Nilisan kong hubad ang pinaglunuhan,
Enero, Pebrero, Marso ng kabataan
Lubi-lubi ang awit sa tiyang kumakalam
balatkayong pinasikip ng mga agam-agam
mga ala-alang pilit naglulungga, inipit na liham
sa yungib ng pipíng isipan.

Sa pagtalikód ko’y hiniwa
ng balaraw ng panghihinayang
ang banig na naidlip saglit
sa magdamag na paglalamay
banig na nilala ng mga dekada
mula sa mga hibla ng pagsusumikap.

Paalam,
kaibigang nabingi sa tawag ng luho
Walang alinlangang maririnig mo rin
ang tibok at bulong ng puso
Ninais ko sanang samahan mo ako
at ating anihin
ang mga uhay na mula
sa binhing ipinunla
sa mga alapaap.
Ninais kong lasapin
ang matamis na bunga,
pinahinog ng tiyaga
at patuloy na pag-asa.

Subalit
dagtang makapit,
luhang mapait,
kumikirot ang lupa
sa patak ng namuong dugo
ng bayaning nagbuwis
ng sariling pagsuyo.

Kikitlin ng Nobyembre
ang bawat naiwang himaymay
sa lamig ng yakap ng amihan
- akala’y dakila ang dayuhang niyebe.
Mamamaluktot muli sa maigsing kumot
hanggang sa magising
sa aguinaldo ng Disyembre
at pagpasok na naman ng Bagong Taon
walang kamatayang panahon
aasa na naman sa ****
na iba ang pangako at iba ang tugon
sa dalangin at maraming tanong

Ah sanga pala, Abril, Mayo, Hunyo noon.

Solomon
nagpayo:
Sangguniin
kayo.
Hiling
ko:
Kaliluhang
naghahari­’y
Lipulin
ninyo

[musings on a frustrated submission]

Were they “really saddened,”
as much as I was,
when they informed me
“that my works (hmm not I)
were not selected
for the current issue?
And did, they say to me,
apologetically,
perhaps to appease me,
(as if it were necessary):
“We have read
so many promising pieces
that we are unable to publish,
but that does not lessen
their beauty and worth.”
And then, tell to my aging face:
“However, we encourage you
to refine your writing
by joining campus/community-based
writers groups that foster
constructive critiquing
and applying for regional
and national writers workshops.”
The hell! I am too old
and too busy to attend those,
And there is no special session,
for seniors and late bloomers,
And I do not intend to win
the Nobel for Literature
nor the Philippines’ Palanca.

Take my pick?
“The piece didn't "grab" the editor.”
- We’ll I never intended it to.
“Some (or all) of the lines were too long for the site's formatting.”
- So Walt Whitman’s won’t be a thing.
“The poem read too much like a prose paragraph.”
- Much like the best free verse the ancients mocked.
“The piece had numerous simple grammar errors.”
- and Percy Bysshe Shelley will not pass your course.
“The piece was overly derivative or unoriginal.”
- you mean somebody else was thinking for me?
“The piece contained copyrighted material not owned by the author.”
- Of course, my poems are mine! I’m quite sure of that.
“Limited space in the schedule.”
- so, why then call for so many entries?

Appease myself?
Why do I write poems?
To win awards? No!
Put my thoughts into words? Yes!
Express my feelings? Yes!
Happiness? Mine? Of others? Yes!

Are these poems? Is this a poem?
I don’t need you or anyone to call me a poet
but this is my poem.
Who defines what a poem is?

Many a box
                         can
                         inspire
                         poems . . .
                         But
A poem is not

a box.

Poetry

is

freedom.

Freedom is

Poetry.

Poems are free.

My thoughts are

free –

f

r

e

e –

free.

I best saved long poems.
Silently, one smile just blooms.
The heart hears, Love flows.

Gipukaw ko
sa akong damgo
Morag langgam nga ilo
sa salag nga gigubâ sa bagyo.
Ning-syagit ko
ug ngalan nimo

Ning-abut na ka abi nakò
Dinhi sa tapad ko
Akong gitan-aw,
wa may tawo
Ang habol pilô gihapon,
bugnaw maski gaksun nakò

Uli na langga,
mingaw na kaayo.

PANAGINIP (Tagalog translation)

Nagulantang ako
ng aking panaginip
Parang isang ibong ulila
sa pugad na sinira ng bagyo
Isinigaw ko
ang pangalan mo

Dumating ka na akala ko
Dito sa tabi ko
Tiningnan ko,
wala namang tao
Ang kumot tiklop pa rin,
malamig kahit yakapin ko

Uwi ka na mahal,
Sobrang lungkot na dito.

DREAM (English translation)

In a flash, awakened
by a dream, saddened
like a bird orphaned
in a nest the storm had downed
Your name
I called out loud

you have returned, I thought
here by my side, I sought
to feel and I looked, at once
but there was naught
the blanket still neatly folded
and, even as I hugged it, cold as dead  

Come home now my dear
It’s become so lonely here.

Kuwitib –
     pulang langgam,
Mata’y mulat,
mapanupil kinakagat,
Baya'y ginigising:
          Magigiting!

Paalam na muna, sinisintang toyò
Childhood sweetheart kita, karibal ng tuyô
Pero wala sa usapang mayro’ng dugo
ng obrerong sa alat mo’y ihahalo.

Di ko maatim na sa kanin kong puti
Iwiwisik kita, habang may lugami
sa mababang sahod, sa dusa’t pighati
Kapalit ng yaman ng sa ‘yo’y may-ari.

“Bukas na lang kita muling mamahalin”
Kung sakaling katarungan ay dumating
Kontraktwalisasyo’y tila almuranin
Kamandag sa buhay nitong bayan natin.

Translation:

We’re on a cool-off, Soy Sauce

Well, it’s goodbye for now, dear soy sauce brand, unspilled
You’re a childhood sweetheart, rival of dried fish grilled
But unjustly having lowly workers’ blood spilled
It’s not part of the deal, your salty taste concealed

It really is just hard to bear to sprinkle you
on my white rice, while those who toiled to see you through
suffer deeply in wages low, mis’ries undue
amidst the wealth, so huge, of those few who own you

Love you again, oh tomorrow, maybe, I will,
if fortune brings that sweet justice to hands that mill.
Contractualization’s a serpent waiting still
To our dear people’s life, a venom meant to ****.