Poetry by Cherry Alcantara | August 9, 2009
Slumped on this bus seat
beside the window,
the rain outside
pelting the nipa houses,
naked children with bloated bellies playing,
their ginger-like feet stomping
on puddles,
I had lost track of my destination.
Fiction by Easter Sunshine Catedral | August 2, 2009
The air in the open balcony could make anyone in the room shiver. It actually made us shiver then; but the darkness and the cold could not stop us. I was twenty and in love.
“Kokoy, faster, before anyone discovers we have eloped.” Even in the darkness, Romel’s beautiful eyes and long lashes mesmerized me. He was my father’s private nurse. Sometimes I think my confession had triggered father’s stroke. So I tried to make up for it by taking care of him after my classes. That was how Romel and I became close.
Nonfiction by Arianne Nemenzo | August 2, 2009
Your sweat pours down your back as the temperature rises. The heat is killing you. You press yourself hard on the body trapped between your thighs, making sure that you are fixed on it. You try to stay focused but you forget everything along the way. Your grip becomes tighter; you don’t want to lose the moment. And just like anything done in haste, the whole act is over before you know it.
This is how it is to ride a motorcycle under the battering heat of the sun. Wind is the only relief as it touches you. The ride’s rhythm makes you wonder what awaits you. Is it a pending collision, a machine defect, a dried-up-river road, or an attempt of the motorcycle driver to make advances on you? In this case, wonder is an understatement because people at times become frantic and even terrified. To fall from the motorcycle is unfortunate, or worse, tragic. Just like what the old folks keep on telling us, riding a motorcycle is like putting one foot in the grave. Continue reading HH: A Different Ride
Poetry by Karlo Antonio David | August 2, 2009
Because someone has finally come
I open the door
after keeping it closed for so long.
The carpet is unrolled,
the chimes are hung,
the perfume sprayed —
all to welcome the visitor
at the door.
As she draws nearer
and nearer
my heart races
but then, without warning
she turns her back
her back she turns.
I close the door again.
Had I not left it ajar
I would not have seen
her coming
at all.
Poetry by Krizia Banosan Garcia | August 2, 2009
the flickering lights
allow a momentary glimpse
on the sea of unfamiliar faces
his eyes, utter innocence,
his smile, wicked.
this stranger
touched my face
and i knew–
it was he I had been
warned about.
he hides and lingers
leaves and stays —
in the darkest of nights, he plays
with someone’s heart,
between someone’s legs.
he made me see.
and the next thing i knew
he was gone.
Poetry by Arnel Santander | July 26, 2009
Kanindot sa kinabuhi,
Katam-is sa mga pasalig sa ugma,
Buntag palang madungog na ang tingog sa hudyaka,
Inig gawas sa payag init nga gakos imong madawat-
Nga gikan sa adlaw nga nisidlak,
Kaunan sa kamote ni nanay nga nilung-ag.
Makapakalma na sa bitok nga naglimbag-limbag,
Dinhi sa ibabaw sa bukid,
Nagkalandrakas nga problema ang tanan imong isandig,
Sa lubi nga nagbahirig daplin sa pangpang nga gamay nalang ang naghawid,
Aron kung dili naka makapugong isinggit nalang na aron ang bug-at
nimong gibati mangaligid.
Sa udtong tutok isdang tanga maoy daling mahulga,
Lunuran dayon sa mga nagtul-id nga odong sakto na ang suwa,
Pus-an pa sa siling pirting halanga nga halos mata nimo makaluha,
Human sa dungan nga pagpangaon ang kabusog nimong bation
pildihon pa ang karenderia sa Tagum.
Inig ilog sa kagab-ihon pagtabi sa mga lingaw nga kagahapon ang daling himoon,
Kinaskasan sa gitara ni tatay kasing-kasing mo pasayawon,
Ug bisan utang nimo kaya niyang kuykuyon,
Ug dinhi matapos ang adlaw nga puno sa kalipayon,
Bisan numero ni Manny Pastoral kaya niyang pildihon.
Kinabuhing dili kabayran, bisan MISFI dili makaafford sa utang,
Pagpuyo nga malinawon inyong gipaningkamotan nga akong mahulam,
Banig ug unlan nga inyong giandam paminaw nako langit akong gikatulgan,
Bisan tuod kusog muburok ang pambot sa akong kiliran,
Apan, maanindot nga duyog kini sa akong dunggan.
Kaninyong tanan, kamo akong gipasalamatan sa kalipay’ng
tim-os nga
akong natagamtaman.
Poetry by Georgianna Kae Oguis | July 26, 2009
A quaint light
that bore no frenzy fire,
A feeble hope
Like a speck
of cinder dust
A magical trick,
Though not an illusion,
A vision beheld for a splitday.
Like coffee froth
popping upon conception
It was a flashing beam
A fluorescing midnight dream
Millennial ray gun of heat and bliss
Quaint, nearly invisible
A spark and nothing more.
Poetry by Karlo Antonio David | July 19, 2009
Based on the epic Magindala: Mutya ng Daraanwan by Don Pagusara
Hihiga-higa
Sa may dalampasigan ng lawa
Mga huni ng ibon sa puno
Nakaaantok, Nakasasawa
Sa katahimikan ng umaga
Tataghoy ang plawta
Aawit ang Mutya
At magsisimula ang eksena
Ang mundo’y kinulayan ng puti at pula
Kaya’t eto ako, nakalawit ang dila
Mga tuhod nakapiko, mga paa nakabukaka
Sa pagganap sa papel, eto, handa na
Ayun siya, anak ni Kuhila
At eto ako, ang papel ay manguha
Ng puri, ng isda, pati ng kaluluwa
Eto ako, laruan ng tadhana
Ang mundo’y kinulayan ng puti at pula
At ako’y nilugar sa pangal’wa
Kaya’t eto ako, isang kontrabida
Demonyong likha ni Don Pagusara
Tingala, yuko, kanan, kaliwa
Dungaw, hiyaw, ilawit ang dila
Isalubong ang kilay, palakihin ang mata
Ipakita sa mundo ang ‘yong pagnanasa
Kubli, hiyaw, isabay mo sa plawta
Ayan na, dibdib, sa mundo’y ipakita!
Lumapit, lumapit, mukha’y pagnanasa
Hila! Harap! Ika’y manggahasa!
Wala na. wala
Laro ni Bathala
Pati pagsikat ng araw minani-obra
Si Magindala’y puti, ako ay pula
Siya magwawagi, ako’y mapipinsala
Eto ako, nilikha ni Magbibaya
Upang puksahin ng Daranawang dakila
Laruan lamang ng maawaing Bathala
Kakataying tupa sa paghuni ng Plawta