Tag: Orlando Sayman Jr.

Sorry, son
the corns can’t make it to harvest
they have rolled on the field
as you would on the playground
flattening everything out
the bullets pierced the leaves
human blood flooded the soil
causing the roots to rot
but don’t worry
there’ll be another season
they’ll give us seeds
we’ll make them grow
like government’s promises
we’ll have another harvest
once this anxiety is ripened.

—
Orlando is a teacher at Francisco Bangoy National High School.

In my garden
you can wander freely
pick any fruit
you crave and envy
be not afraid of being
bare and naked
thoughts and body.

---

Orlando Sayman is an A.B. Literature graduate from AdDu. He is one of the new Milas at F. Bangoy National High School. He misses looking at fireflies.

to light up
like a firefly
to signal
my desire
to light up
like a firefly
to eat you
alive
to light up
and die
to light up

—
Orlando Sayman, Jr. is a Job-Enabling English Proficiency Monitoring Specialist at USAID-GEM, and is a regular contributor in Dagmay. He misses looking at fireflies.

Its beauty
deep like
Madalum lake
but equally
cold like 
its water;
blind
to red;
deaf
to a sudden
succession
of sounds.
So see its silence.

—
Orlando Sayman, Jr. is a Job-Enabling English Proficiency Monitoring Specialist at USAID-GEM, and is a regular contributor in Dagmay.

Only her
can stop him
from shooting
his gun.
If he does,
she’ll turn
into a log
hard and
unmoving
in bed,
her touch
rough like
old bark.
The

—
Orlando P. Sayman works as Job-Enabling English Proficiency Monitoring Specialist at Growth for Equity in Mindanao.

1. Onion

Is it the onion
that makes you cry—
how you need to mince it
very finely to deceive his taste?
Or is it how he excuses himself
from your conjugal room
showing no hint of hunger, only
fatigue as he removes his socks
while your thoughts
drip down your cheeks
with your tears?
Sadness in the kitchen
comes also in layers—
peeled and chopped
into salty salsa.

2. Tomato

Grandpa’s secret
in making fish soup
is to squeeze ripe tomatoes
directly into boiling water
instead of cutting them
with a sharp knife.
The seeds and flesh
sticking to his fingers
he flicks into the mixture
then wipes the sticky juice
on his own bare skin.
I wonder how something
crude could taste so good.

—
Orlando P. Sayman is a graduate of Ateneo de Davao University.

I have borrowed you from Moment
when life’s stringent as my budget,
tricked it into pawning up to my last
breath at such a sky-high interest.
I didn’t notice the grace period
and before I knew it, it’s already
auctioned. Soon I will become somebody
else’s secondhand treasured possession.

— 
Orlando Sayman is an A.B. Literature graduate from AdDu and is currently teaching at DMMA College of Southern Philippines.

they shun him just because
his hair is golden like the sun
skin painted with bright hues
like the sky scent reminiscent
of the earth’s elements
they close their ears on his songs
the silent and sad sea melodies
his music a sound of the breeze
sweeping through deaf streets
each drumbeat a heavy knock
on a door swiftly shut behind him
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