Ug Mingiob ang Kalibotan

Fiction by | October 25, 2009

The Communist Party of the Philippines, together with the entire Philippine revolutionary movement, condemns in the strongest terms possible the brutal and ruthless killing of Bishop Alberto Ramento, chairperson of the Iglesia Filipina Independiente (IFI) Supreme Council of Bishops, human rights stalwart, critic of social injustice and fighter for people’s interests. Bishop Ramento, who was found dead with several stab wounds inside his parish church in Tarlac City before dawn Tuesday, was brutally and heineously murdered. We hold the Arroyo regime responsible for Bishop Ramento’s murder. From: http://qc.indymedia.org/news/2006/10/8808.php

NAABTAN ko siyang way kibo sulod sa iyang opisina. Daw may lawom nga gihunahuna. Sa akong tan-aw, may dako siyang suliran. Ang iyang panan-aw didto nahipunting sa bentana…milapos sa jalousie, daw nagsud-ong sa usa ka halayong esena. Ingon na gayod siya niining ulahing mga adlaw. Way kadasig.

“Nia na ang juice ug sandwich, Monsinyor. Snack time na.” Gitandog ko ang iyang pagkasangit sa kahilom.

Gibuhian nya ang tugot sa iyang paghinuktok ug mitan-aw siya kanako. Sa lulot niyang mga mata, nakita ko ang duha ka lusok nga luha nga inanayng midagayday sa iyang kaapingan. Sa akong nakita, natantiya ko nga usa gayod ka bug-at nga butang ang nakapahasol sa agalon kong Obispo. Mangahas unta ko sa pagpakisayod kon unsa kining butanga apan nadat-ogan ako sa dakong kaikog.

Continue reading Ug Mingiob ang Kalibotan

Pagpanghinguto

Poetry by | October 25, 2009

Gilaksi ni nanay ang usa ka panid sa kalendaryo
Nahuman na ba gud diay ang bulan sa Pebrero?
Dungan sa iyang sitsit mao ang mapugsanong sinyas
“Duol ra kadiyot ug pungko dinhi sa tsinelas.”

Iyang gibuklad sa salog ang gilaksing papel
Samtang ako miyaka duol sa iyang tiil
Gibadbad niya ang lastikong bugkos sa akong buhok
Gitaktak niya ang sulud dayon ako gipaduko

Huma’g kahig-kahig nangahulog ang mga kuto
Daw mga nasakpang kawatang nagtapok!
Gidalian dayon namog pamusa
Usa pa man sa ulo mobalik ug tugpa

Makapanlimbawot ang ilang balhiboong lawas
Gaitom lang ang agi sa mga gagmayng Hudas!
Ang kanhing puting likod sa kalendaryo
Nahimong usa ka langsang menteryo

Nagkatag ang dugo
dugo sa kuto?

o dugo nako?

Ah,basta ang importante hayahay na akong paminaw
Gikumot na ni nanay ang kalendaryong hugaw
Kuyog ang panghinaot nga ‘di na ko kutohon pa
Aron wa nay mahadlok nakong motapad ug makigdula

Kung Hiktan Nako ang Bulan

Poetry by | October 18, 2009

ung puydi lang untang
talian ang bulan,
kaw-itan ko kini’g pisi
ug ihikot sa haligi

Ipaguyod ko ang akong payag
sama’s kangga sa kabaw,
ug salmotan ko ang bulan
sa iyang paglatagaw

Ako mohangad
Lili-on ug ngisihan ko siya
gikan sa bangag
sa gamay kong bintana

Makapamalandong ako…

Tuod, wala ako’y bitoon
apan higala kami sa bulan

Ipaguyod ko pa ang akong payag

Ug ipaguyod ko usab
ang akong kalag
sama sa kangga sa kabaw
nga sakyanan sa mag-uumang
gikapoy ug nagtukaw

Tultulan ako sa bulan
sa iyang tagoanan
sa mga higayong
masilawan siya sa adlaw

Hatagan kaha ko niya
ug bisan gamayng luna?
Tungod kay dinhi sa kalibutan
dili akoa kining yuta

Taud-taud
ipakita sa bulan
ang iyang tulumanon
ang iyang bag-ong porma

Monipis
Moniwang
Mahisama sa karet!

Karet!
Sama ka’s karet, higalang bulan!
Hait ug talinis.

Hay! Kung puydi lang untang
talian ang bulan

Apan karon, itugyan ko lang usa
ang akong mga damgo

Ugma, sa pagmata
puniton ko ang karet
ug mosakay sa kangga

magpaguyod ko sa kabaw
padulong sa kadaugan!

Winners for the Bisaya Fiction Contest

Editor's Note by | October 12, 2009

The judges have chosen the winners from the field of 21 entries. They are:

1st Prize Winner: Ug Mingiob ang Kalibotan by Raul Moldez
2nd Prize Winner: Kadula by Brian Ang
3rd Prize Winner: Mga Dalan sa Downtown by Javin Jet Tevar

Awarding ceremony will be at Bagobo House Hotel, Gov. Duterte St., on October 17, 5:00 PM.

Grandparents

Poetry by | October 11, 2009

Grandparents are just dreams
Fleeting and passing each night;
though they’re mysterious, you won’t care
once you wake up.
Grandparents are only stories
Fleeting and passing every time,
Though wonderful, you won’t care
once you carry on with your routines.
Grandparents are mere bubbles
Fleeting and passing as they float
though they shine against the light
you won’t care, once they pop.
I never met my grandparents,
long dead and fled, like the stories
mother told about them.
I never cared.
But each time she told those stories,
I saw hurt gleaming in her eyes.
That’s why I started to care.

Continue reading Grandparents

Biko

Poetry by | October 11, 2009

your underarms
are bare and wet
as your old ladle
patiently danced
inside the giant kawa
the other strap
slipped
from your shoulders
your skin
cracked
dry like the desert
your armpits
tired and wet
maybe you still smelled
like last Saturday night
when he came home
his body swaying
to his own raging music
burying his face
in your armpits
his breath
like sliced ginger
his hand
a spear
around your face
forgetting you were once
the queen
of his kingdom
your ladle danced again
your armpits wet
your biko
wasted –
a sweet decay

Continue reading Biko

Red Wine for Teddy

Play by | October 4, 2009

Characters:

Teodor/Teddy – middle-aged guy, meat vendor and butcher
Ardong – meat butcher and delivery man
Lydia – meat vendor and mother of Ji-ji
Ji-ji – daughter of Lydia, twenty-two years old

In a market. Two meat stalls face each other on stage. A space in between serves as the pathway. One yellow light bulb hangs in each stall. Lydia and Jiji’s stall is on the left side. On their table: a weighing machine on the right side, chopping board at center, meat slabs. Jiji stands behind the table slicing meat. On her left side, Lydia spinkles water on the sliced meat slabs. Ardong stands in front of their stall putting meat slabs on the table from his big plastic container. Teddy’s table is on the right side. His table is bare except for the wooden chopping board and the butcher knife.

It is four-thirty in the morning.

Teodor ties the apron around his neck. Afterwards, he ties a towel around his head. He pours water on the surface of his table and wipes it with a clean rug. His voice has a clear accent of Bisaya, always mispronouncing the words.

Continue reading Red Wine for Teddy

Villanelle For A Bumpy Ride

Poetry by | October 4, 2009

All my mothers will hum your lullaby
Hold tight as we ride the habal-habal.
And they will all forgive when you first cry.
Quietness falling, not failing the skies
Hold tight as we bump along the rough road.
All my mothers will hum your lullaby.
I will not pass the Abortion Road and die,
Daddy will drive us home before midnight
And they will all forgive when you first cry.
Stars blink and sing, and so do I
Listening to your heartbeat with my heartbeat
All my mothers will hum your lullaby.
I pray and am blessed; these tears will dry
You’ll breathe in all the poems that I will write,
They will all forgive when you first cry.
Grip tighter, for darkness will say goodbye,
Just sleep inside, my sweetest mistake
All my mothers will hum your lullaby,
And they will all forgive when you first cry.

Continue reading Villanelle For A Bumpy Ride