Tahimik at malamig ang umaga.
Walang humpay ang ulan
Sa iyong paglisan.
Puso nami’y nagluluksa,
Ngunit bakit ang orkidyang dilaw
Higit pang tumingkad?
Ina
Poetry by Vangie Dimla-Algabre | August 16, 2009
Coffee and Friends
Nonfiction by Riza Racho | August 9, 2009
Most of us equate coffee with age and long nights that never end; some of us place it at par with romance and falling rain, or hot sultry nights and youth, or balmy days and long forgotten echoes of old remembered loves and footsteps that ring no more, or cold afternoons and chocolate rice porridge before our old television sets and their endless reruns of movies long archived. Whatever strikes our fancy, goes; coffee on hand, it seems, is here to stay.
Planted, Uprooted, and Transient Boarder in This Soil
Nonfiction by Kelly Conlon | August 9, 2009
I look around and see that there is a lot to be done—laundry in a basket, books sprawled all over the floor, clothes hanging haphazardly from fixtures, my bag puking papers all over my shoes, slippers and sandals, my bed a mess—and I have just woken up from my sleep, that which I did not truly enjoy. I had a dream—and it was of a home, which felt so familiar and artificially sweet. But it was odd and not at all refreshing. It was awkward and still and dull. It cannot be called a dream, but that’s what people call mental images in succession, so it’ll have to be called that. And this dream was a dream that ended up all mine.
Continue reading Planted, Uprooted, and Transient Boarder in This Soil
Mannequin
Poetry by Cherry Alcantara | August 9, 2009
She enters the mall’s bazaar
wanting to buy a beautiful gown
for the next day’s promenade.
She gropes disappointment inside
the pocket of her school uniform.
Pulling her skirt up an inch
she mimics the mannequin dazzling
in crimson gown.
Bus Ride
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.
Hello Tomorrow
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.
HH: A Different Ride
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
The Door Left Ajar
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.