The Golf Ball

Poetry by | September 27, 2009

The ball soared
the sky like a dove
after the golfer struck
its body with the club

The ball soared
the sky like a dove

But not a dove
of peace

For it landed
on the rusty-roof
of a squalid shanty
in a nearby slum

Creating a loud bang
disturbing the kid
who was sleeping
to his mother’s hum

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The Cure

Fiction by | September 20, 2009

All her life, Caridee had been brought up inside the huge walls of their garden. Her father never took care of her; he hired nurses and servants to look after Caridee and yet he never let these servants have conversations with his child. He never allowed Caridee to play beyond the walls of their garden; in fact, she never had the chance to see what kind of life existed beyond that wall. He never showed love and care for his only child. He spent all his time in the basement, immersed in woodcraft.

Caridee’s father said that her mother died in childbirth. The flowers inside the garden were the only friends that Caridee had. She felt alone inside the walls of their garden.

One sunny afternoon, Caridee was in the garden playing alone when suddenly, she heard a crash near the fountain. It was an angel. Its grey wings radiated feathers with tiny crystals on their edges; the crystals seem to be the reason why the angel seems to glow, despite the lack of majesty in the color of its wings. Filled with wonder, Caridee approached the angel.

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Mga Kendi at Turon

Fiction by | September 20, 2009

“Limang piso?” tanong ni Bien sabay kamot ng ulo.

Nginitian sya ng kanyang ina at hinalikan. “Mag aral ka nang mabuti. Dapat hindi ka mahuhuli sa eskwela anak, ha?” malambing na paalala nito.

Alam nyang kahit ilang beses syang magtanong ay hindi na madadagdagan ang kanyang baon para sa araw na iyon kaya naman ay ibinulsa na nya ito, tumalikod, at lumakad patungo sa eskwela.

Kahit kailan ay hindi pa nahuhuli si Bien sa klase. Hindi man sya ang pinakamatalino sa klase niya, ngunit ang “record” niyang “never been late” ang pinanghahawakan nya simula nung grade 1. Grade 3 na siya ngayon at malinis pa rin ang “record” niya kahit naglalakad lang siya patungong paaralan. Natatalo pa niya ang mga kaklaseng may sariling sasakyan.

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When Pigs Run Freely On The Streets Of Mintal

Nonfiction by | September 13, 2009

Until a few years ago, the only “living” pigs I ever saw in Manila were the ones that were shown cutely prancing around on TV or on the big screen. Of course, there were also pictures and illustrations of smiling or gamboling boars and piglets on print; but somehow it was not quite the same. Occasionally though, I would get a glimpse of a truck crammed with pigs on some busy thoroughfare. Their squeals would lightly pervade the closed environs of our family car. I would always notice people outside covering their noses and grimacing, as if they were suddenly plunged into an invisible but inescapable miasma.

I would watch in fascination at the packed mass of moving bodies, often saddened by the thought that that was the last time the pigs would ever experience rides again. My parents had blithely told me once that they (the pigs I mean, not my parents) would be headed for slaughter when I asked them about it. My eyes would follow the truck until the vehicle made a sudden turn to a street where our car would not go. Pretty soon the truck and animals were nothing more than another indistinguishable speck on the choked up, traffic-jammed streets of Manila.

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Bb. Pariwara

Poetry by | September 13, 2009

Totoo ba na ang mga tala
Sa ating kapalaran ito ang nagtatakda?
Ito rin ba ang tadhanang nagsasaad
Ng buhay sa ating mga palad?

Nais kong malaman kung ito ang nagdidikta
Sa ating mga ngiti at tawa,
Kung ito ang nagsisindi
Sa isang pag-ibig na mali.

Kung tayo ay nagdurusa at nahihirapan,
Kung tayo ay bigo at luhaan,
Ito rin ba ang dahilan
Kung bakit tayo nasasaktan?

Minsan ako’y nagtataka
Bakit hindi pantay-pantay?
Bakit kokonti silang masasaya
Habang marami ang nalulumbay?

Nais kong malaman dahil ito’y mahalaga.
Banggitin ko man isa-isa
Ang lahat ng damdaming nadarama,
Hindi ko mawari pagkat magkahalo sila.

Ito ba’y nagkataon o sadyang ginawa?
Ito ba’y dinikta o talagang nakatakda?
Ito ba’y tadhana na gawa nila,
O ng aking sarili, o ng mga tala?

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Ang Bisikleta

Fiction by | September 6, 2009

Nung nasa elementarya pa ako, inggit na inggit ako sa aking mga kaklase na nagbibisikleta papuntang paaralan. Mahigit isang kilometro kasi ang layo ng paaralan mula sa aming bahay at nilalakad ko lang ito tuwing papasok sa eskwela, umulan man o umaraw. At samantalang naglalakad nga ako, heto’t dinadaanan lang ako ng aking mga kaklase na nagbibisikleta. Pakiwari ko ba’y ang sarap-sarap magbisikleta lalo na’t ang init-init ng araw.

May bisikleta naman kami pero ginagamit ito ng tatay ko upang magdeliber ng tuba sa kanyang mga suki. Nang minsang nasabi ko kay inay na gusto kong matutong magbisikleta, mahigpit niya itong ipinagbawal dahil kababae kong tao ay kung bakit pinag-iinteresan ko ang magbisikleta. “Di puwedeng magbisikleta ang babae,” wika niya.

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Sabot

Poetry by | September 6, 2009

Kon mobawog na gani ang kumpay,
Mga bituon motalidhay,
Duyog sa kagabhion,
Mohulat pod nimog padayon.

Diri sa ko maglingkod-lingkod,
Subang gipayongag panganod;
Diris daplin ko moagik-ik,
Inig singgit unya sa langit –

“Pagdali na kay tili-tili na ra ba!”

Ang tangkay mibawog sa huyop sa hangin.
Ang mga bituon mitalidhay apan wa magpabilin;
Gikaon sa kagabhion, naputos sa dayon…
Padayon gihapon ko sa paghuwat –

Diri magtindog-tindog,
Sipa-sipaon ang tuod
Ug maghandom, mag-ampo,
Nga unta wala ka makalimot nako.

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