Nocturne

Poetry by | January 15, 2012

I listen to the sky speak of tenderness
in a dialect dappled with stars. I listen
to trees talk eagerly of cooler winds

and true love among everything else
that is awfully missed in this part of town.
Like an ancient thief prying for the word

that reveals Earth for all its treasures,
I listen so I can learn about the night
and its most careful gestures so when

it is my turn to speak I can say – Yes,
the world insists on darkness and difficult
magic. And yes, there is music to ease us

in our sleep. In my dreams, I learn of time
as the heartbeat of angels spoken with
indelicate accents of light, and although

I have yet to offer what little I have left
of prayer, I keep my fingers unfurled,
my palms open to promises of better days

and lovelier afterhours. Yes, let us talk of love.
Let us talk of prayer. Let us talk of things
we have yet to offer. Because when this part

of town slowly yields to slumber,
it will be to the drone of rainclouds drifting
over a thousand fluorescent flowers.

—
Allen Samsuya was a Creative Writing major at UP Mindanao. He was a fellow for poetry at the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop, at the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and at the 50th Silliman National Writers Workshop. Some of his works have appeared in Philippines Graphic, SunStar Davao and the Best of Dagmay anthology.

Kalit

Poetry by | January 15, 2012

kalit ug hait
ang sagpa sa hangin
dihang nabalitaan niyang
wa na iyang inahan.

kalit siyang nabungol
sa gikusgon sa sagpa
sa pulong,
sa kahapdos nga karon pa niya
sukad nahinagbo,
sa syagit nga gapakahilom
sulod sa iyang dughan.

bug-at

ang dag-om sa iyang huna-huna.
may gibug-aton kini nga di matimbang
sa maskin unsang pulong
ug malitok lamang sa hilom
nga paglanab sa iyang luha.  

wa niya damha
nga karong taknaa,
kalit

mahagsa ang langit

—
Gratian Paul R. Tidor is a young poet and visual artist from Dipolog City.

Tingog nga Gaunos sa Sulod

Poetry by | January 15, 2012

Di na ko makadungog sa mga tingog
sa akong mga higala dinhi sa Burgos.

Di na ko makadungog ni Dodong
nga kanonay gaaghat kanako’g laag.
Wala na’ng hagawhaw nilang Toto ug Imok
nga makatakod kanako’g agak-ak.
Wa na’ng mga higayon nga magtigi mi’g
patag-asay og ihi (Kon itandi sa sulog
sa suba, dagayday ra among agas).

Di na ko makadungog sa mga tingog
nilang Yani ug Ai-ai nga nagtamudmod
nga di sila makakuyog dungan namo.
Sagad gabagutbot mi kay mora mi’g
gitanggong sa balay kon moulan.
Ug bisan tuod nga mora mi’g iro’g iring
sa paglalis, mosubang pod ang adlaw
nga kami makasinabtanay taman sa pagtuliyok
sa among utok, mora’g nalabyan og bagyo.

Apan sukad milabay si Sendong, wala na’y
laing madunggan gawas sa mga danguyngoy
sa ilang ginikanan, ang mga uwang
sa mga sakyanan, ug nangabilin nga tingog
sa akong mga higala nga galanog duyog

sa sulog. Hangtod karon, padayon ang haguros
sa akong kasubo. Wa’y kataposan ang unos.

—
Mark Daposala was a fellow at the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop. He is taking up graduate studies in English at Xavier University.

Lag-Ok's Papayas

Fiction by | December 25, 2011

Once there was a man named Lag-ok who owned a beautiful orchard. He had all kinds of fruit trees. There were mangoes, bananas, durian, rambutan, lanzones and others. But his favorite of all was papaya.

Lag-ok loved his orchard very much that he built a tall bamboo fence around it. That way, no one could take any of the ripe fruits from his trees. He wanted all of them for himself. He would sell the big ones in the market and get plenty of money. He would keep the medium ones for eating, and the small ones, he would allow to rot away on the ground to serve as fertilizer. He shared with no one and he gave nothing away.

Continue reading Lag-Ok's Papayas

To Mama

Poetry by | December 25, 2011

You look upset today Mama.
And I know why.
Do you want to hop on a time machine?
To get an abortion? A ligation?
Or a mere adoption if you feel forgiving?
 
Your brows, like two itchy bristly
black caterpillars writhed and met
as you tried to burn a hole
through my report card with your glare
and set me aflame.
 
But then you didn’t like the poem
I wrote for you as appeasement
For it used such apt metaphor
for your black-dyed hair that sparkles with dandruff
that outshines the star-sprinkled night.

You shouted at me, Mama, and I comforted myself
with the thought of your head
your sparkly flaked head shaking vigorously,
showering down bits of fake snow on the floor.
And you won’t have anyone to sweep after your mess,
but yourself, Mama.

—-
Prescilla Dorado studies writing at UP Mindanao.

Solitude

Poetry by | December 25, 2011

I say
this solitude is a cold,
slow bullet
piercing your heart

violet on your favorite white shirt
the blood blossoming into a somber flower
red and black
noiseless on your throat
muffled by your sobs

Tremble
Cower
Clamber up some secret hiding place
Fall into yourself
deeper some more
Gasp for the name of God

and with a last breath
say your prayer

forgive

this stranger
warming your heart

—
Janice Joy Chiongson teaches English at Philippine Science High School Southern Mindanao Campus.

Sa Kalsada, Part 2

Fiction by | December 18, 2011

Miabot ang grupo didto sa usa ka abandonadong bilyaran sa Jacinto. Mao kadto’y giila nilang hideout. Sa dihang nakasulod na tanang Spiders, mipaduol si Stella sa bilyaran. Pagsilip niya sa gamay nga bangag, nakita niya nga nanaka ang mga lalaki sa second floor. Sa kagustuhan ni Stella nga makahibalo, misulod siya ug gibilin iyang bag sa usa ka lamesa sa silong. Mikamang siya pasaka ug gisilip ang gihimo sa mga Spiders. Nakita niya ang iyang kuya Lucas nga dunay taptap sa mga mata ug nakaluhod samtang nagpalibot kaniya ang ubang myembro. Sa atubangan ni Lucas nagtindog si Louie ug dunay mga gipangyawyaw. Nakadungog si Stella sa mga pulong apan wala na niya gipaminaw. Ang iyang tuyo mao ang masayran kung unsaon ang iyang kuya.

Taud-taud, gitunol ni Ben kang Louie ang usa ka injection nga puno og berde nga likidong. Gituruk ang maong droga kang Lucas. Mipiyong lang ang mata ni Lucas samtang ginapaak ang iyang ngabil. Gikuha dayon ni Louie ang usa ka baseball bat. Gihalok-halokan kini ni Louie, dayon gimandoan si Lucas nga motindog.

Continue reading Sa Kalsada, Part 2

Ruben's Paintings

Nonfiction by | December 18, 2011

The paintings and sketches of Ruben De Vera were set up on the second floor of an unpretentious building owned by the Davao City Government. The building is the Museo Dabawenyo, not far from the Legislative Building in the heart of the City.

Every person entering the Museo is told to sign a logbook. The employees of the City Government act as guides to the visitors.

I was led up the stairs.

I walked into a large room. On the walls were the Ruben De Vera oil paintings, which were not framed. No titles. How fortunate for the artist, I thought. He did not have to supply a title for every work; he did not worry about the expense of frames.

I was previously told there were no drinks served during the opening of the exhibit. Another expense avoided.

Soon, a bird with a fantail flew in. There were few people, and they did not see the bird. It flew, close to the ceiling, making its own guided tour.

Deep within myself I felt happy seeing the bird.

Because, when it suddenly appeared, it was the “Sign” of a good future for the Artist and his friends.

His depiction of the human face was like mine.

He could draw hands, figures in motion; also he could paint a shoreline dividing the blue sea, and the earth, a rare achievement.

I specially liked the portrayal of a group of smiling folk, one young woman, holding a cigarette, and all beside the seashore.

Indeed, this was an inspiring show, and it pushed me to resume my own painting work.

I was reminded of what Henry Miller wrote: “The Artist works to restore the innocence of humanity.”

—-
Joan Edades is the daughter of the late National Artist Victorio Edades and Jean Garrott Edades. She is an artist, and a writer and editor at the Davao Mission in Bangkal.