Poetry by Roselyn Geonzon | June 1, 2014
I stopped spilling ink.
Looking for rhymes in
creaks of floorboards.
Lost thoughts and
convoluted words.
But sometimes they’d come in
wisps and whispers.
Like ants
creeping through
crevices and cracks
I end up
crushing.
—
Roselyn Geonzon is an incoming 4th year BSE-English major student at Xavier University – Ateneo de Cagayan.
Poetry by Nonoy Narciso | June 1, 2014
(from the series: poems inspired by women issues)
1
Kadlawon na buntag na sab
Nahimata ako, mibangon
Usa ka habol na lang ang
Akong pil-on ug hiposon
2
Hinay-hinayog pag-punit
Ning mga buhok nga nahabilin
Ipiyong ang akong mga mata
Ug subayon ta ang gugma
3
Human pag-pagon ang unlan
Ug matag pilo sa habol
mahulagway ang kaagi
Sa lamesa,bintana
4
Sa kawarto ug sa haligi
tsinelas niya sa daplin
didto sa ilawum sa bangko
nag-inusara naghulat
5
Plantsahon ning unipormi
Murag ihatod ko na siya
Padulong sa kamatayon
Bugnaw ang singot sa agtang
6
Saksi ning lawak, ang unlan
Ang habol, ang moskitero
Gaksa ako , o kamingaw
Tugnaw o habuli ako
7
Sa imong pag-inusara
Litratong pilo tan-awa
Mga hulagway tan-awa
Ayaw’g kalimti dumduma
8
Saksi ang lawak
Saksi kining unlan
Saksi kining habol
Gaksa ako, o kamingaw
9
Ug dili nako manghunaw
basin makalimtan ko na
amoy sakong palangga
Gaksa ako, o kamingaw
—
Si Noy Narciso usa ka magtutudlo sa Ateneo de Davao University. Daghan siyag talento: musikero, aktor, direktor, pintor, eskultor.
Poetry by Don Pagusara | May 25, 2014
tropeyo sa paghandom kang lota
mi
da
gay
day
kolor sa rainbow lapas
sa mga ngilit
sa damgo
g i k u d l i s
sa imong mga mata
mga handom nga nanuyla
sa kwadradong balanse
sa dan-ag ug anino
dili basta-basta
mapad-as og
K A M A T A Y O N
—
cas
cad
ing
colors of the rainbow
beyond edges
of dreams
lines and traces
drawn
by your eyes
remembrances that spill out
the framed balance
of light and shadow
oh, never be defaced by
D E A T H
—
Agustin “Don” Pagusara is an award-winning writer and founding member of the Davao Writers Guild. Along with Macario Tiu, he founded the Ateneo de Davao Writers Workshop, which is on its 15th year. This poem was written in memory of Carlota de Pio, Davao writer and artist, who passed away in May 2014.
Nonfiction by Bianca Beatrice Adle | May 25, 2014
I was three years old when I became aware of my condition. I cannot recall how I was rushed to the hospital, but I do remember waking up in a cold white room with a crucifix staring down at me. I lifted my right hand and noticed a transparent tube injected at the back of my palm and right through my veins. Since then, I have been rushed to the hospital countless times; each one a nightmare both for myself and my parents.
Asthma is a lung condition that affects the eyes, ears, nose, throat, and stomach. It causes the lining of the airways to become swollen and inflamed. Extra mucus begins to clog the nose and the muscles of the airways tighten, causing less air to pass in and out. A number of allergens like pollen, dust mites, cigarette smoke, dander, and stress can trigger an asthmatic reaction. Even changes in weather could also cause asthma attacks. Usually when my nose starts to itch, chances are, it’ll rain soon after. Some people are born with this condition and others just develop asthma when they are exposed to the different kinds of allergens. In my case, I have asthma because my father also had it when he was young.
Play by Marc Josiah Pranza | May 18, 2014
Tauhan:
Jaime Villareal, 19
Bobot, 32
Alfonso Almeda, 27
Pook: Isang kanto sa baryo na malapit sa bahay ni Alfonso
{Music}
(Nakaupo si Jaime at Bobot sa harap ng isang maliit na mesa. Kararating lang ni Jaime na may dalang tasang may kape, habang si Bobot ay umiinom mula sa isang bote ng alak.)
BOBOT: Hoy, ano sa tingin mo ang ginagawa mo, bata?
JAIME: (nininerbyos) Ah, nagkakape po.
BOBOT: Bata, mas lalo ka lang ninerbyosin sa kape. Teka, ikukuha kita ng isa pang bote. Di naman malayo yung karinderya. (Magsisimulang tumayo si Bobot.)
JAIME: Ah, huwag na po, Sir. Okay na ako. Sanay naman ako na magkape kapag kinakabahan, tulad na lang kapag nag-re-review ako para sa exam.
BOBOT: Aha! Iyan ang gusto ko! Parang exam lang nga ang gagawin natin ngayon. Hep, hep, ako ang ga-grado sa iyo, kaya pagbutihan mo, Jaime..Jaime ano? (Tatango si Jaime.)
BOBOT: Teka, bata, talagang nakapag-aral ka?
JAIME: Nakapagtapos po ako ng haiskul. Tapos kurso sa TESDA, computer hardware repair.
BOBOT: Ah, wow! Ang talino mo pala talaga! Pero alam kong kinakabahan ka. Chill ka lang! Kaya nga nagkukuwentuhan tayo ngayon. Ito talaga ginagawa ng mga boys bago ang gig. Di ka ba sinabihan ni Anton tungkol sa SOP namin? (Tatawa si Bobot habang sinusuri ni Jaime ang paligid.)
JAIME: Di po ba parang medyo malakas ang boses nin— . . . Mga boses natin?
BOBOT: Yun nga! Pagsususpetsahan tayo kung para tayong mga patay na nakatambay at di nag-iimikan. SOP namin yan. Magkuwentuhan. Mag-inuman. Parang wala lang. Plus, mas mare-relax ka pa kung ganito, chill ka lang bata. Sigurado kang ayaw mo? (Iaalok ni Bobot ang kanyang bote.)
Poetry by Margaux Denice Garcia | May 11, 2014
if it hadn’t been for the books
thrown about by the stairs
I wouldn’t have noticed
how with each purchase
she revealed herself
one on top of the other
covers pressed upon covers
titles lost upon genres
“The Color Purple”
casting shades of “Black and Blue”
on some oriental “La Bete Humaine”
as “Madame Bovary” vanishes to “Sleep”
with Murakami’s elephants
her majesty has yet again
leafed through the truths
of her characters
flung about in the pages
one would dare ask how the King
gets by with such a collection
but would not dare question why
her bookshelves haven’t been built
—
Margaux Denice Garcia has been a fellow to the Davao Writers Workshop. She teaches literature at the Ateneo de Davao University.
Nonfiction by Ella Jade Ismael | May 11, 2014
April 1 was my mother’s first day in the hospital. My mother could still talk and she could still move around but she kept feeling pain in her legs. She still had her dialysis, which was already part of her routine since she had her stroke. The doctors advised us that my mother’s legs needed to be amputated because they were starting to create pus that was going into her blood stream. She was then moved to the ICU because there were already complications in her body and she needed to be watched over very carefully. My family talked about the decision and we decided that both legs should be cut off. The doctors had to take away the source of the pus so that they could easily clean my mother’s blood by dialysis. But the doctors were having problems because they couldn’t do the operation as my mother was starting to weaken and they had to operate on her immediately. But before that, they needed bags of blood for the dialysis. We couldn’t get enough blood in the city so my sister Elaine, my brother Elmer, and his wife Cora had to travel all the way to Tagum City just to get blood.
When I saw my mother after the operation, I couldn’t help but cry because she had become noticeably smaller because of the amputation. We tried to lighten the mood around her, telling her that she could still have new legs. My mother just smiled. She wanted to see her legs but hospital procedure wouldn’t let her see them.
On the 8th of April, my mother had her last dialysis. Continue reading She Had Her Way
Nonfiction by Julie Kristine de Guzman | May 4, 2014
You are seventeen.
In the Bachelor Bus from Tagum, third to the last two-seat row, you are seated behind a man in his late 60s. He says something, but his breath that smells like he hasn’t been brushing his teeth for several days now disturbs you.
He says it again: Kamusta ka? (How are you?)
The utterance of the two-word Tagalog greeting signals a sincere effort. You can’t decide whether he has a British or American accent. It is somewhat a combination of both. His face doesn’t help you recognize his nationality either, just the prominent nose at least. You look at him more closely as if to help you assess. He is a tall man. You can tell by how his feet struggle with his black back pack on it in the space given on the rest. He tries to move his legs once in a while. He wears a black beret, a yellow polo shirt, checkered Bermuda shorts, and black sandals. Quite a color combination, you think.
As if willing to play against your ignorance, he greets you again with a more obvious effort. You find it hard to resist the charm of his eagerness to start a conversation when he displays a smile that reveals a white set of teeth. You wonder why he has bad breath.