Poetry by Anne Shane Baluca | April 20, 2008
What is home?
A child asked
as the sun sunk lower
into nothingness.
Is it just a place
where you can find
comfort, even with
too much rain or sunshine?
Home cannot just be found.
A shelter, yes, everyone can find.
But home is a place
Where you can find comfort,
Even if it doesn’t seem so inside.
Poetry by Henrietta Diana de Guzman | April 20, 2008
It was already late when
She came out of the
cold rain at
San Pedro Street.
Like a homeless cat
She prowled. Her
eyes illuminating
Penetrating more than
The lights around the city.
Continue reading Her Business on San Pedro St.
Nonfiction by JA Sando | April 20, 2008
“War is a matter of vital importance to the state, the province of life and death; the road to survival or ruin. It is mandatory that it be thoroughly studied.” – Sun Tzu
The opening statement of Sun Tzu’s book, The Art of War is well known among military officers, warriors and to those who study the history and conduct of war. The teachings in this book have been used by Mao Zedong and Ho Chi Minh in their successful campaigns of national liberation. The sixteen character formula of the New people’s Army is derived from this book: “When the enemy attacks, we retreat; when the enemy camps, we harass; when he tires, we attack; when he retreats, we pursue.” The NPA is still around after 35 years of fighting with the AFP and the PNP besides; proof of the continuing relevance and effectiveness of Sun Tzu’s teachings.
Fiction by Krisza Joy Kintanar | April 13, 2008
Sunrise, this lone miracle by which night is transformed into day; a perpetual incarnation of beauty to a city that they think has stepped out from the pages of a fairy story.
Far from what seemed remote a land was a castle of cold shacks where two boys, dull and gray, awoke to the realm of men’s coats and women’s dresses moving in throngs. These spectacle of colors they never tire of seeing, yet sorely wish at harmonizing.
Across the castle was the Land the boys call Fairy in which they see people go as they break from the moving throng and then come back, still in harmony amidst the hubbub of such beauty. In their heads were the different wonders, marvels, and miracles dragged from the cupboards of the Fairy and certainly kept for these people, them so full of color.
Continue reading Why Doesn’t Gray Appear in the Kaleidoscope?
Poetry by May Ledesma-Barcenas | April 13, 2008
A happy childhood, I had one
Once…
But now, finding myself alone,
is like reality slapping me on the face,
painfully… mercilessly… agonizingly slow… deadly…
Yet I’m alive,
Yes, I’m alive
not because I’m fortunate,
not because I’m given another chance
But because…
it would be unfair for the world
to see me get away with it
while others cannot
I have to feel the pain
I have to bear the hurt
I have to cry
I have to die…
Then live again,
For what? For whom?
I’m alone….
Poetry by May Ledesma-Barcenas | April 13, 2008
shattered once
died twice
the world is founded
on naught but lies…
broken vows
broken dreams
a life not fair
and full of schemes…
walking without knowing
giving without taking
trusting and believing,
loving…. then … dying…
Nonfiction by Noel Pingoy | March 30, 2008
The terse ringing of the phone, followed by the apologetic voice of the nurse at the other end, nudged me to a befuddled wakefulness. I found myself grousing under my breath to some muted annoyance, knowing that the plans of the day have been brusquely thwarted by an all-too familiar event.
What I had mapped out as an easy, sunshiny, warm-as-a-pillow day turned into a mad rush to the hospital to join a grieving family at a matriarch’s deathbed. In a few minutes I was navigating through the swelling crowd of the hospital lobby. At the female ward, I stood witness to the tableau of a grief-stricken spouse feigning a valiant façade in the presence of the similarly devastated family members.
Poetry by Bernard Julian Patiño | March 30, 2008
In Boracay it’s Christmas
all year round, or at least
it’s always in anticipation
of some windfall from a white
fat guy, bearer of gifts: dresses,
perfume, jewelry, dinner, cash –
hopefully tagged with a clause
to marry in the future. For now
she needs to be naughty and nice,
play with him in the water,
be like the sea and lap him up;
he’ll have to buy her a halo-halo
to cool the hot elf down –
tearing open the presents for later.
For now he wants to stroll up
and down this wintry wonderland
(or at least she wonders if his snow
is any finer than her white sand);
she clings to the elbow of this man-tree,
the top of which she’d like to crown
with a star – later when he goes down.
For now she strains her legs to keep up
with him, walking on tiptoe to keep
her stilettos from sinking in the sand.