Everyone assumes that writing is such a romantic occupation. I most certainly did—I wished with all fervent hope that I would eventually walk the path that Edgar Allan Poe, Joseph Conrad and Mary Shelley took when they made it through the annals of literary history.
In my youth, I had imagined writers cloistered away in their lavish Victorian-inspired home, dark with velvety crimson curtains and thick tapestries. Quill in hand, parchment under their elbows, these writers would look out into the vast open countryside seeing not the green landscape, but characters—fictional characters, characters of their own creation—speaking, weeping, and eventually floating back to the paper, becoming wisps of breath fashioned into the writers’ great languid scripts where both characters and writers would eventually be immortalized in written text.
Continue reading My So-Called Glamorous Life As A Freelance Writer
Patches of sunlight dance at her feet, and on the pavement she stands on as the branches above her sway with the summer breeze. She looks up and sees a brown butterfly hovering closely above her, its paper-like wings glinting with the jagged rays emanating from the tiny spaces between the camachile leaves above them. She holds her hand up
and watches it perch momentarily on her rosy little fingers before it flutters off towards the black sedan across the street, towards the man standing by the door of the passenger seat. Slowly, the man turns around and he looks back at her with eyes like her own.
Continue reading Flutter
Dako ang kahikurat ni Mrs. Luz Cuevas dihang kalit lang midaus-os gikan sa iyang gilingkoran ang iyang estudyanteng si Lily ug nalup-og sa salog. Sa iyang kahikurat, wala dayon siya makalihok. Ang ubang mga klasmeyt sa dalagita nakuratan usab ug nagduha-duha sa pagduol. Ang unang nakalihok mao si Ariel kinsa misapwang kang Lily.
“Naunsa man ni siya?” pangutana ni Mrs. Cuevas.
“Mikalit ra man ni siya, Ma’am.” tubag ni Ariel.
Gipahigda ni Mrs. Cuevas si Lily sa iyang lamesa ug gisugo ang usa sa estudyante sa pagkuha og tubig. Pagbalik sa gisugo, iyang gipatuloan og white flower ang tasa sa tubig ug gipainom sa dalagita.
“Naunsa diay ka? pangutana ni Mrs. Cuevas dihang naulian ang dalagita.
“Nalipong ko, Ma’am. Lain akong tiyan,” tubag ni Lily.
“Basin naa kay sakit? Maayo pang mopahulay lang una ka karon,” ni Mrs. Cuevas.
“Sige, Ma’am, mouli na lang ko. Salamat, Ma’am,” tubag sa dalagita.
Continue reading Adviser
What is home?
A child asked
as the sun sinks
lower to nothingness.
Is it just a place
where you can find
even when there is 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 is uncomfortable inside.
Continue reading The Orphan's Monologue
It was during the summer of 2001. I and my playmates were under the heat of the glaring sun busy making our “tabanog”. Arjan, who was four years younger than me was holding a blue plastic bag. Like any inquisitive kid, he kept on asking me, “Ate Banban unsaon paghimo ug tabanog?1” he didn’t stop pulling my skirt until I replied his childish query.
“It takes patience to make a kite Arjan. So just sit there, relax and wait for me to finish the kite I’m still making, okay?”, I carefully explained to him.
So he sat at the corner and waited for me. When I finally finished my hand made kite, I asked the little boy to structure his blue plastic bag. He was very excited that time. He drew a curve on his lips when I narrated him my first instruction, “Okay Arjan first you have to fold the bag in half and it should be flat and even.”
Continue reading Kite
Ang sako luyat,
Sama sa tao nga payat,
Sige ug katulog.
Apan ang sako mutindog,
Kun adunay unod,
Sama sa tao nga busog,
Kanunay himsug ug baskug.
Continue reading Ang Sako
Ang pag-inusara dili aso nga makapahilak nga way lugar;
timan-i nga dili kini makumkom ug usahay di mahikit-an –
sama sa mga laraw ta nga di pirmi matuman…
Busa, ayaw ra tan-aw sa liki sa pwertahan kung adunay
migimaw nga kahayag gikan niini; buhia dayon ang suga
ug pahayagi imong matang nagalurat sa madugay.
Ang imong lawak dili hawla sa mayang bungol…
Continue reading Tambag sa Maya
Bumuhos ang ulan
Namatay si Francis M.
Sa tuktok, tawag ay Room C
Ngunit susi ay numero 303
Lumilipas ang gabi.
Di man lang patid ang umuugong na traysikel
Na laging natatanaw ni Rakel
May-ari ng hotel.
Habang si Mar at Lillian
Doon sa harapan
Nakatanaw sa hagdanan.
At hayun nga
Tapos na ang pagtunganga
May bisita galing Sanga-sanga.
Hanggang sa lumisan, bilin ang Sukran.
Continue reading Si Rakel ng Tawi-tawi