Thank You Thank Yous

Poetry by | December 13, 2021

This morning I said thank you for coffee
To those dead village people that discovered it
Then I thanked the rain
I think you have to be in the right place and the right time
to be genuinely grateful for rain
Then I thanked my leg
And then I thanked my other leg
Then I said thank you for not having cough
Then I said thank you color pencils
Then I said thank you regular pencils
Thank you toothpaste
Thank you grenades
Thank you ugly babies
Thank you jackpot prizes
Thank you Jackson Browne
Thank you radio stations
Thank you Christmas lights
Thank you computers
[Continue thanking as many things/people as you please]


Jomer Macapaar Pajares is a 22-year-old writer born in Marawi City. He is currently studying Bachelor of Science in Secondary Education at Eastern Samar State University. If not writing, he draws on MS Paint.

Wolfboi004

Poetry by | December 13, 2021

anti-theft laptop bag
anti-theft drawer
anti-theft portable refrigerator
anti-theft suicide vest
anti-missile camping tent
checkout


Jomer Macapaar Pajares is a 22-year-old writer born in Marawi City. He is currently studying Bachelor of Science in Secondary Education at Eastern Samar State University. If not writing, he draws on MS Paint.

Space School

Poetry by | December 13, 2021

Because nothing was impossible
for visionaries like them
Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk
built a school somewhere in Africa
that only offered space courses
so the people wanting to be teachers
beekeepers
firefighters
artists
farmers
would be forced to become astronauts
because of lack of money
Soon the school produced the first-ever
depressed African astronauts in space
and they did space therapy


Jomer Macapaar Pajares is a 22-year-old writer born in Marawi City. He is currently studying Bachelor of Science in Secondary Education at Eastern Samar State University. If not writing, he draws on MS Paint.

Half-Remembered

Poetry by | November 22, 2021

Every morning I reach into my bag of memories
and pull out who to be for the day.
Sometimes it’s an old receipt,
half-remembered.
Other days it’s a photo of smiling faces
of loves frozen,
unrepeatable.
And there will be times when
I pull back my empty hand
and I am lost, for what will I be then?

Like lace and latticework;
to be defined by what is not there.

Everyday I look back and I feel myself disappear
because in turning my head to what was
I see my Eurydice crumple to the ground;
the snake clamped on her heel is now my pain,
her tumbling back into the dark my loss,
the forgiveness an aftertaste to my regret

But if I keep my eyes locked to what will be,
how will I know, with absolute certainty,
that I too,
had lived?


Nal Jalando-on lives in Koronadal City. In her free time – which is all the time – she reads and occasionally writes.

Ang kahadlok nga nahimugso sa iyang panit

Poetry by | November 22, 2021

Siya ra gyuy nasayod
sa kanunayong pagpuga sa luha
sa iyang mga mata
nga mingbisbis sa iyang
daan ug bug-at nga unlan

Siya ra gyuy nasayod
Sa kabugal-bugalon sa iyang huna-huna
mga storya nga gubot ra
sa iyang alimpatakan

Suod niya ang kadaghanan
Alegre ang palibot ug naa siya
Makatakod ang iyang ka hapsay

Apan luyo sa katim-os sa iyang mga pahiyom
Adunay kahuyang, adunay kahadlok
apan siya ray nasayod

Igo nalang ako sa pagpamalandong
Apan ngano ako musulay pa og salom sa iyang mga hinyap?
Ngano og samukon ko pa usab akong kaugalingon?
Kung mao ang iya, iya gayud
Kung ang ako, ako gayud

Ug di niya ipa-ambit kanako
ang iyang kasakit,
dawaton ko nalang
ang kahadlok nga nahimugso sa iyang panit


John Ferdinand Torralba is a web-developer, Mechanical keyboard modder, and coffee addict in Davao City.

Days of the Days

Nonfiction by | November 22, 2021

The Sudden Shift- End of the Victorious Days

It was March 15 of 2020, just after our preliminary examinations. I was exhausted after the mind-boggling exam I’d taken. After I left the room, my friends were celebrating as if it were New Year’s Eve. I thought it was because we had finished our exams. I had no idea that it was just posted on Facebook that there was a weeklong class suspension due to the “COVID-19” virus. As expected of students who treat class suspensions as blessings in disguise, we went out for lunch happily. I never knew that that break would feel like going on a full stop after a speed of 80kph—from a very fast-moving routine to a life of forgetting what day of the week it was.

The Joy of the Days

The weeklong suspension recharged me. So, I texted my friends and planned a meet-up lunch; we met at the same mall, SM, but nothing was ever the same. After the sudden shift, it felt like I arrived in a different world. I noticed that people were wearing facemasks and face shields. Everything seemed so foreign to me. We had ours too, but it felt new seeing people in those “suits.” We were asked to practice social distancing inside the restaurant and in the bookstore—our go-to stop every time we visited the mall. While browsing these newly-released books, my phone rang—it was an announcement that Tuguegarao City will be under Enhanced Community Quarantine (ECQ). I went back to my normal routine when I buy books: I proceeded to the counter and paid for it—I bought a Tagalog boys’ love novel entitled “Kadenang Bahaghari,” written by John Jack G. Wigley. As usual, we bid our goodbyes and went home. Little did I know, it was going to be the last human interaction that I will have for a long time.

The Long Days

It had been months and the name of the supposed weeklong lockdown had evolved—we were now under the Modified General Community Quarantine (MGCQ). Only one member of the family can go outside for essential transactions. Fortunately, cell phones, laptops, and online modes of communication were invented before the pandemic took place. My devices were my bridges to reach my friends and family. I spent the next few days communicating with them, scrolling on social media, and watching shows on Netflix. Sometimes I took my time while drinking a cup of iced coffee on our balcony and watching the sunset. Those days had been long and exhausting, it felt like I was sitting in my math class because of how the time slowed down—except that I was missing my friends and I was in my room, alone. The isolation and disconnection were different; from there, I knew that the joy of the days was over.

 

The Blank Days

A year has passed, and nothing has changed. This pandemic came to us like a thief –we were unguarded, and we did not know what it would bring. It stole the supposed milestones of my life, such as senior high school graduation and my time as a college freshman. My long days were filled with longing – both for the people that I love and for the life that I had. I never loved the idea of a traffic jam, but I started thinking about the last time that I felt a stranger’s sweat against my skin. The thief left me with nothing but an empty room where I can think of all my “could-have-beens.” Luckily, this room had windows that shed light—it reminded me that I was blessed enough that none of my family members caught the virus and we were able to sustain our daily living.

The Silent days

It has been a year and seven months of lockdown. I was awakened by the continuous ringing of my phone. I was still sleepy due to the medicines I took for my headache. It was my ate messaging me, informing us that our Aunt Norma died because of the virus and her family was under quarantine and isolation. I was in shock; a sudden ring consumed my ears—it was like I was swallowed by the silence. Aunt Norma and I were just talking through Facebook the other day, and now she was gone. Weeks had passed, and still, I couldn’t move on; it was my Psych check-up, and later, I was diagnosed with “Severe Depressive Disorder.” We were silent again. No one talked after we bought my medications. We went home, and I went straight up to my room to read the book I bought a year ago; it was “Kadenang Bahaghari.” Who would have thought that the joy of the days will turn into the long days filled with melancholy that would soon remind me of how my victorious times turned into the blank days, and were now the silent days?


Benjamin Ambros King G. Sumabat is a student writer currently studying Bachelor of Arts in English (Creative Writing) at the University of the Philippines Mindanao.

I wish I could be as good as a poem

Poetry by | November 15, 2021

like its first line –
the first bite
of a cobra that coils you,
like your hand
on my nape
with the other on my chest.

like a garden of metaphors,
full of unbloomed roses
and unbirthed scents,
anticipating the warmth
of your eyes that set upon me.

like a sonnet
with the perfection
of its measure
and the sound of the syllables
singing together.

like an epic
telling the story
of the adventures
of your touch tracing
my curves and shapes,
conquering continents
of my mind.

I wish I could be all these words
and be all the poems
you wish to write –
in your papers,
behind your armchair,
on your sweaty palm,
or in your prayers
and in your moments
like a recurrence
through this lifetime.

I wish I could be as good as the poems
that you have imprinted in me
with the whispers
of your mouth –
the faint breath of our sounds

but you
have refused
to write
me.


Karen Kae is a junior high school teacher from Davao City. In between teaching and writing reports, she enjoys decluttering and playing shooter games.

Dayun…

Poetry by | November 15, 2021

Katahum sa panan-awon
nag-atubang sa Pasipikong kadagatan.
Bungtod ug kabukiran
sa Kasadpan, baybayon sa Silangan.

Makadani ang turquoise nga linaw,
giladman wala mahibal-an;
pahulay sa pino nga puti nga balas,
matagamtaman ang cerulean ug tubig daw crystal,

ingon naa ka sa tunga sa mahimayaong dagat ug
bihagon ka sama nga naglutaw sa panganod.
Paminawa ang maabiabihong pagpangamay sa balod,
ang Sunrise Boulevard pamalandongi sa imong pag-agi!

Batia ang kainit sa tuburan, ug mahingangha
sa emerald na bugnawng langoyanan.
Madanihon usab ang kurtinang busay
labaw pa sa gatos nga lebel,

Baganga….


Daisy M. Corpuz is an educator. Born in the province of Loreto, Agusan del Sur, Daisy was raised at the heart of Davao City. She graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in Language and Literature at University of Southeastern Philippines. She would love to contribute in language documentation and preservation.