Poetry by Reil Benedict Obinque | August 10, 2014
The pen
danced
on his paper
carving
wounds
to etch
scars irremovable.
He defeated her once more.
The paper cried
with every
stroke
and point
but waited
till the pen
drained
every gram
of his blood.
She won at last.
—
Reil is a second year BSED-Math student from Ateneo de Davao University. He was a fellow of the Ateneo de Davao Summer Writers Workshop 2014.
Poetry by Reil Benedict Obinque | August 10, 2014
ang chalk nga gunit mo abog
apan dili niini masulat
ang mga oras nga ikaw nagmata
aron makaplagan ang mga natun-an
sa mga studyanteng
mas gipalabi mong tabangan
kaysa bana mong
nanginahanglan pud sa imong kamot
ang igpapanas nga gunit mo basa
apan dili niini mapapha
ang mga adlaw
nga ikaw nagyawyaw
aron pakan-on ug mga kalimuhagan
ang mga batang mas gipakaon mo pa
kaysa mga anak mong gusto pud magpahungit
ang libro nga gunit mo baga
apan dili niini mapilde
ang kabaga sa mga panit
ilalom sa mata mong
nahago sa pagbasa
aron makatudlo pag usab
sa mga mag-aalam
nga mas gimahal mo
kaysa sa sarili nimo nga
gagukod pud ug gugma
abog na ang chalk
basa na ang igpapanas
baga na ang libro
apan ikaw
padayon sa pagtudlo
padayon sa pagbilar
padayon sa pagkalimot
nga aduna pay puy lain
nga nagatawag sa ngalan mo
—
Reil is a second year BSED-MATH student from Ateneo de Davao University.
Fiction by Jet Hokin Paclar | August 10, 2014
Twenty Innocent’s Days had passed since the first time I lit a candle in the Basilica of San Pedro Calungsod. They say that time heals all wounds but I can’t seem to get the meaning of that because every year is a suffering, every year is a curse. I tried to run but I failed for I cannot run from my own feet. This guilt and shame, I feel inside me like a knife, every time I remember their faces the last night I saw them alive. Yes, I killed my family! I killed the people who loved me. I killed them all!
I first attacked my frail and sensitive Lola Corazon. I disjointed her shaky knee bones after making her realize that her life is already meaningless because she’s old. I twisted her thin arms after I played nasty jokes and cursed her when I was annoyed. And I purposely broke her spinal cord when I made her realize that she was just causing us pain and problems and that her only consolation was to die. She did not have the chance to scream or cry for help, because I did it as secretly as possible that my mother would never know. She was my first victim!
Events by Edmond Julian dela Cerna | August 4, 2014
The date for the 2014 Davao Writers Workshop has been moved to October 27 to 31 (Monday to Friday) instead of the original October 23 to 27. Deadline for application remains the same, August 15. See workshop page for more details.
Nonfiction by Annalie Edday | August 3, 2014
In the past four months, I have been around Southeast Asia in line with my GIST (Guided Independent Study Travel) sojourn to visit the bamboo schools and green schools in the region and learn their best practices and challenges.
It has been an amazing and enriching journey. I thank the East West Center and Asia Pacific Leadership Program for giving me the opportunity to explore cultures, while I continue to unravel the roads that will shape my future and my community. My deepest mahalo! Continue reading Unraveling the Roads that Shape my Future
Poetry by Reicza Gene Cariaga Olojan | August 3, 2014
Sadness.
It comes.
It swoops down.
Its beady eyes focus,
Seeing a prey, it lunges.
Vulnerable.
Poor soul.
Battered by life
And its unrelenting blows.
It falls to the earth.
Inevitable.
Sadness comes.
Piece by piece
From my very bones
It tears the happiness completely.
Pain.
Excruciating torture.
A gaping hole
Where my heart lies.
Torn apart by its claws.
Flight.
Sadness left,
Never looked back.
I am all alone.
Weeping, I am dying inside.
—
Ms. Olojan is a literature senior at the University of Southeastern Philippines.
Poetry by Carlos Isagani Zarate | August 3, 2014
Yes, I vividly recall
the nights
And days we seem
to get along:
Was it just a year
or eonspast?
But it feels like a lifetime;
Or, another life;
yes, another time !
Honestly,howregretful
are the ways
Those nights progress, fade :
When shackled games
are played and replayed;
When spirits and egos
are bloated, sullied!
And then, there
you are , Amparo —
Coming like a fresh whiff
of air most serene
Sobering the drunkenness
ofsouls disappeared,
Massaging the numbness
of aruined, snuffed heart.
But, why, I asked,
O’ happiness dear,
As the laughterfills,
nay, overflows my glass,
arranging, uttering,
singing affectionate songs,
As the letters flow, rage down
my pen’svein,
rummaging , dredging
o’er buried pasts;
You remove
thewinged shield
thatfreely nurtures,
thatnaturally fortifies;
I am, ruined now,
buried.
By the hills
defenseless.
Broken,
alone.
Again.
—
Mr. Zarate is Bayan Muna representative at the 16th Congress.
Poetry by Kevin Mikhail Gomez | August 3, 2014
I
Ano pa ba ang saysay ng
buhay ko
Kung di ko marinig, iyong
munting tinig
Paano pa ba ako muling
babangon sa mundo
Lulubog sa lupa ang lahat
Ref
Di magagawang ika’y hilain
pababa
Di magagawang kaladkarin ka
rin
Di ko aakuin ang sa’yo
Basta’t iyong iyo na ang sa akin
Koro
Kunin mo na
At ito’y ibulsa
Lahat ay inaalay ko sa’yo
Puso’t isipan
Lahat ng kailangan
Pangarap at musika
II
Paano ko ba sasabihin sa iyo
Ang araw at gabi ay kukulangin
Di sapat ang ‘sang
tanangbuhay
Para ‘yong mawari na
minamahal kita
Ref2
Sisikapin kong mapadama
sa’yo
Pagibig na wagas at di
magbabago
Papaligayahin lang kita
hanggat humihinga ako
Ang buhay ko ay sa iyo
Koro
Kunin mo na
At ito’y ibulsa
Lahat ay inaalay ko sa’yo
Puso’t isipan
Lahat ng kailangan
Pangarap at musika
—
Mr. Gomez works at the Campus Ministry and Service Office at Xavier School in San Juan, Metro Manila. He’s also a self-taught choral conductor on the side.