Poetry by Allen Samsuya | December 2, 2012
This time, there are only your eyes.
Your gaze, fixed intently into space
as if searching the air for lost light
waves, digital owls, a revelation
of vagrant angels. I turn my laptop
towards the window so you too
could see a band of moonlit clouds,
some apple trees, and at a distance,
a pack of griffins.
—
Allen Samsuya is a creative writing major from the University of the Philippines Mindanao. Instead of a dislike button, he hereby proposes a “throw magic tomato button” on Facebook.
Poetry by Mark Arlo Segundo | December 2, 2012
Half-cooked promises
Half rice still on plate
Half-truths of celebrities
Half-lies in policies
Half full cash pocket
Half empty wine goblet
Half-minded intentions
Half-hearted lamentations
Have we gone to world,
Of halves and no wholes?
Like the promises of lords,
And the mindset of fools.
—
Born in Davao City but raised in General Santos City. Currently studying B Medical Laboratory Science in University of Immaculate Conception.
Poetry by Krizia Banosan Garcia | December 2, 2012
everything is still
the sun takes forever
giving the passing cars
a chance to stir the room
and my imagination
with their lights
i turn away
escaping yet failing
seeing the yesterdays
i look to my right
and there you are
sleeping beside me
i look away
and there you are
making your way to the bathroom
i sit up
and there you are
smiling at me from some time ago
i close my eyes
and i feel your lips touch mine
i open my eyes
everything is still
the sun takes forever
giving the passing cars
a chance to stir the room
and my imagination
with their lights
—
Davao born and raised, ex-architecture student at Ateneo de Davao University, currently out of school yet again.
Poetry by Riza Racho | November 18, 2012
maayo mu istorya si Ma’am uy
purbidang paminaw nako
“the annulment cannot be processed
when the spouse is not in trial
before the court of the land.”
unsa daw to? pastilan jud murag tinuod man
gilansangan ang iyang mga pulong
sa katahum sa iyang power point
de colores kaayo, naa pay gauntol-untol na bata
napuno ug drawing sa mga nindot nga
panang linya
paadto didto
paari diri
simang sa wala
tul-id sa tuo
katoohan jud ay
Poetry by Djamyla Millona | November 11, 2012
Anak ng tupa.
Nagbabasa ako ng kanilang mga tula
at wala akong magawa
kung hindi ang humanga
sa indak ng mga salitang
lumilikha ng paraiso dito sa lupa.
Wala akong ganyang kakayahan.
Ni Katiting. Ni Daplis.
Ang alam ko lang ay magbasa
at humanga
at magbasa
at magmukhang kawawa.
Paano ba kasi nila
binuburda ang mga titik
upang makabuo ng tula
sa langit?
Saan ba kasi nila
kinukuha
ang indayog at kulay ng
kanilang salita?
Anak ng tupa.
Pagmumura lang ang aking magagawa.
Wala akong kakayahan.
Ubos na rin ang tinta ng aking mumurahing
bolpen.
Higit sa lahat
wala akong mahagilap
na totoo sa akin
Walang pag-ibig
Walang Ligaya
Walang Luha.
Ang tanging totoo lang
ay ang tulang kinatha ng iba
at hinding-hindi ko magagawa.
Anak ng tupa.
—
Si Djamyla ay apat na taong nag-aral sa Ateneo de Davao University, mahilig magbasa ng mga tula ngunit hindi (raw) marunong gumawa.
Poetry by Ayessa Tolentino | November 11, 2012
Dapit hapon ay sumapit na
Oras na para magpaganda.
Kolorete ay nakahanda na at
Ilang oras na lang palabas ay mag sismula na.
Sa likod ng pulang lipstick
Akala ng iba sya’y masaya
Ngunit sa kanyang pag-iisa luha ang pumapalibot sa kanya.
Sa paningin ng madla buhay pag-ibig nya ay masaya
Di alam na puso niya’y nagdurusa’t nangungulila
Sa harap nila siya ay ayos lang
Lingid sa kanilang kaalaman siya’y pagod na pagod na
Sa likod ng pulang Lipstick
Pinipilit nyang maging masaya
Umaasang sa paglipas ng panahon
Sugat sa puso ay maghihilom na
—
Si Ayessa ay isang gradweyt ng University of Mindanao sa kursong Hotel and Restaurant Management at nagtatrabaho ngayon sa isang BPO sa Davao City.
Poetry by Karen Kae Ferraz Dicdican | October 28, 2012
It started with a spark
That ignited the excitement –
I was inflamed by what I held
As we celebrated the moment
Our flames finally flickered
In unison.
But our light was dying
Our sparklers
Have been cindered into ashes –
And the ashes
into nothing.
—
Karen Kae Dicdican is currently enrolled in Ateneo de Davao University and is a fellow of the recently concluded 2012 Davao Writers Workshop.
Poetry by Margaux Denice Garcia | October 21, 2012
No, child.
We cannot take Thina, Daimhin, and Muti with us.
They’re too big.
Just put on your Sunday’s best
and tie your hair into pigtails,
so you can resemble your dolls.
That way, you’re bringing them with you.
No, child.
We cannot bring your crayons.
Not even your coloring books or drawing pads.
They’re too many.
Just put on your shoes with your favorite colors on it.
That way, you’re treading on rainbows when we leave.
No, child.
We cannot carry your story books.
They’re too heavy.
Just hold this piggy bank while I take the safe box.
Our arms can only bear so much.
That way, we take only what’s necessary.
No, child.
We cannot tote your play tent.
It’s too big and too old.
Just like this house, worn out and hollow.
I promise, we’ll buy a new one.
Where we’re headed sells better tents.
Hurry, child.
I can see our ride in the driveway.
Dear child, why are you crying?
We don’t have time.
What’s that, child?
No, child. I’m sorry.
We cannot wait for Papa.
—
Margaux Denice Garcia, a graduate of BS Education at the Ateneo de Davao University, was a fellow of the 2011 Davao Writers Workshop.