Cricket

Poetry by | April 3, 2011

It is evening. Outside,
the sound of a cricket
is more audible
than silence.
It is true:
the saddest thing
in this world is lying
down on bed, alone, listening
to its song,
floating in resonance
with the whimper of wind,
leaves and twigs,
as if having
a language of its own
to speak. There,
now, the darkest
night becoming the bluest.
As if its tone,
single like its syllable,
has many words to teach
about loneliness
that is just
as silent and miserable
as caressing a pillow,
lightly, enough to hold
the weight of tears.

—-
Gino Dolorzo just finished his bachelor’s degree at Xavier University Ateneo de Cagayan.

Dark Heart

Poetry by | April 3, 2011

Flowing,crashing endless black tears
Trappped in uncertain sea of thought
Engulfed by desperation that swirls
In the ocean of reality I fought

Monochrome heart is what I see
This heart that beats eternally
Is the heart that mourns in me
And keeps on beating insanely

Unequal share of despair
Burns inside, under my skin
Like a foul smell in the open air
Spreading in my vein worn thin

This body locked up in chains
Will soon love its sweetest pain
Buried deeply within its veins
Bitter compassion all of it to gain.


Hannah Jennica Ello is a sophomore ABENG student of MSU-IIT.

Most Things

Poetry by | February 27, 2011

Among other things that fill my day is poetry
But among most things in poetry; it is love
Many speak of emptiness, brokenness, tears and hate
While some dripping with lust; conjuring contours of bodies in friction
And many, long for the distant lover
Some, lovers in the distance
Like a bargain sale of love poems
Pick your choice, match your experience, hurt yourself
So you take a breath, you step back

And all around, it is like Love, littered.

—-
Fritz is a graduate of AdDU with BA in Psychology and minor in Philosophy.

Requiescat In Pace

Poetry by | February 27, 2011

Verdi’s Dies Irae is playing in the background.
Carefully I listen, without wonder.
I am in the mood for it, as if I intended that
it be played.
No one cared.

I am alone and I feel very light.
Nothing seems to matter.
Slow is time’s passing
as if a second is forever
and a minute, unspeakable.

I see people around me;
their mouths moving as if speaking —
Whispers. Murmurs.
They do not talk to each other,
they are speaking to me.
Not a word is audible, comprehensible;
in fact, I hear nothing.
What they speak is silence.

Continue reading Requiescat In Pace

Auction

Poetry by | February 27, 2011

I have borrowed you from Moment
when life’s stringent as my budget,
tricked it into pawning up to my last
breath at such a sky-high interest.
I didn’t notice the grace period
and before I knew it, it’s already
auctioned. Soon I will become somebody
else’s secondhand treasured possession.

— 
Orlando Sayman is an A.B. Literature graduate from AdDu and is currently teaching at DMMA College of Southern Philippines.

As You Know Nothing

Poetry by | February 13, 2011

The world is a crazy place;
There’s always room for the right and wrong people.
But, despite the fact that there are always two kinds of entities
this pit has always had a niche for people to squeeze themselves in.
And no matter how tight that little space,
One will always find solace in a corner
To appreciate the world go by in a day.

Our planet is a fuzzy little shell.
Its enigma keeps us looped and drawn in;
No matter how much we break free
The rope that binds is never too strong or too slight to cut through.
And as you already know, everyone is an element of the world,
Part and parcel, part of the whole,
Co-existing in chaos and harmony.

All this knowledge make you think you already know what it takes to live
For you appreciate the world as we all know it,
For we appreciate humanity as we live it,
For we love as we feel it
For we curiously navigate as we sail through life’s ebbs
For we rise as we fall
And we live through it all!

Continue reading As You Know Nothing

The Cellist

Poetry by | February 13, 2011

I wish I was your cello
in frenzy at the touch of your bow, stirring
as your erratic fingers pluck
my still but waiting strings, gasping
while you control your breathing
and dance madly
to the notes you were playing,
to the music that only a cello and the cellist can hear;
reverberating, convulsing, until the orchestra stops,
until the lights went off
that marks the end of our piece.

I’m listening.


Myan Declaro took up AB English Creative Writing in UP Mindanao and is currently working at Caraga State University.

Relo

Poetry by | February 6, 2011

Kining relo nga kalit niundag tuyok
Dili usa ka makinang daot.
Kini ang akong pagbating gitipigan,
Gisuksok sa pamasing ang tanan makalimtan.

Ug diha sa suok siya nagpaabot.
Sa hilom, naghandom nga pansinon,
Nag-ampo nga sa maka-usa pa,
Sul-obon.

Apan ang akong kasingkasing
Gipul-an na. Gikapoyan nag ilis.
Naluya sa mga kuso-kuso,
Nawad-an og kusog sa pagpanlubag.

Kining relo nga niundang og pitik
Dili usa ka makina. Kini usa ka pagbating
Nahinanok ug wa kamata.
Di na ko mopalit og bag-ong baterya.


About Jayson Parba: Si Jayson usa ka magtutudlo sa Capitol University sa Cagayan de Oro City.