Category: Poetry

May-December

Poetry by | February 1, 2015

The only wrinkles that you have
are those lines along the
corners of your eyes
when you smile
unlike her
Your countenance strengthens me
the might of
a thousand Spartans cannot match me
You hands
are smooth, unblemished by the
wash cloths and the dish soaps
the detergent you’ll be
handling soon enough
And yet beside you, I am
ancient
It is apt she calls this
May-December
You are summer
and I am at the tail end
of seasons
Soon, I hope
you, like a phoenix,
will rise
and I will remain
with her

—
Mai Santillan is, by day, a freelance writer from CDO. By night, she’s a couch potato. During her off days, you’ll see her wandering around Divisoria to capture mundane yet candid humdrum activities in the city. You won’t miss her. She has this ridiculously huge curly hair often mistaken as a wig. But it’s not. Really.

Laundry

Poetry by | February 1, 2015

I wash your pants
to remove the dirt
of your last night’s infidelity.
Scrub it with patience
and force—
her caress abandoning the fabric.
Rinse it until it’s clean—
the sins dissolving in the water.
Dry it up—
the remains of her perfume evaporating.
Iron it,
to smooth the creases of the cloth,
hoping that tomorrow
I will not wash it
the way I always do:
cleaning someone else’s dirt.

—
Reil is a second year BSED-MATH student from Ateneo de Davao University. His best friends are Literature and Mathematics.

Bukid ug dagat (oo, ako ug ikaw) 

Poetry by | January 25, 2015

Unsaon kaha pag-abot aning duha?
Sa pag hinuktok usahay maka hinuklog ka,
kinabuhi ko ug ang imo mag abot ba?
Ayaw ka balaka,
ug ayaw huna-hunaa nga ang dagat
magpanguhit lang sa tiilan sa buntod.
O ba kaha, ang bukid mudungaw lang
sa ka katahum sa lalum.
Dili.
Anaa pa’y lahing pamaagi,
sa pagtan-aw ug pagtuki
sa lain-laing matang sa butang.
Ug kay gani, sa mata sa langit,
ang bukid ug dagat nagtapad,
nagtinandayay.
Ug diha sa pag aninaw sa mga panganod,
ang atong kalipay makab-ot,
ug ang kining pag tandi ma hingpit.

—
Keith was born in Cebu City, was a psychology major at the University of the Philippines in Cebu and currently teaches the Social Sciences at USeP Obrero.

Abu Bakr Talks to His Boss's Imported Car from Germany

Poetry by | January 18, 2015

Hello to yu der da new Germany car of my boss, my pileng is so bery comportable inside wen I draybing.
My boss Ahmad maybe lab yu because he rily buy you in bery big money from da bery cold Germany.
So dats why I take care of yu because I lab you too also layk my boss, because yu relax me bery much.
I think da taym when we go to da city of Cotabato to visit da first lab of my boss Ahmad, Madam Sawda,
What a so bery relaxing pileng while I draybing yu. In da taym of six hours of travel, I jas pil okey.
But when we arrive to da place, I see dat Madam Sawda is bery hot in da fever.
We sleep in der house in da city of Cotabato only one week and den go agen to his oder lab,
And when we action to go away por da next wife, madam is still coughing so bery hard.
And my boss Ahmad say he will sleep one day agen wid her to take care to her.
But Madam Sawda don’t say yes to boss Ahmad, she rily No No. She say dat my boss Ahmad must go.
She say dat my boss Ahmad hab responsibility to da oder wife. So my boss jas follow what madam say.
So we go away in da city of Cotabato after one week. I think in dat taym dat Madam Sawda will jealous.
Because maybe she will jealous to da oder lab of boss Ahmad now she is hot in da fever.
But you know Germany car, Madam Sawda is so bery understanding woman.
Maybe ebrything’s jas okey to her.

So I hab anoder agen a travel with my boss Ahmad today, but I think sad a little bit about it.
Today in da brayt day, we will going to da Tawi-tawi so dat my boss will be in his third lab, Hafsa.
I question in myself about Hafsa, da wife of my dead frend Khunais: why she marry my boss Ahmad?
I’m problemizing to my dead frend Khunais because if he is not dead, what he will say about this?
He don’t want dis to happen! Dat his first lab is now the sweetheart honeybunch of my boss Ahmad ?
Who is a so bery faithful to Islam ? complete all da salah and do da fasting in da Ramadhan;
Who is a so bery rich man ? give zakah always in da week and give his families bery bery big houses;
Who is a bery smart person ? da teacher of da big madrasah and writer also in da books.
Oh! But you know Germany car, Khunais is so bery understanding man.
Maybe ebrything’s jas okey to him.

But maybe opkors not my oder dead frend Ubaydah, when he will know dat Zaynab marry also to boss.
My dead frend is not hab many money; he only hab small nipa house in da Indangan.
Oh I’m is so rily sad about dat man. I praying before dat I can help in da financial to him, but no.
And now, I can’t think inside my mind Zaynab and der children and der lives when he is nothing already.
Dey will not hab food every day, no clothes por da little kids, even der small nipa hut
Wid jas many empty sacks of rice por the roof is a little bit surrendering last time I go der.
My boss Ahmad is so bery good person; he take out Zaynab and da kids from der small nipa-hut.
My boss Ahmad is so bery good person; he give new house and many foods, and clothes por dem.
Yes, my boss is so bery good man; he marry to Zaynab and he adopting her children.
Oh! But you know Germany car, Ubaydah is so bery understanding man.
Maybe ebrything’s jas okey to him.

I never never ever want to say about Aisha because I don’t want to cry, no anymore.
Da bery first time I will know dat she will marry to my boss Ahmad, it break my heart like a glass.
But I don’t angry to my boss Ahmad por sure and also not to Aisha;
Because it is da ama of Aisha dat say to her dat she marry to my boss Ahmad than me.
I am nothing, Germany car. I am nothing but just a driver and servant; I don’t hab many money
Dats why I am only da man who don?t marry to da rich lady like Aisha.
I am so bery hurting when my boss Ahmad say to me inside da SUV about his wedding to Aisha.
He don’t know we are bery sweet boyfriend and girlfriend to each oder when we are still young kids.
I am so bery bery hurt dat time. I am angry. So bery angry dat I think something bad.
I think to drayb porward and hit da SUV of boss Ahmad straight to da Davao Light post in da highways.
Or if not, I think dat time to resign as driver, and end da six years of service to my boss Ahmad.
But I think agen. If I do dat all, what it will happen? I think maybe I jas hab to be happy to dem.
Yesterday, I see her. She say to me salaam, and I say salaam to her too and we smile in each oder.
You know Germany car, I think I’m an understanding man. Ebrything’s jas okey to me.
I so rily lab my boss Ahmad, because he is so bery good to his many families.
Although he hab many labidabs, he hab a sweet heart to me and others, dats why I like him.
If I will be rich someday, if da God is bery bery kind to me, I want to be like my boss Ahmad.
Not jas because he hab many wives, but because I want to help other people.

—
Nassefh is a Bangsamoro Kaagan native from Panabo City. He is a Creative Writing student in UP Mindanao. He is yet to consider having four wives in the future.

This noon while the sun blows its hotness

Poetry by | January 11, 2015

This noon while the sun blows its hotness
A soft cool wind comes to me
And invited me to fly to you.
My friend, it’s been a while since the fields were left barren:
Where sunrise used to kiss the flowers of rice
Where sunset didn’t say goodbye
Rather, it welcomes the night to enter into a world where two souls was- as if- one.
These were nights that we seized- so that we did not fail to sigh and saw the light.

My Friend, today I remember you.
Perhaps there is a space in the universe where we can store our memories.
And it is, as this time, that instead of flying to you,
I found myself, alone, solemn in the midst of this space.

It seems, as I lived in this space before, awakening and wanting,
that I could live in this space for more.
But will there be beautiful memories that will be added to the existing ones?
Will there be laughter and soft smile?
The glances, without words and from a distance,
yet the meaning was ever true in our hearts.
Will there be more of these glances?
Will there be added moments of dances?
Again, wordless, but the movements: the waving and swaying-
speak soundless words that is native to only the two of us.
As if we had our own norm and we follow our own culture:
We had a world of our own inside a bigger world.
I am in that world right now.
I’m surprised, contrary to what I expected,
That this world remains. Perhaps this will not vanish from this space.
But a space without anything that provides meaning is emptiness.
In this space, Lebanon, the bonsai, did not die.
Ramadhan, also a bonsai, is flourishing.
Rupeke, the bamboo chime, is singing the melody of “I could have said”.
And it is to this space, that today, at this time, I will add this letter.
It is my prayer, that someday, sometime, we visit this space together.

02 oct. 2014

Sunsets

Poetry by | January 11, 2015

Come now, sit beside me
bowing like the awkward sun
I want you to know
that what you are capable of bringing
signals the arrival of darkness.

But even if beauty can be found
in connected stars and shy moon
in silent, clear proofs
I still wish you close to me
enough to see a wilting rose
even if it means feeling familiar wounds
and dancing with scars barefoot
with the hopes of you remembering
the little bright things above us
the wind not swaying this old bench
our own favorite spot in Rizal Boulevard
Because I know better now.

—
Andrea Lim was born in Pasig City, spent childhood years in Marikina and Bulacan, and studied Grade Four to Fourth year high school in General Santos City. She is now taking Bachelor of Mass Communication at Silliman University, Dumaguete City. She is also the present associate editor of the Weekly Sillimanian.

Dust Bunny

Poetry by | January 11, 2015

When you opened the door
And asked if you could stay inside,
I was happy.
Because you see, long before you decided
To twist the doorknob and fumble
For the light switch on the wall,
The idea
Of you staying with me
Had already planted itself deep into my chest and mind,
Nurtured by the sunlight I let in
Whenever I gazed at you through the windows
Wondering when you’d come.

“I can stay on the couch, I won’t be here too long anyway.” you said.
I didn’t even ask why.

I nodded silently.
If you only knew how much I wanted you to stay
In my room, where everything I am
Hung in walls and perched on desks and dusty windowsills
And hid in every crease of the sheets;
Things I wanted you to see.
My room where
Every whisper the world has ever heard
From me
Echoed back into screams extending
Every bit of my soul;
Sounds I wanted you to hear.

I let you stay on the couch anyway.
You even called it “home” once.

When was it that you decided to leave?
Was it when you peeked through the
Cracks of my bedroom door
And saw only soot and dust? You never told me.
And I guess I’ll never know.

It’s been years,
But it’s still the same way after you left.
Only now, cobwebs and dust are starting to claim the space
That you once claimed yours.
It makes me cough every now and then, of blood and dry earth,
But I can manage—I think I can—
To wait a little longer.
Don’t worry, I’ll leave the door open.

—
Ivan is a student of BS Architecture in UP Mindanao with an alarming addiction to milk bars.

a year after yolanda

Poetry by | January 4, 2015

Let me say Goodbye
Let me say goodbye- properly.
But how do I do it if you don’t see me
Although I see you?
How do I say goodbye without words and
waving hand?
If I kiss your forehead- would you feel it?
It will just be like a touch of soft air on your hair.
How would you know it’s me?
You must know, that now, I can listen to your silent prayers:
Before you go to sleep (whenever you can),
when you are alone anytime of the day or
even when you are in a group
when suddenly you broke into silence and whisper a silent prayer.
I hear all these my love.
Even when you have said goodbye – I can’t count how many times-
In truth, and I’m grateful and amused, you are keeping me.
And you’re not contented keeping me in your heart-
I hear you say, ‘you want to keep and hold me physically’.
Amazingly, and this makes me smile,
Your ardent longing to hold me, keep me and never let go- doesn’t show on your face.
Some friends say, and I also hear them say, you have moved on and accepted
Our fate when Yolanda made us apart.
My love, how can I tell you I never left you?
For even if you don’t see me- I am with you.
How can I tell you that we both have survived the wrath of Yolanda.
That I did not leave you and there’s nothing to let go or move on to.
While you survived and continue to live
I, too, survived and have another life.

~~~

Blessed with two lives
My love, if there is one thing that Yolanda
Made it clear- it is that
we are blessed with two lives.
One that I still live now
And one that, I dearly pray, I will live- with you.
My love, my love… wherever you are
Please know that I hear you
Every minute of the day
Ever since my hand slipped loss with your hand
When the third wave separated us.
For two weeks, and even after that when I no longer counted the days-
For days are the same,
I never thought that our separation would be
between heaven and earth.
Often, just to make us closer,
I started believing
That heaven is here on earth.
So that- if you are in heaven
You are also here with me.
My love, my love..I hope it’s painless to be in heaven.
For I don’t like you to be in pain
When you see me struggling-
Palms above each other pressed to my chest-
Longing, my love…longing, my love…
For it’s really a magic
How absence makes one closer.
Now I must admit
that you are
ever more present
Than when you share
your life- here with me.
Oh, my love..Is it crowded in heaven?
Is there a place for Yolanda victims?
There must have been a sudden surge of migrants
From here to where you are right now.
With the number who, like you, have migrated,
Are you in one Barangay?
Please tell me all these.
If you have an address- please tell me about this-
Please whisper this in my dream tonight.
Or since I still have your number, please text me your address.
Please, please my love, tell me where you are?
For I will surely look for you in heaven.
And I will make it certain I will go to heaven.
Yolanda made me a better person. God surely knows about this.
I also told our kids to be good children
So that when our days are gone here
We will be together again
In a place where no Yolanda can ever separate us.
Please guide us along the way.
And keep us in the right path-
The path that will bring us to you-
For certain, we will follow.

~~~

Children are angels
My love, I hope I can tell you this,
For it is amazing and surprising.
And I will do my best to whisper this into your dreams.
Please tell this as well to our friends,
Especially those who lost their sons and daughters.
Please tell them this:
Truly, children are angels
On earth as it is in heaven.
Truly, children are angels
On earth as it is in heaven.
Believe me my love, children don’t need to have wings
To be angels.
They also do not need to wear white robes or a halo above their heads
They are, as they are, angels.
Through them flows real light of love
They speak with love.
They walk with love.
They eat with love.
They play with love.
They dance and sing with love.
They cry with love.
They pray with love.
They sleep with love.
And they have no need in defining love.
To them, life is love.
Please tell our friends,
Grieve enough but not too much
For there is no need to worry
There sons and daughters are ever happier now.
Tell them, the mass graves buried the flesh but not love.
Please tell them that it is not possible to bury love.
And its love that brings another life.
Their children live as angels on earth as it is in heaven.
To you my love,
I hope I can share a piece of heaven
While living with our angels.

~~~

Rest (assured) in peace
My love, today I remember you
More than I remember Yolanda.
Your turf is the kitchen
And I see you cooking.
Your dance, though awful,
Makes us burst to laughter.
Your ‘privilege speech’ (as you call it)
Here, while doing breakfast remains-
Of which you never miss
To speak about ‘good manners and right conduct’
Or at times a phrase
From the ‘Ten Commandments’.
And I’m keeping what you said:
“It’s not enough to love your neighbour.
It is also important to receive love
and give thanks to the one giving it.”
This to you is the eleventh commandment.
And now- I know you’re right.
Thank you for giving me love.
It keeps me going.
And keeps you alive.
Thank you for this love.
It is now a never ending spring.
It gives me hope and lightens my load.
My love, I hope I have given you love.
I hope it is now a never ending spring
That keeps you in peace.
Let me hug you, my love, like I drink water.
Let me hug you, my love, the way I breathe air.
Let me hug you, my love, like I keep you in my heart.
Let my hug, my love, rest you in peace.

October 2014

Yul works for peace and the right to education of children.