turon
buddha used to preside over the store with incense drifting from the ceiling.
but now the crucified christ has come to spread his worldly charm all over.
food used to be bountiful, the product of an economy unsurpassed in raw materials.
but ever since christ came, the portions have been smaller, the meat less tender.
i did not mind the change in proprietors. after all how can you screw up pinoy food?
boil the chicken and pork in toyo and suka for an hour and you have adobo,
boil the rice in water and kanin appears. fry the pork in oil and lechon kawali pops out.
scoop the ube on the mixed nata de coco, langka and sweet beans and halo-halo is served.
wrap a banana with langka as if making lumpia, place into boiling sugar cooked
over medium high heat and turon the king of all merienda makes an appearance.
but christ in his holy charity prescribes that perhaps we should practice poverty
humility and some sort of piety so the proprietor of the store quartered the banana
and meekly placed it into the turon.
buddha was aghast at what his son christ's follower did. quarter a banana?
ridiculous. the saba costs the shine of FDR or ten lincolns, at most maybe a
washington coin. buddha cried when all the lovely friends he made through the
years stopped visiting the temple where christ practices piety.
Friday, February 27, 2004
slam poetry
i do not slam my poetry around
i'm afraid i do not have enough angst or anger
to summon the demons of alcohol, drugs or abuse
the worst my demons get is when i remember high school
i should have asked K to the dance floor or out for a walk
in UCLA's sculpture garden.
my parents never divorced each other though sometimes
i wonder if it would have been better if they did.
in america their lives were so intertwined by money that
petty jealousies would rear from something twenty years ago.
in the end though, my mother stayed in the hospital
as my father went through a series of chills and pills.
the closest my world came to an end was the death
of my mother. the sky was azurine blue with the hand of god
the wind gently kissed my ears and the sun was pure
the color of childhood milk. but worlds come to an end
and are reborn again if you choose to live your life.
slam fingers / slam feet do not materialize in the air
like cocaine fueling the economy. sometimes though when
the president wants a constitutional amendment to deprive
people of rights, my eye twitches, my fingers crack and
my head shakes at the stupidity of it all. but no, my fingers
do not point, my feet do not pace. my mind races and my heart
contorts at the absurdity. nothing else.
i am of age to a generation which never prized innocence because
it is only an illusion conjured up by ignorants and cowards. truth
comes in many forms and the more i and my generation see the
truth, the better of i and my generation are.
i do not slam my poetry around
i'm afraid i do not have enough angst or anger
to summon the demons of alcohol, drugs or abuse
the worst my demons get is when i remember high school
i should have asked K to the dance floor or out for a walk
in UCLA's sculpture garden.
my parents never divorced each other though sometimes
i wonder if it would have been better if they did.
in america their lives were so intertwined by money that
petty jealousies would rear from something twenty years ago.
in the end though, my mother stayed in the hospital
as my father went through a series of chills and pills.
the closest my world came to an end was the death
of my mother. the sky was azurine blue with the hand of god
the wind gently kissed my ears and the sun was pure
the color of childhood milk. but worlds come to an end
and are reborn again if you choose to live your life.
slam fingers / slam feet do not materialize in the air
like cocaine fueling the economy. sometimes though when
the president wants a constitutional amendment to deprive
people of rights, my eye twitches, my fingers crack and
my head shakes at the stupidity of it all. but no, my fingers
do not point, my feet do not pace. my mind races and my heart
contorts at the absurdity. nothing else.
i am of age to a generation which never prized innocence because
it is only an illusion conjured up by ignorants and cowards. truth
comes in many forms and the more i and my generation see the
truth, the better of i and my generation are.
Simula
psst! hoy!
ako ay isang kolonyal
buong buhay nakatago
sa limlim ng siyudad.
lumaki at lumakas
mula sa hapag kainan
ng telebisyon at radyo.
marami akong mga kamay
na tumutubo mula sa aking
katawan. nakatago nga lang.
kung gusto mo naman ay
mata, mayroon din akong
pitong sa pikit ay marikit.
ang buhok ng karanasan
ay nagbigay kislap sa aking
nuong limang lipad ang tangka.
psst! hoy!
sa iyong sarili hanapin
ang kapatid ko.
psst! hoy!
ako ay isang kolonyal
buong buhay nakatago
sa limlim ng siyudad.
lumaki at lumakas
mula sa hapag kainan
ng telebisyon at radyo.
marami akong mga kamay
na tumutubo mula sa aking
katawan. nakatago nga lang.
kung gusto mo naman ay
mata, mayroon din akong
pitong sa pikit ay marikit.
ang buhok ng karanasan
ay nagbigay kislap sa aking
nuong limang lipad ang tangka.
psst! hoy!
sa iyong sarili hanapin
ang kapatid ko.
Monday, February 16, 2004
Filipino Food Anthology Submission Guidelines
As expatriates, migrants, settlers in a world that
insists upon our Westernization, we lose so much. Our
language goes, economics necessitates the breakdown of
our family structures, and many of our cultural
foundations break down.
Increased urbanization has altered our living patterns
and our palettes. But what remains, unswervingly, are
our memories of food. Properly and lovingly prepared,
linked to rituals, a sense of community, geography.
Food brings us back to ourselves.
Submission guidelines:
-Up to 3 poems, short story, and/or other fictional
work.
-Each piece must make mention to or be inspired by at
least one Filipino dish. For example, green mango
shake would be considered a dish, but mangoes would
not.
-Included with the submission should be a recipe for
the referenced and inspiring dish(es). If all pieces
refer to only one dish, then one recipe may be
submitted. Author may choose which recipe to submit
if multiple dishes are mentioned in one piece.
Example: If all pieces refer to kare-kare, then one
recipe for kare-kare should be submitted. If the 3
pieces submitted refer separately to adobo, laing, and
kaldereta respectively, then a recipe for each of
these dishes should be included.
-Literary work may have been previously published.
However recipes may not have been previously
published.
-Author of literary work and recipe may be different.
-Author of literary work should have gotten permission
from recipe author for inclusion in anthology.
-Cover letter should include: short contributor's
bio(s), titles of pieces, list of recipe(s), and
contact info (name, address, and email or phone #)
Send cover letter with 2 copies of literary work and
recipes to:
The Filipino Food Anthology
c/o Barbara Reyes
1461 Alice Street #205
Oakland CA 94612
OR
Emailed in the body of the message (no attachments)
to:
pagkainbook@yahoo.com
DEADLINE: December 25, 2004
Do not send originals. Submissions will not be
returned. Questions may be sent to.
As expatriates, migrants, settlers in a world that
insists upon our Westernization, we lose so much. Our
language goes, economics necessitates the breakdown of
our family structures, and many of our cultural
foundations break down.
Increased urbanization has altered our living patterns
and our palettes. But what remains, unswervingly, are
our memories of food. Properly and lovingly prepared,
linked to rituals, a sense of community, geography.
Food brings us back to ourselves.
Submission guidelines:
-Up to 3 poems, short story, and/or other fictional
work.
-Each piece must make mention to or be inspired by at
least one Filipino dish. For example, green mango
shake would be considered a dish, but mangoes would
not.
-Included with the submission should be a recipe for
the referenced and inspiring dish(es). If all pieces
refer to only one dish, then one recipe may be
submitted. Author may choose which recipe to submit
if multiple dishes are mentioned in one piece.
Example: If all pieces refer to kare-kare, then one
recipe for kare-kare should be submitted. If the 3
pieces submitted refer separately to adobo, laing, and
kaldereta respectively, then a recipe for each of
these dishes should be included.
-Literary work may have been previously published.
However recipes may not have been previously
published.
-Author of literary work and recipe may be different.
-Author of literary work should have gotten permission
from recipe author for inclusion in anthology.
-Cover letter should include: short contributor's
bio(s), titles of pieces, list of recipe(s), and
contact info (name, address, and email or phone #)
Send cover letter with 2 copies of literary work and
recipes to:
The Filipino Food Anthology
c/o Barbara Reyes
1461 Alice Street #205
Oakland CA 94612
OR
Emailed in the body of the message (no attachments)
to:
pagkainbook@yahoo.com
DEADLINE: December 25, 2004
Do not send originals. Submissions will not be
returned. Questions may be sent to
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
STUDY POETRY IN TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN IRELAND
this summer with poets
NICK CARBO
DENISE DUHAMEL
CAMPBELL McGRATH
July 12th-August 12th 2004 (that's one whole month!)
Cost of trip $3395* (includes airfare, lodging at Trinity College dorms located in center of Dublin, and many other extras like literary tours, pub crawls, book of kels, etc. etc.)
Come join us in one of the most literary cities in the world. Land of Joyce, Wilde, Yeats, Beckett and many more.
Study the craft of Poetry with award winning poets at historic Trinity
College in the heart of Dublin.
The program offers both graduate and undergraduate credit and is open to anyone interested in learning how to write poetry.
Courses qualify for Teacher Re-certification.
You do not need to be enrolled in a college or University to participate.
* Price subject to change due to currency fluctuations March 1 deadline for applications. Only few spaces left, so hurry and sign up!
For more information follow link:
http://2studyabroad.com/default.htm
this summer with poets
NICK CARBO
DENISE DUHAMEL
CAMPBELL McGRATH
July 12th-August 12th 2004 (that's one whole month!)
Cost of trip $3395* (includes airfare, lodging at Trinity College dorms located in center of Dublin, and many other extras like literary tours, pub crawls, book of kels, etc. etc.)
Come join us in one of the most literary cities in the world. Land of Joyce, Wilde, Yeats, Beckett and many more.
Study the craft of Poetry with award winning poets at historic Trinity
College in the heart of Dublin.
The program offers both graduate and undergraduate credit and is open to anyone interested in learning how to write poetry.
Courses qualify for Teacher Re-certification.
You do not need to be enrolled in a college or University to participate.
* Price subject to change due to currency fluctuations March 1 deadline for applications. Only few spaces left, so hurry and sign up!
For more information follow link:
http://2studyabroad.com/default.htm
Any composers out there in California?
Obtained from the flips list:
The San Francisco Bay Chapter of the American Composers Forum announces individual grants of from $500 to $1500 as part of its SUBITO advancement grant program to composers in northern California.
SUBITO is designed to give an immediate financial boost to composers and performers of new music at a time when this help would have a significant career-enhancing effect. The application process is uncomplicated, and the peer review process is streamlined to provide quick turnaround.
WHO CAN APPLY? composers, performers, and sound artists who are strongly dedicated to their art, who show artistic merit, and who propose an excellent project.
Applications will be accepted from March 1 through September 1, 2004.
For application materials and further information, visit:
www.sfcomposersforum.org
Obtained from the flips list:
The San Francisco Bay Chapter of the American Composers Forum announces individual grants of from $500 to $1500 as part of its SUBITO advancement grant program to composers in northern California.
SUBITO is designed to give an immediate financial boost to composers and performers of new music at a time when this help would have a significant career-enhancing effect. The application process is uncomplicated, and the peer review process is streamlined to provide quick turnaround.
WHO CAN APPLY? composers, performers, and sound artists who are strongly dedicated to their art, who show artistic merit, and who propose an excellent project.
Applications will be accepted from March 1 through September 1, 2004.
For application materials and further information, visit:
www.sfcomposersforum.org
Sunday, January 25, 2004
Subject: asian american lit magazine
If youve ever been or have known an Asian-American person who loved to write in between practicing piano to the tick of his or her mothers kitchen timer and applying to medical school, we welcome you or your friend to consider submitting to Asian Americas new literary home, Mortons Toe.
MT is a literary magazine dedicated to supporting a new generation of talented Asian-American writers. Each issue will contain a short story oressay or body of poems or other creative literary work by one Asian-Americanwriter in a well-designed, easy to read, easy to carry format.
We are looking for submissions of previously unpublished material between 3000 and 8000 words or something substantial. We offer $100 and 10contributor copies upon publication.
The magazines website will also feature an interview of each writer we publish as well as other promotional material. In short, we're not interested in just putting out a magazine; we want to create a community to support emerging Asian-American literary talent.
If this sounds all right by you, click www.mortons-toe.com to submit or for more details.
Sincerely,
MT
PS. please direct any questions to
info@mortons-toe.com or
mijinlee519@yahoo.com
If youve ever been or have known an Asian-American person who loved to write in between practicing piano to the tick of his or her mothers kitchen timer and applying to medical school, we welcome you or your friend to consider submitting to Asian Americas new literary home, Mortons Toe.
MT is a literary magazine dedicated to supporting a new generation of talented Asian-American writers. Each issue will contain a short story oressay or body of poems or other creative literary work by one Asian-Americanwriter in a well-designed, easy to read, easy to carry format.
We are looking for submissions of previously unpublished material between 3000 and 8000 words or something substantial. We offer $100 and 10contributor copies upon publication.
The magazines website will also feature an interview of each writer we publish as well as other promotional material. In short, we're not interested in just putting out a magazine; we want to create a community to support emerging Asian-American literary talent.
If this sounds all right by you, click www.mortons-toe.com to submit or for more details.
Sincerely,
MT
PS. please direct any questions to
info@mortons-toe.com or
mijinlee519@yahoo.com
Monday, January 19, 2004
Ethnic Writer
One of the preoccupations I have had recently is to analyze the poems which won the Palanca awards in the Philippines during the 1980's. That decade is so prominent because of the social and political upheaval which took place to dislodge and drive away a dictator. When people feel that dying to attain freedom is more important than living in metaphysical chains, dictators have no recourse but to leave.
Examining the poems, I can't help but notice that there are no references to Philippine mythology though there are adequate references to Greek mythology. It is interesting to note that some poets even sound British or American in their usage and choice of language. I have discussed before how Filipinos often subvert a dominant paradigm and transform it into something distinctly Filipino. However, in my readings of the Palanca poems, I do not detect said subversion.
I am sure that there many other writers who wrote during the 1980's poems that were more nationalistic or more centered on being Filipino. Their absence in the anthology can probably be explained through the hypothesis that these writers did not win in the competition. What does that say then for the judges of the Palanca award?
In writing, there are always choices. What I have found is that each individual writer makes a conscious decision about the nature of his writing. I have consciously decided to make poems which explore the colonizing influence of America and Spain in my Filipino psyche. The poet Eileen Tabios chooses to subvert the English language by being an avant-garde in poetics because the narrative form has been used in the colonization of the world.
It is interesting to note that Joel Tan is examining publication and the expectations on an ethnic writer. It almost seems like he is making conscious decision to compromise the art for the sake of publication. At least that is my take on it from the excerpt above.
This experience reinforced my belief about the racial politics of publishing. Prior to submitting, I had a hunch that the editor would choose the poem that was more “ethnic” over the poem that was contemporary and not culturally specific.... I knew that my work would be more appealing if I wrote race and culture in a way that added a gratuitous diversity to the collection of poems even if the poem was largely fabricated. Because I am an ethnic writer, I was expected to create ethnic work...
--Joel Tan, from his PINOYPOETICS essay excerpted in Jan. 7 blog entry
One of the preoccupations I have had recently is to analyze the poems which won the Palanca awards in the Philippines during the 1980's. That decade is so prominent because of the social and political upheaval which took place to dislodge and drive away a dictator. When people feel that dying to attain freedom is more important than living in metaphysical chains, dictators have no recourse but to leave.
Examining the poems, I can't help but notice that there are no references to Philippine mythology though there are adequate references to Greek mythology. It is interesting to note that some poets even sound British or American in their usage and choice of language. I have discussed before how Filipinos often subvert a dominant paradigm and transform it into something distinctly Filipino. However, in my readings of the Palanca poems, I do not detect said subversion.
I am sure that there many other writers who wrote during the 1980's poems that were more nationalistic or more centered on being Filipino. Their absence in the anthology can probably be explained through the hypothesis that these writers did not win in the competition. What does that say then for the judges of the Palanca award?
In writing, there are always choices. What I have found is that each individual writer makes a conscious decision about the nature of his writing. I have consciously decided to make poems which explore the colonizing influence of America and Spain in my Filipino psyche. The poet Eileen Tabios chooses to subvert the English language by being an avant-garde in poetics because the narrative form has been used in the colonization of the world.
It is interesting to note that Joel Tan is examining publication and the expectations on an ethnic writer. It almost seems like he is making conscious decision to compromise the art for the sake of publication. At least that is my take on it from the excerpt above.
Friday, January 16, 2004
Poetry by Pin@ys
These are poems as sent to the internet by Alberto Florentino.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Luya
Anonimo
Ako ay nagtanim,
kapirasong luya,
tumubo ay gabi,
namunga ng mangga;
nang aking pitasin,
hinog na papaya;
bumagsak sa lupa—
magandang dalaga!
Tanaga
Anonimo
Katawan mong madudurog,
Uuuri't mabubulok,
Siyang sinusunod-sunod,
Hinihimas, iniirog.
Soliranin
Ang Tamuneneng Ko
Anonimo
Ang tamuneneng ko'y lumuha sa bundok,
Kasabay ang taghoy ng luha't himutok.
Luha'y naging dagat, along sumasalpok,
Ang tamuneneng ko'y sadyang napalaot.
Ako namang ito'y humanap ng daong
At kusang tumugpa sa gitna ng alon.
Natagpu-tagpuan: sigwa at daluyong,
Ang tamuneneng ko'y kung saan nataboy.
Mana isang araw, humampas ang hangin
Dini sa dibdib ko na nahihilahil.
Kaya pala gayon ay si tamuneneng
Nasa aking puso't doon humihimbing.
Hayo, mga sama, at ako'y tulungan
Sa dagat itawid itong kapalaran.
Kung tayo'y palaring dumating sa pampang,
Ang tamuneneng ko'y aking kalangitan.
Hala, gaod tayo, pagod ay tiisin,
Ang lahat ng hirap, pag-aralang bathin.
Palayu-layo man, kung ating ibigin,
Daig ang malapit na ayaw lakbayin.
Awiting-Bayan
Jocelyn ng Baliuag
Anonimo
I
Pinopoong sinta niring kaluluwa,
Nakakawangis mo'y mabangong sampaga;
Dalisay sa linis, dakila sa ganda,
Matimyas na bukal ng madlang ligaya.
Edeng masanghayang kinaluluklukan
Ng galak at tuwang katamis-tamisan;
Handa kang maningning na ang matunghaya'y
Masamyong bulaklak agad sumisikal.
Pinananaligan niring aking dibdib
Na sa paglalayag sa dagat ng sakit
Di mo babayaang malunod sa hapis,
Sa pagkabagbag ko'y ikaw ang sasagip.
II
Ikaw ang lunas sa aking dalita,
Tanging magliligtas sa niluha-luha,
Bunying binibining sinukuang kusa
Niring katawang nangangayupapa.
Tanggapin ang aking wagas na pag-ibig,
Marubdob na ningas na taglay sa dibdib;
Sa buhay na ito'y walang nilalangit
Kundi ikaw lamang, ikaw niring isip.
At kawakasa'y ang kapamanhikan,
Tumbasan mo yaring pagsintang dalisay;
Alalahanin mong kung di kahabagan,
Iyong lalasunin ang aba kong buhay.
III
Sa tarik ng sinta, pagal na sa hirap,
Ang bunga ng nasa'y laging inaakyat;
Anyong padudulo'y biglang itinulak
Ng kapang-agaw ko sa sinta mo't liyag.
Ang idinilig ko'y luhang bumabatis,
Binakuran ko pa, masinsing pag-ibig;
Sa hardin ng sinta ako ang naglinis,
Saka nang mamunga'y iba ang nagkamit!
Adios, halamanang aking binakuran,
Hirap at dalita'y diyan ko kinamtan.
Kung kaya nga lamang di ko malimutan,
Palibhasa, Neneng, pinamuhunanan!
Mga Saknong Mula sa
Florante at Laura
Francisco (Balagtas) Baltazar
Pag-ibig anaki'y aking nakilala
Di-dapat palakhin ang bata sa saya,
At sa katuwaa'y kapag namihasa,
Kung lumaki'y walang hihinting ginhawa.
* * *
Sapagka't ang mundo'y bayan ng hinagpis,
Mamaya't sukat tibayan ang dibdib,
Lumaki sa tuwa'y walang pagtitiis,
Anong ilalaban sa dahas ng sakit?
* * *
Ang taong magawi sa ligaya't aliw,
Mahina ang puso't lubhang maramdamin,
Inaakala pa lamang ang hilahil
Na daratni'y di na matutuhang bathin.
* * *
Para ng halamang lumaki sa tubig,
Daho'y nalalanta munting di madilig,
Ikinaluluoy ang sandaling init,
Gayundin ang pusong sa tuwa'y maniig.
* * *
Munting kahirapa'y mamalakhing dala,
Dibdib palibhasa'y gawing magbata,
Ay bago sa mundo'y bawa't kisapmata,
Ang tao'y mayroong sukat ipagdusa.
* * *
Ang laki sa layaw karaniwa'y hubad
Sa bait at muni't sa hatol ay salat;
Masaklap na bunga ng maling paglingap,
Habag ng magulang sa irog na anak.
* * *
Sa taguring bunso't likong pagmamahal
Ang isinasama ng bata'y nunukal,
Ang iba'y marahil sa kapabayaan
Ng dapat magturong tamad na magulang.
* * *
Sa Tabi Ng Dagat
Ildefonso Santos
Marahang-marahang manaog ka, irog, at kata'y lalakad,
Maglulunoy katang payapang-payapa sa tabi ng dagat;
Di na kailangang sapnan pa ang paang binalat-sibuyas,
Ang daliring garing at sakong na waring kinuyom na rosas.
Manunulay kata, habang maaga pa, sa mga pilapil
Na nalalatagan ng damong may luha ng mga bituin;
Patiyad na tayo ay maghahabulang simbilis ng hangin,
Nguni't walang ingay, hanggang sa sumapit sa tiping buhangin.
Pagdating sa tubig, mapapaurong kang parang nangingimi,
Gaganyakin kita sa nangaroroong mga lamang-lati;
Doon ay may tahong, talaba't halaang kabigha-bighani,
Hindi kaya natin mapuno ang buslo bago tumanghali?
Pagdadapithapon, kata'y magbabalik sa pinanggalingan,
Sugatan ang paa at sunog ang balat sa sikat ng araw.
Talagang ganoon: sa dagat man, irog, ng pagmamahalan,
Lahat, pati puso, ay naaagnas ding marahang-marahan.
Kagilagilalas Na Pakikipagsapalaran ni Juan de la Cruz
Jose Lacaba
Isang gabing madilim
puno ng pangambang sumakay sa bus
si Juan de la Cruz
pusturang-pustura
kahit walang laman ang bulsa
BAWAL MANIGARILYO BOSS
sabi ng konduktora
at minura
si Juan de la Cruz
Pusturang-pustura
kahit walang laman ang bulsa
nilakad ni Juan de la Cruz
ang buong Avenida
BAWAL PUMARADA
sabi ng kalsada
BAWAL UMIHI DITO
sabi ng bakod
kaya napagod
si Juan de la Cruz.
Nang abutan ng gutom
si Juan de la Cruz
tumapat sa Ma Mon Luk
inamoy ang mami siopao lumpia pansit
hanggang sa mabusog.
Nagdaan sa Sine Dalisay
tinitigan ang retrato ni Chichay
PASSES NOT HONORED TODAY
sabi ng takilyera
tawa nang tawa.
Dumalaw sa Congreso
si Juan de la Cruz
MAG-INGAT SA ASO
sabi ng deputado.
Nagtuloy sa Malakanyang
wala namang dalang kamanyang
KEEP OFF THE GRASS
sabi ng hardinero
sabi ng sundalo
kay Juan de la Cruz.
Nang dapuan ng libog
si Juan de la Cruz
namasyal sa Culiculi
at nahiga sa pusali
parang espadang bali-bali
YOUR CREDIT IS GOOD BUT WE NEED CASH
sabi ng bugaw
sabay higop ng sabaw.
Pusturang-pustura
kahit walang laman ang bulsa
naglibot sa Dewey
si Juan de la Cruz
PAN-AM BAYSIDE SAVOY THEY SATISFY
sabi ng neon.
Humikab ang dagat na parang leon
masarap sanang tumalon pero
BAWAL MAGTAPON NG BASURA
sabi ng alon.
Nagbalik sa Quiapo
si Juan de la Cruz
at medyo kinakabahan
IN GOD WE TRUST
sabi ng obispo
ALL OTHERS PAY CASH.
Nang wala nang malunok
si Juan de la Cruz
dala-dala'y gulok
gula-gulanit na ang damit
wala pa ring laman ang bulsa
umakyat
sa Arayat
at namayat
na si Juan de la Cruz
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE
sabi ng PC
at sinisi
ang walanghiyang kabataan
kung bakit sinulsulan
ang isang tahimik na mamamayan
na tulad ni Juan de la Cruz.
============================
Ladino
Salamat Ng Walang Hangga
Fernando Bagongbanta
Salamat nang walang hanggan
Gracias se den sempiternas,
Sa nagpasilang ng tala
Al que hizo salir la estrella
Nakapagpanaw ng dilim
Que destierre las tinieblas
Sa lahat ng bayan natin.
De toda esta nuestra tierra.
Kauna-unahang gamit ng talinhaga?
Loob Ninyong Masilakbo
Felipe de Jesus
Loob ninyong masilakbo
Parang ningas alipato,
Sa alapaap ang tungo
Ay bago hamak na abo.
Kauna-unahang kilalang makatang Tagalog?
May Bagyo Ma't May Dilim
"Una Tagala Persona"
May bagyo ma't may dilim,
Ang ula'y titigisin,
Ako'y magpipilit din
Aking paglalakbayin,
Tuluyan kong hanapin
Diyos na Ama namin.
Kauna-unahang makatang Tagalog na nakilala sa tunay na pangalan?
Salamat Nang Walang Hoyang
Pedro Suarez Ossorio
Salamat nang walang hoyang
Sa iyo, Diyos kong maalam,
Nitong iyong awang mahal
Sa aming Katagalugan.
Ikaw, paraluman namin,
Ang sukat nga naming sundin
Hanggang di kami dumating
Sa lalawigang mahimbing.
Awiting-bayan
Sinong Tao Kaya...?
Anonimo
(Nilathala ni Jean Baptiste Mallat sa Les Philippines: Paris, 1846)
Sinong tao kaya sa sandaigdigan
Ang may dusa nitong aking kahirapan?
Di mo na nilingo't pinalungaylungay
Pagsinta sa iyong walang kaliluhan.
Signos at planetas, nangasaan kayo?
Ikaw, Kamatayan, ngayo'y sumaklolo.
Aanhin ko ang buhay sa panahong ito,
Wala ring halaga kung ang sinta'y lilo.
Maghintay-hintay ka, irog kong pumatay,
Itong pinatay mo kung pagbabalikan
Di ko naman wikang ako'y panangisan,
Ihatid mo lamang sa tabi ng hukay.
Tulang-bayan
Pakinggan Mo, Aking Bunso...
Anonimo
Pakinggan mo, aking bunso, itong mga sasabihin,
Na sa aking katandaa'y parang huling tagubilin:
Sa puso mo ay ingatan at sa diwa'y kandilihin,
Balang araw ay tutubo't para utang na singilin.
Sambahin mo't dakilain ang mataas na Bathala,
Ang pagsamba'y diligin mo sa muni't nang manariwa;
Ang sarili'y para mo ring pawawalan ng bahala
Kung ang Diyos ay hindi mo itanim sa puso't diwa.
Mahalin mo habang-buhay ang Bayan mo at ang lahi;
Oras-oras, sa kilos mo, ay itanim sa pangwari;
Ang paglimot sa Bayan mo, sa sarili'y pag-aglahi,
Pagwawaksi't pagwawaldas sa likas na mga ari.
Igalang mo't arugain ang nagkupkop na magulang;
Oras-oras ay dinggin mo ang palihim na awitan;
Kahit ka na naghihirap, kasaluhin sa dinulang,
Kahit mo na ikasawi, aliwin sa panambitan.
Bigyan mo ng karangala't dakilain ang sarili;
Sa tukso ng kamunduha'y hindi dapat mamarati;
Busabos ang di marunong sa sarili'y kumandili,
Isang hamak ang sa lusak ay masabing nahirati.
Sikapin mong lumigaya't tumahimik ang tahanan,
Maging pugad ng marilag at mapuring kapalaran;
Ang ligalig sa buhay mo ay dapat na paglabanan,
Kung labis man sa panata ay di bagay na tawaran.
Ako Ay Nagtanim
Anonimo
Ako ay nagtanim,
kapirasong luya,
tumubo ay gabi,
namunga ng mangga;
nang aking pitasin,
hinog na papaya;
bumagsak sa lupa:
magandang dalaga!
Mahal Na Binata
Anonimo
Mahal na binata
ay magdahan-dahan
ikaw nang paghipo
sa kanan kong kamay;
dulo ng daliri'y
kapag hinawakan,
buti pa'y kitlin mo
ang sariling buhay.
Mahal Na Ginoo
Anonimo
Mahal na ginoo, nagpupumilit ka,
Ako'y turuan mo ng sumar de cuenta;
Bituin sa langit, kung ilang hilera,
Ang tubig sa dagat, ilagay sa tasa.
Mahal na ginoo, nagpipilit ka rin,
Dahon ng aroma ay iyong hichuhin;
Pagka nahicho mo'y dalhin mo sa akin,
Ang hain mong sinta'y pilit tatanggapin.
Mahal na ginoo, huwag kang magpumilit
Umakyat sa kahoy na lubhang matinik;
Baro't salawal mo'y magkakampupunit,
Kung sa ganang akin, walang masasapit.
May Balak Ka Pala...
Anonimo
May balak ka palang
pumitas ng rosal,
di ka nagpunta
nang kapanahunan;
nang pumarito ka'y
lagas na ang tangkay,
buko ma'y wala na,
nasa iba nang kamay.
ibang bersiyon:
Ikaw at ikaw rin,
aking sinisisi,
may nais ka pala,
di ka nagsasabi,
ang nakakatulad,
bituin sa langit,
sisikat din lamang,
nagpahatinggabi.
Hele, Hele, Tatis
Anonimo
Hele, hele, Tatis, hele, hele, Tacion,
Bendita tu eres, sabado ng hapon,
Binabati kita, di ka man nalingon,
Nagmamalaki ka, may panyo kang asul.
Ang panyo mong asul, dinagit ng lawin,
Dinala sa bundok, siyang pupugarin;
Di na maglalaon, ako'y bibili rin;
Luma na ang iyo, bago pa ang akin.
Di Baga Noong Una...?
Anonimo
Di baga noong una,
noong unang panahon,
ako ang anahaw
na pinandungpandong;
nang makakita ka
ng pulang payong,
pandung mong anahaw,
iyong itinapon.
Itinapon mo na,
iyo pang winaksi
at ang wika mo,
di na magsisilbi;
ano't nang masira,
payong mong binili,
nagsauli ka rin
sa pandung mong dati.
Sa Dalampasigan
Anonimo
Sa dalampasigan,
dagat ng Maynila,
Luneta ang tawag
ng mga Kastila;
doon nga binaril
ang kaawa-awa
nating Pilipino,
martir nitong lupa.
Naramay sa dusa
'yang ating tanggulan,
panganay na Burgos
at bunsong si Rizal;
sa inggit at takot
ng mga sukaban,
pinatay kahit walang
bahid kasalanan.
Halina, Halina
Anonimo
Halina, halina, kulasising itim,
Galing sa gubyernong padala ng matsing;
Kung maliligo ka bukas nang madilim,
Padadalhan kita ng gugong maitim.
Halina, halina, kulasising puti,
Galing sa simbahang padala ng pare;
Kung maliligo ka bukas nang tanghali,
Padadalhan kita ng gugong maputi.
Halina, halina, kulasising pula,
Galing sa simbahang padala ng kura;
Kung maliligo ka bukas ng umaga,
Padadalhan kita ng gugong mapula.
Mahal Na Ginoo
Anonimo
Mahal na ginoo,
akin pong tinanggap
ang iyong padalang
mapitagang sulat;
nang di paratangan
ng pagmamataas,
tutugunin ko po
ang inyong kalatas.
Nagtataka ako
sa kapangahasang
ang pagsinta ninyo'y
sa akin inialay,
gayong tanto ninyong
ako'y may magulang.
Dapat sangguniin
sa ganitong bagay.
hanggang dito ako'y
magpapasalamat
sa pagsintang handog
na di ko matanggap;
maniwala kayo,
ang tunay kong hangad,
Kayo po'y magkamit
ng magandang palad.
Kundiman
Jose Rizal
Tunay ngayong umid yaring dila't puso,
Sinta'y umiilag, tuwa'y lumalayo,
Bayan palibhasa'y lupig at sumuko
Sa kapabayaan ng nagturong puno.
Datapuwa't muling sisikat ang Araw,
Pilit maliligtas ang inaping Bayan;
Magbabalik mandin at muling iiral
Ang ngalang Tagalog sa sandaigdigan.
Ibubuhos namin ang dugo't babaha,
Matubos nga lamang ang sa amang lupa;
Hanggang di sumapit ang panahong tadhana,
Sinta'y tatahimik, tutulog ang nasa.
Buhay
Manuel Car. Santiago
Sagitsit ng tuwang nanulay sa ugat,
Aliping damdamin na nagpupumiglas,
Nang bigyan ng laya't bayaang umalpas,
Ang lugod ng puso'y dumaloy na katas.
Nagpikit ng mata ang antuking ilaw
At saka lumatag ang katahimikan;
Tulog na ang lahat, walang naglalamay
Kundi mga pusong tugma't magkaramay.
Halos nagpupuyos ang wagas na mithi,
Nang walang masayang na mga sandali;
Nagpapalumagak ang layong masidhi
Sa silid na kaban ng mga lunggati.
Bangkay na ang lugod matapos lumaya,
Patay na ang ningas ng kanilang nasa;
Kay tamis ng hirap, kay sarap ng luha,
Kasunod ng sigwa'y panahong payapa.
(Sa dibdib ng lupa ang punla'y tumubo
At ngayo'y hinog na ang bunga sa puno).
Metamorposis:
Mga Nota ng Isang Serenata sa
Kaibuturan ng Gabing-Disyembre
Virgilio Almario (Rio Alma)
Sinderelang Serenata, esmeralda at granate,
Di ka takas na sonata sa sepulkrong alas-dose;
Manapa, sa sinisera ng sandali ay impante
Kang gumigitaw, sakay-wari ng sagradong elepante.
Kapagkuwan, sumibol ka at sumayaw sa estante
Ng retina, at sa diwa ay nagsinsil ng brilyante.
Ngayo'y oras ng paglalang, habang titig ng bitui'y
Labahang inmakulada sa planeta at sa dilim
Ng lunggati-lalo't uhaw bawat letrang isapapel,
At lapida bawat bantas. Bombilya man ay kulimlim,
Makinilyang nanlalamig ay kandilang kalawangin
Sa ngiti mo, naliligo ng asido at pormalin.
Pintig-pantig ka sa gayon, Sinderelang Serenata,
Kaulayaw ko kung gabi'y makulubot na kubyerta
At ang buwang nakalente ay may uban na sa mata.
Eskalera ng estropa at imaheng largabista.
Ang handog mo; at sa tinig na may tanso ng trumpeta
Ang puso ko'y nilulunod sa posporo at bendita.
Esmeraldang pangitain at granateng kahel-anghel;
Rebelasyon-ebolusyo't rebolusyong inistensil
Sa taludtod; tsokolate at aromang butil-butil
Na umapaw sa pandiwa at pang-uring nagdidildil.
Sa piling mo, ang pagtula ay kemika ng hilahil
Habang ako'y pasa-limbo sa palanking hasmi't nikel.
Diwa ngayon, kahit sigsig ng rayuma't dinisyembre,
Metapora ng tagsibol ang kindat mong kinoryente;
Sa pag-usad ng sandali sa magrasang engranahe,
May minutong adarna ka at naroong maging tigre.
Nang linyang mabanghay ko'y naging kristong inespinghe.
Sa Poetry
Rolando S. Tinio
Sa poetry, you let things take shape,
Para bang nagpapatulo ng isperma sa tubig.
You start siyempre with memories,
'Yung medyo malagkit, kahit mais
Na mais: love lost, dead dreams,
Rotten silences, and all
Manner of mourning basta't murder.
Papatak 'yan sa papel, ano. Parang pait,
Kakagat ang typewriter keys.
You sit up like the mother of anxieties.
Worried na worried hanggang magsalakip
Ang odds and ends ng inamag mong pag-ibig.
Jigsaw puzzle. Kung minsan, everything fits.
Pero sige ang pasada ng images
Hanggang makuha perfectly ang trick.
At parang amateur magician kang bilib
Sa sleight-of-hand na pinapraktis:
Nagsilid ng hangin sa buslo, dumukot,
By golly, see what you've got---
Bouquet of African daisies,
Kabit-kabit na kerchief,
Kung suwerte pa, a couple of pigeons,
Huhulagpos, be-blend sa katernong horizon,
You can't say na kung saan hahapon.
These are poems as sent to the internet by Alberto Florentino.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Luya
Anonimo
Ako ay nagtanim,
kapirasong luya,
tumubo ay gabi,
namunga ng mangga;
nang aking pitasin,
hinog na papaya;
bumagsak sa lupa—
magandang dalaga!
Tanaga
Anonimo
Katawan mong madudurog,
Uuuri't mabubulok,
Siyang sinusunod-sunod,
Hinihimas, iniirog.
Soliranin
Ang Tamuneneng Ko
Anonimo
Ang tamuneneng ko'y lumuha sa bundok,
Kasabay ang taghoy ng luha't himutok.
Luha'y naging dagat, along sumasalpok,
Ang tamuneneng ko'y sadyang napalaot.
Ako namang ito'y humanap ng daong
At kusang tumugpa sa gitna ng alon.
Natagpu-tagpuan: sigwa at daluyong,
Ang tamuneneng ko'y kung saan nataboy.
Mana isang araw, humampas ang hangin
Dini sa dibdib ko na nahihilahil.
Kaya pala gayon ay si tamuneneng
Nasa aking puso't doon humihimbing.
Hayo, mga sama, at ako'y tulungan
Sa dagat itawid itong kapalaran.
Kung tayo'y palaring dumating sa pampang,
Ang tamuneneng ko'y aking kalangitan.
Hala, gaod tayo, pagod ay tiisin,
Ang lahat ng hirap, pag-aralang bathin.
Palayu-layo man, kung ating ibigin,
Daig ang malapit na ayaw lakbayin.
Awiting-Bayan
Jocelyn ng Baliuag
Anonimo
I
Pinopoong sinta niring kaluluwa,
Nakakawangis mo'y mabangong sampaga;
Dalisay sa linis, dakila sa ganda,
Matimyas na bukal ng madlang ligaya.
Edeng masanghayang kinaluluklukan
Ng galak at tuwang katamis-tamisan;
Handa kang maningning na ang matunghaya'y
Masamyong bulaklak agad sumisikal.
Pinananaligan niring aking dibdib
Na sa paglalayag sa dagat ng sakit
Di mo babayaang malunod sa hapis,
Sa pagkabagbag ko'y ikaw ang sasagip.
II
Ikaw ang lunas sa aking dalita,
Tanging magliligtas sa niluha-luha,
Bunying binibining sinukuang kusa
Niring katawang nangangayupapa.
Tanggapin ang aking wagas na pag-ibig,
Marubdob na ningas na taglay sa dibdib;
Sa buhay na ito'y walang nilalangit
Kundi ikaw lamang, ikaw niring isip.
At kawakasa'y ang kapamanhikan,
Tumbasan mo yaring pagsintang dalisay;
Alalahanin mong kung di kahabagan,
Iyong lalasunin ang aba kong buhay.
III
Sa tarik ng sinta, pagal na sa hirap,
Ang bunga ng nasa'y laging inaakyat;
Anyong padudulo'y biglang itinulak
Ng kapang-agaw ko sa sinta mo't liyag.
Ang idinilig ko'y luhang bumabatis,
Binakuran ko pa, masinsing pag-ibig;
Sa hardin ng sinta ako ang naglinis,
Saka nang mamunga'y iba ang nagkamit!
Adios, halamanang aking binakuran,
Hirap at dalita'y diyan ko kinamtan.
Kung kaya nga lamang di ko malimutan,
Palibhasa, Neneng, pinamuhunanan!
Mga Saknong Mula sa
Florante at Laura
Francisco (Balagtas) Baltazar
Pag-ibig anaki'y aking nakilala
Di-dapat palakhin ang bata sa saya,
At sa katuwaa'y kapag namihasa,
Kung lumaki'y walang hihinting ginhawa.
* * *
Sapagka't ang mundo'y bayan ng hinagpis,
Mamaya't sukat tibayan ang dibdib,
Lumaki sa tuwa'y walang pagtitiis,
Anong ilalaban sa dahas ng sakit?
* * *
Ang taong magawi sa ligaya't aliw,
Mahina ang puso't lubhang maramdamin,
Inaakala pa lamang ang hilahil
Na daratni'y di na matutuhang bathin.
* * *
Para ng halamang lumaki sa tubig,
Daho'y nalalanta munting di madilig,
Ikinaluluoy ang sandaling init,
Gayundin ang pusong sa tuwa'y maniig.
* * *
Munting kahirapa'y mamalakhing dala,
Dibdib palibhasa'y gawing magbata,
Ay bago sa mundo'y bawa't kisapmata,
Ang tao'y mayroong sukat ipagdusa.
* * *
Ang laki sa layaw karaniwa'y hubad
Sa bait at muni't sa hatol ay salat;
Masaklap na bunga ng maling paglingap,
Habag ng magulang sa irog na anak.
* * *
Sa taguring bunso't likong pagmamahal
Ang isinasama ng bata'y nunukal,
Ang iba'y marahil sa kapabayaan
Ng dapat magturong tamad na magulang.
* * *
Sa Tabi Ng Dagat
Ildefonso Santos
Marahang-marahang manaog ka, irog, at kata'y lalakad,
Maglulunoy katang payapang-payapa sa tabi ng dagat;
Di na kailangang sapnan pa ang paang binalat-sibuyas,
Ang daliring garing at sakong na waring kinuyom na rosas.
Manunulay kata, habang maaga pa, sa mga pilapil
Na nalalatagan ng damong may luha ng mga bituin;
Patiyad na tayo ay maghahabulang simbilis ng hangin,
Nguni't walang ingay, hanggang sa sumapit sa tiping buhangin.
Pagdating sa tubig, mapapaurong kang parang nangingimi,
Gaganyakin kita sa nangaroroong mga lamang-lati;
Doon ay may tahong, talaba't halaang kabigha-bighani,
Hindi kaya natin mapuno ang buslo bago tumanghali?
Pagdadapithapon, kata'y magbabalik sa pinanggalingan,
Sugatan ang paa at sunog ang balat sa sikat ng araw.
Talagang ganoon: sa dagat man, irog, ng pagmamahalan,
Lahat, pati puso, ay naaagnas ding marahang-marahan.
Kagilagilalas Na Pakikipagsapalaran ni Juan de la Cruz
Jose Lacaba
Isang gabing madilim
puno ng pangambang sumakay sa bus
si Juan de la Cruz
pusturang-pustura
kahit walang laman ang bulsa
BAWAL MANIGARILYO BOSS
sabi ng konduktora
at minura
si Juan de la Cruz
Pusturang-pustura
kahit walang laman ang bulsa
nilakad ni Juan de la Cruz
ang buong Avenida
BAWAL PUMARADA
sabi ng kalsada
BAWAL UMIHI DITO
sabi ng bakod
kaya napagod
si Juan de la Cruz.
Nang abutan ng gutom
si Juan de la Cruz
tumapat sa Ma Mon Luk
inamoy ang mami siopao lumpia pansit
hanggang sa mabusog.
Nagdaan sa Sine Dalisay
tinitigan ang retrato ni Chichay
PASSES NOT HONORED TODAY
sabi ng takilyera
tawa nang tawa.
Dumalaw sa Congreso
si Juan de la Cruz
MAG-INGAT SA ASO
sabi ng deputado.
Nagtuloy sa Malakanyang
wala namang dalang kamanyang
KEEP OFF THE GRASS
sabi ng hardinero
sabi ng sundalo
kay Juan de la Cruz.
Nang dapuan ng libog
si Juan de la Cruz
namasyal sa Culiculi
at nahiga sa pusali
parang espadang bali-bali
YOUR CREDIT IS GOOD BUT WE NEED CASH
sabi ng bugaw
sabay higop ng sabaw.
Pusturang-pustura
kahit walang laman ang bulsa
naglibot sa Dewey
si Juan de la Cruz
PAN-AM BAYSIDE SAVOY THEY SATISFY
sabi ng neon.
Humikab ang dagat na parang leon
masarap sanang tumalon pero
BAWAL MAGTAPON NG BASURA
sabi ng alon.
Nagbalik sa Quiapo
si Juan de la Cruz
at medyo kinakabahan
IN GOD WE TRUST
sabi ng obispo
ALL OTHERS PAY CASH.
Nang wala nang malunok
si Juan de la Cruz
dala-dala'y gulok
gula-gulanit na ang damit
wala pa ring laman ang bulsa
umakyat
sa Arayat
at namayat
na si Juan de la Cruz
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE
sabi ng PC
at sinisi
ang walanghiyang kabataan
kung bakit sinulsulan
ang isang tahimik na mamamayan
na tulad ni Juan de la Cruz.
============================
Ladino
Salamat Ng Walang Hangga
Fernando Bagongbanta
Salamat nang walang hanggan
Gracias se den sempiternas,
Sa nagpasilang ng tala
Al que hizo salir la estrella
Nakapagpanaw ng dilim
Que destierre las tinieblas
Sa lahat ng bayan natin.
De toda esta nuestra tierra.
Kauna-unahang gamit ng talinhaga?
Loob Ninyong Masilakbo
Felipe de Jesus
Loob ninyong masilakbo
Parang ningas alipato,
Sa alapaap ang tungo
Ay bago hamak na abo.
Kauna-unahang kilalang makatang Tagalog?
May Bagyo Ma't May Dilim
"Una Tagala Persona"
May bagyo ma't may dilim,
Ang ula'y titigisin,
Ako'y magpipilit din
Aking paglalakbayin,
Tuluyan kong hanapin
Diyos na Ama namin.
Kauna-unahang makatang Tagalog na nakilala sa tunay na pangalan?
Salamat Nang Walang Hoyang
Pedro Suarez Ossorio
Salamat nang walang hoyang
Sa iyo, Diyos kong maalam,
Nitong iyong awang mahal
Sa aming Katagalugan.
Ikaw, paraluman namin,
Ang sukat nga naming sundin
Hanggang di kami dumating
Sa lalawigang mahimbing.
Awiting-bayan
Sinong Tao Kaya...?
Anonimo
(Nilathala ni Jean Baptiste Mallat sa Les Philippines: Paris, 1846)
Sinong tao kaya sa sandaigdigan
Ang may dusa nitong aking kahirapan?
Di mo na nilingo't pinalungaylungay
Pagsinta sa iyong walang kaliluhan.
Signos at planetas, nangasaan kayo?
Ikaw, Kamatayan, ngayo'y sumaklolo.
Aanhin ko ang buhay sa panahong ito,
Wala ring halaga kung ang sinta'y lilo.
Maghintay-hintay ka, irog kong pumatay,
Itong pinatay mo kung pagbabalikan
Di ko naman wikang ako'y panangisan,
Ihatid mo lamang sa tabi ng hukay.
Tulang-bayan
Pakinggan Mo, Aking Bunso...
Anonimo
Pakinggan mo, aking bunso, itong mga sasabihin,
Na sa aking katandaa'y parang huling tagubilin:
Sa puso mo ay ingatan at sa diwa'y kandilihin,
Balang araw ay tutubo't para utang na singilin.
Sambahin mo't dakilain ang mataas na Bathala,
Ang pagsamba'y diligin mo sa muni't nang manariwa;
Ang sarili'y para mo ring pawawalan ng bahala
Kung ang Diyos ay hindi mo itanim sa puso't diwa.
Mahalin mo habang-buhay ang Bayan mo at ang lahi;
Oras-oras, sa kilos mo, ay itanim sa pangwari;
Ang paglimot sa Bayan mo, sa sarili'y pag-aglahi,
Pagwawaksi't pagwawaldas sa likas na mga ari.
Igalang mo't arugain ang nagkupkop na magulang;
Oras-oras ay dinggin mo ang palihim na awitan;
Kahit ka na naghihirap, kasaluhin sa dinulang,
Kahit mo na ikasawi, aliwin sa panambitan.
Bigyan mo ng karangala't dakilain ang sarili;
Sa tukso ng kamunduha'y hindi dapat mamarati;
Busabos ang di marunong sa sarili'y kumandili,
Isang hamak ang sa lusak ay masabing nahirati.
Sikapin mong lumigaya't tumahimik ang tahanan,
Maging pugad ng marilag at mapuring kapalaran;
Ang ligalig sa buhay mo ay dapat na paglabanan,
Kung labis man sa panata ay di bagay na tawaran.
Ako Ay Nagtanim
Anonimo
Ako ay nagtanim,
kapirasong luya,
tumubo ay gabi,
namunga ng mangga;
nang aking pitasin,
hinog na papaya;
bumagsak sa lupa:
magandang dalaga!
Mahal Na Binata
Anonimo
Mahal na binata
ay magdahan-dahan
ikaw nang paghipo
sa kanan kong kamay;
dulo ng daliri'y
kapag hinawakan,
buti pa'y kitlin mo
ang sariling buhay.
Mahal Na Ginoo
Anonimo
Mahal na ginoo, nagpupumilit ka,
Ako'y turuan mo ng sumar de cuenta;
Bituin sa langit, kung ilang hilera,
Ang tubig sa dagat, ilagay sa tasa.
Mahal na ginoo, nagpipilit ka rin,
Dahon ng aroma ay iyong hichuhin;
Pagka nahicho mo'y dalhin mo sa akin,
Ang hain mong sinta'y pilit tatanggapin.
Mahal na ginoo, huwag kang magpumilit
Umakyat sa kahoy na lubhang matinik;
Baro't salawal mo'y magkakampupunit,
Kung sa ganang akin, walang masasapit.
May Balak Ka Pala...
Anonimo
May balak ka palang
pumitas ng rosal,
di ka nagpunta
nang kapanahunan;
nang pumarito ka'y
lagas na ang tangkay,
buko ma'y wala na,
nasa iba nang kamay.
ibang bersiyon:
Ikaw at ikaw rin,
aking sinisisi,
may nais ka pala,
di ka nagsasabi,
ang nakakatulad,
bituin sa langit,
sisikat din lamang,
nagpahatinggabi.
Hele, Hele, Tatis
Anonimo
Hele, hele, Tatis, hele, hele, Tacion,
Bendita tu eres, sabado ng hapon,
Binabati kita, di ka man nalingon,
Nagmamalaki ka, may panyo kang asul.
Ang panyo mong asul, dinagit ng lawin,
Dinala sa bundok, siyang pupugarin;
Di na maglalaon, ako'y bibili rin;
Luma na ang iyo, bago pa ang akin.
Di Baga Noong Una...?
Anonimo
Di baga noong una,
noong unang panahon,
ako ang anahaw
na pinandungpandong;
nang makakita ka
ng pulang payong,
pandung mong anahaw,
iyong itinapon.
Itinapon mo na,
iyo pang winaksi
at ang wika mo,
di na magsisilbi;
ano't nang masira,
payong mong binili,
nagsauli ka rin
sa pandung mong dati.
Sa Dalampasigan
Anonimo
Sa dalampasigan,
dagat ng Maynila,
Luneta ang tawag
ng mga Kastila;
doon nga binaril
ang kaawa-awa
nating Pilipino,
martir nitong lupa.
Naramay sa dusa
'yang ating tanggulan,
panganay na Burgos
at bunsong si Rizal;
sa inggit at takot
ng mga sukaban,
pinatay kahit walang
bahid kasalanan.
Halina, Halina
Anonimo
Halina, halina, kulasising itim,
Galing sa gubyernong padala ng matsing;
Kung maliligo ka bukas nang madilim,
Padadalhan kita ng gugong maitim.
Halina, halina, kulasising puti,
Galing sa simbahang padala ng pare;
Kung maliligo ka bukas nang tanghali,
Padadalhan kita ng gugong maputi.
Halina, halina, kulasising pula,
Galing sa simbahang padala ng kura;
Kung maliligo ka bukas ng umaga,
Padadalhan kita ng gugong mapula.
Mahal Na Ginoo
Anonimo
Mahal na ginoo,
akin pong tinanggap
ang iyong padalang
mapitagang sulat;
nang di paratangan
ng pagmamataas,
tutugunin ko po
ang inyong kalatas.
Nagtataka ako
sa kapangahasang
ang pagsinta ninyo'y
sa akin inialay,
gayong tanto ninyong
ako'y may magulang.
Dapat sangguniin
sa ganitong bagay.
hanggang dito ako'y
magpapasalamat
sa pagsintang handog
na di ko matanggap;
maniwala kayo,
ang tunay kong hangad,
Kayo po'y magkamit
ng magandang palad.
Kundiman
Jose Rizal
Tunay ngayong umid yaring dila't puso,
Sinta'y umiilag, tuwa'y lumalayo,
Bayan palibhasa'y lupig at sumuko
Sa kapabayaan ng nagturong puno.
Datapuwa't muling sisikat ang Araw,
Pilit maliligtas ang inaping Bayan;
Magbabalik mandin at muling iiral
Ang ngalang Tagalog sa sandaigdigan.
Ibubuhos namin ang dugo't babaha,
Matubos nga lamang ang sa amang lupa;
Hanggang di sumapit ang panahong tadhana,
Sinta'y tatahimik, tutulog ang nasa.
Buhay
Manuel Car. Santiago
Sagitsit ng tuwang nanulay sa ugat,
Aliping damdamin na nagpupumiglas,
Nang bigyan ng laya't bayaang umalpas,
Ang lugod ng puso'y dumaloy na katas.
Nagpikit ng mata ang antuking ilaw
At saka lumatag ang katahimikan;
Tulog na ang lahat, walang naglalamay
Kundi mga pusong tugma't magkaramay.
Halos nagpupuyos ang wagas na mithi,
Nang walang masayang na mga sandali;
Nagpapalumagak ang layong masidhi
Sa silid na kaban ng mga lunggati.
Bangkay na ang lugod matapos lumaya,
Patay na ang ningas ng kanilang nasa;
Kay tamis ng hirap, kay sarap ng luha,
Kasunod ng sigwa'y panahong payapa.
(Sa dibdib ng lupa ang punla'y tumubo
At ngayo'y hinog na ang bunga sa puno).
Metamorposis:
Mga Nota ng Isang Serenata sa
Kaibuturan ng Gabing-Disyembre
Virgilio Almario (Rio Alma)
Sinderelang Serenata, esmeralda at granate,
Di ka takas na sonata sa sepulkrong alas-dose;
Manapa, sa sinisera ng sandali ay impante
Kang gumigitaw, sakay-wari ng sagradong elepante.
Kapagkuwan, sumibol ka at sumayaw sa estante
Ng retina, at sa diwa ay nagsinsil ng brilyante.
Ngayo'y oras ng paglalang, habang titig ng bitui'y
Labahang inmakulada sa planeta at sa dilim
Ng lunggati-lalo't uhaw bawat letrang isapapel,
At lapida bawat bantas. Bombilya man ay kulimlim,
Makinilyang nanlalamig ay kandilang kalawangin
Sa ngiti mo, naliligo ng asido at pormalin.
Pintig-pantig ka sa gayon, Sinderelang Serenata,
Kaulayaw ko kung gabi'y makulubot na kubyerta
At ang buwang nakalente ay may uban na sa mata.
Eskalera ng estropa at imaheng largabista.
Ang handog mo; at sa tinig na may tanso ng trumpeta
Ang puso ko'y nilulunod sa posporo at bendita.
Esmeraldang pangitain at granateng kahel-anghel;
Rebelasyon-ebolusyo't rebolusyong inistensil
Sa taludtod; tsokolate at aromang butil-butil
Na umapaw sa pandiwa at pang-uring nagdidildil.
Sa piling mo, ang pagtula ay kemika ng hilahil
Habang ako'y pasa-limbo sa palanking hasmi't nikel.
Diwa ngayon, kahit sigsig ng rayuma't dinisyembre,
Metapora ng tagsibol ang kindat mong kinoryente;
Sa pag-usad ng sandali sa magrasang engranahe,
May minutong adarna ka at naroong maging tigre.
Nang linyang mabanghay ko'y naging kristong inespinghe.
Sa Poetry
Rolando S. Tinio
Sa poetry, you let things take shape,
Para bang nagpapatulo ng isperma sa tubig.
You start siyempre with memories,
'Yung medyo malagkit, kahit mais
Na mais: love lost, dead dreams,
Rotten silences, and all
Manner of mourning basta't murder.
Papatak 'yan sa papel, ano. Parang pait,
Kakagat ang typewriter keys.
You sit up like the mother of anxieties.
Worried na worried hanggang magsalakip
Ang odds and ends ng inamag mong pag-ibig.
Jigsaw puzzle. Kung minsan, everything fits.
Pero sige ang pasada ng images
Hanggang makuha perfectly ang trick.
At parang amateur magician kang bilib
Sa sleight-of-hand na pinapraktis:
Nagsilid ng hangin sa buslo, dumukot,
By golly, see what you've got---
Bouquet of African daisies,
Kabit-kabit na kerchief,
Kung suwerte pa, a couple of pigeons,
Huhulagpos, be-blend sa katernong horizon,
You can't say na kung saan hahapon.
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
The puwetics of tango
A friend took a workshop on poetry. The poet Eileen Tabios said that one should write a poem at least once about wine, tango, and ______. For this week, we will tackle the subject of tango. You can discuss the first time, the woman, the music, the beat, or the dancers and their faces. A poem about tango should be specific enough I think.
http://dmoz.org/Arts/Performing_Arts/Dance/Tango/
In case you need some research on the dance.
A friend took a workshop on poetry. The poet Eileen Tabios said that one should write a poem at least once about wine, tango, and ______. For this week, we will tackle the subject of tango. You can discuss the first time, the woman, the music, the beat, or the dancers and their faces. A poem about tango should be specific enough I think.
http://dmoz.org/Arts/Performing_Arts/Dance/Tango/
In case you need some research on the dance.
Sunday, December 28, 2003
Review by Rolly de los Santos
First off, I think I liked the poem's structure and meter as being
very apt for the theme. The choice of words was perfect.
I was a bit confused about the first and second stanza. Don't worry.
It's more of me understanding the poem and not on how it was written.
I was looking at the symbols in the poem and came out with three very
important ones. The significance of the age, the aswang and the
tikbalang being the major ones.
Night as a symbol was relatively easy compared to these three.
First, the age. Being 35 is significant for me as I think this is
the time a man truly becomes an adult. I have the feeling that one
associates himself (I guess women mature earlier than men. Maybe this
is not politically correct but….)still belonging to the younger
generation during the twenties and early thirties. Thirty-five hits
one on the head that "yeah, I'm an adult." Anyway, in this stanza, I
sense that this is the time when the speaker decides that he will
decide his destiny as he doesn't believe in aswangs who "suck life
dry" anymore. Thus, I take it that the aswang symbolizes everything
that represents childhood. The playfulness, the anxieties over the
unknown, the threats the "older generation" used, superstitious
beliefs….
I can't help notice that the poem takes a rather fatalistic stance at
the second stanza. A very Filipino trait of "bahala na" psyche lying
in wait for what tomorrow brings no matter how good (fulfillments) or
bad (disfigurement) it may be. This fatalistic tone is strengthened
by the third stanza which states that night "promising so little"...
Furthermore, night giving the "tikbalang a chance to earn a
living" confused me, too. If my earlier meaning is correct, how come
it still believes the "tikbalang" in the end? At first, I thought
this didn't make much sense but later on decided that it drives a
certain point that the speaker hasn't really parted with his/her
teenage inhibitions in spite what he wanted to believe. This is
almost saying that we never outgrow being a child.
Of course I may be wrong. I had the chance of scanning through
your "blog" and I noticed that the tikbalang is somewhat a personal
symbol. Hence, there might be soemthing I was missing out on.
Nevertheless, I enjoyed reading the poem and can relate to what it
was saying. Good work, Rhett.
First off, I think I liked the poem's structure and meter as being
very apt for the theme. The choice of words was perfect.
I was a bit confused about the first and second stanza. Don't worry.
It's more of me understanding the poem and not on how it was written.
I was looking at the symbols in the poem and came out with three very
important ones. The significance of the age, the aswang and the
tikbalang being the major ones.
Night as a symbol was relatively easy compared to these three.
First, the age. Being 35 is significant for me as I think this is
the time a man truly becomes an adult. I have the feeling that one
associates himself (I guess women mature earlier than men. Maybe this
is not politically correct but….)still belonging to the younger
generation during the twenties and early thirties. Thirty-five hits
one on the head that "yeah, I'm an adult." Anyway, in this stanza, I
sense that this is the time when the speaker decides that he will
decide his destiny as he doesn't believe in aswangs who "suck life
dry" anymore. Thus, I take it that the aswang symbolizes everything
that represents childhood. The playfulness, the anxieties over the
unknown, the threats the "older generation" used, superstitious
beliefs….
I can't help notice that the poem takes a rather fatalistic stance at
the second stanza. A very Filipino trait of "bahala na" psyche lying
in wait for what tomorrow brings no matter how good (fulfillments) or
bad (disfigurement) it may be. This fatalistic tone is strengthened
by the third stanza which states that night "promising so little"...
Furthermore, night giving the "tikbalang a chance to earn a
living" confused me, too. If my earlier meaning is correct, how come
it still believes the "tikbalang" in the end? At first, I thought
this didn't make much sense but later on decided that it drives a
certain point that the speaker hasn't really parted with his/her
teenage inhibitions in spite what he wanted to believe. This is
almost saying that we never outgrow being a child.
Of course I may be wrong. I had the chance of scanning through
your "blog" and I noticed that the tikbalang is somewhat a personal
symbol. Hence, there might be soemthing I was missing out on.
Nevertheless, I enjoyed reading the poem and can relate to what it
was saying. Good work, Rhett.
Notes on poem
the night when I am 35 years old
the night no longer holds the mysteries
of childhood fears, of aswangs
flying over the rooftops waiting
for the opportunity to suck life dry.
the night is just another time
to be an orphan, waiting for the coming
of life's fulfillments, whatever
disfigurement that might be.
the night promises so little
compared to day, but in its
spartan way, the night gives tikbalang
a chance to earn a living.
1. I have been fascinated by the Philippine mythology. I am trying to
incorporate the mythical legends into my poems. I wonder about the lack of Philippine mythology in the Philippine poetry (English versions) that I have read so far. It is as if Philippine mythology never existed. Meanwhile, Sisyphus (and all the other Greek gods) are continuing to roll the boulder in a Pilipinos mind. I see this as a continuation of the process of colonialism. In the projects that I am undertaking, I am rediscovering the Philippine myths and placing them center stage. I hope to expose readers to Philippine mythology; I also want them to rethink what the mythologies can mean with respect to the colonization process.
2. In giving the prompt, I had deliberately chosen a topic which I had not been writing towards. In general, my process is one where the poem is born out of my hands. It is very challenging to be writing about topics that have no relation to the current poetry projects at hand. I had a very difficult time beginning the process because I usually write about what I feel. I never write about what someone tells me. However, to understand the process I believe it is important to be able to create poems that might not necessarily be able to fly but can show the development of the process.
3. Rolly, you hit it on the head when you mentioned about becoming a man at 35 years old. The transposition of the night into one that holds emotions (young person afraid of aswang) into one that simply gives tikbalang an opportunity to get a job and work is my version of the maturation process. Whereas before the mythological creatures cause fear, now, they are seen as individuals who have to get work.
4. At the same time, in the middle of 35 years old, the speaker is an orphan who is looking at his past achievements as disfigurements instead of trophies. A sad tale about a life that is not going in the way he intended. This was probably the more difficult to express or to understand. I don't believe that I was able to show this part more clearly.
5. There is an acknowledgement of the existence of supernatural beings as
working stiffs that are not to be be feared. Why and how is it that the Pilipino supernatural beings became things to be feared? I am interested in the role that Catholicism plays in the Philippine psyche.
I was reading a pinoywriters newsgroup and found someone saying that by
reading a book (Satan's bible or something like that. Presumably a novel), they began dreaming about demons. I have tried to go away from the view point that Satan is an active agent seeking to corrupt people. I want to believe that people are responsible for their actions.
6. The topic was so hard to make a poem out of because of the lack of images that I am normally accustomed to. For example, both images written that occur in the middle of the night end up being myths, not really a concrete example of an image. And in the third stanza, the night is representing the future of life. Again, the lack of an image is at hand.
7. I also had difficulty finding the voice for this poem. It is part of the
lack of cohesion of this poem coming into existence in the middle of my other projects. See the haynaku series in the blogspot site.
the night when I am 35 years old
the night no longer holds the mysteries
of childhood fears, of aswangs
flying over the rooftops waiting
for the opportunity to suck life dry.
the night is just another time
to be an orphan, waiting for the coming
of life's fulfillments, whatever
disfigurement that might be.
the night promises so little
compared to day, but in its
spartan way, the night gives tikbalang
a chance to earn a living.
1. I have been fascinated by the Philippine mythology. I am trying to
incorporate the mythical legends into my poems. I wonder about the lack of Philippine mythology in the Philippine poetry (English versions) that I have read so far. It is as if Philippine mythology never existed. Meanwhile, Sisyphus (and all the other Greek gods) are continuing to roll the boulder in a Pilipinos mind. I see this as a continuation of the process of colonialism. In the projects that I am undertaking, I am rediscovering the Philippine myths and placing them center stage. I hope to expose readers to Philippine mythology; I also want them to rethink what the mythologies can mean with respect to the colonization process.
2. In giving the prompt, I had deliberately chosen a topic which I had not been writing towards. In general, my process is one where the poem is born out of my hands. It is very challenging to be writing about topics that have no relation to the current poetry projects at hand. I had a very difficult time beginning the process because I usually write about what I feel. I never write about what someone tells me. However, to understand the process I believe it is important to be able to create poems that might not necessarily be able to fly but can show the development of the process.
3. Rolly, you hit it on the head when you mentioned about becoming a man at 35 years old. The transposition of the night into one that holds emotions (young person afraid of aswang) into one that simply gives tikbalang an opportunity to get a job and work is my version of the maturation process. Whereas before the mythological creatures cause fear, now, they are seen as individuals who have to get work.
4. At the same time, in the middle of 35 years old, the speaker is an orphan who is looking at his past achievements as disfigurements instead of trophies. A sad tale about a life that is not going in the way he intended. This was probably the more difficult to express or to understand. I don't believe that I was able to show this part more clearly.
5. There is an acknowledgement of the existence of supernatural beings as
working stiffs that are not to be be feared. Why and how is it that the Pilipino supernatural beings became things to be feared? I am interested in the role that Catholicism plays in the Philippine psyche.
I was reading a pinoywriters newsgroup and found someone saying that by
reading a book (Satan's bible or something like that. Presumably a novel), they began dreaming about demons. I have tried to go away from the view point that Satan is an active agent seeking to corrupt people. I want to believe that people are responsible for their actions.
6. The topic was so hard to make a poem out of because of the lack of images that I am normally accustomed to. For example, both images written that occur in the middle of the night end up being myths, not really a concrete example of an image. And in the third stanza, the night is representing the future of life. Again, the lack of an image is at hand.
7. I also had difficulty finding the voice for this poem. It is part of the
lack of cohesion of this poem coming into existence in the middle of my other projects. See the haynaku series in the blogspot site.
Prompt
Walking around yesterday, I was wondering what coud be an interesting topic to write a poem about. What would make visual images a difficult concept to write about.
Then, from my analysis, I realized that the night is challenging because of the absence of light and the absence of color.
Write a poem about the night. It can be about any night in which your life was at a high or a low.
Walking around yesterday, I was wondering what coud be an interesting topic to write a poem about. What would make visual images a difficult concept to write about.
Then, from my analysis, I realized that the night is challenging because of the absence of light and the absence of color.
Write a poem about the night. It can be about any night in which your life was at a high or a low.
Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Meri Krismas to ME!
Eileen Tabios was gracious enough to make me a featured poet for December 2003. Hihihi. Go visit before December disappears in the mists of January.
Eileen Tabios was gracious enough to make me a featured poet for December 2003. Hihihi. Go visit before December disappears in the mists of January.
Monday, December 15, 2003
The course of creative writing in UP
The list of material to be read for the creative writing course is shown in Manuel Viloria's site.
The list of material to be read for the creative writing course is shown in Manuel Viloria's site.
Friday, December 12, 2003
Sucking the life out of poetry
I have been surfing some literary criticism sites and going to bookstores and trying to read about the writing of poetry. I swear, literary critics want to suck the life out of people who want to write poetry. Do I really want to sit there and agree or disagree with these people? Don't get me wrong, some of them seem fun to read, but then again, when they seem more obscure than Foucault or Chomsky, well shit, I give up.
But hey, here is a site for those aspiring to write poetry:
Modern Poetry: Poetry Magic
Have a great weekend.
I have been surfing some literary criticism sites and going to bookstores and trying to read about the writing of poetry. I swear, literary critics want to suck the life out of people who want to write poetry. Do I really want to sit there and agree or disagree with these people? Don't get me wrong, some of them seem fun to read, but then again, when they seem more obscure than Foucault or Chomsky, well shit, I give up.
But hey, here is a site for those aspiring to write poetry:
Modern Poetry: Poetry Magic
Have a great weekend.
Recruiting
I am a 35 year old Filipino-American who is trying to decolonize through the process of poetry. I am forming a workshop group of about 9 people where poems can be assessed and thoughts addressed.
If you are over the age of 21 or over, are interested, have some interest in reviewing and writing thoughtful discussion about poetry and its mechanics, e-mail me at puwetiks[at]yahoodotcom.
Few simple rules on the workshop:
1. Be critical but nice. There is no space for personal attack.
2. This is a dictatorship. If you are mean and nasty, off you go. There is a line to be crossed and you will know it when you cross it.
3. The goal is for each member to submit a poem every week. After seven days, the other participants will send you their critique. You will then send your assessment of what you wrote that poem for, and your essentials, i.e., what is the one or two things which moves you in your poem.
4. If you don't participate in the discussion, off you go.
5. The groups is not about being the best. So you don't have to try and be the best. You have to be the best poet for yourself however.
6. Oh, you got to be Pilipino/a or Filipino-American. If you are not and want to join the group, why don't you start one? I believe that there are other places out there where non-Pinoys can join.
7. We are all equals in the group and thus we deserve respect from ourselves and each other. If others are working and contributing and you are not, off you go.
Yeah, it's tough. But how else are we supposed to sit on the chair and write?
As for the under 21 years old, sorry but adolescents and teen-agers write way too much poetry about sex and love. Yes, we were all there. But damn, get your groove off some other place.
What I need from you:
1. Your name and e-mail. You don't have to give me your real name. Create a new identity in yahoo.com so that you can use the yahoo groups. This facilitates your writing because then you have a dedicated account for poetry.
2. A statement saying that you are over 21 years old. Yes, you could lie. But then I believe your writing will show through.
3. A little biography about yourself. Maybe 15-20 sentences. If you can't even sit down and write a biography about yourself and why you want to join, maybe you should not join. Yes, it's authoritarian on my part. But come on. Most writers are not even warm with fifteen sentences.
4. What is your goal? Do you want a chapbook or a book of poetry?
Thanks for reading till the end. Good luck in your life.
R
I am a 35 year old Filipino-American who is trying to decolonize through the process of poetry. I am forming a workshop group of about 9 people where poems can be assessed and thoughts addressed.
If you are over the age of 21 or over, are interested, have some interest in reviewing and writing thoughtful discussion about poetry and its mechanics, e-mail me at puwetiks[at]yahoodotcom.
Few simple rules on the workshop:
1. Be critical but nice. There is no space for personal attack.
2. This is a dictatorship. If you are mean and nasty, off you go. There is a line to be crossed and you will know it when you cross it.
3. The goal is for each member to submit a poem every week. After seven days, the other participants will send you their critique. You will then send your assessment of what you wrote that poem for, and your essentials, i.e., what is the one or two things which moves you in your poem.
4. If you don't participate in the discussion, off you go.
5. The groups is not about being the best. So you don't have to try and be the best. You have to be the best poet for yourself however.
6. Oh, you got to be Pilipino/a or Filipino-American. If you are not and want to join the group, why don't you start one? I believe that there are other places out there where non-Pinoys can join.
7. We are all equals in the group and thus we deserve respect from ourselves and each other. If others are working and contributing and you are not, off you go.
Yeah, it's tough. But how else are we supposed to sit on the chair and write?
As for the under 21 years old, sorry but adolescents and teen-agers write way too much poetry about sex and love. Yes, we were all there. But damn, get your groove off some other place.
What I need from you:
1. Your name and e-mail. You don't have to give me your real name. Create a new identity in yahoo.com so that you can use the yahoo groups. This facilitates your writing because then you have a dedicated account for poetry.
2. A statement saying that you are over 21 years old. Yes, you could lie. But then I believe your writing will show through.
3. A little biography about yourself. Maybe 15-20 sentences. If you can't even sit down and write a biography about yourself and why you want to join, maybe you should not join. Yes, it's authoritarian on my part. But come on. Most writers are not even warm with fifteen sentences.
4. What is your goal? Do you want a chapbook or a book of poetry?
Thanks for reading till the end. Good luck in your life.
R
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