Category: Poetry

11:12

Poetry by | July 28, 2013

inside our pockets
is the privacy of our own stones

outside our faces are the familiarities of
our traditions

when we party
we say the same words actually
we fear
other people’s anger
we cannot afford to disappoint the
visitors of our
common faith

the usual mess will be there
part of the party you know
sometimes we let go
we let loose what is too tight in our necks
we spit what is bitter outside the windows of our
tongues

there is always time for restraint in a few glasses of
alcohol
there is a time to make our mouths shut up
tying our tongues like ropes on
the railings of the house
of civility

personally i do not like this party where we turn into
decent fools
choosing the words
afraid of the truth
always fearing that we should have broken some rules
of engagement

most of the time we deny what our hearts are looking for
cold hands clasps another cold hands
empty heads bang with other empty heads
on hollow sounds of flattery

one time i left the room where the party was going on
it was 11:10 in the evening and it became too intolerable

i need to be alone in order to be free
i imagine you and i love this atonement
when you still do not mind
how i feel

i am complicating it with so much restraint
because even if i am now outside everybody
i still retain
the decency of what is right and wrong which i always
carry around.

—
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.

Berano

Poetry by | July 21, 2013

Nagkahuot ang alimuot
karong udto, ug buot ko
nga matin-aw unta
ang akong hunahuna,
labi na ning panahona. Apan
ikaw nga naghigda tupad
nako—ikaw ang bugtong isla
taliwala sa nagkatag
kong dughan.
Kon dagat pa ako,
hagbay ra nahagkan
ang imong baybayon.
Bisan tuod nasaag ta
sa pagbanlas sa panahon,
mahimuot ko kon mabati mo
gikan ining tanan,
kining hapuhap
taliwala sa kaigang
sama sa unang uwan.

—
Mark “Ton” Daposala was a fellow at the 1st Xavier University Writer’s Workshop, the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and the 27th Faigao Writer’s Workshop.

Crisanta Macapili

Poetry by | July 21, 2013

Beyond the shadow of Arayat, the stalks glisten in ripe gold in the sunshine

And the breeze gave it a flattering sway — seemingly sending a message coded in dance. In a week or two, the rest of the barrio including me will do the same dance in the rhythm of harvest. Dearest, the happiness of their harvest is a world away from the sadness of their planting last July.

For it was in the same rainy Sunday that a letter bearing the gobernadorcillo’s seal took you away from our humble hut to fight the Moros in the South –it took away the reason for my every breath. Unlike the harvest, I do not have the same sweet hope for any letter from you to arrive anytime soon.

I have come to accept that the saddest news would be the notice of yet another vandala and not of your unspoken pain. Tonight, as in the previous nights since you left unwillingly, I have kept you alive in my novenas as what the Agustinians advised

And just like the gilded ricefields open and yielding to the farmers,

Dearest husband, I yield the promise of your return to the will of Heaven.

—
Marion B. Guerrero was the first Manuel E. Buenafe Fellow at the 15th Iligan National Writers’ Workshop. He was also a fellow at the 3rd Western Mindanao Writers Workshop and the 1st AdZU Creative Writing Workshop. In all these events, he wrote in Chavacano. He is currently a faculty member of the Languages Department, School of Arts and Sciences of the Ateneo de Zamboanga University –his alma mater.

Gravity

Poetry by | July 14, 2013

We spent our evenings afloat under the stars,
quietly drifting across auroras. This was before
you were lonely. This was before you left
for the rest of the world. Now, elsewhere

in the atmosphere, I am afraid that I too have
grown fond of gravity, of the Earth, of the down
-ward spindrift of streetlights. Love, I am fearful
that when I finally fall, I will whisper your name
far too often, far too many times until all my breath
escapes me and I disappear completely before I hit
the ground.

—
Allen Samsuya hails from the Creative Writing program of University of the Philippines Mindanao. He was a fellow in the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop, the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and the 50th Silliman National Writers Workshop.

Talimatyon / Dying

Poetry by | July 14, 2013

sanga
sa talimatyong’
kahoy
gabitay

hinog
nga buwan
padung
kutloon
sa kaadlawon

Translation

on the branch
of a dying
tree
hangs

a ripe
moon
about
to be plucked
by the dawn

—
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 

Thanks, Mayor

Poetry by | July 7, 2013

Nagpa-fireworks si Mayor.
Nagpakaon, nangimbita
Nagdala ug artista.

Bag-ong elect si Mayor.
Nagpalabas, nagpasikat
Ang army giimbita.

Nang-invite si Mayor.
Alfred Gatchalian, etc.
Kapamilya diay siya.

Nag-”thank you” si Mayor.
Sa namoto, sa kalaban
Nagpalapad ug papel.

Nag-speech si Mayor.
Plano sa kalambuan
Nangayo ug pagsabot.

Nag-end ang speech.
Si Mayor nilingkod.
Milabas ang mga dancers.
Nisayaw si Mayor.
Palakpak mga tawo.
Salamat! Salamat!
Mitugtog ang band.
80’s disco ang peg;
Nanayaw mga tao.
Lima, unom, pito ka kanta.
Pagaw na ang vocalist

Last song for the night:
”Boys do fall in love -”
Mayor is out of sight
Slipped through the VIP pass…
So the party ended –

And there goes my vote:
One night of band music,
school girls dance mix,
local showbiz celebrities
and transvestite hosts.

Next election na pud.

—
Rory is a physics teacher who likes to write poems.

gulay, prutas mo diha!

Poetry by | July 7, 2013

gulay, prutas mo diha!
by Salud Mora Carriedo

uy, sinaw ang kamatis!
unsaon wala na man hinaw-nawi
human ug tuslob sa tubig nga may syampu.

nagputi-puti ang talong
dili tungod gisulom kay tam-is!
lama ra kana sa gi-spri nga daytin.

kanindot sa kutis sa ampalaya, way tatsa!
gialagaan gud, gitiyagaan ug tuslo sa kontiner
nga may sulod nga makapalurong sa mga ulod
ug mananap samtang nagkumbitay sa trelis.

ang sigay nga mangga dili kyut!
nasawut ra kana bisan gihatagan
ug medisina nga pangpadagko.

ang saging pod human na ug kaligo!
maayong pagkatugsaw sa plangganang
naay madyik likwid aron dali rang mahinog.

—
Si Salud Mora Carriedo natawo ug nagdako sa Davao. Ang iyang mga pagtuon, panaw, ug kasinatian sa ubang nasud ug natad maoy naghagit nga palabungon ug balik ang iyang Bisaya nga gamit.

An Ode to a Facebook Stalker

Poetry by | June 30, 2013

(a response to the poem “Ode to a Facebook Photo” by Allen Samsuya, which appeared in December 2, 2012)

In this portrait, there are only my eyes
that speak of yearning to see
The stream of your stars
scattered in my galaxies.

I swim my eyes through the nebula
outside this four-cornered universe.
Nevermind the griffins and bountiful trees.
Let me see your abyss.

–
Karen Kae is a BSED-English student in the Ateneo de Davao University.