A Heart for Madness

Poetry by | February 9, 2014

(after Paulo Coelho’s Veronika Decides to Die)

Visit my dreams, Veronika,
when you finally decide
to die. Wake me from my slumber
with the melody of your sonatas
behind the echoes of your cries.
Make me mad, make me mad,
if only madness would set me freer
than the rest of the humanity.

I’d love to have the freedom
of whom they call crazy:

the youth who love to taste tongues
without fear of nakedness,

the kids who believe that lizards talk
without fear of whips and pinches,

the man who first said that the earth is round
without fear of rolling down the dark abyss,

the young friar who gave his riches
just to live with beggars

to teach them to talk to birds
and to snakes and to flowers

when the sane do not know
how to listen.

I’d love to have their courage
to show their madness,
for the soul of insanity
is freedom.
Only madmen eat
leftover fried chicken
that the sane call waste.
Only madmen rise up
when the sane keep dreaming.
Only madmen scream to curse
poverty, which the sane
call blessedness.
Nobody’s freer than the madmen
who fear of losing nothing
but their chains.

Veronika, when you finally
decide to die, visit my dreams.
When I wake up, I shall be mad.
I will go to the mountains
to sing, to live, to kill,
to love.

And you will understand.

—
Paul Randy P. Gumanao is a licensed chemist, journalist and literature enthusiast. He was fellow at the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop & 2010 Iyas National Creative Writing Workshop in Bacolod. He writes poetry & fiction.

The Love Letter

Poetry by | February 9, 2014

years from now,
if the stars are still
in the bosom of the gods,
and the moon can still smile
on the beauty of the night,
dust we have become,
we already changed
and beyond our horizon, there
these words find themselves
without a home only a house
to announce their presence–
none of that family embrace
that my heart throbs with yours,
just nothingness, bland strokes,
no warmth that give meaning
to the coldness of materiality,
eventually no music,
wings that give them flight,
over mountains of grief and sorrow,
over the green innocence on the plains,
over the omnipresent waters of our love,
these words,
these etches in the blanket of time
will soon settle
in the dry cold desert
of that eternal memory
that remembers the forgetfulness
of being in love.

—
Artchil C. Daug is an Assistant Professor of the Department of History of MSU-Iligan Institute of Technology. He was born in Iligan City and finished both his AB History and Master in History degrees from the same school in 2004 and 2006 respectively.

Sanayan Lang

Poetry by | February 2, 2014

Sabi ni pareng bert sanayan lang ang pagpatay

Sabi ko naman sanayan lang din ang pag nakaw
Sanayan lang din ang magdadala ng pagkain mula sa handaan
Sanayan lang ang kapalan ng mukha
Sanayan lang din ang uutang at umilag

Sanayan lang din ang kukupit
Sanayan lang din ang gumising ng umaga
Sanayan lang din ang ma late
Sanayan lang din ang hindi magbalik ng barya

Sanayan na din ang fixing
Sanayn lang din ang cheating
Sanayan land din ang waiting
Sanayan lang din ang maging corrupt

Nong malaiit pa ako

Nasanay na din akong pumuslit ng kendi sa tindahan ni aling mimi
Nasanay na din akong kumupit ng barya sa sapatos ni tatay
Nasanay na din akong kumain ng bagoong, noodles at mag-kape
At nasanay na din ang magkaroon ng diabetes at U.T.I.

Sanayan lan din ang managalog, mag-bisaya o mag-englis

Sanay na tayo sa telenobela
Sanay na tayo sa hiwalayan, barilan at romansa
Sanay na tayo sa fast food

Sanayan lang din ang mag-kunwari
”Dahil sa hiya at garbo,Sabi ko vegegtarian ako”
Pinanindigan ko
Nang sumali ako sa retreat…. nagulat ako binigay sa akin carrots, sayote,…walang mayonnaise
Napasubo ako

Sanayan lang din ang magyabang
Sanayan lang din ang gutom at kahirapan
Sanayan lang din ba ang mag-iwan ng pagkain sa hapag na hindi nauubos?
Sanayan na lang ba ang maging mahirap o mayaman?
Sanayan na lang din ang pag-papanday ng kanya-kanyang kasaysayan

Di ka nasanay mahirap sa talaga sa pinas
Sanayan na din ang palingon- lingon,patingin-tingin tingin, pasulyap sulyap
Ikaw !
Anong nakasanayan mo?

—
Si Noy Narciso ay nagtuturo sa Ateneo de Davao.

You Are Not What They Think You Are

Poetry by | February 2, 2014

You are not the
size of the shirt you wear
nor the waistline that you have

You are not the
pimples on your face
nor the wrinkles under your tired eyes

You are not the
tangled hair of your head
nor the crooked front teeth when you smile

You are not the
hurtful words they say
nor the hateful things they think you are

You are the crocus that blooms
beautifully during spring

You are the stars
that shine so bright
when the night sky is clear

You are the sun
that gives life
to everything beneath it

You are the entire
universe to someone
you probably don’t even know it

yet.

—
Sums is currently a 3rd year student at Xavier University – Ateneo de Cagayan

To those who Followed the Summons of Poetry

Poetry by | January 12, 2014

They will see us
Gripping the Sands
Falling on our feet
We take them again
In our Cup-Hands
Put all the grains
of sands in a glass
and then slowly
we drink them and

They do not like
What they are seeing
and they shake their
Heads and Hide their
Hands in shame

We tell them wait
We are good people
We’ll show you the
Magic of our craft

We summon the
rain and it comes
We whistle the
wind and it hushes
We clap our hands
and the sun rises on

Our dimples
and then on our
heads above our
hairs the red
carnations begin
to grow.

We tell them
however
We are sorry
But this is just
temporary

In a few seconds
we become like
all of you again.

—
Ric Bastasa, is presently working as MTC Judge of Roxas, Zamboanga del Norte. He finished his BS Chemistry in Ateneo de Davao and Law in Andres Bonifacio College in Dipolog City.

Pagkabanhaw

Poetry by | January 12, 2014

Pagkabanhaw
ibabaw sa gilubngan
sa among iro’ng naligsan
gabarog ang labong nga santan
nga sa matag karon ug unya
mamulak og alibangbang.

usa ka hangyo
kon mahimo
ayaw intawon putla
ang mga gasiwagkang nga sanga
sa punoan
diha sa imong tugkaran
kay di lang ang mga langgam
ang nanginahangla’g
kabatogan ug kasilongan
lakip sad

ang kasingkasing
ang hunahuna

—
Gratian Paul R. Tidor is a young poet and visual artist from Dipolog City. He is a fellow of the 17th Iligan National Writing Workshop.

Last Hour

Poetry by | January 5, 2014

Remember when dusk glow danced
Laying a final warmth upon polished floors
Of a forgotten place we claimed under our sigil
Hidden among groves of fertile promises
Here are our secrets and stories written and sealed
Today I sneaked out of classes and found you there
Waiting with those Moorish eyes
Golden specks lit up your hair, your smile
I was used finding you busy
But beneath crimson and lilac clouds
Your gaze fixed on me
Your embrace didn’t hold back its silence
Hold me close here in the setting sun
Whisper your heart’s cry
Before sparrows sing of tears
Before goodbyes come

—
Born in General Santos City, Monique is a Second Year student at UP Mindanao. She’s currently studying BS Biology.

Afloat

Poetry by | January 5, 2014

Seated near the life-size poster of a man promulgating a clothing brand
Unfamiliar voices clouded the girl’s mind
She sits there, nonchalantly
Her eyes wandering
Observing people’s crooked smiles and arched eyebrows
Her senses falter, she loses track of time
Books piled up to her nose
Papers scattered in front of her, like stars seen when the sky is clear
She reaches for her phone inside her dusty purple bag.
None. No message from anyone, not even from her sim card’s service line
She places the device on top of the pile of books by her side.
She takes her pen and her little notebook
Scribbles a few lines trudging, pounding inside her head
Eager to be caught in the pen’s charmed ink
Her thoughts, rushing, bumping like wild beasts
Her hands, her pen, cannot keep up with the impossible
Words ran frantically in her fragile domain
And then abruptly she stops, gasps for air, for life
Tears surface from the wells of her heart
She lets go of the pen and covers her face with bare hands
“I’ve had enough remembering for the day.”
She reaches for her pen, not to write a line or two
“Now, back to work.” She whispers to herself
As she picks another test paper to look through
—
Sums is currently a 3rd year student at Xavier University – Ateneo de Cagayan