Mga backpack nga atong gikabiba

Poetry by | November 22, 2025

Kon mamatay ko ugma
kinsa ang moluhod
tupad sa Suba sa Chao Phraya
mga tore sa Wat Arun
nga misidlak sama sa mga pag-ampo
nga dili nako maabot?

Nagkabiba ka usab og backpack
gipilo nga bug-at sa mga hunghong
mga suok nga gipiit sa kasina
mga sensilyo sa pangabubho
bugnaw ug nag-awas
diin walay kamot
nga makatigom niini.

Gidapit nimo ang mga higala
sa panihapon
pagtilaw sa gagmay nga mga
katalagman
nga dili nimo matulon.

Gidala nila ang imong mga aligato
kalayo nga gihulam
libak nga gitahi sa mga higot
mga pahiyom nga gipilo
sa mga kutsilyo
gaan sa kamot
bug-at sa espiritu.

Wala koy gidala nga ingon niana
walay sibya
walay pasundayag
usa lamang ka backpack
bug-at sa hilom

rosaryo gikan ni Nanay Fe
mga sulat nga gipilo nga nipis
mga sensilyo nga gipiit sa mga suok
usa ka litrato
sa mga kamot nga nagkupot kanako
sa wala pa ko bun-oga sa kalibotan.

Kon mamatay ka
kinsa ang mohapnig
sa imong mga hunghong ngadto sa pag-ampo
mokupot sa imong abo nga inanay
mohunghong kanila
nga daw mga bata pa sila?

Nahuman ang panihapon
ang bino nagmantsa sa linen
ang libak naghikohiko ug nahanaw
sama sa aso
lahos sa sirado nga pultahan.

Ug ako
ikabiba nako
ang akong backpack nga
gaan
hilom
punô sa mga butang nga molungtad

gugma
pag-ampo
gagmay nga kalipay
usa ka kinabuhi nga nahinumdoman
dili tungod sa gisinggaak niini
apan tungod sa hilom nga iyang gihatag.

Wat Arun. Usa ka bantogan nga templo sa daplin sa suba sa Bangkok, ilado tungod sa taas ug matahom nga tore nga gidekorasyonan og porselana.

Suba sa Chao Phraya. Ang nag-unang suba sa Bangkok, masinati sa daghang sakayan ug gipalibotan sa mga makasaysayanong landmark.


Si Gerwin Vic Evarretta Bhuyo usa ka magtutudlo nga OFW sa Bangkok, Thailand. Kinaham niya ang pagkuha og mga hulagway, pagsulat og balak ug sugilanon. Kon walay kakulian, magyampungad siya sa mga ipahigayong book sale events.

The Multitude of Reminiscence and Apprehension

Poetry by | November 15, 2025

Three years down the drain
Left me with cloudy rectitude
A woeful plea in temperance
A series of anxious trepidation:

I dread the rain
The unseen and stifled pain
The haunting echo of being insane

I fear the solitude
The faltering incertitude
The desolate ruin of my fortitude

I worry the dissonance
The restless resistance
The formidable need for assurance

I agonize over the regression
The lingering tension
The wounded, toxic repetition

How can I love again
When life is full of vicissitude?
How can I seek acceptance,
When I’m fading into deep attrition?

Maybe I will never know.


Marevic Jean P. Lutog is an instructor at Davao Oriental State University. She writes poems and stories as her primary outlet for expressing her concealed emotions since she finds solace in literature.

If the Street Could Speak

Poetry by | November 15, 2025

Along a busy street,
people hurry past,
cars cry out in chorus,
each chasing their own day.

Across that street sits an old man,
in a loose, torn shirt,
selling vegetables,
hoping for pennies
to fill an empty stomach.

On that same street,
hundreds gather,
banners raised high,
truth painted in black and red.
In unison, they screamed,
“Wakasan na ang korapsyon!”

Indeed,
the street holds stories.

It has witnessed underpaid workers
set out with the sunrise,
and return with the stars.

It has braced trembling bodies,
lying on the cold ground—

no roof, no wall,
owning only a piece of cardboard.

It has carried the footsteps of the angry,
and heard the cries of the brave—
the endless scream for justice.

If the street could speak,
it would tell of lives worn down by greed.

It would march with the protesters,
for it too bears the marks of corruption—
never repaired, always drowning in injustice.

Because, like the people who walk upon it,
it remains neglected, yet still endures.


Najhanne Buat Asum, 21, is from Balindong, Lanao del Sur. She is a fourth-year student in the Bachelor of Arts in English Language Studies program at Mindanao State University – Main Campus. Najhanne writes from the heart, inspired by what she observes in the world, and hopes her words can make a small difference.

2:00 a.m thoughts beside my window

Poetry by | November 15, 2025

I write less
And speak
Even more
Sparsely
Of the colors
Of my soul

Too many words
They say
Tend to deceive
Too much prose
Tend to do poetry
An injustice

I sing less
And dance
Even more
Rarely
To the rhythm
Of love

Too much theater
They say
Tend to mislead
Too much panache
Tend to convey
Only the good

Yet, too, they say
In tones less shrill
That, indeed, it is
Through words, songs
Even dances

That tend to calm
Soften our hearts
And tend to uphold
Only the true


Nikki Rivera Gomez has written four books on living in Mindanao, three of which are being published by the UP Press. He lives in Davao City and hopes to inspire young writers to “write with abandon and live purposefully.”

Warning: Wala Ni Hinungdan

Poetry by | November 15, 2025

Have you ever tried writing a poem
nga wala ka kabalo asa padulong?
Like this ba.

Nahimoot ko samtang ga suwat ani.
There are fishes swimming on my mind,
a pool that is mine to operate.

Busa, wala ni goal. Walay bili.
Basta dle lang magkagubot ang rhyme,
everything will be fine.

By the way, love ko nimo?

Sometimes I think the universe
is orchestrating music
too cosmic for human ears.

Maybe we are meant to hear it
instead of clocking in and out,
working forty hours
under a system built by the devil.

Isn’t it strange
A thread connects us for a moment,
then cuts
after each transaction.

Imagine fate
as a brief handshake.

That thought made me smile
as I write this,
because I might just be wasting your time.
This is your one chance at goodbye.

You may go now.

This is my first time.
How about you?
Do you still dream?

O basta kay makaamgo lang
mahimayaong kalipay,
let the kaligutgot pass by?

Mao na na.
Surrender.
Surrender.
Surrender.

That is the content of my prayer.
I whisper it three times a day,
like a prescription for being human.

Balik ta. Sa poem. Dili kita.

Maybe this is written from boredom.

Tong bata pa ko, nadusmo ko
sige og dula og Chinese garter.
I was the “mother.”
A broken jaw taught me silence.

Pero when my nanay died,
I learned the world
has quieter ways of breaking people.

Ever since I met grief,
I’ve gathered more books than I can count
not to enjoy,
but to escape.

Some of them gather dust,
waiting for my attention,
like old loves I’ve muted online.

What’s your favorite literary device?
I don’t know a man
who’s ever asked me that question.

Kapait ning kinabuhi-a.
Need ba gyud nga kanawong pa ni Beast
usa magka-perfect fairytale ang poor mademoiselle?

What do I do with books?
I stare at them,
smell their leaf,
imagine the hands that once caressed it.

Stories intrigue
but what about the fingerprints
they carry through the years?

When it cuts deep,
that’s when I write
about what it did to me.

Pag di ko niya mapakahilak,
o di mumata akong kasuko,
ayaw na lang.

I share them with friends
willing to listen.

I tell them how love looks
when it refuses to die quietly.

Sometimes I think of Arundhati Roy,
and her hunger for metaphors,
how she turns ache into ecstasy.

Balik ta sa hinungdan sa poem.
Wala gihapon.


Josephine May Grace Famoso is a lifelong learner of literature. She teaches literature at the University of Southeastern Philippines.

Obrero

Poetry by | November 15, 2025

The dogs are lying flat
              on the gritty and abrasive
surface of the road,
              detached from the mortal and
fleeting manias of men,
              while the flies liberally perform
barrel rolls and aileron rolls
              on the dogs’ grubby coats,
while I cling to the corroded
              metal bar of the tricycle,
on the verge of—crying,
              thinking about how I will make
the money dwell in the refuge
              of my two sweat-soaked hands,
when all I can do is daydream
              like the dogs beneath the car
engines, snoozing, as I recognize
              how my stomach is
the same as my bank account—
              empty. There are
no bones to fetch, only fingers
              to work to the bone.

Prince Marlo D. Montadas is a poet, author, and licensed professional teacher based in Butuan City. His works have appeared in San Anselmo Publications, Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine, and Cha: An Asian Literary Journal.

WOUND OF THE SEA By Marcelo Geocallo Translated from Sinugboanong Binisaya

Translation by | November 11, 2025

HOW IS it now, would you allow your teenage son?”

The question of Serapio seemed to drown me. I cursed in silence. Dodo, our (Soledad and mine) eldest son who has newly graduated from high school, is the one he meant. He kept on enticing him to that way of fishing which I have long left. I learned my lesson.

But his question was just munched by the roaring of the waves that had broken on the rough rocks. The voice of the waves carried a reminder. My principle stood firm. The wind that was spewed from the ocean produced a whistling sound. In a moment I glanced at the Island of Tipaynon which is surrounded by the plain sea.  It became dark. Perhaps not far from that island, in my silent guess, there was a whirlwind that was about to fall. It was gathered by the heavy and drab clouds that were held by the belly of the sky. The weather was bad.

Our hut was resting on the apex of this rocky cliff where Tipaynon is seen so clearly.  At the yard, I continued with what I was doing even if Serapio, our neighbor who kept on inviting for an evil promise, was there. But I kept on protecting the future of Dodo. He couldn’t be left to this bestial man.

I really kept on doing my work. I had to finish darning the holes of the net. If I could have a good catch even once, I promised Dodo to enroll him in Manpower for a technical course.  If he would succeed, he could be freed from this miserable condition, like this poor hut of ours which had so many braces, here and there, because the wind from the sea has kept on pushing it.

“Hey, you know, Bay Timoy,” Serapio continued to allure. He even tried to influence me. “There’s a great school of malangsi and tambantuloy Dodo could make big money. I will be dead if this will not come true.”

I spat out the betel chew that almost fell on the toe of his foot. Now I faced him. I did not connect the nylon string yet. He was sitting on the stern of the holed and old body of the boat that was left by the first owner of this hut. It has been destroyed by time. Soledad and I used some parts of it for fire. By then Dodo came from the spring at the valley drawing water.

“Hey, Dodo, it’s good that you’re here,” Serapio’s immediate greeting to our young man.

Even if he was heavily loaded with the container can that he carried on his head, I saw that he gave a forced smile to Serapio. He immediately poured the water to the jar that was thickly grown with moss. From the nook, Dodo came near me wiping his arms that were sputtered with water with his hands.

“What can I do for you, Nong Apyong?” The young man asked Serapio.

“Remember what I told you?” Serapio said as he grinned.

“What did you tell me? Which of those?

“That which…It’s good that you are with me to assist me…so that I may also teach you the technique. From mixing, wrapping, lighting and throwing. So will you come with me?”

“Go with you? Where?”

Serapio, using his protruded lips, pointed at the vast seas.

Perhaps he remembered, Dodo also grinned. He said, “It’s up to Tatay Timoy.” The young man’s eyes were asking for a response. I know my son’s respect to me and his obedience to my words would not be easily effaced.

I turned to him.

And Dodo proudly said to Serapio: “So, Nong Apyong, Father would not allow me to,” Dodo said which dismayed Serapio.

“You would miss the opportunity…” Serapio was shaking his head while saying this. “You are only depending on that net? It will be easily torn. Here is a way of fishing that is one-time, you don’t take it. Look at me, all the policemen are my friends. They could not do anything; otherwise, they won’t have their share!”

Now I have sunk into the person of Serapio. He did not mind about other people so long as he could make sure of his own stomach. He did not mind who would be crashed.

“Bay Pyong,” I cut in. I replied to him then. It’s good to let him hear my reaction. “We’ll only use the net because it’s godly and there’s no one to fear. It’s clean. It’s not against the law.”

 

FISHING WAS not in my mind. I came from this and left it in my disappointment. My father was a fisherman, and I inherited from him the knowledge of this trade.  But when I was newly married, I did what was right and tried what was violent, I was one of the dreaded hunters because, according to them, money would come easy to me. But when I had been caught and have tried the prison cell, I promised not to do it again even if someone would entice me with so much sweetness. What if the chief of police in the municipality was not religious? Perhaps, it could not be twisted, and perhaps, I would have been kept in prison ‘til now. It was good that he listened to my pleading and considered my miserable state, and that awakened me. There’s no better person than one who has not caused a problem.

I went to the countryside.

But my means of living in the countryside was only a momentary remedy from poverty. Then the place was troubled and was difficult to be lived in, the farmlands were left unattended. My fellow farmers evacuated, and I never heard about them anymore. And the rebels continued to bring havoc to the people.

The thought made my hair stand. It was against my will to leave the land I tilled. But my wife, Soledad, became nervous that her hyperacidity worsened. I was afraid she would lose her mind. So we were forced to leave the place, and we are here again, because we had nowhere else to go __ we came back to the sea. I have used my oar again but this time, in the kind of fishing that was worthy to be proud of.

And when I went back to the sea…

I raised my hand on the cliff beside this hut that we had bought when the owner of this left to Leyte. And in a loud voice, I told the sea:

“I am here again but now as a true friend. Allow me to live in your world. In return, I will protect the movement of your waves against those who wish to destroy it.”

Promise. And I fulfilled my promise.

I really hindered the desire of Serapio to allure my son. I wrestled with the poisonous powder that he baited on the young mind of my son that it could not win his heart nor sway his budding mind.

So one day I promised Dodo: “Dodo, tilling the land is good if we are the owner of the land we till. And because we don’t have our own land, it is best for you to go to school and finish your studies.”

There is one thing that is good in my son; he is not hard-headed. He would immediately obey. He has a great respect for me. I am happy with this.

But he asked me for an explanation.

“Father, why did you reject Nong Apyong’s offer for me?”

“The kind of fishing he wants you to learn is not good, son,” my immediate reply.

“It’s the same, Father. Fish is the purpose. And his catch is great. And it is easy, like a flip of a finger.”

“Yes, but the law runs after it,” I said.

“But sometimes, he had an order from the police.”

I could not answer him immediately. I seemed to be choked.

“Not all police would give bad orders.”

His young eyes were fixed intently on me. I supposed he understood, and he nodded. I breathed freely, then.

“I desire that you could go to school with the money obtained from clean means. And the type of our fishing, using the net, is known to be noble. So, because we are about to finish fixing its holes today, we will surely take it the next day. You must learn well how to use this. I am much assured that the course of our life will be better.”

“But why is it that Nong Apyong remain in that type of fishing? Another question from Dodo that surprised me.

“Serapio, Dodo, is a person who is always in a hurry. He has this tendency not to abide by the law. He is looking for problem.

I didn’t know if Dodo understood me. But he did not say a word anymore. I noticed that he became intent on what he was doing. He fixed the holes of the net fast.

 

THE NEXT morning, the next thing that Dodo and I were busy with, was to put floating materials on the fringes of the net.

“Tomorrow, Father, will we spread the net?” Dodo asked me.

I nodded. “Call our companions then,” I said.

Dodo agreed.

But then, there was a sudden roaring explosion from the sea.

“There’s a target!” Dodo said. “Perhaps Nong Apyong released it.”

“Possibly,” I said loudly. “Perhaps, his police friend ordered him.”

Early this morning, I saw Serapio talking to a policeman at the store of Marta-Oyong. Perhaps, that police had a guest.

But the explosion was so strong. It did not seem to sink down.

But we were not the only ones who were surprised. Our fishermen neighbors dragged their boats and rowed towards the location of the explosion. I had a different feeling. I was suspecting. So I immediately arose. “Dodo, let’s go…to our boat!”

Dodo and I moved with the group of fishermen. And…

We saw Serapio in a bad state. He was lifted and transferred to another boat. His face, his whole body, was covered with blood. One of his hands was gone!

“I shook my head. I chuckled. The sea was bleeding smearing the lips of its waves. The sea was wounded.

I noticed that Dodo was speechless. And after a short moment, I told him, “Let’s move, Dodo, let’s go back to the shore.” And I rowed. But Dodo did not say a word. He did not mind the oar on his lap. He did not lift it up.

I told him to row and only then he began to move.

“I have advised Serapio, Do,” I said. “That he should stop that kind of fishing because it will kill the small fishes. Besides, using explosives only creates a problem.”

“Ah, Nong Apyong found the problem he has been looking for, Father.”

I was surprised. I have noticed in Dodo the gradual maturity of his mind. One of the things he said was this, “The kind of fishing Nong Apyong has used is not wholesome, Father.  It wounds the sea.”

The words of my son elicited interest in me. And I was enthusiastically rowing. I have just gained a different strength.


Marcelo A. Geocallo (1940–2023) was a prolific Cebuano writer whose literary voice resonated across Mindanao. Born in San Fernando, Cebu, and later based in Linamon, Lanao del Norte, Geocallo wrote poetry, short stories, essays, and one-act plays in Binisayang Sinugboanon.

Jon Saguban is a member of the Third Order Regular of St. Francis, a religious order of the Catholic Church that is based in Sta. Filomena, Iligan City. Born in Jugno, Amlan, Negros Oriental, he arrived in Iligan City in 2004. In 2006, his first Cebuano story was published in Bisaya Magazine because of his unintended friendship with Tomas Sumakwel, then, the literary editor of Bisaya.

 

 

Para Sa Mga Dumadapong Lamok Sa Lansangan

Poetry by | October 27, 2025

Kapag sinispsip mo ang dugo ko
nalalasahan mo ba ang pait
na danas ko?
Natitikman mo ba
ang sigarilyong
pantawid-gutom
ang sting
na pampagising
ang kapeng
nakakalasing
Kailangan kong malasing
Kailangan kong magising
dahil hindi ko kaya
umidlip at sumiping
sa tabi ng
mga basahin
mga takdang-aralin
mga alituntuin
na bawal hindi sundin
Sila lahat ay kailangang gawin
dahil kung hindi
grado ko’y magiging mababa
marka ko’y masasagwa
Mayroon pa ba akong
magagawa?

Maiintindihan mo naman siguro
kung bakit ako’y nasa lansangan
hindi dahil para maging
hapunan mo
pero para maging
lamok din
Dadapo kami sa balat
ng kanilang teritoryo
Sisipsipin namin sa aspalto
ang mga dugong natuyo
mula sa mga patayang
utos ng gobyerno
Para kahit papaano
para kahit ganoon na lang
maangkin namin
ang kanilang mga buhay
na binuwis para
para sa saan?
Mga lamok, sabayan niyo kami
kahit kaming mga kabataan
na nalulunod sa bahang
matagal na dapat naiwasan
na nalulunod sa bahang
burukrasya pa rin
ang sinasabing daan

Mga lamok, nasa labas ako
dahil ang tunay na pag-asa ng bayan
ay hindi nagpapakulong
sa silid-aralan
Kolektibo rin kaming
iingay, iingay, at iingay
Bzzt… bzzt… bzzt…
Ang pondong inyong binulsa
ay dapat pinunta
sa mas mabuting sistema
sa edukasyong tunay
na pang-masa
sa medikasyong
hindi kapitalista
Mga lamok, naririnig niyo ba iyon?
Ang sigaw ng mga tao
Ang sigaw ng mga kabataan
Ayos lang na dumapo ka sa akin
Ayos lang na dugo ko’y iyong inumin
Naiintindihan ko naman
Naiintindihan kita
Kasi ang hirap nang mabuhay
sa panahong mala-dekada sitenta
Kaya lamok, inom lang
Hindi na kita pahihirapan pa


Henri Marie C. Belimac is a budding writer and filmmaker from General Santos City, with a father from Glan, Sarangani, and a mother from Tantangan, South Cotabato. She was a fellow at the 21st Ateneo National Writers Workshop and the Film Development Council of the Philippines x Filipino Screenwriters Guild Screenwriting Workshop – Davao Leg. She is currently a student of BA English (Creative Writing) at UP Mindanao.