The Cellist

Poetry by | February 13, 2011

I wish I was your cello
in frenzy at the touch of your bow, stirring
as your erratic fingers pluck
my still but waiting strings, gasping
while you control your breathing
and dance madly
to the notes you were playing,
to the music that only a cello and the cellist can hear;
reverberating, convulsing, until the orchestra stops,
until the lights went off
that marks the end of our piece.

I’m listening.

—
Myan Declaro took up AB English Creative Writing in UP Mindanao and is currently working at Caraga State University.

Thanks for Taboan

Editor's Note by | February 13, 2011

The Davao Writers Guild, along with the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, would like to thank everyone who attended the 3-day Taboan International Writers Festival at the Royal Mandaya Hotel. Special thanks goes out to the LCB Performing Arts Center Foundation for the entertaining performances and support for this entire event.

Of course, the festival would not have been a success without the writers from all over the country, and the world, who shared new insights and encouraged a greater sense of heart toward the arts and the written word. Until the next year!

Relo

Poetry by | February 6, 2011

Kining relo nga kalit niundag tuyok
Dili usa ka makinang daot.
Kini ang akong pagbating gitipigan,
Gisuksok sa pamasing ang tanan makalimtan.

Ug diha sa suok siya nagpaabot.
Sa hilom, naghandom nga pansinon,
Nag-ampo nga sa maka-usa pa,
Sul-obon.

Apan ang akong kasingkasing
Gipul-an na. Gikapoyan nag ilis.
Naluya sa mga kuso-kuso,
Nawad-an og kusog sa pagpanlubag.

Kining relo nga niundang og pitik
Dili usa ka makina. Kini usa ka pagbating
Nahinanok ug wa kamata.
Di na ko mopalit og bag-ong baterya.

—
About Jayson Parba: Si Jayson usa ka magtutudlo sa Capitol University sa Cagayan de Oro City.

Poetry by | February 6, 2011

They defined love right before we knew it;
boxed it, typecast it even before we saw it,
and actually felt it:
     bright red silk and sheets
     of sun-dried passion;
yet they never told us it could be this painful. About Rory Bualan: “I teach, read and write. 😉 …and eat and diet.”

So Real

Fiction by | February 6, 2011

As the song goes, “If I can make it there. I’ll make it anywhere. New York! New York!” 

But Tricia was barely making it.

Carrying what seemed like ten watermelons inside her belly, she willed her brain to suck all the tears back in.  She knew that even a sigh would place her in danger of losing her very fragile control.  It was a good thing her neighbors, John and Mayen, offered to drive.  If it weren’t for the waves of alternating intense fire and knives that radiated from her abdomen, she would have felt deep humiliation.

Continue reading So Real

Our Love Story

Nonfiction by | January 30, 2011

If you really wanted to hear about it, you will probably want to know where I was born, what the entirety of my not-so-lousy childhood was, and all that crap. But you do not, and that’s good. Besides, I am not going to write my autobiography or whatever, like I am going to die soon. Duh. I am going to tell you about the whole madman process of how I learned English. And hey, looking back, it seems you can compare English to a guy, or heck, maybe a boyfriend. The kind you want to hug and choke at the same time.

Where I want to start telling you all this stuff is when we first met. I was still very young (I was in preschool that time). At that time, it really did not matter to me who he was or what he was; I did not need to know him yet, at least at that point. So, for all intents and purposes at that time, we were just acquaintances. Our teachers wanted me to get to know English better, and use it more often, but it wasn’t a requirement just yet.

And if it is not a requirement, would any kid do it if she did not like it anyway?

Continue reading Our Love Story

We Might Soon Be Extinct (or Not)

Nonfiction by | January 30, 2011

Why do I write? I have asked myself this question often and most of the time I get a low humming sound from the back of my brain. How lovely.

I write maybe because I want to or maybe because I need to? I write because I have something that I believe in? I write for the people who cannot read and who cannot write, for the people who can’t speak and understand Bisaya, for the people who can’t even spell their names, for the people who go to sleep hungry, for the babies who are not even born yet? I torment my mind with questions that even I cannot answer clearly regarding my being a writer.

Residing in Davao City gives me a lot of things to write about, from the usually uneventful jeepney rides from Boulevard to Mintal to the (maybe) interesting lives of the people that I see with their palms open burning under the heat of the sun, begging on the streets, or the people who frequent the malls some of them indifferent to the problems that plague our society and some of them wanting to forget their own problems even just for a short while, or the people who are living under Bolton bridge. It seems to me that they have a lot of stories to tell under their ordinary, unassuming guises. They only need someone who would listen to their unspoken chronicles and tell it for them. I don’t know if I would be that person, but I want to be that person someday, somehow. I want their stories to be told and not lost in the fleeting current that is life.

Continue reading We Might Soon Be Extinct (or Not)

Gising at Mulat

Poetry by | January 30, 2011

Ako’y nabuhay ng gising
Gising sa bawa’t kataga
Gising sa bawa’t salita
Gising saking bawa’t gawa.
Ako’y nabuhay ng mulat
Mulat aking mga mata
Mulat itong kaluluwa
Sa tinatahak ng paa.

Kitang kita ko ang tinta,
Ang bawa’t guhit at pinta
Ang bawa’t hugis at hubog
Ang bawa’t ilaw at linya.
Natatanaw ko ang daang,
Patungo sa katapusan
Patungo sa kabayaran
Nitong aking bawa’t hakbang.

Ako’y nabuhay ng gising,
Mulat sa bawa’t alamat
Alam ko’ng ang bawa’t sulat
Ay may sukli na katapat.
Ngunit bakit ba ganito?
Alam ko na mali ito,
Kasalanan itong sakdal
Kumakawag pa rin ako

Bakit di ko malabanan,
Bakit di ko mapataob
Halimaw na nilalamo’t
Nagpapahina ng loob?
Hindi na nga yata sapat,
Malaman tama sa mali
Dapat matutong magbuhat
Ng maleta’t magmadali.

Dahil baka mapag-iwanan,
Ka na nga ng panahon.
Mga prinsipyo mo noon
Baka di na angkop ngayon.
Hindi na nga yata sapat,
Maging gising maging mulat.
Dapat malaman mo kung paano
Ihahagis ang lambat.

Jhunorjim Caumbo Zandueta is a Computer Engineering student from ADDU.