The Prized Creature, Part 2

Fiction by | November 25, 2012

And so it was that one day, as the sun began to set in the west, the prized creature watched as the fox headed for its hole with the vixen, the stallion galloped away with the mare, the ram trudged in his trenches with the ewe, and the goose swam off with the gander. But it was alone. And it lifted its hands to the sky, gazing at the expanse imploringly, as though its silent pleas would rise with the wind towards the place of its Maker’s celestial dwelling.

The Essences observed.

“Might it be lonely?”

“Was it enough for Us to make but one of it?”

“The Created Order had provided for two of each kind that they may replenish their own for generations to come.”

“It seems We had overlooked something.”

“The Created Order is incomplete.”

“Then We must craft another of its kind.”

“A fitting companion.”

“A creature so like in likeness, but of finer form.”

“To help in the oversight.”

“To be a partner.”

“A flesh of its flesh.”

“A bone of its bone.”

Continue reading The Prized Creature, Part 2

Istoryahi Ko

Poetry by | 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

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The Prized Creature, Part 1

Fiction by | November 18, 2012

Paradise Lost, by Gustave Doré
Eons ago, long before remembered time, a great civil war was waged in the celestial realm. Two factions of celestial hosts clashed in a cataclysmic conflict that shook the cosmos. One faction, led by the usurper attempted to snatch the celestial throne and take dominion over the universe. The other stood in defense of it. While the usurping horde numbered only a third of the entire celestial host, the defenders numbered twice as many. Thus, by sheer number and might, the defenders prevailed.

Because of his impudence, the usurper thenceforth took on the title of Adversary, and for their rebellion, leader and horde were banished to a far flung sector of the universe, trillions of worlds away to await their final destiny. The banishment was irrevocable and the Adversary sought to find for them in the meanwhile, suitable habitations. Thus he declared, “Inhabit therefore any realm that you fancy. There are billions scattered all over the cosmos. Go, and spread your ilk to where you best desire. But remember, keep in touch with your brethren – the better for them to know what mischief lies afoot elsewhere in the universe!”

Continue reading The Prized Creature, Part 1

Lotto

Play by | November 11, 2012

(Base sa “The Lottery” ni Anton Chekhov)

Ang mag-asawa naa sa lamesa, nagameryenda. Si mister nagabasa ug dyaryo.

Dodong

Sus, tanawi ni o. Makipag-away daw ang Pilipinas sa China tungod sa Spratleys, maayo ra ba kung naa gyud tay laban.

Inday

Ay ambot lagi niana uy. Kanang China tanan na lang ginaangkon.

Dodong

Mao. (mobalik ug basa)

Inday

Ay Dong, tanawi daw ang numero sa iswipsteyks karon. Gitaya nako birthday ni Lalang, basig diay suwerte.

Dodong

Sus tuo ka ana uy. Nagasayang sayang lang kag kwarta sige’g taya. (pangitaon sa dyaryo ang resulta sa swipsteyks) Naa diri. Unsa man imong numero?

Inday

Bertday lagi ni Lalang, Dong. Nakalimot na ka sa bertday ni Lalang?

Dodong

Wala, oy! Setyembre 10 man to, di ba?

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Pagmumura ng babaeng hindi marunong gumawa ng tula

Poetry by | 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.

Sa likod ng pulang lipstick

Poetry by | 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.

Fragments from/on living a writing life

Nonfiction by | November 4, 2012

Lina Sagaral Reyes was the keynote speaker and special guest panelist to the recently concluded Davao Writers Workshop 2012 held at Lispher Inn last October 15 to 19. The address below was her lecture at the opening of the workshop.

Being with you, a youthful crop of writers grown on the rich soil of Mindanao cultures, I also come home to the Writers Workshop, as a bond of people claiming and reclaiming the right to write.

I come home to the community ritual of writers: for the fellows, a rite of passage; for the panelists, the rite of relaying wisdom (as well as folly?) to the next generation.

It has been a long journey home. This is my first ever workshop in 19 years. The last workshop I attended was held in UP-Baguio in May 1993. On my way home to the island of Bohol via Manila, I hitched a ride on the fellows’ bus to Manila. My seatmate on that transitional ride home was Ricky de Ungria.

But I did not have an inkling that in eight months, I would find myself in the shores of Dapitan, Zamboanga del Norte.

Nineteen years later, as early as February this year, it is the same Ricky de Ungria, now like me also a migrant worker on Mindanao, who would ask me to come and join this workshop.

Continue reading Fragments from/on living a writing life

Sea of Ashes

Fiction by | October 28, 2012

The sea of ashes has pervaded my dreams for the the third time this week. The dream always took place near dawn. I was on a floating platform, standing on a pile of ashes. When I tried to scoop water from the the scarlet sea, a pair of badly burned hands dragged me down. I always woke up with that feeling that I was already consumed by fire. I thought that this was my subconscious telling me to get home quickly, especially now that my Mother had just died.

Home was a small island called Andunay. The last time I was there, trouble was already brewing in paradise. My Father, a prominent man among his peers, wanted to introduce modern tools and gadgets to the Andunayan people. He believed that it was time to abolish traditional ways of living, and even sent me off the island to study in a progressive school.

Continue reading Sea of Ashes