PISO

Poetry by | December 28, 2008

Adunay usa ka bata
Nangandoy ug PISO
Mupalit daw siya ug kendi
ug tungod kay pasko man
nakahuna-huna manaygon
Nagkuha ug duha ka bato
gigamit nga musiko
ug nagsugod sa kanto…

“jinggol bels, jinggol bels
jinggol od da wi, olwis pan
darestorayn en d wanders open sli.”
Kanta sa bata sa unang higayon
Apan gisirad-an kani sa balay
ug gipahawa ang bata…

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Ellis Island

Poetry by | December 28, 2008

Nagpinta ka
sa lupalop ng aking gunita—
ng mga natuklap na kaban at maleta,
ng mga napudpod na sapatos at sandalyas,
ng mga nasugatan na pantalon at bestida.

Tumugtog ka
sa lupalop ng aking gunita—
ng mga hiyaw ng sanggol na gutom,
ng mga lagapak na interogasyon,
ng mga buntong-hininga ng disilusyon.

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Psalms

Nonfiction by | December 21, 2008

The full moon shone pale through thin clouds, diffusing its glow. The faces of the people looked peaceful and solemn in the subdued light of the many-colored lanterns that lined the sides of Lourdes Church in Quezon City. The priest’s voice echoed from hidden speakers and was thunderous, like the foreboding voice of God, but I did not see his face because I was standing in the adjacent car park. From outside, I could see empty pews, but more parishioners than what I thought was usual had gathered to listen and to pray.

The evening was chilly. One could almost imagine that the church, the streets, the shabby souvenir shops and donut chains, and all the rest of Manila were air-conditioned. The leaves of the fruitless trees beside the adoration chapel rustled gently, and the seven o’clock sky was pink. Indeed, the weather is best come December. It doesn’t rain and it is never too hot.

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XMas

Nonfiction by | December 21, 2008

When I was younger, met the -ber months with anticipation. I knew then that gifts, parties, and family reunions were not far off. Chill wind, Christmas carols, and dazzling lights: there was magic in the air. But above all, what I looked forward to in Christmas was the gift from Santa Claus.

My parents taught me to believe in Santa Claus. I did, hook, line and sinker. Who wouldn’t, with everyone at home in cahoots? My brothers would say that they saw huge foot prints in the garden. Our maid would say that she swept up stardust. I believed it all until I was in sixth grade.

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A Modern Rapunzel

Poetry by | December 21, 2008

I admit: I did it
not the witch.
I hate my suitor,
Who still lives in middle ages.
He doesn’t own a cellphone,
doesn’t know what a car is,
and doesn’t have an inkling
how to court a woman like me.
Everyday he rides on his horse
from his faraway palace up to my fortress
just to utter words of the same idea
all over again.
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Barya

Poetry by | December 21, 2008

Sa bawat yapos
Ng lupa at yapak mo’y
Nais kong wasakin
Ang bintanang pinid sa
          aking dibdib,
Ang idolong lumiliyab sa
      busilak ng iyong tawa.
                        Handa akong malunod
Sa ningning at gulo ng
      peryang
                        Dulot ng iyong mga mata.
             
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My Father Drowned in Soup

Nonfiction by | December 14, 2008

My Father drowned in soup.

I was around four or five when my aunts and grandma taught me that. It was their way of explaining why, unlike other kids, I had no Papa. We would rehearse every once in a while among ourselves, or in front of my come-and-go seafarers for uncles, and I would be delighted to see them amused at how great I was at it.

In my young mind, I would often wonder how my Father drowned in soup. It was not as if I had not seen him at all. Maybe, at that age I had been with him twice or thrice, though I am not sure now. I would imagine my Papa with his big, chubby body, his arms flailing, and his entire head submerged in a bowl of chicken tinola he was having for lunch. What a sight!

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How do you write a poem?

Poetry by | December 14, 2008

How do you give birth to beautiful thoughts?
How do you pull the stars, the ocean, and the sunset
Towards a piece of paper?
How do you convince the angels to whisper and coach you?
Or the devils, to just sit and listen?
How do you tell the pen
To write something meaningful?
Something people will look for?
Something they will tell their friends about?
How do you generate colors from a black-inked pen?
How do you write with a smile in your voice?
How do you match the right words?
How do you summon the nicest punctuations?
How do you arrange everyday expressions
To form a symphony?
How do you liven up a dormant heart,
A dead emotion,
An indifferent soul?
How do you write a poem?

—-
Karla Stefan Singson is a 4th year Marketing student and the president of the debating club of the Ateneo de Davao University.