Category: Poetry

Keeping

Poetry by | March 28, 2010

So she is my meteor who I foolishly follow
Through the longest nights.
She teases and leaves me a trail
Of all thoughts about her
Till the morning.
A fiery line of promises
Flashed and unfolded
Before my eyes
The moment she crossed the sky
And I saw what could be mine—
She loving me fully,
I making love to her fullness.
The wanting just grows stronger
And the raging desires are just
Depressing me with the fact
That I am left unloved.
So I’ll never get that star
For me to selfishly own.
I won’t ask for more.
I won’t bother God a little.
For a complete love
Will only bring hurt to both of us.
I resolve to keep everything as is.
My heart won’t fear.
It will always be loud and musical.
It will continue to eat all of me
And I will always feel good.
That’s the way it will be.
That’s the only way she’ll get
To love me.

—-
Freidreich C. Layno is a junior writing major in UP Mindanao.

Rehistro

Poetry by | March 21, 2010

Gidahum, gihulat
Lugway pang mga adlaw
Aron masugdan
Unang mga lakang –
Lakang alang sa kaugmaon
Sa kabag-uhan
Apan wa gyud gitagana
Ang pangamuyo niining yano
Kay nganong nagpaabot sa deadline?
Sa way paglangan
Mihuyat, mibarog
Ug nakigbuno
Sa init sa adlawng tutok
Sa taas na nga pila sa kabatan-onan
Inubanan sa dinutdanay
Mipatulo sa singot
Ginagmayng sakripisyo
Wa panumbalinga
Alang sa kahingpitan sa pagtuman
Ning dalan sa tul-id
Nga lungsuranon
Matag istroki sa bolpen
Wa damha ang daw katagbawang
Mitugkad sa kalag
Sa pagsangko
Sa katilingbanong responsibilidad
Subay sa gitakdang katungod
Matag tintang milutak
Nagmalaumon, nagmadasigon
Aron masugdan
Ang unang mga lakang –
Lakang alang sa kaugmaon
Sa kabag-uhan
Andam na
Sa pagpili ug pagbotar!

—-
James Roy Pascual studies accountancy at ADDU.

Home from Binugao, Toril, After a Week, Missing the Enrollment Period

Poetry by | March 21, 2010

Carelessly
you toss your head into the air.
I quickly steal my arm around your neck,
preventing you from falling back.
My knuckles whiten
as my grasp tightens on the rail.
City lights sparkle far into the night,
and this truck revs up, speeds away from this twilight.
The wind washes our faces,
stinging the burns on our cheeks.
Your hair still smells of the sea,
mixed with the sweet scent of beer on my skin.
Back on the beach, how you spilled it on my shirt.
You snatched the bottle from my hand
and brought it up to your lips.
How easily your ears glowed red,
your mouth flowering into a smile.
How giddy the light danced in your eyes as
you ran to the shore, removing your clothes off.
Now, the city lights are closing in
and I toss my head into the air,
wishing summer were not dying too soon.
Forward, it’s time to face those we left behind.
You slip your arm around my waist
to whisper, “We’re gonna be okay.”
Looking back down the disappearing road,
I see the sun’s last wave of heat scattering into tiny lights.
This ride takes only a short while,
and those city lights won’t quiet us down.

—-
Panganud is the pseudonym of an out-of-school youth.

Walking the Night

Poetry by | March 7, 2010

(for Dorothy)

A wounded soul in a black dress
walks the night alone.
The smell of vodka and nicotine in her mouth
and her face a picture of a broken heart.
The city is like a portrait of her
and her past love – a broken promise
hanging on the wall of her memory,
a treasure she guards with tears.

Continue reading Walking the Night

Saranggi Port

Poetry by | February 21, 2010

Minsan noong pababa tayo
sa padyak galing eskuwelahan
dito sa lumang daungan
na dati’y ginamit ng Espanya
sa pagkalakal ng alak,
sinabi mo ang pinaghalong
halimuyak ng ilang-ilang
sa gitna ng liwasan at
simoy ng dagat ay walang
katulad.

Habang kumukuha tayo
ng litrato ng mga mangingisdang
nasa balsa sumasagwan,
namimingwit, naglalambat,
nag-uunahan sa kuha,
hindi ko alintana
ang oras kahit
dapithapon na.

Continue reading Saranggi Port

A Lump of Clay

Poetry by | February 14, 2010

The dirt under his nails—gray
mud scraped to shape
my body. My body
is a lump of clay
on the potter’s wheel,
slick palms tracing the curves,
dripping clay
covers the potter’s hand going down
inside the jar. What smooth rings
his fingers create, moans
of solemn earth, shaped
to become my body. My body
enters the kiln, gasps from the heat
of the fire within, burning
the skin of his fingers off my body
until I’m done—
a hollow
vessel
of burnt clay.

—-
Maureen Ronquillo is a senior creative writing student at UP Mindanao.

Filthy White-washed Walls

Poetry by | February 14, 2010

Written, scribbled is her name
on your filthy white-washed walls.
i beg no explanation.

your walls that surround me, bathed in her name,
engulfs me in pain and hatred.
i wish to unravel your mind,
for her name is not enough to make me bleed.

i’m thankful your room is your hell.
we can start afresh with my white-washed walls
that never witnessed any of your melancholy.
we can turn it into your heaven and paint
diamonds and Lucy’s kaleidoscopic eyes on the ceiling.

write, scribble your name on my walls.
and when you leave me,
i will taste the hell you have tasted
by sleeping with names
written by someone now a memory.

—-
Krizia Banosan Garcia graduated from DRANHS’ acceleration program called ALS, finishing elementary two years ago and high school last year.