WAYFARER Pugad Literary Folio
Mini-Folio 2021-2022
WAYFARER Pugad Literary Folio
Mini-Folio 2021-2022
Pugad Literary Folio Academic Year 2021-2022
Editorial Board Kaylee Dominique T. Ordoñez Editor-In-Chief
Rebuen B. Galvez
Regina Khloie B. Maderazo
English Editor
Filipino Editor
Juan Gabriel L. Arroyo
Mary June Aubrey C. San Jose
Art Editor
Layout Editor
Officers Kaylee Dominique T. Ordoñez Editor-in-Chief
Bettina Andrea A. Basilio Secretary
Mary June Aubrey C. San Jose Finance Officer
Moderator Mr. Jan Henry M. Choa, Jr.
Contributors Literary Rebuen Galvez Bettina Basilio Kaylee Ordoñez Aubrey San Jose Regina Khloie Maderazo Jared Acorda Dana Belo Joie Ocampo Bennard Malaya Jane Tibon Knox Bianca Cruz
Art Xavier Largo Prairie Aytin
Introduction Pubmat
Mini-Folio Cover
Juan Arroyo
Mary June Aubrey C. Jose
Pubmat and Folio Layout by: Mary June Aubrey C. San Jose If you have the passion for writing poems and short stories, creating visual art, taking photos, or participating in open mics, all while having your works enjoyed by the whole school, then there is space in this nest for you! Come home. Join Pugad.
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Pugad Literary Folio
Foreword Kaylee Dominique T. Ordoñez Editor-in-Chief
Stepping into this role, committing to it, and seeing everything loom before me- I could never forget how it felt. I stood there, looking up at all these responsibilities, all the storms forming in the distance with only the loud rhythm of my heartbeat ringing in my ears, and it was at this moment when I thought, “Do I really know what I signed up for?” Anxiety gripped my shoulders and hid behind me out of fear, Apprehension cackled menacingly in my ear, and I was frozen in place, uncertain of what lies ahead until I remembered. I was not alone.
Stepping into this role, with the sight of everything that is to follow looming before me- I truly could never forget how it felt to take that one monumental step towards it. It may have been shaky, and the path I took may have been rocky, but every step was a testimony of my devotion to the fire that burns within me, urging me onward- forward. Wayfarer tells us a story- of feeling lost, of finding home, and of moving forward, always forward. In a time where the future is uncertain, with hopes of ever getting out of this situation we’ve been forced into slowly dwindling as the days go tiredly on, I could only hope that in showing how my passion for writing still continues to burn, I am able to help in igniting your beautiful souls once more- and together we will travel this unfamiliar terrain, with only our fire to guide us all the way home.
In life, every second is a waking choice. Every decision that leads up to this one huge moment of time is akin to that of a line of dominos, pushing you towards one direction: forward. The turning of calendar pages, the credits scene of every movie- they are only signs leading you Onward, our dear Wayfarer, and show onward, towards the Great Unknown. them just how bright you could burn.
Table of Content LITERARY Worthwhile by Rebuen Galvez
The Way Home by Bettina Basilio
lost and never found by Kaylee Ordoñez
11:11 pm
by Bettina Basilio
Truth of the Leaves by Aubrey San Jose
The Ruins
by Regina Khloie Maderazo
love in unsaid words by Bettina Basilio
A Feeling's Flight by Rebuen Galvez
yours, in wisteria by Bettina Basilio
Wayfarer's Lullaby by Jared Acorda
...13 ...14 ...15 ...16 ...17 ...18 ...19 ...20 ...21 ...22
Unwritten Rules by Dana Belo
Shined Leather Shoes by Joie Ocampo
Favorite Hue by Bennard Malaya
Almost There by Jane Tibon
Wayfarer Atlas by Knox
Vagabond Valley by Bianca Cruz
...24 ...26 ...29 ...31 ...32 ...34
ART 24 Hour
by Xavier Largo
Forest Stroll by Prairie Aytin
...47 ...48
Literary Pieces
Worthwhile Reuben Galvez
No journey is ever easy It's simply up to you To make it worthwhile.
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The Way Home Bettina Basilio
if this world were a trustworthy one would it be easier to believe things will get easier soon? i will be broken and in pain but when i live, it won’t be in vain because that’s what you showed me to do: live. darling, the sun is still out it’s too early for us to fall asleep; the stars will still set the whole world aglow but i’ve long since found my way home in you.
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lost and never found Kaylee Ordoñez
and i've been to many places, foreign terrains, but not one of them resembled a home as close as to how you once were.
as i continue to search for a home to move into— one to replace the image of you.
and you were home, but not one to be lived in for forever— for a lifetime. but somehow your voice and your shadow has found one to reside in, in my head and in my heart— haunting me for as long as i live.
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11:11 pm Bettina Basilio
11:11 saw a night of isolation the hands of the clock being the only thing caressing my whispers of your name because some journeys are traversed over time rather than across planes.
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Truth of the Leaves Aubrey San Jose
Lustrous thousand leaves falling down Some of them swayed across the town Gently dancing like a falling lace Caressing my old wrinkled face Oh such travels remind me of youth Back when up the clouds lie a truth: Truth of the world of ambition Which is everyone’s life mission As these leaves touched like a dog’s paw I watch moonlit canopy draw Truth of the world finally sought It’s the one we considered as home— Oh, apologies as I lost in wonder! From an old man like me who needs a slumber Just gently step on these leaves You’ll realize the bliss under your feet 17
The Ruins Regina Khloie Maderazo
You slip into the cracks of yesterday; my hands dart out to prevent your fall. I’d rather have what is left of you than to have nothing of yours at all. The cobblestones underneath my bare feet shiver and shake, longing for your return. The home we built has crumbled from the heat, and I, alone, am left to watch it burn. I trudge through memories, looking for our last, my hands longing for the heat of your skin. Is it wrong of me to wallow in the past if it's the only place I could find you in? Time devours the memory of you and I, its lips grinning as I sift through the ruins of us; Time knows I am a fool clinging to a lie— a wayfarer searching for a home that never was. 18
love in unsaid words Bettina Basilio
maybe it’s all bittersweet, or maybe it’s the heat of your hand that I miss (even though I never let myself have it.) and I hate to think that I will never understand; what is it about human nature that makes us so drawn to regret, drunk on the lies we tell ourselves, freely pretending like we ever had the freedom of wanting? maybe it was cynical, satirical, or maybe it’s the mystical way you reached out to me (even when I was never brave enough to reciprocate it.) and I tread the surfaces of crumpled-up letters, plastic roses, and detached guitar strings as if I’m better off without them, but like a wandering wayfarer, I still remember. 19
A Feeling's Flight Reuben Galvez As much as I'd want This feeling to stay It will go flying away But it will return to nest On the branch of my heart And it shall find good rest This feeling shall tell Of a life I will not live Of a beauty I cannot bear Of magic that I've missed Through wordless hums And pleasant lulls
20
yours, in wisteria Bettina Basilio
this is the land where grows wisteria and hysteria makes itself a long-living home in my Heart when I look at you because you’re brighter than what cannot blind me still, I teach a star to say “hello” when I teach myself to look the immortality of a body means nothing— so long as Pain is granted the same fate —so I cannot uproot myself from this garden of thorns they have planted right where my bare feet hit the ground running but I can choose where my eyes run to (and you know there is nobody else I’d rather run to but you.) 21
Wayfarer's Lullaby Jared Acorda
Free of the wretched prison With the chains that cross and bind Free to waste my numbered days Of this world’s endless time There I beckoned the morrow To drown away my reluctant sorrow From the abyssal darkness I implore That I may shed tears nevermore To relieve the same fear that killed me A thousand times before For in the prison I was left broken and dreaming The embers of my hope all but fading So with my hands The bars and the stone apart I tore I felt the warmth of a cell no more
22
Living now with a hunger and yearning The cold that embraces yet kept my heart burning Never the moments of darkness returning I’ve never felt more alive than ever before I feel more alive than ever before After years upon years of ceaseless walking My head kept spinning with old thoughts returning And I knew deep within my core It was the journey and not the confines of a cell that I feared But now I shall fear it nevermore It made me feel more alive than ever before
23
Unwritten Rules Dana Belo
They say not dare ask the lover, the tides, the passing days fear not the answer fear do their face A bottle, the empty scroll the scroll, the people's foe Rule one, they say never to speak! Of glory and triumph at the mountain's peak Think not of the glory, think not of the pride no passion can live up ever so high. Rule two, they say never to wish! Of another's embrace, the undying gift think not of comfort, think not of lust for the one who wishes, the heart shall rust. 24
and lastly, Rule three, they say not to speak of thee for what comes, what goes we live only to the fullest, never the most.
25
Shined Leather Shoes Joie Ocampo
I can still see the tracks you left behind, Make out the outline of the shoes you wore that day. I don’t know what they’re called. I was never quite the fan like you were And yet, I remember they were your favorite: Brown leather shined to perfection, Stitches barely seen. I told you, “No one will notice your shoes when you leave. Fix your face instead. Make your smile less creepy and eyes more inviting So someone will keep you company on your journey.” You laughed at me, And each word you said Was another butterfly filling this empty pit in my stomach. 26
You said, “Well, I’ll notice my shoes! Besides, I don’t need anyone else for company. You’ll always be there beside me. My little me, Always following my footsteps.” You’re wrong. Just as I always knew you were. I never followed you, Only watched as you chased your dreams in the name of ambition And left me behind in the name of your mission To succeed.
27
—And yet— You’re right, As infuriating as you always were. I remember your shoes, How they fit your feet just right, How the leather never dulled with how you took care of it. I wish you only took care of me like that. But you’re gone now, on your journey to who knows where. So maybe, just maybe, you’ll find someone else to appreciate your shoes Someone who will follow wherever you go. Your little you. And maybe, just maybe, You won’t leave her behind this time.
28
Favorite Hue Bennard Malaya
Was the direction even the same? I ignored your home, Only looking at myself. Back to searching, Back to living. Opposite yet I see you At every stop. Yet always fading In all my dreams. No sense in the route I’m taking. I continue absently sailing Can you be vivid? See what you want clearly. Hope you land softly. Where you need to be. Just don’t leave me as a memory.
29
Will you finally see me in purple When you break out of your cocoon? I prance around in circles. I tried travelling to the moon Yet I arrive back to the sun. I wanted so much more than fun. Greedy little thing, To forget I don’t drink. I pray we land on the same frame. I still stare at the mirror, Yet the longer I look The window becomes clearer… It’s you
30
Almost There Jane Tibon
Not long ago, we felt so low As if to every circumstance we surrender and bow Not giving a fight Because we can’t seem to see the light But we seem to forget That in times we are on our knees We are a lamp in a dark alley Looking alone, but a sign of hope The burning flame of our hearts Drives not only darkness But also kindles the flame of each soul and hearts Our light reaches
Little did we know That every time that our knees hit the ground We touch the sky Our heads bowed low But we are soaring high Achieve, persevere, continue For not all has come this far You are like a star That as the night darkens You shine brighter
31
WAYFARER ATLAS Knox
i thank every higher being there is that the world you and i were placed in as wide as the archaic path in which other heavenly bodies travel through to survive was still enough for me to see where i was running to to see what i was chasing after; that by seeing where you are and how i can get to you has this noon in the desert feeling a lot more like an evening feast, that by knowing how close i am has the scars and calluses encrypted on my shallow mortal body becoming patches of a toddler’s skin draping itself with a field of dandelions, 32
that with every inch of my step i hear your voice as a siren’s song to me, a sailor with nothing else but the satisfaction of pursuit; truly, the scorching thirst that grapples all that is left of me feels like freedom for as long as i’m still going
33
Vagabond Valley Bianca Cruz
Peregrine dragged his feet along the dusty terrain, liquid crimson occasionally dropping from his stained hands. He grasped a leporine carcass by its feet, making sure that it wasn’t tainted by nearby insects. It wasn’t much, but it would help him last a little longer out in Vagabond Valley since there was no other animal around for miles to come. He roamed around the land for an hour or so until he found a small pond, to his relief. He inspected it gingerly, looking out for anything that would contaminate his only source of water. Peregrine deduced that despite being a little bit murky, it would satisfy him enough. He set up a small ‘camp’ near the pond, with a makeshift tent and fire. 34
After finishing his temporary setup, he tiredly slumped onto the ground, gravelly breathing in and out. Why did it have to be like this? Why did I have to be lost out in this wasteland? What did I ever do? Peregrine reminisced about his life before being thrown into Vagabond Valley. He used to reside in a beautiful and bountiful village called Pulchritudo, which was surrounded by abundant flora and fauna. It was what people would call Heaven. Well, only those who were fortunate enough. While the village was pleasant to the eye, its core was unfortunately rotten. The townsfolk were unmerciful to those living in lower classes, thinking of them as wicked crooks who plagued Pulchritudo’s beauty with their illmannered lifestyle. Once in a while, people would go to the impoverished parts of the village and banish individuals to Vagabond Valley in order to keep it ‘pure’. Peregrine was unlucky enough to become one of the exiled in his juvenile years. He still remembered the villagers chasing him down, and kicking him until he fell onto the ground. They approached the outer gates of their village, dragging him across the floor and threw him out, closing them quickly to prevent him from quickly escaping his fate. The metal clanging of the gates and his cries for help rang in his ears. He didn’t want to become lost. 35
Oh, forget it. It’s not like anyone’s going to come for you sooner or later. You’re going to waste away in this nightmare eventually. He shook off his reminiscence and stood up, preparing to cook his hunt from earlier. As he waited, he noticed a caped stranger on horseback coming his way. He slowly unsheathed a makeshift dagger while approaching the stranger and their horse. The stranger stopped and got off their horse, about to greet Peregrine. “I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you back off. This is all I have left,” defended Peregrine, pointing the dagger at the stranger. “I apologize for the intrusion, I don’t mean to intend harm towards you,” explained the stranger. “Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Vian.” “Peregrine. What makes you think you’re allowed to come onto my sorry excuse of a camp?” “Well, I just want to help another fellow traveller out. Here.”
36
Vian reached for a large bag and gave it to Peregrine, allowing him to open it for himself. To his surprise, a lavish assortment of meat and pastries was inside. He looked at Vian in awe, as if asking them for permission. Vian nodded, immediately letting Peregrine scarf on the food given to him. “I suppose I could allow you onto my camp for a while,” Peregrine considered, while feasting on a jam pastry. Vian smiled at him, happy that they managed to make Peregrine feel content. They sat across from Peregrine, starting to munch on a tart. “So, what brings you here to Vagabond Valley?” curiously asked Peregrine. “I’m surprised that you have a lot of food on you, considering this is a literal wasteland.” “I have my ways,” answered Vian. “I’m mostly here to help out people I see in this place, so there’s that.” “What kind of people?” “There’s a lot. Every person I’ve met is unique. Notorious tyrants who have chosen a life of power in exchange for their loved ones. Monarchs who escaped to live a life of simplicity. Explorers who desire to discover something new.” 37
“That’s pretty interesting. Guess I’m another new story of yours.” “I suppose so. How about you, how did you get here?” “My village banished me for being poor. They want to keep it pure and beautiful, so they kick out anyone who’s corrupting it. I’ve been alone for a couple of years.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” “It’s alright. I’m used to this already, and I’m glad you’re here. I haven’t seen anyone out here in a while, so it’s nice to be lost with someone for a change.” Once the pair finished eating, they drifted into sleep, pleased with their meal and their new friendship. Soon enough, the scorching heat and light of the day woke up Peregrine. Upon waking up, he saw Vian cleaning up the camp alone. He immediately went on his feet, offering to help them out. The both of them gathered all their materials, and soon left on Vian’s horse.
38
As the horse trotted swiftly through the barren wilderness, Peregrine admired the view of Vagabond Valley. A thin, cool breeze wafted through during their journey. It was bearable when you had a horse instead of lugging around your weary body through the dirt and the scattered dead trees. This beats walking in the heat any day. Vian noticed a caravan of masked strangers at the corner of their eye, and prepared a bag of essentials for them. “Peregrine, excuse me for a bit, I must attend to these travellers-” Before Vian could greet the masked figures, a loud crack rang through the air. The sound alerted Peregrine, who signalled to Vian to get back onto the horse and leave. They immediately got back on the horse and seized its reins, urging it to run hastily. The group of masked strangers then chased after the friends, attempting to shoot them or their horse. “We need to outrun these guys, I think they’re some crazy valley bandits!” fearfully exclaimed Vian, trying to control their horse. 39
“I’ll try to hold them off,” assured Peregrine, who was pulling a crossbow and quiver out. He loaded the crossbow shakily but successfully, and aimed it at the leader of the bandits, who was also trying to incapacitate him. He closed his eyes, anticipating, and pulled the trigger. The arrow flew through the air and managed to pierce the chest of the leader, who halted. Peregrine opened his eyes again, excitedly celebrating his move. Before the bandits’ leader dropped dead, she swiped out her gun in a flash and shot, striking Peregrine back in the chest. He yelped, alarming Vian. They saw Peregrine holding his chest, his clothes slowly dampening with blood. Vian hesitantly dropped their bag of supplies, distracting the rest of the bandits, and rode the horse far enough so that they were out of the bandits’ view. The horse soon slowed down next to a willow tree, and allowed Vian to step off and pick up Peregrine, who was bleeding heavily and had raspy breathing. Vian took off their cape, trying to use it as an alternative bandage. They tried to put pressure on Peregrine’s chest, but couldn’t properly do it without unsteadily pushing down their hands, starting to sob. 40
“Come on, why can’t I help you? Why can’t I help you like I did to the other travellers before?” desperately cried Vian. “Vian, it’s alright. You did a lot for me, and I’m glad,” whispered Peregrine. “You’re the first and last person to care about me, and that’s fine.” “I’m not going to let you die. Come on. Please.” “I’m just going to be extra baggage for your journey, just leave me be.” “Peregrine. I’m so sorry.” Then it went all black for Peregrine.
"Is he awake?” Peregrine woke up in a yellow room full of beds. A cluster of nurses surrounded him, surprised by his consciousness. They murmured in awe about his condition. He realized that he was patched up, bleeding less than usual and feeling a bit revitalized.
41
“Did you hear? He was cornered by the infamous Valley Bandits.” “It’s quite surprising, really, usually people die to their hands.” “And all by himself too. A miracle, really.” All by myself? He sat up, alarmed. “Vian, where’s Vian?” he frantically asked. The nurses looked at each other in confusion, wondering who Peregrine was talking about. “No. Please, I don’t want to lose anyone again. I don’t want to be alone again. I don’t want to be lost. Please.” he cried, gripping his blanket tightly. Where are they? I told them that they should have left me alone to waste away. I should have died instead of living and being lost again, I —
42
The door to his room slowly opened, revealing Vian, who was holding a basket full of various fruits. They gestured to the nurses to leave, and then walked towards the bedridden Peregrine, who immediately hugged them tightly. “Vian!” yelled Peregrine, relieved. He immediately released Vian. “Sorry about that, you’re probably not used to me hugging.” “It’s alright,” lightly chuckled Vian. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” “How did we get here? I thought I told you to leave me.” “I couldn’t bear to leave you there. After you lost consciousness, another group of travellers found us and decided to take us to...here.” “Here?” “They call his place District Sicura. It’s still in Vagabond Valley, but it’s better than most areas we’ve been to.” “Huh. What a sight.” “Yeah, everyone here seems very friendly. They welcomed us in immediately, apparently.” “That’s nice.” 43
The both of them looked out of the window, watching the bustling scenery of District Sicura go by. Peregrine was content for once. He finally had a place he could call home, and someone to celebrate it with. He no longer had to live through the dangers of Vagabond Valley, and he was no longer on the brink of death. He was no longer lost. What a nice thought.
44
Artistic Pieces
24 Hour
Xavier Largo 47
Forest Stroll
48
Prairie Aytin
49
