we still carve spaces
between each other.
the engine
thrums and roars
underneath the seats,
a steady heartbeat
and like infants
we surrender freely.
when you are lonesome
it’s easy to find safety
in the silence
of strangers
and easier to spill past selves
into the highway
to leave them,
in the black smoke
and sea of headlights
and come bare and clean
into bed
close to midnight.

the wind can wash
almost anything away.

Ma. Theresa Jabar is a student from Xavier University Ateneo de Cagayan.

Dulom

Poetry by | October 23, 2016

Ako nga diri gapungko,
sa dalom sang galuya nga bulan,
gaisip gid sang maayo.
Gatanga,
gapamatyag.

Hindi ko gusto nga maghalin diri
pero wala ta mahimo,
sa akon ‘di sila gusto.
“Damak, baho
wala pulos.”

Gasakit akon dughan,
uliton naman tanan.

Ang langit nga gadugo,
ang manok nga gasyagit.
Ang adlaw nga gabagabaga
nga daw ginasunog akon panit.

“Piste, ara na sya,
ay ka tonto.”
Diri naman ka natulog?
Panglimos sa iban didto.
Halin diri, mag-abri na kami.

Gihimos ko akon mabilang nga gamit.
Silaw ang adlaw ah,
kanami magpaipit.

Arsean Kerk H. Lopez, is a 5th year accountancy student in Ateneo de Davao University.

A Study of Sound

Poetry by | October 23, 2016

If mothers were flowers
their mouths bear the burden of bees
to kiss the world new
while the old pass with the dews.
They open to sunlight
their curtains bare to passing winds,
singing the growing gardens.

Watered every once in moments
with tenements and memoirs
moist inside the leaves, joyed
with the voice of have-been seeds
to little ones rearing up
reaching up what they
cannot reach.

Still in graceful steady stance
weighs on their eyes only loveliness,
only themselves only beauty
sought in moving on
and remembering
the singing of growing gardens.

Darylle “Darsi” Rubino is a graduate of the Creative Writing program of the University of the Philippines Mindanao. He resides in Cabaguio Avenue, Davao City, where he spends time (a lot of time) making omelettes and drinking tea.

Ode to Garlic

Poetry by | October 16, 2016

(for Janice)

He doesn’t want you.
Not with your pungent scent
marking the strength
of your personality.
He wants that onion-
head with her pale skin
and purple highlights.
Her sly manipulations
move him to tears,
make him want to
peel back her layers and
save her from herself.
But, you, Garlic, are
your own leading lady.
You don’t need a knight
in armor or Viking
prince or Scot in a kilt,
or any odd alpha male
to carry your burdens.
You are no weakling.
Not you, dear bulbous
heroine of the Kitchen.
You, who saved us from
vampires and toothaches.
Nightingale of the World
Wars, how many heroes
survived thanks to your
antiseptic intervention?
It’s not your loss,
dear Garlic, if he
wants a drama
queen in his life.
Come, let us peel away
your thin, fragile skin.
Crush your cloves
and toss you into
the vat of burning
oil, until you become
the gold that spices up
this bland world.
He may not
want you, but
we appreciate
your virgin sacrifice.

Genevieve Mae Aquino was born in Manila but calls Davao her home. She has a clutch of diplomas in molecular biology and genetics. She was fellow for Poetry in English at several national creative writing workshops. She currently works as a university researcher at the University of the Philippines.