Untitled

by katimugambalon

A washed-up mirror in a dingy bath—
I look, yet I do not see.
A forgotten bottle in a broken sink—
I choke intermittently.

"Why? Just answer why."
I glare at you and you lower your eyes.

"How could you? Why do this?"
I hear only silence, I see you bite your lips.

I understand.

Solitary shadow— it looms about:
It wails and groans, so I heed.
Its putrid breath pierces my crimson eyes,
I hear not, I fathom the deed.

I close my eyes,
I only remember,
The bitter taste of cold metal that burns my tongue.

1st Place (English Poetry)

A Shepherd’s Sonnet

By Jong Oledan

The day You gave me that breathtaking smile

Was the day I began to care living.

For, though I did not mind walking a mile,

From where I came, there was so much lacking.

It happened first on a balding pasture

Where thinning sheep chilled to death while asleep.

Lo! From the half-torn heaven came a choir

Of angels gifting glad tidings to keep.

The guiding Star conquered the cunning Night;

The darkness ended with Your mother’s bid.

Mildly gazing, you took away my fright,

Which, in my eager waiting, shrewdly hid.

I had never thought that moment could be

God’s very self becoming gift to me.

2nd Place (English Poetry)

Love’s Gale

by Mark Lopez

The north wind

now here blows,

searing skin,

and warming souls.

“The Lord is coming!”

by gusts and whispers

I am told.

Playful, like the sea,

waking, calling, cold.

The heavens speak to me

through this wind

from tales of old.

“Arise! And keep awake!

For not by snow nor harness’ shake

--- but by love’s gale ---

shall somber silence break!”

These days,

Therefore, I pray

The winds

come and blown

my way

Reach far

to where you are.

Bluster you free

let you to see

have no fear

make you hear

“The Lord is coming!”

3rd Place (English Poetry)

A Child Of Peace

By Alvin Laput

A new child is born

At my heart’s very core

A gift from the Father

My purest heart needs to heed

He will bring light to my world

Heal my blindness, fill my hunger

Brings havoc to my old ways

But serenity to the new

His ways are different from my ways

Asking me to leave everything I believe

Acceptance is difficult

That it tears my person apart

But I know he’s the one

The one I need to believe

To trust and to hold-on

That in the end he will bring me peace.

1st Place (Tula)

Tagpuan

By KAKA

Isang batang isinilang sa sabsaban,

Langit nagbunyi sa nasaksihan.

Maria at Jose tiwala’y walang sawa,

Sa puso ng mag-irog lubos ang tuwa.

Sa kabilang dako tatlong mago,

Naglalakbay galing sa malayo.

Pagod hindi inanda tala’y sundan,

Kapayapaang hangad ay makamtan.

Sa ilang mga pastol nagtatanod,

Kalangita’y napuspos sa liwanag nalugod.

Mga anghel nagalak, pumanaog sa ilang,

Kayong Mapalad Humayo sa Haring isinilang.

Maria at Jose pangamba’y napawi

Sa ngiti ng aba nakitang walang sawi.

Tanong na bumabagabag sa dalawa,

kasaguta’y nakita sa sanggol na tuwa.

Sa sinag ng tala mago’y patuloy sa pagnilay,

Nawa hari’y masilayan ng loob ay palagay.

Nag-aalab sa sabik puso’t damdamin,

Katuparang dulot ay galak sa dilim.

­

Mga pastol natunganga sa nakita,

Halinat magpunta sa Hari’y magpakita.

Walang hinahanap kundi maging saksi

Sa sabi ng angel halina upang ‘di magsisi.

Sa Belen mga gala lahat nagtagpo,

Namangha sa isang hari wari’y nilumpo.

Sulyap sa tala at alaala ng mga kirubin,

Napagtantong toto’t halina at damhin.

Sa paglisan bitbit sa puso isang pabaon,

Mga sinaksi hindi lilipas sa panahon.

Alaala na bumago ng puso at isipan,

Payapang dulot ’di kaylan malilimutan.

1st Place (Tula)

Tuloy…

­

By KAKA

Sino ako para dalawin, Ina ng Poon,

Sa iyong bati Sanggol sa tiya’y tumalon.

Halika tumuloy sa aking dampa,

Magalak sa mumunti kong sapa.

Buong galak hamak iyong dinalaw,

Puso ko’y iyong binigyang linaw.

Paano napadpad dito sa aming dako,

Ina at Poon, Sino ako?

Ikot ng buhay tila tumila,

Tibok ng puso umiba ang timpla.

Sa inyong harap bakat ang galak,

Gusto man magwika walang maitalak.

Sa iyong pamamalagi pasan pinagaan,

Mahigpit na yakap aking tatandaan.

Ating kumustahan hindi mo tinantanan,

Puso’y umaapaw ako‘y inyong dinaanan.

Ako’y wala ngunit napili’t pinagpala,

Sanggol sa aking Tiya’ y tulad ng tala.

Saksi sa magaganap may papuri’t pasalamat.

Ang daa’y hawiin sa mundong may lamat.

Sa inyong pagtuloy ako’y nagpupugay,

Bukal ng loobin nagbubunying tunay.

Ikaw Maria’y tawawaging mapalad,

At iyong ipinaglilihi’y matutulad.

2nd Prize (Tula)

( 2^nd PRIZE )

Ulilang Lata

By Rico Adapon

Sa isang madilim at ulilang bayan,

Doon isinilang latang walang laman

Di kaginsa-ginsa’y pinulot na lamang

Nitong mga batang hari ng tambakan.

Sinikap maging tambol

Nitong mga musikerong pulpol,

Sinabayan ng himig, palakpak at sipol,

Sa tambaka’y muling nagbalik,

Ang ulilang latang wari’y humihibik,

Sa kamay ng pulubing tila nanabik,

Sa kalansing ng baryang hindi umiimik,

Pamatid gutom ngayong paskong sasapit.

Ulilang lata’y ipinukol,

At muling naging tambol,

sinabayan ng matinis na ungol,

at tahol ng mga asong ulol,

at mga kerubing sumisipol

sa pagsilang ng Hari at sanggol.

Winner of the Christmas Literary Contest

( 3^rd PRIZE )

Munting Hari

by Henry Ponce

Sa kadiliman ng gabi, mga tala ay nagniningning

Ngunit katangi-tangi ang isang bituin

Nagdala ng pananabik sa mga pusong nananalangin

Sa isang manunubos na pinangakong darating

Matamlay na gabi ay biglang sumigla

Pagsilang ng munting Hari’y nakamamangha

Daladala Niya’y pag-asa para sa masa

Alay Niya para sa buong madla

Isang munting Hari ngayo’y isinilang na

Walang korona ngunit mga anghel Siya’y sinasamba

Makapangyarihang Diyos na maamo’t mapagkumbaba

Kaligtasan ang dala ng Batang pinagpala

Tanong ng marami, nasaan ang munting Hari

Matatagpuan mo Siya sa sabsaban ngayong gabi

Sa dayaming trono Niya wala Siyang paki

Dalawin mo Siya’t huwag kang mag-atubili.

Ito na ang hinihintay ng mga pusong nalulumbay

Pagsilang ng munting Hari na isa lang ang pakay

Mga tao’y sa kasalanan, hindi mamamatay

Sa pag-ibig sa sangkatauhan, buhay Niya’y iaalay.

Demonyita

At magandang umaga din, sa iyo, misis.
Mabuti naman at natapos ka na ring dumakdak:
Pagkat kasalukuyan mong
Kinukubli
Ang malaking tinga sa ngipin mong pustiso na
ilang libo rin ang bayad
sa ilang libo ring kinupit.

Magandang hapon po.
Huwag mag-aalala, misis, at napansin na namin
ang terno mong pink na blusa at pantalon
na kakulay ng iyong lipstick na imported
at polish na ipinabili mo pa sa anak mo sa Maynila.
Napaniniwala mo na kaming mayaman ka,
sa halip ng pagkaboses Matutina.

Aba, isang magandang gabi, misis.
Subalit batid naman namin
na ang kaputian mo ay isang panlilinlang
isang pandaraya
tulad ng sari-saring mga aninong namamahay sa iyong puso
na hindi sadyang ipinapamalas
ng baluktot mong Ingles.

Salamat po, misis.
Hindi ko po sukat-akalain
na ngayon ko lang mapatutunayan
na kailangan laging handa:
na ang demonyo ay laging nagbabanta
at ang ate niya ang nagpapasuweldo.

The Prayer of the Prodigal Son

-eric santillan-
--may 9, 2006--

they all thought you were at home
just waiting.
but i got your message the other day-
the one that says you will be here for me-
and realized you knew where i was
and what i was doing.

you watched from a distance
as i wasted my life away.
you gave me time
and space
knowing perhaps that i had to be far from you
to know how precious you really are to me.

(if you had watched more closely
you would have seen our picture
at my bedside table.
i look at it every night
...and remember.)

please
wait
for me.
and this may take a long time
but i am here too
still
on life's byways and highways
looking for home
looking for you
looking for me.

And the Greatest of These is...

-eric santillan-

fucked up in muck
stuck deep into
luckless
quagmires.
blackhole of the past
pulling in a
tug-of-war of desires.

about to drown in neck-deep
mud.

the more i struggle, the more
i seem to sink.
hope is the first to give way
as i stopped shouting for help
because no one is there to listen to pitiful cries
anyway.

faith unraveled as a single strand
unravels cloth gradually.

love is the last to go
like a flickering candle in the dark.

strangely, just when the candle was blown by the wind
that's when i felt your hand pull me out.

Gagamba

eric santillan
-8 day retreat. Mirador JesuitVilla.-

Nagkanda-hulog-hulog ka pa
Sa pagpanday ng bahay mong
Liliparin lamang ng hangin at
Lulunurin ng ulan.

Ewan ko ba kung nakikita mo ang
Papalapit na agos
O ang unos na sisira
Ng iyong mga pangarap.

Tuloy, iindap-indap at sasayaw-sayaw
Ka sa gitna ng iyong buhol-buhol
Na gawa-gawang
Bahay-bahayan.

Papalapit na ang ulan.
Siguradong magsisimula ka ulit.

Ngunit nakakapagtaka.
Tuloy ka pa rin.

Bagong Bulong

ni Fr. Victor Baltazar, S.J. aka Reggie Adviento
(Inalay sa isang kapatid sa Kapisanan)


tila putikang tubig
ang abong dinilig
ng banal Mong tubig:
butil-butil na kinumpol,
sa noo nami’y kinintal,
paggunita sa nangagkalat na lupa
na tumipon sa ‘Yong Salita.
at sa isang iglap ay nalikha
kaayusang sinisibulan
ng samu’t saring gandang
humihinga’t dumarama,
kumikilos, nagpapagal,
nag-iisip at nagmamahal.

sana’y may bulong Kang bago’t
hingahan ang putikang tubig na loob ko,
pagkumpul-kumpulin rin nawa
na parang abong naging krus,
itong butil-butil kong
pagbangon at pagdapa
sa pananalig at pag-ibig.
panaugin ang krus mula noo
hanggang puso at pag puno na’t hitik
sa kilos ng katawan, masdan ako’t ngitian—
bumulalas rin ng “kayganda!”
sabay ganyakin mo akong muli
sa kapana-panabik
mong inuuwiang
pahinga.


Collegio SR Bellarmino, Roma
06.03.06

Paghihintay

ni Gil Donayre, SJ

Hinihintay ko ang pagsikat ng araw,
ang pagsapit ng bagong umaga.

Kinumutan ng makakapal na ulap
ang mga unang silahis ng araw.

Umambon.

Umulan.

Bukas.
Baka bukas.
Uupo ako muli rito.
Mag-aantabay sa wisyo ng langit.

Baka sa darating na araw,
mararanasan ko rin ang
pagbububukang-liwayway.

Isang Paalala

ni Doc Atoy Salazar, SJ

Katawan ko ay patpat
Palarang damit makintab
Inilawang makislap
Nang matanaw ng lahat

Tala akong kasama
Nagbigay liwanag sa
Tatlong magong banyaga
Hanggang sabsabang aba

‘sang kuwebang ubod dilim
‘sang amang walang kimkim
‘sang Inang Birhen mandin
‘sang sanggol, Diyos natin

S’yang musmos na Dakila
Anak ng Mahiwaga
Niñong tanglaw sa dilim
S’yang kaligtasan natin

Mula sa araw na ‘yon
Magpasahanggang ngayon
Ako’y nagpapaalala
Sa araw na sinilang Siya.

A Manger's Thoughts

by Atoy Salazar, M.D., S.J.

From an unnamed wood
Had I been born,
What once sturd’ly stood
A tree now meekly torn.

My rough-grained boughs
Four walls did build,
A floor that’s small
Roof open to the wind.

In this cold of night
I was not meant to be
The bearer of cool hay
For the ox and ass around me.

Instead I was to humbly hold
In my smoothened box’d bark,
With dry yarns of grass of gold
A tiny babe Who conquered the dark

His little body,
The Word enfleshed
Mankind’s salvation’s glory,
A Son most richly blest.

And so indeed my trunk was split
But not to be thrown, left to rot.
My King, My Savior, My Christ
To cradle Him was my lot

The Leaf

by Neo Saicon, SJ


It clings to the twig, and swings
On a cold autumn week,
The last to leave.
When winter winds prick,
It waits…
And waits…
And waits and then —
Flicks!

Tossing and turning
Upon the cold winds calling,
Its journey of ending — beginning.
Gliding and sliding
And tumbling and rolling
Towards the frosty earth’s landing.
Relishing,
Its swinging and swaying,
As if everlasting.
Dancing and prancing,
And swerving and swirling
In a world awaiting,
Its coming.
Giving,
Into the sway of a rhythm.
Frolicking and playing
In the season that seems unending.

Finally.
It rests
The earth unmoving.
The grass uncaring.
The world forgetting.
It rests.

And the world returns to its humdrum beat.
And the world forgets the dance of the leaf.
And so the world forgets…
Just like it does with Christmas.

Innocent Carollers

by EJ Gerilla

Lights are on; tunes fill the airwaves,
Christmas has gained its welcome.
Lo, a glimpse of newness over bleakness,
Despite hard times and hunger’s pangs.
Blessed are the beggars
in the triumph of the Light;
Hope breaks the spell of darkness.

Yuletide remains a season for moppets.
Christmas belongs to the innocent.
No grumbling, no fuss, no worries.
Old familiar tunes linger in their ears.
Anticipating the adventure of caroling this year.

So there go the children like loose hunters, gathering bottle caps,
eying nails and slender wood.
Caps flattened, polished
and pinned to a rod with piercing nails
and bruised fingers.
A tambourine is born
to accompany the humming birds.

Our carolers are ready.

They begin with the neighbors,
Raising merry tunes, shaking their tambourine.
Christmas greetings to each household
Chanting of straining voices linger over the panes
Gathering bills, coins, fruits and goodies
As the night stretches into long darkness,
Sometimes unfortunate at hostile households
Chased by unfriendly scamps and dogs
But never disheartened.
Weary yet patient, persevering.
Daring to sing for more homes.

Red lights, chasing cars in traffic,
Singing Christmas tunes,
shaking their tambourine.
Good for a few pennies
if windows slide down
before the lights turn green.

Trudging a few more steps,
Before they end their songs.
They wander far and near
like troubadours and minstrels.
When the night is worn
and distances covered wide
…it’s time to go home.

A night of innocent caroling done.
They divide the fruits of their toil.

One waif, out of his share,
buys a pack of milk.
To a tiny Tondo shanty the boy hurries.
There a babe has waited all night,
Weeping and sighing.
But soon the child in the hammock feeds
Peaceful and so tender,
gazing at his kuya’s sweetest smile.

The Fire Tree

Jason K. Dy, SJ

You root yourself
beside an old, stone-cold building
ready to lick and burn it
with your fiery flowers
then paint its walls black

and I,
standing from a distance,
afraid to get burned.

Yet from afar
you stand still
like in those summers past
of green leaves unleaving,
of flowers blooming then enflaming
with yellows and vermilions
without bothering
the mockery of usually green trees
of your uncommon guise.

Silently you root yourself
in the earth’s womb
that bears you since
you were a tiny seed
sowed by invisible hands

and embrace yourself—
a burning tree
that neither blazes nor flickers
as the wind passes
nor consumes others near,
nearest you

but you only breathe life
into the old, stone-cold building
and shower life’s hue
into the green grass on your foothold
by the sheer falling of your redness,

and invite me—
still from a distance—
to come nearer.

June 20, 2002
Berchmans Building