An Account of a Street Light

Poetry by | April 26, 2015

They also¹ call it “lamppost.” It is a raised² spring of light commonly on the edge of a walkway or a road. Technically, it only lights up when needed³. However, sometimes they are lit in the brightness of the day, but it doesn’t matter anyway. No one cares about it, as long as it won’t bother the light people needed as they cross the street.


¹You know I am fond of inventing names for the things I like. People might have emulated the same behaviour.
²This is the thing I was talking about. You know I call it not on its name but on how it behaves.
³Something not really necessary, something I can invent.

The early street lights were used by the Greek and the Romans. Predominantly, it was oil lamps that gave light to the street as they provide moderate and enduring flame. Interestingly, the Romans have laternarius ̶ a slave⁴ assigned to light the lamps in front of villas⁵. Until the Middle Age, the task⁶ remained but passed to a person tagged in different⁷ name: link boy.


⁴When I met you, I knew, you are. But you are meant to enslave me on some point.
⁵I don’t know if you know what it means. In our little talk you told me: Darkness is the thickest wall.
⁶To stand still. The only thing you are obliged to do. And the only thing you did.
⁷Light on the street is way up, vertical. I went down. Light.

Candlelight was engaged in cities before incandescent. A lamplighter was made in-charge of touring the city to light up the lamps until an automatic ignition⁸ device was employed to strike the flame once the gas supply become activated. Then in 1417, Sir Henry Barton, a mayor of London, mandated a public⁹ illumination*.


⁸I start. I start to think that we are all worth keeping. To be kept in memory, in the heart. This time, to keep you in a room or in a shed at least, is a good plan to start with. I start.
⁹Who would not know something always on the street? Who would mind things so common?
* I want to help you hold the light remaining on you. But you have way familiarized darkness. You go.


Jessrel E. Gilbuena is an islander who longs for more islands.

Ang Nag-inusarang Pormula

Poetry by | April 12, 2015

Sa Iyang kamot nalalang
Ang nag-inusarang pormula
Nga nagpabutho sa kalibotan
Lakip ang kawanangan
Sulod sa unom ka adlaw.
Gikan sa mga puyang dahong
Migitib sa inahang-liso
Padulong sa mga bituong
Nagkatibulaag diha sa kahalapad
Sa langit-kagabhion. Kining tanan
Mituo, misunod, sama
Sa usa ka saad, usa ka mando.
Sa ikapitong adlaw,
Siyang,naglalang, nagpahulay
Samtang naglantaw
Sa iyang mga ginama, apan
Basin gipamaolan ba kay hangtod
Karon wala pa man nakabakod.


Si Angelito “Gil” Gomos-Nambatac, Jr migradwar sa MSU-Iligan Institute of Technology sa kursong AB English. Siya nakatampo nag balak alang sa Kabisdak ug Dagmay ug artikulog komiks sa Bisaya Magasin. Siya ang nagdumala sa bag-ong gitukod nga “Ang Lantay” (http://salantay.blogspot.com/), usa ka attempted project nga mahimong usa ka literary journal ug reference site para sa literaturang Binisayang Sinugboanon. Siya kasamtangang nagtrabaho sa City Mayor’s Office- Office of Youth Affairs sa Dakbayan sa Iligan.

Tukar sa Kamingaw 

Poetry by | April 12, 2015

Gihidlaw ko sa mga lakaw nga way kapadulngan,
Ang atong mga tiil ug biste sa abog mapuno,
Tong adlaw nga niuban ko nimo–ikaw nga way ngalan–
Nangawagtang tanan nakong mga kasubo.
Gimingaw ko sa mga adlaw nga mapanganoron,
Aduna diay kalipay nga mahitabo ra kon magpiyong,
Samtang ako naminaw sa imong mga sugilanon.
Ang imong kamatuoran, sa mga atik mo ra mahuloganon.
Gapangandoy ko nga subayon ta sa ikaduhang higayon
Tong dalan nga gilakwan sa atong mga kalag.
Matag-gabii gahidlaw ako nga unta muanhi ka dayon,
Ug ilupad ko nimo ngadto sa mainitun mong salag.
Ikaw ang nawala nga nota niining hinanaling tukar
Unta mabatian nimo ning akong panghupaw.
Kon akong mga panaghoy imong mamatikdan
Anhia ko dinhi, manayaw ta sa tugtug sa kamingaw.


Cyrell is a psychosocial worker in a local NGO that helps young adolescent children in vulnerable situations. She is taking her Masters in Applied Social Research at Ateneo de Davao University. She paints and sketches, aside from writing fiction and poetry.

Prosesyon

Poetry by | April 5, 2015

Tag-init napud
Ang makasugakod
Mao ra ang poste
Gilansag ang mga kable
Nga naghawid sa atong mga atup
o liog sa balay
Dili makalingkawas
Daghan mokuyog
Bisan sa katagning sa init
Nabinat ang wire
Ang uban naloslos na
Hapdos og sakit
Tagbalay napugos mukuyog sa prosesyon
Kay walay katugwayan
Ang panimalay


Noy is an artist and an educator.

Between Pages

Poetry by | April 5, 2015

(for him, who breaks my heart without knowing it)

i press you–
like a leaf–
between the pages
of the book
i know
i will never
again
open.


Reil is a second year BSED-MATH student from Ateneo de Davao, and is ultimately in love with the Fibonacci Sequence.

Torsion

Poetry by | March 15, 2015

(for Myke)

It pains me to see
you wound up

over
your own existence

Your soul is a snail
twisting its viscera

to progress
          from embryo
                   to adulthood

Foot
          over
                   mouth

                   heels
          under
Head

                   Deliberately
          experiencing
the atrophy

before the unbearable pain
of bearing

the shell
of your sanctuary and prison

You must survive
this rite of passage

What is important is never easy


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.

Trees beyond the window pane

Poetry by | March 15, 2015

Trees beyond the window pane
a retreat caught between the threshold
of gentle tension between time and void
a conversation amongst creatures
older than us
younger than us
or the same age
Barely touching but deeply felt
Silent conversation
Peeping and teasing
The wind tickles, they flutter
Minuet flipping, flapping
Then they stop


Noy Narciso teaches at Ateneo de Davao University.

When a Poet wants to be a Statistician for a Computer Scientist’s Sake

Poetry by | March 8, 2015

I wished I was a statistician,
That I would’ve dealt with a list of n,
Say unsorted values of anything.
And find its median.
Or the median of its median.
That I would’ve studied numbers,
Across samples.
That I would’ve befriended Euclid and Mahalnobis,
And Charles Babbage so close.

I wished she recognized me,
And admired me like I do to her,
Or like when Statistics and Computer Science
Found usefulness from each other,
When both attracted to each other,
When both fell in love with each other.

Look how the Order Statistics was used
To make the work of a Computer Scientist easier,
Especially in sorting.
Or how Clustering in Statistics finds solutions
To some of her problems, given a list of data items,
Where she can use such strategy
To data mining, retrieval of information,
Or to web search, and image processing,
Partitioning the items into similar groups.
It’s as good as making her smile,
And making her laugh;
It’s as good as how I’m capable of caressing her
All day long.

If I was a statistician, I would’ve given every bit
Of my knowledge to her.
I would’ve shared a million times with her,
And that each of these times were likely to be medians,
Because each of these times
Would definitely be special.

But that’s if I was a statistician,
But I’m not.
I’m not a statistician at all,
So this Computer Scientist
Walks away from me now.


Nassefh is a UP Mindanao graduate. He didn’t take up any Math-related courses, although he wished he did.