Poetry by Reil Benedict Obinque | August 10, 2014
The pen
danced
on his paper
carving
wounds
to etch
scars irremovable.
He defeated her once more.
The paper cried
with every
stroke
and point
but waited
till the pen
drained
every gram
of his blood.
She won at last.
—
Reil is a second year BSED-Math student from Ateneo de Davao University. He was a fellow of the Ateneo de Davao Summer Writers Workshop 2014.
Poetry by Reil Benedict Obinque | August 10, 2014
ang chalk nga gunit mo abog
apan dili niini masulat
ang mga oras nga ikaw nagmata
aron makaplagan ang mga natun-an
sa mga studyanteng
mas gipalabi mong tabangan
kaysa bana mong
nanginahanglan pud sa imong kamot
ang igpapanas nga gunit mo basa
apan dili niini mapapha
ang mga adlaw
nga ikaw nagyawyaw
aron pakan-on ug mga kalimuhagan
ang mga batang mas gipakaon mo pa
kaysa mga anak mong gusto pud magpahungit
ang libro nga gunit mo baga
apan dili niini mapilde
ang kabaga sa mga panit
ilalom sa mata mong
nahago sa pagbasa
aron makatudlo pag usab
sa mga mag-aalam
nga mas gimahal mo
kaysa sa sarili nimo nga
gagukod pud ug gugma
abog na ang chalk
basa na ang igpapanas
baga na ang libro
apan ikaw
padayon sa pagtudlo
padayon sa pagbilar
padayon sa pagkalimot
nga aduna pay puy lain
nga nagatawag sa ngalan mo
—
Reil is a second year BSED-MATH student from Ateneo de Davao University.
Poetry by Reicza Gene Cariaga Olojan | August 3, 2014
Sadness.
It comes.
It swoops down.
Its beady eyes focus,
Seeing a prey, it lunges.
Vulnerable.
Poor soul.
Battered by life
And its unrelenting blows.
It falls to the earth.
Inevitable.
Sadness comes.
Piece by piece
From my very bones
It tears the happiness completely.
Pain.
Excruciating torture.
A gaping hole
Where my heart lies.
Torn apart by its claws.
Flight.
Sadness left,
Never looked back.
I am all alone.
Weeping, I am dying inside.
—
Ms. Olojan is a literature senior at the University of Southeastern Philippines.
Poetry by Carlos Isagani Zarate | August 3, 2014
Yes, I vividly recall
the nights
And days we seem
to get along:
Was it just a year
or eonspast?
But it feels like a lifetime;
Or, another life;
yes, another time !
Honestly,howregretful
are the ways
Those nights progress, fade :
When shackled games
are played and replayed;
When spirits and egos
are bloated, sullied!
And then, there
you are , Amparo —
Coming like a fresh whiff
of air most serene
Sobering the drunkenness
ofsouls disappeared,
Massaging the numbness
of aruined, snuffed heart.
But, why, I asked,
O’ happiness dear,
As the laughterfills,
nay, overflows my glass,
arranging, uttering,
singing affectionate songs,
As the letters flow, rage down
my pen’svein,
rummaging , dredging
o’er buried pasts;
You remove
thewinged shield
thatfreely nurtures,
thatnaturally fortifies;
I am, ruined now,
buried.
By the hills
defenseless.
Broken,
alone.
Again.
—
Mr. Zarate is Bayan Muna representative at the 16th Congress.
Poetry by Kevin Mikhail Gomez | August 3, 2014
I
Ano pa ba ang saysay ng
buhay ko
Kung di ko marinig, iyong
munting tinig
Paano pa ba ako muling
babangon sa mundo
Lulubog sa lupa ang lahat
Ref
Di magagawang ika’y hilain
pababa
Di magagawang kaladkarin ka
rin
Di ko aakuin ang sa’yo
Basta’t iyong iyo na ang sa akin
Koro
Kunin mo na
At ito’y ibulsa
Lahat ay inaalay ko sa’yo
Puso’t isipan
Lahat ng kailangan
Pangarap at musika
II
Paano ko ba sasabihin sa iyo
Ang araw at gabi ay kukulangin
Di sapat ang ‘sang
tanangbuhay
Para ‘yong mawari na
minamahal kita
Ref2
Sisikapin kong mapadama
sa’yo
Pagibig na wagas at di
magbabago
Papaligayahin lang kita
hanggat humihinga ako
Ang buhay ko ay sa iyo
Koro
Kunin mo na
At ito’y ibulsa
Lahat ay inaalay ko sa’yo
Puso’t isipan
Lahat ng kailangan
Pangarap at musika
—
Mr. Gomez works at the Campus Ministry and Service Office at Xavier School in San Juan, Metro Manila. He’s also a self-taught choral conductor on the side.
Poetry by Erika Navaja | July 27, 2014
Think of this, poet,
when you write down your little truth:
We pry our heads open with a knife
and spill out the brain on a tin plate,
and pass it on to four or five people
squatting on the bamboo floor.
We sprinkle salt
onto the red nebula,
Have to offer them vinegar
with kisses of a million chili peppers, too.
What we’ve given out may not do much
than to fill their mouths
and trim their bodies
into thin bamboo sticks,
but one thing’s for sure:
We offer something new
in this universe of plates,
appeal to those wide-eyed
who rarely have such a feast.
They all sure take our red cosmos in,
and think of black heaven
in a country of lost fish heads.
Think of this, poet,
when you write down your truth.
—
Erika Navaja works in a call center and is in love.
Poetry by Mark Arlo Segundo | July 27, 2014
Pilua
ang habol
niadtong milabay
nga gabhiona.
Haw-ana
ang tapis
ug lilia
ang silahis
sa sanga-sanga,
motungha
sa imong bintana
Hinay-hinaya,
kutaw-kutawa,
lisu-lisua ang kutsarita.
salura ang gaasong
timbaya ning
kabuntaga.
Tunob,
ayaw kahadlok
sa paghaguros
ning adlawa.
Wala sa mugna
nga numero
sa Bandera
o sa badlis
anang kamota
ang agian
mong
bahada
ug subida.
Tiwasa
Hantod sa pagbagting
sa saktong taknaa.
Kon
Hagbong karon
Antoson.
Ugma puhon
Padayon
—
Born in Davao City and raised in General Santos City, Mark Arlo Segundo is third year Medical Laboratory Science student of the University of the Immaculate Conception.
Poetry by Monique Carillo | July 20, 2014
Her windows became
ribbons of glitter
layered through the glass.
A waterfall of peach
and cream roses became
her curtains.
Farewells to the moon
and welcoming dawn.
A pillow of tears
embraced her tangled
mane of nuts and wood.
Dreams of vividness,
escaping reality.
But alas, she
woke again from
unfinished words.
Just as her gaze
isn’t blind
anymore, she
forgets.
Except for his face
she no less remembered.
—-
Born in General Santos City, Monique is a Second Year student at UP Mindanao. She’s currently studying BS Biology.