Poetry by Ivan Khenard Acero | February 8, 2015
I. Lips
Scarlet arches,
like bow and string
releasing arrows
from Eros’s grip
to my wildest dreams
II. Teeth
Slices of pearls
cradled by the soft
of your lips,
in hiding,
like a symphony of secrets
III. Eyes
Soulful windows opened and hidden
by the flutters
of your eyelids, much like
the blackbird’s wings
to the wonders of the night
—
Ivan is a student of BS Architecture from UP Mindanao with an alarming addiction to milk bars.
Poetry by Adeva Jane Esparrago | February 1, 2015
Do not make me keep my promises
Easily because
Mornings bring age
You will kiss my tired eyelids
With thinned lips
Sounds pass them
Cracked but still soothing
To my hardly-hearing ears
Reassuring, lovingly cooing
Bringing to mind
The Mayas that we were
Flitting from branch to branch
As if there was no tomorrow
Tomorrow just came to visit
Tutting
Waiting for his overdue call
I found myself wearing my skin
Like my Sunday dresses you used to
Throw on the floor
Now kept neatly folded
Inside the ancient doors
That smell of mothballs and decay
Your hands were Bangkas
Sailing over my smooth seas
Now they are traversing
through rough waves and storms
I fear it may sink
The wires on my head that used
To be the night
Are now ashes
From a well-stroked fire
Which you try to resuscitate
To no avail
Do not make me keep my promises
I used to swear ‘i will never leave you’
But then
One night
I grasped you hand tightly
Then, like my breath, let it slip away
—
Adeva is from Cagayan de Oro City, currently an English teacher in Xavier University High School.
Poetry by Mai Santillan | 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.
Poetry by Reil Benedict Obinque | 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.
Poetry by Keith Aparri Bacalso | 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.
Poetry by Nassefh Macla | 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.
Poetry by Yul AV Olaya | 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
Poetry by Andrea Lim | 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.