Softdrink

Poetry by | August 5, 2012

Nakamata ko’g kadlawon
kay milinog among katre,
sa dihang gisusi ko,
si ate giyarok ang softdrink.
Misugilon ko ni Nanay
sa hinay midangoyngoy siya,
gitawag dayon niya si Tatay
og si Ate ilang giistorya.
Misinggit si Nanay og
si Tatay hapit si Ate laparuha,
sa hilabi nilang kasuko
si Ate mihilak, nipahipi na lang.
Sa kadaghang giyawyaw nila
usa lang akong nakat onan,
dili moinom og softdrink kung sayo pa
aron dili sayo mosakit ang tiyan.


Michael Marquez is president of the University of Southeastern Philippines English and Literature Evening Society. He was a Fellow of the 2011 Davao Writers Workshop.

Mga Tuyong Dahon

Poetry by | July 29, 2012

Lumubog ako
sa dagat
ng mga tuyong dahon.
Sumisid ako
upang likumin
ang mga tagong yaman.
Sa pag-ahon,
gumawa ako ng kastilyo
at nagsaboy ng mga dahon.
Hindi ko napaghandaan
ang pagdating
ng alon ng mga dahon
na kumain
sa aking mga yaman at kastilyo.


A poet for children from General Santos City. MJ Tumamac is a member of Kuwentista ng mga Tsikiting (KUTING) and Linangan sa Imahen, Retorika at Anyo (LIRA).

Hustisya

Fiction by | July 29, 2012

“Dito na lang ako. Mgkita na lang tayo bukas,” paalam ko sa aking mga kaklase.

“Bakit dito ka lang? Parehas lang naman tayo ng ruta na sinasakyan, ah?” Tanong ni Jackie na isa sa pinakamalapit kong kaklase.

“Ay, may pupuntahan rin kasi ako.” Pangiti kong palusot sa kanila. Nakakahiya kasing sabihin sa kanila na kulang na naman ang aking pamasahe. Ilang ulit na rin nila akong pinautang ngunit hanggang panaho ito’y hindi ko pa rin nababayaran.

“Sige! Mag-ingat ka diyan, ha.” Sabay nilang binigkas sa akin.

Nang ako’y humiwalay sa kanila ay binaybay ko ang isang napakatahimik, at walang katao-taong daan sa Aurora. Wala masyadong tao na nagdaraan dito. Napakadilim pa ng lugar na ito kahit alas-singko pa lang ng hapon. Kasi nga naman, walang ni isang poste na magliliwanag kahit sa isang bahagi man lang ng lugar. Kaya walang tao na tumitira sa lugar na ito. Pero ito lang ang daanan na medyo malapit sa aming tinitirhan.

Continue reading Hustisya

What Time Can't Heal

Fiction by | July 22, 2012

Angela and her sons were on their way home from the mall when Poi, her youngest, asked a question.

“Ma, why don’t you and father live together anymore?”

From her left, Angela could see that Banjo, her eldest, was also anticipating her response. She had a feeling he had always wanted to know, but never had the courage to ask. Unlike Banjo who was ten, Poi was only seven and had the benefit of not knowing what tact meant.

“We just weren’t happy with each other anymore, and we didn’t want to keep fighting. So we chose to live separately.”

“But why weren’t you happy with Papa? Don’t you love him?”

Of course she did. But after Eric, her husband, lost his job, she found it more and more difficult to do. He suddenly started hanging out with his friends more, drinking more and learning how to smoke. She tried to pass it off as stress, but when he came home drunk one night and hit her, she decided it was enough. She couldn’t be with a man who had the will to hit her, because if he’d already done so, what was to say he wouldn’t do it again?

Her children deserved a better image of their father, though. That part of his character she would never tell them.

“Sometimes, things happen to people,” Angela said, “and sometimes, Poi, people change because of it. When your father changed, it became difficult for both of us to be happy.”

She wasn’t sure if her sons understood, but they left it at that. For the rest of the ride home, Poi annoyed his brother who was playing with his PSP.

When they reached home, the boys raced into the house while Angela was left to pay the cab driver. She handed over the money and was about to get out when the cab driver suddenly spoke.

“Have you talked to your husband ever since you separated, ma’am?”

The question struck her since she couldn’t remember when she last talked to Eric. She opted not to answer the cab driver and with a polite smile, exited the cab.

That night Angela couldn’t sleep, thinking of the cab driver’s question. When had she last talked to Eric again? Was it after their last session of the annulment trial? How long ago had that been? How had he been doing since? Was he able to turn his life around?

Eventually the guilt of not having talked to her former husband consumed her and she decided to try and talk to him. She called him the next morning despite all her apprehensions. When after the first time he didn’t pick up, she didn’t try to call him again. Angela didn’t want to force the issue.

Maybe two years was too short a time for the wounds to have healed.


Emiko Escovilla was born in Davao City and is currently enrolled in the AB English program of Ateneo de Davao University.

Nature-nature? Na!

Poetry by | July 22, 2012

Nature-nature ang gusto mo na date?
Na! wala man tayo mapala niyan, babe!

Sige, maghanap tayo ng mga shape sa clouds
pero intawon,
usok na lang baya ng mga factory
ang clouds ngayon!
Okay lang sa iyo
may pagka- brown ang cotton na makita mo?

Pag-sure diyan sa “halimuyak ng katsubong,” babe uy
sige daw, subukan mo huminga
kay halong lechon manok,
tambutso,
haplas
at sigarilyo lang maamoy mo.

Swerte na kung walang halo na ihi o imburnal

love man kita babe ba
pero alangan naman
pinturahan ko ng glow in the dark
ang mga lamok
para lang may fireflies tayo…!?

Bitaw, pwede gud tayo mag-Shrine Hills
pero kay wala na man tayong
mahanap na stars,
ilaw na lang
ng mga poste ng Davao titigan natin
para mag-horoscope..!

– babe, hindi yan mountain spring, ha
nasira lang yan na tubo ng water district.

…Kalayo man ng Marilog uy!
kung gusto mo ng breeze
sa Abreeza na lang tayo magpalamig

Bitaw, babe
sa Abreeza na lang gud tayo, uy
may garden-garden bitaw dun…

(Update: ginatulungan ako
ng music ng mga jeep
na kalimutan yung ingay ng gangis
pag-break natin)


Born in Kidapawan, Karlo Antonio G. David was a fellow at the 2011 Iyas Creative Writing Workshop in Bacolod and the 2012 Silliman National Writers Workshop in Dumaguete. He is a regular contributor to Dagmay.

Sabaw II

Poetry by | July 22, 2012

sa una, init imong sabaw
may balanse ang katam-is ug kaaslom
may sahog nga kusog makapabaskog
sa panglawas ug balatian
ug may pagmahal ang matag halad
ug sa una, init imong sabaw

sa una, kada adlaw’ng matagamtaman
imong lami-an nga sabaw
pangpainit sa nagkurog kong kaunoran
tunga sa pagbunok sa ulan
sa matag higop ko, di malikayan ang pagbalhas
sa singot nga muanod sa kahago sa kinabuhi

apan milabaw ang mga adlaw
wa malikayi napan-os imong sabaw
bugnaw na ug mupatigbabaw na ang kaaslom
ang kahumot nga kanhi kong madimdim
ang katam-is nga daw gihalad sa mga anghel
wa ko na makaplagi sa mangkok sa imong sabaw

basin may laing kamot ang nikawkaw
o imong gihalaran sa imong sabaw
bisan unsaon og init ang bahaw
ug bugnaw mong sabaw
sa pagkapan-os kini mipaingon
hangtod ilabay na lang sa lubnganan sa kagahapon


Bejay Absin works full-time in a call center and is involved in theater. He loves to cook.

Eulohiya

Poetry by | July 22, 2012

“Nais kong ilibing sa maputlang papel na ito
Lahat ng nagawa nating kwento.
Lahat ng kabanata ng ating samahan.
Ang saya. Lungkot. Hinagpis.
Pagtataksil. Ang pagtangis.
Iluluha ng aking panulat ang lahat ng
Pasakit na hindi kinilala ng aking mga mata.
Ililibing ko sa pirasong papel na ito
Lahat ng bubog ng nasira nating samahan
Upang tumahan na ang nagdurugo kong puso.
At pagkatapos, iiyak ako sa pamamagitan ng panulat ko.
Hindi mo ako makikitang tumatangis.
Ang mamasdan mo lang ay ang puntod ng letrang
Pinagtagpi-tagpi ko upang buuin ang lapida
Ng yumao nating samahan.
Isang beses lang akong magtatapat
Ng aking tunay na nadarama.
At ililibing ko iyon sa isang piraso ng maputlang papel.
Kasama ka at Kasabay ng isang pangako:
Ito na ang huling patak ng tintang
iaalay ko para sa iyo.”


Si Djamyla D. Millona ay nag-aral sa Ateneo de Davao University at kasalukuyang nagtatrabaho sa DILG.