Poetry by Jet Hokin Paclar | June 18, 2017
Once,
I saw
a tenebrous sky looks down on
a dilapidated shanty that houses
a invalid senescent who’s playing
a stringless guitar,
I looked down
only to see the same
person
in the puddle.
—
Jet is from the City of “Golden Frindship”, but please don’t generalize.
Nonfiction by Jet Hokin Paclar | May 24, 2015
I can still remember the laughter and smiles we shared together, the happy Christmas songs we sang, the fun games we enjoyed, the delicious food we ate and the wacky poses we did in front of the camera. Who cares if the wind is already tormenting the leaves of the trees outside? Who cares if the light keeps on turning on and off? And who cares if PAGASA raised the storm signal to number two? It is our Christmas party, for God’s sake! It is the last time we will meet each other for the year; we should be enjoying and celebrating the birth of the Lord. Who cares? We never had an idea that that was really the last Christmas party of our friend nor did we know that indeed that was the last time we will see her, ever.
She went home earlier than any of us. Before she left she said “thank you”, in a happy tone. We never knew that those were the last words we would hear from her. We tried to stop her but she explained that her parents already want her home since it’s already passed ten o’clock in the evening. Even when she left we continued the party. Who cares? We never knew what would happen three hours later.
Poetry by Jet Hokin Paclar | December 7, 2014
Nihilak ka ug mitalidhay.
Gitukaw mo ang mga tulog
nga pasahero kay gusto ka musupsup.
Wa paka natagbaw, gikumot-
kumot mo, misinggit, miumpak
sa kahinam sa mituyhakaw nya’ng dughan.
Mihunat siya.
Milingilingi kay nagpunay ka’g siyagit.
Mikuot siya.
Nagkagidlay sa sali nimu ug hil-os.
Mihungit siya.
Namingaw ang jeep kay ikaw nahiluna.
Naulaw siya.
Gikurambos mo ang sumpuk niya’ng dughan.
Mitan-aw siya.
Mingisi ug mihunghung… “Sige totoy pa.”
Jet is a teacher at Kong Hua School, Cagayan de Oro City.
Poetry by Jet Hokin Paclar | August 24, 2014
Like strands of curly, noodle hair,
we’re lovers inside a barrel.
Like an extended family
dining on a tel’phone table.
I scratched their backs, so they scratch mine,
Yet we do not know, who scratched who.
I regard them as myself, but
I talk to them like they’re shadows.
They are my ghosts, as I am theirs.
So near, yet so far. So real, yet
exists in my hoax fantasy.
So human, yet so material.
So alive, yet awfully De—————-ad!
There are no people in jeepneys.
—
Jet is a teacher at Kong Hua School, Cagayan de Oro City.
Poetry by Jet Hokin Paclar | August 24, 2014
(i plant vrom three pit)
I woke up one morning seeing our plant…
I want to share with you its fruits. Then,
I wanted to see it grow and mature.
I love our plant very much.
I [Enclosed] it in a box.
I saw a branch fall because of the wind, so,
I put a roof on it.
I felt the heat of the (Sun) drying our plant’s leaves, so,
I smelled the strong odour of the insecticide. Then,
I saw its soil bulge.
I saw our plant soak.
I sprayed a whole bottle of insecticide.
I added twice the amount of the <Recommended> fertilizer.
I decided to double the amount of water.
I wonder when the fruits will ^Emerge^ from the flowers. So,
I don’t want to see the same features every day.
I felt that the days were #Very# long.
I became tired of waiting.
I waited patiently and as calmly as possible, then,
I was anxious .Everyday. as to what fruit will it yield.
I saw it grow and bloom with flowers.
I sprayed its leaves with the strongest insect killer.
I cultivated its soil with the best fertilizer.
I watered it with a dipper of water.
I ‘Raised’ it with love till it became a plant.
I took care of it every day.
I planted our seed in my beautiful garden.
LOVE.
—
Jet is a teacher at Kong Hua School, Cagayan de Oro City.
Fiction by Jet Hokin Paclar | August 10, 2014
Twenty Innocent’s Days had passed since the first time I lit a candle in the Basilica of San Pedro Calungsod. They say that time heals all wounds but I can’t seem to get the meaning of that because every year is a suffering, every year is a curse. I tried to run but I failed for I cannot run from my own feet. This guilt and shame, I feel inside me like a knife, every time I remember their faces the last night I saw them alive. Yes, I killed my family! I killed the people who loved me. I killed them all!
I first attacked my frail and sensitive Lola Corazon. I disjointed her shaky knee bones after making her realize that her life is already meaningless because she’s old. I twisted her thin arms after I played nasty jokes and cursed her when I was annoyed. And I purposely broke her spinal cord when I made her realize that she was just causing us pain and problems and that her only consolation was to die. She did not have the chance to scream or cry for help, because I did it as secretly as possible that my mother would never know. She was my first victim!