Eugenie A. Baluran

MASKARA SANG BALANGAW

Maire O. Kan’t

Balangaw sang kahawaan, Yara ka sa putokputokan sang kalibutan; Sidlak sang adlaw napawaan, Sang ulan nawisikan.

Utdon mo bala ang mga kamot, Kon ikaw ang naluyagan itudlo? Bulagon mo bala ang mga mata, Kon ikaw ang labing hingabut lantawon?

Apang ngaa ang kurba masinulub-on? Duag dekolor ang kasanag, masinadyahon nga nawung; Apang ngaa madulom ang nabatyagan? Arko gapaidalom, kasubo nga balatyagon.

Apang ngaa madasig ka madula, Kon ikaw ang patimaan sang paglaum? Ano na matabo sa mga handum, Nga imo ginbayaan sa sini nga kalibutan?

Mamingawon nga pamatasan sa itsura sang kalipayan. Ikaw bala ang kasanag matapos sang kadudolman, Ukon ikaw isa lang ka maskara sang yuhum Samtang ga-antus sang kalainan? Dilaw

Kayte JJ Amarante

Sa dami-daming kulay sa mundo Isa lamang ang napili ko. Ang paboritong kulay ko ay dilaw Masaya, mainit, kulay na nakakasilaw.

Masaya, Tulad ng pagbibigay ng kulay Sa matamlay ko’ng buhay, Nagbibigay ngiti sa aking mga labi, Ikaw lang naman ang sanhi nito palagi.

Mainit Sa mga malalamig kong gabi Ikaw ang nagsilbing mainit ko’ng kape, Sa tuwing ako’y giniginaw, aking hinahanap Ang mainit mong mga yakap.

Nakakasilaw, Sapagkat sa madilim ko’ng mga araw Ikaw ang aking ilaw Para ako’y ulit magkaroon ng matanaw. Kaya ikaw ang aking dilaw, Sa lahat ng tao, ang pipiliin ko ay ikaw.

Every Color, Every Hue (You)

Ara

You could be red or yellow— Oh how the sun sinks, Into the horizon each day, Its transient light would give ephemeral colors, Lustering against the fading sky, Red or yellow—what a pretty sight to look at your sunsets.

Maybe blue or purple— Beneath the indigo waves, Of dark shades of the sea, Splashing legs and swaying hips, Around moonlit rocks, A tale of lovers rose, As the dawn hits its colors.

Probably white— Hesitation in words; our wayward love was so much, That our pride kept silent, Late dawns; delayed sunsets, When what we both want, Was only a cry of acceptance, A blank slate as it is.

Indeed black— Sun-drenched dreams, In snow white clouds, Hands locked tightly together, Escaping cruelty of society’s gazes, For every color painted was always you, “You are both the absence and presence of my colors, B” My love; my favorite hue.

Prism Glass - Hue

Christine Octoso

No one sees, No one feels

Venjellie Muyco Garcia

Contorted face in agony Tears brimming in his eyes Ready to fall as hardened ice.

Fingers clasps in writhing motion, veins popped in anger Labored breathing, wanting to gulp a second of air.

No one sees, no one feels Except the one whose own heartbeat he hears.

Not, until with one last violent breath, His feeble arm unsheathes the sword, Plunged deeply into the enemy’s chest, Tearing, breaking loose the tightened cord.

Fear… this paralyzing demon was forever slain, Faith… he is free, at peace wherever he is lain.

Lustrous

Eugenie A. Baluran

Cracks are ugly. In the deepest recesses of my fragments, of these displacements in my being, I ooze shame from its niches.

What good is a shattered artefact? What use comes from shards of glass, of hazardous pieces, from a display of beauty once whole?

Flawless, undamaged prisms reveal colour in the presence of light. Yet blood draws when the jagged edges cut into my hands as I desperately feign completion.

A man’s tongue once uttered “In clarity comes peace”. A philosophical scam, I dare say for this disjointed reflection is clear and all that came was resentment.

But as I sit and stare, pondering, wondering, in the complexities of the human mind, is splendour limited to the eyes of only one person? I digress.

There will never be romance in being reduced to remnants. Yet there are those peculiar enough who will happily collect your pieces and create new hues with you in the light.

And I found them. In my misaligned state of crystalline scraps I found them. And what joy it is to be assured that shards are still capable of iridescence.