Category: Poetry

Mga Bidlisiw Sa Awit

Poetry by | April 14, 2013

Kanunay, ang adlaw ug ang sayaw*
dungang motungha sa kabuntagon.
Dili nimo bation ang katugnaw.
Pananglit wa nimo namatikdi ang sayaw,
ang adlaw daw dakong langgam
sa pugaran nga mga bungtod,
gapamukaw pinaagi sa awit.
Pananglit wa nimo lingia ang adlaw,
ang sayaw daw gamayng adlaw
sa sangahong panganod, gapanaghoy
og gagmayng bidlisiw sa kainit.
Nakamatikod ko kay kaniadto,
sayo kong mobangon, magpaabot
sa imong mensahe nga maoy
motagbaw sa akong kamingaw.
Kagahapon, pagmata ko, mitungha
ang adlaw sa wa pa ang sayaw.
Ug karon, mitaghoy ang sayaw
bisag wa pa ang adlaw.

 

*Sayaw (o balinsasayaw) – usa ka gamayng langgam

__

Paul Randy P. Gumanao is a licensed chemist, political activist, 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.

Estrella

Poetry by | April 7, 2013

(Alang kang Millefeuille Erin Casing)

Kining gihalad kanimo
labaw pa sa mga titik
nga mapatik sa panid.
Karon, igo ra nako
ang paglantaw diha
sa kalangitan. Asa
ang gilak nga angay
itandi kanimo? Wala
ikabutyag. Sa kahiladman
duna’y usa ka lawak.
Gakang-a ang pultahan.
Sa lamisa duol sa bintana,
imo unyang mapalgan
ang wanang sa papel,
gidan-agan sa kandila hangtod
masamin ang imong
kaugalingon sa bintana
taliwala sa kabituonan.

—
Mark 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. He’s currently working in Cebu and claims he’s a copy-editor by day, and Batman by night.

Samurai

Poetry by | March 31, 2013

The professor wanted to wield a katana
many years ago. But even then, he understood
that the world has long since moved on
and that a sword is a thing of the past.
He adores olden blades that are kept undrawn
inside their scabbards. In his sleep, he dreams
of himself in battle, unsheathing a blade
that is as bare and as inconsolable as rain.
He crosses swords with a hundred warriors
in the heart of his moonless slumber. Later,
when he awakes, the professor can only
jump out of bed. Outside, the sun is vengeful
and daylight shoots through the window
like ancient arrowheads.

—
Allen hails from the Creative Writing program of UP Mindanao. He is a fellow of numerous regional and national workshops, and is a regular contributor to this section.

Paperback

Poetry by | March 31, 2013

paperbackI wish I could write
novels
and carve my
name
into the eye
of the censor
I would liquefy
themes, plots
into pools of
vitriol
turn dialogue
into a stalemate
of devices
literary and historical
populate
a heresy
as rancid
as truth
and leave
as a wake
in the river
of others’ immortality
my own
lengthy eulogy

Chuck is born and raised in Davao. He is a graduate of ADDU and now works for a TV station here.

Secondhand God

Poetry by | March 24, 2013

I
try to imitate
a beautiful budding rose
from nature
using a piece of paper
with my bare hands.
I
form mountains and valleys
like a god.
I
paint ripples
on a canvass
breaking the stillness,
collapsing into entropy.
I
have created beauty.

—
Alex John is a 3rd year student of Chemical Engineering in Ateneo de Davao University.

Confessionally

Poetry by | March 24, 2013

comfort
comes not in the form of sweat
nor in movement
but in the creases
of pillows and sheets
white as lies
where we carve
our secret reverie;
no dosage of metaphor
when it comes to you
and the heat
of your lips
pressing
against mine
and the brace
of your body
warm as your skin
and your breath
and the touch
of your fingers
on the course
of my spine
and the need
to confess
and plead guilty
in between
our legs
entwined.

—
Gino is a graduate of Xavier University Ateneo de Cagayan. He was fellow of the 2010 Davao Writers Workshop.

Name

Poetry by | March 17, 2013

You are untouched inside my thoughts;
intangible — only a feeling, but a feeling
better than touch: a picture
definite and concrete
in a room where your name
is a color painted on walls.
Staying in, a fool morphs
into pages of poetry
from all that he sees.

—
Darylle Rubino is a graduate of B.A. English and majored in Creative Writing at the University of the Philippines Mindanao.

This is Not a Love Poem

Poetry by | March 17, 2013

This is not a love poem.
This is a poem
for the paracetamols you gave me
in Misamis when I was sick,
for the smiles you’ve shown me
at the Jacinto office when I was weak,
for the efforts of cheering me up
while I was making my impossible thesis,
and for that long warm embrace
that I will miss.

This is a poem
for the days of story telling
about yourself and the people you cherish,
for the sleepless nights
where we shared bitter secrets,
and for the demanding weeks
where we studied and wrote articles.

This is a poem
for the short simple kind words
you’ve sent me over the phone,
for the exchange of irritating
yet funny online tweets
every midnight,
and for the old-fashioned pet names
we call each other.

This is a poem
for the awkward moments,
for last night’s silence in the car
as we passed Matina Crossing,
for the dry seasons spent
at the McDonald’s.

This is a poem
for the memories
which have taught me
to keep myself safe,
away from the troubles
of friendship’s weakness.

Seriously,
this is not a love poem.

—
Reymond Pepito is a Social Media Strategist at Hijo Resources Corp. He was a fellow of the 2010 Davao Writers Workshop.