Category / poetry

by buglaswritersjournal

Geography

By ALLAN JUSTO PASTRANA

There is a way to go about this place–how I let it
settle on my left pulse and leave it there, when
it’s never truly mine, but yours, irretrievably,
like a word you just said: maybe sleeve, or
sorrow, stranded in a slowness our arms
are trying to imitate. The boulevard hangs
here—not absolutely, but instinctively—
with its brief incidents: the breakwater, shop stalls,
trees. You know how this city works;
so that when you start to speak in your native
tongue, everything clicks into place, just
right, probably unpunished even.

Some nights I want to believe that any
stranger turns into a small country.
I see one in every bar or café—
Why Not, El Amigo, Memento—the kind
that lets himself be struck by a silence so dissonant,
foreign, that receives the soft light from every entrance
with too much mercy, too much love. Once you told me,
listening to Glenn Gould’s Bach, how you could almost
catch his heartbeat between fragments and phrases:
an animal making room. Yes, I am telling you
there is no other way to touch the instrument
but like this—a body that is fearless and difficult
takes a most beautiful ease to breathe.

In time, we might learn that any gesture
is a kind of displacement, that geography
is as near and small as our birthmarks. If you happen
to remember anything at all, that is because it is hard
to forgive the world’s loveliness—the quick shape
of movement, repetition, each fierce
return. When the body refuses to mark
the leave-taking, it becomes another quiet symbol,
another continent shifting in its sleep. Then we wait,
for nothing else will take on the same form
ever again, only the same name, and suffer
each likeness that constantly betrays us. Yes, I’d rather say
that the world’s duty is to remain still and boundless;
because we choose to stay longer, to touch means to forget.

Allan Justo Pastrana holds a Masters in Creative Writing [Poetry] from the University of the Philippines-Diliman. He finished his bachelors degree at the University of Santo Tomas Conservatory of Music [Music Literature and Piano Performance]. He is a two-time Thomasian Poet of the Year and a recipient of the Rector's Literary Award during his college days. He bagged the Grand Prize in the English Division of the Maningning Miclat Award for Poetry in 2005 and won for the Essay in the 2007 Palanca Awards. His first book of poems is Body Haul [UST PublishingHouse, 2011]. Pastrana teaches Literature at Miriam College. He was a fellow at the Silliman University National Writers Workshop.
by buglaswritersjournal

Ritual for Leaving

By MARJORIE EVASCO

(For Grace and Juaniyo)

Go now, and go at noon
When this city shall stand
Intense in the light,
Equal to your silent grief.

There are many ways of taking leave:
Even when we choose to be dumb
Our bodies, hands, feet, senses,
Motion their own speeches as we go numb
Gathering things to pack from room to room
Or weaving the streets and boulevard
After the usual beer at sundown.

It is easier to leave
In the middle of day —
The view from the port, postcard-pretty,
Accented by kitchen smoke
And blooming acacia trees—
An ordinary scene on an October day
Which will probably be the same
When you come back: a strange assurance
Of infinities or that something
We call indestructible.

Marjorie Evasco is a SEAWRITE 2010 awardee of the Philippines and an NCCA Ani ng Dangal 2011 awardee. Five of her books have won the Manila Critics’ Circle National Book Awards: for poetry [Dreamweavers and Ochre Tones]; for oral history [Six Women Poets: Inter/Views, co-authored by Edna Zapanta-Manlapaz]; for biography [A Life Shaped by Music: Andrea O. Veneracion and the Philippine Madrigal Singers]; and for art [Ani: The Life and Times of Hermogena Borja Lungay: Boholano Painter]. Her poetry books in English and Spanish translations by Latin American poets are Skin of Water and Fishes of Light/ Peces de Luz [co-authored by Alex Fleites]. She contributed poetry in groundbreaking anthologies like Agam: Filipino Narratives of Uncertainty in Climate Change [2015], and Sustaining the Archipelago: Philippine Ecopoetry Anthology [2018]. She edited an anthology of memoirs, The Bohol We Love [2017], which was a finalist in the 2017 National Book Award for anthology in English. She also published the biography Valentina’s Valor: Stories of the Life and Times of Valentina Galido Plaza [2018]. An advocate of literary development in the Visayas and Mindanao, particularly in creative writing in Binisaya and English, she has served as director and panelist in various workshops. She also serves as resource person of Bohol’s literary heritage. She is Outstanding Sillimanian Awardee for Creative Writing in 2008, and is a Regular Panelist at the Silliman University National Writers Workshop.
by buglaswritersjournal

Two Poems

By F. JORDAN CARNICE

Ungardened

Finally, after the longest lockdown, pale feet stir,
long to wander with an extra spring to each step

and the planes begin interrupting the skies
again from their unchallenged immensity.

Here in my garden, flea beetles and aphids
overrun the hibiscuses, buds shriveling

like the twists of parted clouds above.
We are told of ways to get through these

minor inconveniences but the pests
keep coming back. Another surge,

another shade of blue shed from the skies.
Are they really minor though when

the birds are missing at this hour
and each of our movement could be

the start of another long pause in our lives?
Where does this shroud of gray come from?

Why does the whole open space still feels
like a window we peer through from

the inside? Am I both witness and
accomplice to these changes?

I wish someone could just convince me
of a life hungry for more, make me want it

the way that split-second pushed Adam
to take the fruit from Eve: ungardened

but bold, intrigued, perfectly human.
If there is a secret to this, even if it means

having to wring it out of both gods
and saints, then tell me. Give me anything

that would take me out of this garden.

Boar, Proposed Addendum to Definition of

noun

: a storm with boundless intensity

: an aging comedian whose jokes have been retold again and again

: the weight of an idea (such as its preciousness, purpose, precarity)

: soaked back of a shirt, usually with perspiration after a long day of manual labor

verb

: to laugh even in the absence of humor

: to clear everything in one’s path or direction, with or without intention

|| the car lost its brakes and boared through the market stalls

adjective

: having or showing an abrupt but patterned action, or an expected response

: of that which will stay, not leave immediately or be pushed around

: impenetrable

F. Jordan Carnice is a writer and visual artist from Bohol. He graduated with a degree in Creative Writing from Silliman University in Dumaguete City in 2009, and was a fellow at the Silliman University National Writers Workshop in 2008. His works have appeared in Ani, Philippines Graphic, MIDLVLMAG, Anomaly, Sunday Mornings at the River, Quarterly Literary Review Singapore, Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine, among several others. He has won the poetry grand prize in the 2020 Cebu Climate Emergency Literature and Arts Competition for his poem “There is Too Much Light in this World.” He has authored two poetry chapbooks, Weights & Cushions [2018] and How to Make an Accident [2019].
by buglaswritersjournal

Kay Tuman ka Gabok sang Lawas—Tatlo ka Binalaybay

Ni JHIO JAN NAVARRO

Ang Tuyaw sa Siyudad

I.
Wala sang habak, sang panabîtábì, sang pangadi nga makasarang magsagang sa tuyaw sang unod sa siyudad nga tuman kapaang apang mayami kon hapulason. Ang lawas angingipot nga ginasuláy sang patay-siga nga bombilya, maya-pula sa luyo sang masinulugton nga paon. Tuman kalaba nga siod ang mga dalanon nga ginkatad sa wayang nga sementado.

II.
Mariit ang mga yuhum sa sírum – ang mga pasiplat, ang mga pangilay, ang mga kalimutaw nga nagalanat. Bagat ang mga panitsit sa dulom. Makapatindog balahibo ang mga panihol, ang mga hutik, ang mga kuhit. Mahimo makasalapay bisan sa pinakahapaw nga pagdapat sang panit sa panit, sang bulbul sa bulbul. Mahubag, mabanog ang kinatawo bisan nga ang ihi wala magsumpit sa bungsod nga madugay na ginlukat ukon sa lunok nga sadto pa ginpapas agud ang sadsaran sang siyudad mapasad.

III.
Masugod sa langaang tubtub mangin tuman ka taas nga hilanat. Ang alibyo yara nahamtang sa paghigda-kaya, pagpatumbaya. Pagbaton. Kag kadungan sang pag-agay sang tuman ka pilit nga bahulay, bayaan sang dungán ang nagaaliwasa nga lawas. Magabawod, magaliad, antes magkanay angay sa balud nga ginalabugay sang indi makita nga kamot sang ugsad.

IV.
Sa mation-tion maumpawan ang tuyaw sang unod bangud sa hampol indi sang buyo kag kasla, sa hapulas indi sang lana, sa tayhup indi sang luy-a.

V.
Sa mation-tion maumpawan ang tuyaw sang unod. Ang kauhaw mapalong kadungan sang pagpuswak, pagtubod. Kag samtang nagaamat-amat sákò ang panirbato sang mga salakyan luwason sang silaw sang sanaaw sa gátud sang patay-siga nga bombilya ang angingipot súbung nga ang maya makabúhì sa siod sa paglimunaw sang mga paon.

VI.
Ang tuyaw magasohot balik sa lipod sang mga nagaalalsa nga landong. Magahulat sa liwat nga pagsamo sang katugnaw kag kadulum agud magbutwa kag maghólon sa lawas nga tuman ka gabok.

Ang Pispis sa Siyudad

Nagahapon
sa sanga nga nagapamunga
sang pula kag nagaigpat-igpat
nga bombilya.

Nagalanton sa lipod
sang mga landong
sang kagab-ihon kay
makabulungol ang dalanon
kon aga.

Nagapamugad
sa nagkalain-lain nga haligi
kag atop apang wala
nagabilin sang itlog.

Ang pispis sa siyudad
ang nagapalapit sa siod
kag ang pinakaulihi abot
amo ang makatuka
sang pinakadamo nga ulod.

Dagâ

Inday, ngaa sa iya pagwa
sa inyo ganhaan kag pag-usoy
sang banas padulong sa dalan,
nagtulo man ang dugo gikan
sa mata nga nagmuklat
sa imo aliwatan?

Saksi kami sa imo walay paslaw
nga paghalad sang luha kag bahulay
sa ginaanay nga altar sang inyo gugma
nga iya lamang ginasabat sang mga
pagpamalibad kag kul-aw nga panaad

Sang ikaw nagtiyabaw,
Wala ka gane niya ginbalikdan.
Nagakaangay pa gid ayhan
nga ang iya pagpangayaw
sa butkon kag hita sang iban,
imo dagâan?

Jhio Jan Navarro hails from Bags City, Negros Occidental, where he attended the Ramon Torres Ma-ao Sugar Central National High School. He studied Psychology at the University of the Philippines Visayas in Miagao. His poems have been published in Bulatlat, Revolt Magazine, Voice and Verse Magazine, and the Philippines Graphic.
by buglaswritersjournal

Orison

for César Vallejo

By SIMON ANTON DIEGO BAENA

it’s raining
in Bais
again

the cold is throbbing
at the corners
of this room

the cold is the belfry echoing

the cold is darker here

I seek the plume
that stoked the holes
of those tiny moments
lost among the smoke

I keep hearing that voice
caught in the noise
of the edges of the city
where the crow buried its beak
where silence is mud

the night is a circle
that I must
always enter

Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena hails from Bais City, Negros Oriental, and is the author of two chapbooks, The Magnum Opus Persists in the Evening [Jacar Press] and The Lingering Wound (2River). He was a semi-finalist for the Tomaz Salamun Prize at VERSE in 2021. His work is forthcoming in The Columbia Review, South Dakota Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, Apalachee Review, Louisiana Literature, and elsewhere.
by buglaswritersjournal

Bright Lights on the Water’s Surface

By JUNELIE ANTHONY VELONTA

If only the world was a crystal ball, and I was given magic
to dive deep into the darkest depths
and never drown in the visions of what could be,
I could have been a surer man — not by confidence,
but through assurance that in the things I’d do
I would be stronger, better, happier.
But I can barely swim, and I can’t hold my breath any longer
than it takes for the carbon dioxide to cloud my brain
to near death. At the edge of life,
there’d be no magic to save me from the hallucinations
my mind creates. Or are they dreams? Are they mine?
Are they truths that I am yet to realize?
On the water’s edge, on top of rock and sand and concrete,
above the sparkle of the reflected holiday lights, I ask the sea:
“Who should I be? What should I do?”
And I wait there wishing that the breeze would whisper,
that the lights on the surface would spell it out.
Despite my questions, despite my pleas,
the sea below me was still as dark as the nighttime sky,
and its surface, smooth like a mirror, reflected nothing else:
only me. 

Junelie Anthony Velonta was born in Dumaguete City. He graduated from Philippine Science High School—Central Visayas Campus in 2015 and is now pursuing a Physics degree at Silliman University.
by buglaswritersjournal

Two Poems

By CESAR RUIZ AQUINO

ILLUMINATUS

‘Your mission if I may venture to say
is to illuminate people,’ I said.
‘What do you mean,’ eyes wide, ‘eliminate
people?’ ‘No, enlighten, illuminate
people.’ ‘Ah!’ Smile quickly returned as if
his whole heart lit up (word play intended
the grass roots movement he had invented
he named Lamplighters). ‘Do you have a wife,
Father Tropa?’ I’d meant to ask. I knew
he was celibate but rhetorical
questions I felt won’t hurt the interview.
Still I thought better of it. On a wall
the woman in a strange painting remained
as if under a moon that had long waned.

SUN

I dreamt the sun no longer rose and set
It zigzagged
Spiraled
Yo-yoed

Played possum
When God stirred
At midday
At the brightness

It played tag with a luna moth
And suddenly
The colors came
No flame

It gazed at pink sky and white moon
And morning star
As if gazing at itself
As if in the night it had seen us

It went sideways below the horizon
Creating an endless sunrise and sunset
A sun that played hide-and-seek
Peekaboo with shadows

It played hooky
Drifted away and wandered
As if in search of its origin
Farther and farther till it twinkled

And I heard your shout
Full circle across a world
That had gone into hiding
That had fled within

I heard the river
The grass
I heard green
Picasso’s

Three Musicians
The spheres
The mermaids
The hand

But the star was coming home
In a dawn in which
Sun moves towards us
Not round

How can the sun do this? Wake as I might
The miracle held out.
I heard the cock crow, you awash in sleep,
Incredible in the light.

Cesar Ruiz Aquino was born in Zamboanga City, and has a Ph.D. in Literature from Silliman University. He writes both poetry and prose for which he has won virtually all the national awards in the Philippines and one international – the SEA Write Award from the royal family of Thailand in 2004. His books include the short story collection Chronicles of Suspicion, the poetry collections Word Without End, In Samarkand, Caesuras: 155 New Poems, Like a Shadow That Only Fits a Figure of Which It is Not the Shadow, and Fire If It Were Ice, Ice If It Were Fire, and the personal anthology Checkmeta: The Cesar Ruiz Aquino Reader. He lives in Dumaguete City.
by buglaswritersjournal

King of Comedy

By HEZRON PIOS

Okay, if you’re so, so funny—
                              why not make a stunt about leaving your office
this instant and never take it back?
               You’ll do a great favor to History books and bayarang midya
                                                              which won’t even dare to revise.
Headlines will set your name in bold below a photo of you crying for real.
               To be honest, I am tired of rolling my eyes every time
                                             I see your face on the screen, giving bad speeches.
I don’t blame you if you think what I’m saying seems incomprehensible
                              but a vacancy in the seat can be considered
                                                                             phenomenal at this moment.
For a year or so, you’ve invented gimmicks not even the false hero buried
               in the Land of Heroes managed to think of. It’s not in the howness of things
                                             if ever you get to be thrown to the nearest dumpster
but the manuscript in which you, and your invisible gun, and your checkered polo
                                                             will be devoid of meaning. It’ll be a best-selling book
               with everyone buying copies for themselves and their children’s children.
You’ll be known as the man who was nothing less of a living joke,
                              the man who promised breathless Change. I’m waiting
                                                                             for the punchline to punch you really hard.
                                                                                                          Let me punch you really hard.

Hezron Pios received a BA degree in Communication from the University of St. La Salle. His poems have appeared in Glucose, Katitikan, The Spectrum, and Yuwana. He dreams of exploring visual arts and building a pop-up library someday. He lives in Bacolod City.
by buglaswritersjournal

New Key

By LYDE SISON VILLANUEVA

An easy trick not to forget
which key is for the kitchen,

for mother’s old bookshelf,
or for the lonely attic—

is to remember the cuts
of the key’s body.

The only duplicate looks
like ridges of Cuernos de Negros.

Another resembles the edge
of the sea with dying eddies.

And the gold one is a weak
heartbeat’s running green line

on the ECG monitor.

Somewhere,
in an ancestral house,

a locksmith is replacing
a jammed lock

of a front door
left unrepaired for years.

A new spare key
hangs on the doornail,

waiting to be useful.

Lyde Sison Villanueva was born in Dumaguete City, and graduated with a degree in Mass Communication from Silliman University in 2008. He was a fellow for poetry for the 2013 Silliman University National Writers Workshop. He is currently pursuing his MFA in Creative Writing at De La Salle University in Manila. His works have appeared in various publications like The Sunday Times Magazine, Inquirer.net, and The Quarterly Literary Review Singapore. His first poetry chapbook entitled Made Easy was published in 2019.
by buglaswritersjournal

Cuernos de Negros

By ELSA MARTINEZ COSCOLLUELA

The gentle rustle of mountain spirits
Unspools memory as the lamplight leaps
Into a sudden dance: once a child
He had watched his father clearing grass
Grown wild; he had sought and staked
His kinship with the sower’s stance
And drove the plough with his bare hands.

Up in the sky he had scanned the slopes
Of his father’s mountains: gently winding
Down, the river ran from the bubbling spring
And split and multiplied across the heaving
Fields so richly pied with fruits
And ferns and flowers; now scourged by dry
Winds whipped by the sun’s thieving eye.

Midnight under the cold white moon
And dim, dying stars; he returns and wonders
Still at the curious call of dark birds,
The plop of frogs on a quiet pond, cicadas
Crying about the trees, the swish of scythes
At harvest time, and the boy that ran
Singing down the winding mountain slopes.

At dawn, through the clearing fog, steel
Structures rise close to the sky, dig
Deep between the mountain’s horns, suck
From its stones its majestic core of power.
In time, the trees that will remain
Will fall, the springs will die, and all
Will genuflect before the powerful spires.

In time they will not remember, but perhaps
When they grow old, they will see visions
Of Cuernos de Negros in their dreams.

Elsa Victoria Martinez Coscolluela was born in Dumaguete City, where she earned her AB and MA for Creative Writing at Silliman University. (She was also Miss Silliman 1964.) Later, she was Vice President for Academic Affairs at the University of St. La Salle, and retired in 2010 after thirty-two years of service. Upon retirement, she was conferred the rank of Professor Emeritus and was designated Special Assistant to the President for Special Projects, a post that she continues to hold. During her term as VPA, she founded the Negros Summer Workshops with film Director Peque Gallaga in 1990, and the IYAS Creative Writing Workshop in 2000, in collaboration with Dr. Cirilo Bautista, Dr. Marjorie Evasco and the Bienvenido N. Santos Creative Writing Center of De La Salle University, Manila. She writes poetry, fiction, drama, and filmscripts in English. She has published a book of poetry, Katipunera and Other Poems. Several of her works have been anthologized. As a writer, she is best known for her full-length play about Dumaguete during World War II, In My Father's House, which has been produced in Dumaguete, and in Japan, Singapore, San Francisco, and New York. She was inducted to the Palanca Hall of Fame in 1999 and is the recipient of several awards from the CCP, Philippines Free Press, and the Philippine Centennial Literary Competition. She continues to work at the University of St. La Salle where she manages several special projects and directs projects for the Eduardo Cojuangco Foundation.