Mangga

Poetry by | August 19, 2012

Lisod dil-an
ang ginadili,
labi nang hubag
nga mangga nga naa
sa punoan ni inday. Nabuyod
akong panan-aw sa tumang kalunhaw
anang bambang bunga. Gidughit nako
ang mangga ug gisalo nako, aron di madaot
ang iyang kadasok. Gihinay gyod nakog panit
aron tibuok lang gihapon ang unod, ug gihiwa sa
kutsilyo gikan sa ibabaw padalus-os sa ubos, dayon
gidildil nako sa asin ug tuyo nga akong nakiriw sa su’d
sa iyang kusina. Gidimdim gyod nako ang lasa, ug
gasagol ang kaaslom ug kaparat sa akong dila.
Kada pisa nga hiniwa gikibkib ko ug gisupsup
puyra ang lubas kay pait. Kay morag bitin
kining makadiyot nga pista, mipiyong ko
aron tipigan ang kalami ning kalapasan.

—
He was a fellow at at the 1st Xavier University Writer’s Workshop, the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop and the 27th Faigao Writer’s Workshop. He’s currently working in Cebu and still under the delusion that pigs can fly.

Marlboro Man

Poetry by | August 19, 2012

I lean against the wall, one hand
fondling a cigarette, the other tucked
inside the pocket of my jeans. I stand
on one leg, the other bent, as though
ready to knee any guy who will pass by
too close. I blow smoke rings up in the air
as you throw a glance at me from head
to toe, from the present to my past.
I’ve seen such a stare so many times that
I know what’s in your mind even before
you’re aware of it. You think I want
girls to see me as the man in chaps,
neckerchief, and wide-brimmed hat
riding a red bronco, down a gently sloping
hill, after a herd of stampeding cattle,
leaving in his wake a swirling cloud
of dust. I’ll let you walk away, with
your belief, for that indeed is my intent
most of the time. This moment, however,
if you care to know, I’m only trying
to hold off the fire about to raze
the dry grassland beneath my navel.

—
Jude Ortega is a native of Sultan Kudarat Province.

Nippa

Fiction by | August 12, 2012

On the Calm Sea Beach Resort in Samal stood a charming hut named Nippa. Unlike the other beaches in Samal, Nippa made Calm Sea Beach more enticing. Nippa was colorful and you could easily spot her off the coast from as far as Sasa.

Nippa though, had little tolerance for people. This is particularly because most of them would neither take notice nor respect Nippa, which was very offensive.

“I am one of the reasons why this beach is beautiful” Nippa grumbled. “Couldn’t they give a little more respect?”

But after years of serving the beach with little change, Nippa eventually accepted the fact that people were what they were. It was only because of the help of the staff that Nippa lasted and was on tip top shape every morning.

”Without them I would probably be nothing. They always keep me company and entertain me with their stories. I wish they were the only ones around the beach,” Nippa thought.

Continue reading Nippa

The Breakup

Fiction by | August 12, 2012

I was sitting on the edge of the bed when he woke up. We were in a hotel in Lanang. It was seven thirty in the morning. Five and a half hours before going home to Davao Oriental.

“Hi honey, good morning.” After his warm greeting, he kissed my neck. “Wow! You’re already dressed up and…you packed some stuff. Going on a business trip?”

I didn’t answer. There was a moment of silence.

“Let’s end this,” I finally said.

He laughed. I didn’t expect this kind of reaction from him.

Continue reading The Breakup

Firefly

Poetry by | August 12, 2012

to light up
like a firefly
to signal
my desire
to light up
like a firefly
to eat you
alive
to light up
and die
to light up

—
Orlando Sayman, Jr. is a Job-Enabling English Proficiency Monitoring Specialist at USAID-GEM, and is a regular contributor in Dagmay. He misses looking at fireflies.

Mom

Poetry by | August 12, 2012

You don’t know how
painful it is for me
to feel you, covering your head
with a pillow, hoping
that your wails of pain
become a secret, like
how you shroud the hurling marks
in your face with
concealers, powders and
smiles of charade.
Last night too, I heard
you packed your things without
even telling me what went wrong.
I am here, I am here
lying beside you and trying
to make you believe that
I couldn’t hear
your wails of pain.

—
Zarah Meneses studies in Xavier University Ateneo de Cagayan.

Konduktor

Play by | August 5, 2012

Mga Tauhan:

Kaloy: Isang konduktor sa terminal ng jeep. 18 years old na binata. Payat. Ang suot niyang t-shirt at shorts ay nababahiran ng grasa. Makakaaway niya si…

John: Pasaherong uupo sa front seat. Mas malaki ang katawan kumpara kay Kaloy. Mayaman ang porma niya. Mayabang umasta. Kaaway ni Kaloy at ni…

Manang: Isang matandang galing grocery.

Tagpo:
Ang tagpo ng istorya ay sa isang terminal ng mga jeep.

(Bubukas ang telon kasabay ang pagtugtog ng background music na parang nasa terminal ng jeep. Papasok mula sa kaliwa si Kaloy. Mayroong multicab-jeep [sideview]sa background. Sa loob ng jeepney ay may mga nakaupo na.)

Kaloy: O kayo diyan! Maam! (sabay turo sa isang manonood na babae)

Dito po, lalarga na! Sasa, Sasa, Panacan, Tibungco, Lanang! Sasa, Sasa –

O boss dito o. (sabay gabay sa isang lalake papunta sa likod na pasukan ng jeep)

O, O, O! Paki urong naman diyan! (papaluin ni Kaloy ang kilid ng jeep) Paki urong para makaupo si bossing! O, O, O! (papaluin nanaman ang jeep)

(Habang pinapaurong ni Kaloy ang mga tao sa loob ng jeep ay papasok si John mula sa kanang bahagi ng entablado. Sasakay siya sa front seat ng jeep. Maglalagay siya ng headphones sa ulo niya at makikinig ng musika.)

Kaloy: Sasa, Sasa, Panacan, Lanang! Miss, pwede pa o, Sasa ba Sasa? (magtatanong si Kaloy sa isang babae mula sa manonood)

Ser! Lanang? (magtatanong si Kaloy sa isang lalake sa mga manonood) Tibungco? Bakante pa doon o.

(Magmumukhang pagod si Kaloy. Iikutin niya ang tuwalyang dala niya para magpahangin. Papasok ang isang matandang babae mula sa kanan ng entablado; may daladalang punong grocery bag. Kukuhitin ng matanda ang likod ni Kaloy. Lilingon si Kaloy sa matanda.)

Continue reading Konduktor

Footprints

Poetry by | August 5, 2012

Moonlight was our perfect alibi for breaking
this quiet darkness. Ancient nights when olden
rooftops made for a dozen water beds
and we had no need for mattresses and pillows
beneath our backsides and our heads. Back then,

we spent our nights learning how stars unravel
the direction of our home. Back when our eyes
were keen enough to watch snowfall from halfway
across the globe. Now, old and bitter as those cheap

wines we used to buy, I can’t climb a tree house
to save my life. My Love, I have my eyes squinting
skywards all night long. I swear I will see you soon.

Tonight, I chase your footprints across the surface
of the moon.

—
Allen Samsuya is a graduate of Creative Writing student from the University of the Philippines- Mindanao. He was a fellow for poetry in the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop, the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and the 50th Silliman National Writers Workshop. His works have appeared in Philippines Free Press, Philippines Graphic, Sunstar Davao and the Best of Dagmay Anthology.