Here is the truth of all truths;
love is a stone on the road
where vultures circle
with a lone cactus on the side.
Yes…
Love is boring.
Kisses become dull
caresses become tiresome
whispers simply become rasping breaths
and shoulders become solid rock.
Love is boring;
Fiction by Pam Bitang | June 29, 2008
The heat was punishing. It was one of those days when the sun seemed especially merciless – the heat seeming to sear one’s skin to the bone and the humid air driving the strongest of men to weariness. In the cramped, cheerless room, the heat was even more intolerable. The sole fan attached to the ceiling provided no relief from the cruel heat; if possible, it seemed only to trap the dense air in the windowless box that served as the factory office.
Across the room, the woman sat stiffly on a padded bench. Her head was slightly bowed, her gaze fixed on an indistinct spot on the gray linoleum floor. The heat was almost suffocating, but she felt cold on the inside, her clammy hands gripping her knees tightly in an effort to steady her rioting nerves. Cold, sticky sweat was trickling down her spine in tiny rivulets and dark crescent stains had begun to form below her armpits. Beads of moisture, too, started to line her brows, and she had to swipe them off with her sleeve every so often to keep them from falling to her eyes.
Nonfiction by Ariel Lalisan | June 29, 2008
As we watch my father’s wake, I play chess with my older sister. It’s only in times like these that I get to play the game. My classmates back in high school never wanted to play with me because I used to be a very lousy player. Last night, as I played against my sister, I only won twice in about ten games. However, I have learned things I never would have learned if I didn’t play the game.
Here are some of my insights:
Life is what you make it. This existentialist belief is very evident in the game. Your victory lies on how well you play the game. Each move you make requires decision making and your choices create an impact on your future.
Poetry by Arian Rey Tejano | June 29, 2008
Though you are a mature cane,
You are still grass.
How did they mount your
Pliant body
With no ropes to knot you
If sand dunes rather strengthen
Your base node
Loosely you will fall
How long can
Your suntanned body endure
The light weight
Of a ceaseless work.
By now, rootless-
Leafless,
As you are;
No more sap
And soundless breath
To fend
This Artificial
Growth.
Poetry by Alfredo Agreda | June 29, 2008
Hipan mo ako hangin ng iyong hiningang kay lamig
Kasabay ng iyong laway na tumatalsik sa aking pisngi
Ibig kong malaman mong ako’y nag-iisa
Walang kasamang kumain sa gabing kay lanta
Tabihan mo ako hangin, h’wag kang matakot ‘di ako titingin
Kunin mo ang kutsara at tinidor
Dahandahanin mong ubusin ang nasa iyong harapan
Ibabalin ko ang aking mata sa kahel na lampara…
Fiction by Hannah Rae Villarba | June 22, 2008
Nag-away na pud si Anna ug ang iyang Mama, maong sa coffee shop siya nagtambay. Ang hinungdan ang iyang pseudo-stepfather. Nahibal-an man gud ni Anna na magpakasal na sila. Nagdagan-dagan pa sa utok ni Anna ang tubaganay nila sa iyang Mama samtang naga-order siya sa counter, hangtud paglingkod niya sa table dapit sa bintana sa shop.
“He makes me happy! Nganung dili man na nimu makita? Ug nganung dili man na nimu masabtan?”
“Happy? Happy ka na mabawasan imung love para sa akoa tungod sa iyaha?!”
“You know that’s not true anak!”
Poetry by Anderson Villa | June 22, 2008
Ang Babaye Inig Alas-Saes
Ang kamingaw sa kabuntagon
Sugaton sa mahait nga singgit
Taginting sa dunggan
Murag mudagan sa kailaluman
Babayeng murag langgam
Lupig pa ang umalohokan
Daw hangin sa kalawakan
Mupukaw sa hinanok na katikaran
Alas-saes sa buntag
Kini pirmi ang nahiaguman
Sa akong pandungog, kini naga-ingon
Bingka! Suman!
Si Manong Inig Alas Kuwatro
Nagbaguod kauban ang balde
Mumhong nagtagaktak sa kalye
Tiguwang nagguyod ug di-ligid
Niduol sa silingan ug niingon
“Naay lamaw diha day?”
Poetry by Mick Jethro Basa | June 22, 2008
Samtang ang kalibutan nag banha-banha
Uban sa nagkalipay karong orasa,
Ako nagasulat, nagamugna, ug naghunahuna.
Samtang ang adlaw nipahulay sa pag-atubang sa pikas tungas iyang dagway,
Ani-a siya sa akong tapad.
Di’ makita apan siya mabati
Ug siya mihunghong,
“Ayaw kabalaka, hasta ra nang sayuna”.
Iyang pulong usa ka huyuhoy sa pinakamahayahay.
Milingi ko kun diin naggikan ang tingog –
Nga misugakod kuyog ang bugnaw nga paghuyop
Nga hangin gikan sa electric fan.
“Kinsa diay ka? Kaila ba tika?”
Mitubag ako human mabati nga siya niistorya.
“Dili kana importante. Basta, sayon ra na”.
Balos niya sa sulod sa akong panghuna-huna.
“Murag nakaila na ko nimo.”
Apan siya wala na nitubag.
“Kaila gayud ko nimo.”
“Kaila sad ko nimo.”
Nabati usab nako ang usa ka tingog
Nga wala pa nako nabatian –
Apan ako nang nakaila.
Samtang nilabay na ang panganod
Ug milutaw na ang hayag nga bulawanong bulan,
Nahuman na sab kining akong tulubagon.
Kini, samtang ako nagasulat,
Nahinumduman tika ug ang imong ngalan.
“Dili ba ikaw si Beng?
Salamat kay ani-a ikaw.”
Ug siya mitando. “Sa makausab, sayon ra na”.
Paghinumdom alang kay Benjaline “Beng” Hernandez