Poetry by Edgar Bacong | December 7, 2008
Puta ang turing ko sa syudad
sa mga sandaling kinukumutan
ng kulay abo ang kalangitan.
Nagmemeyk-ap ng maputlang ilaw
upang ikubli ang mga bitak at dungis
ng bawat edipisyo, iskinita’t kanto.
Nagsusuot ng mga karatulang
bumabakat sa mga panindang
nangangako ng kaluwalhatian.
Fiction by Marius Monsanto | November 30, 2008
I was staring at the Christmas lights outside Kenny’s when Rust came. I, Kristine, and Paulo were already there finishing up a Junior Lapad. We decided to wait for Rust before bringing out the longneck.
“He’s here!” shouted Kristine, obviously tipsy.
Paulo then stood up and went to the counter to get the longneck.
“Hi, Sigil!” Kristine greeted Rust when he got inside the carinderia. She leaned her chair back to look at Rust. I was thinking that she might fall and break something. Luckily, Rust was there to grab on to the back of the chair, preventing a mishap. What the hell was she thinking anyway?
Poetry by Dominique Gerald Cimafranca | November 30, 2008
This is the curve of the cheek
that I once explored with kisses.
This is the cave of the mouth
where I once blew in breath
whose wetness I tasted.
This is the hillock of the nose
where I once rubbed my own
on an idle summer day
when we ran through the fields.
These are the wings of the eyelids
that fluttered to life
at my slightest whisper.
These are the pools of the eyes
into which I lost my soul.
Now a distant country, only
half-remembered.
Poetry by Vanessa Arellano Doctor | November 30, 2008
I want
to understand that
without falter
the sun will give way to the moon
no matter its fury,
and night will open up to day
no matter its calm.
I want
to memorize you
so when you choose to forget,
as is the nature of things,
I can continue to pretend
I have kept you.
I want
to temper the sun,
ignite the moon,
and finally find room in your heart –
so you will never have to look
for anything else again.
Continue reading There are some things I want to do, but still haven’t
Poetry by Rigil Lumingkit | November 23, 2008
Because I want you still,
I will be harsh and bitter,
and you’ll see me happy around other men
who will never really have my heart.
I’ll let you tail behind me like a dog
with an umbrella on hand,
and I’ll walk like I don’t know you,
like there were no snippets of good times
rewinding in the vault of my head.
Fiction by Jezereel Louise Camangeg-Billano | November 23, 2008
Tumingala sa langit. Nasaan na kaya siya?Alas singko y medya. Medyo madilim na. Kailangan daw mag-ingat sa paglalakad. Mahirap na. Maputik ngayon. Sana mamaya na bumuhos ang ulan. Sumakay na lang sana ng pedicab. Medyo malayo rin pala. Parang malapit lang naman ‘to dati. Hinahatid pa niya ako noon. Pwede naman sigurong dumaan sandali sa tindahan nina Lily. Mangangamusta lang, matagal-tagal na rin. Minsan lang makalabas. Magpapakita pa kaya siya? Buntong-hininga. ‘Wag na lang, baka magalit ang nanay. Buti nga kahit pa’no, pumayag ngayon sa paglabas. Konting tiis na lang. Tingin lang ng diretso. Isang kanto na lang, bahay na. Nakakapagod pala talaga.. Kakayanin ko kahit wala siya. Higit sa bigat, yaong mga tingin, yaong mga bulong. Pero andito sana siya. Continue reading Dalagita
Nonfiction by Lachelle Marie Ravelo | November 23, 2008
It was a cold December morning when the undoubtedly strange silence woke me up from my peaceful slumber. I was four years old and it was the first time that I had actually woken up on my own. Everything turned out rather strange. I couldn’t hear the chirping birds from the outside when in fact, it was six in the morning. I couldn’t hear my mother blabbering, or the black and white TV set tuned up for the usual morning news. Not even the radio was on, nor the usual gossiping of our neighbors. The strange silence gave me the chills. I found myself silently wondering in my own room until I heard a familiar sound from the garage. It was the earsplitting sound of Papa’s old motorcycle engine. Somehow, it enlivened me so I rushed to the front door to hug him. Continue reading A Child's Intuition
Nonfiction by Jilah Kristine Mae Mayola | November 23, 2008
I was seated in an airplane going to Manila and the clouds looked so heavy that it seemed to reflect how I felt about my grandmother’s death. It was three days before that trip when my aunt had called us up to give the devastating news. My Lola Maria, as we used to call her, passed away due to complications of her diabetes. As we arrived at the NAIA, I started to feel really weird, like I did not even bother to look around me. I was simply going with the flow until we arrived at my aunt’s house. Still outside their house, I started to feel fear inside me. Fear for myself that maybe I could not bear the pain of being at her wake. I was so confused that at one point I struggled with feeling numb.