by Red S
Was I floating?
When I saw you
In a dream.
Your face, your hair
That disarming smile
Still the same
As years ago.
The sands of time
Of truths we feared
And choose to bury in ourselves.
Vividly I see
On that moonlit night
When we held our hands
And gazed upon our faces
When we walked away
Leaving emotions stirring
Within our hearts
Forever left unspoken.
Shared to IlocanoYork and penned by Red S, 2007
My thoughts were stolen
Before they were words on my lips.
How could that happen?
Was it thievery, if it felt good?
Today, dear Victoria , I bleed.
My feelings are beyond any grief
Old wounds still left unhealed
Much more sore than before, it's sick.
Scarlet blood flows freely,
Like water rushing without a course.
Carving new wounds, it hurts.
Red blood gushes, to where, I don't know.
Pain cuts deep in my memory
In ugly crevices I've never seen
Probing further, slowly stealing my verve
I am bleeding badly, it kills.
Blood, sweet Victoria, is life.
Red, hot, warm, so alive.
If my bleeding means I'm up
Then blood, just flow out, I'd be glad.
By I. Regalado
"you have to peel it off,
strip to the bone,
i want to see you naked"
you said, "in your dreams"
I said, "sure, but even my dreams wouldn't oblige"
You were walking around with a pink umbrella,
And it wasn't even raining.
I pictured in my head thousands of black umbrellas,
and, one of them was pink,
underneath, one of them was you,
walking the cobbled streets,
like something from a film by Kurosawa,
or a photoshopped photograph,
the sound of Nolita Fairytale playing
in the background
(or was that a film that I have not seen?)
I said, “I’m amazed at the randomness of our conversation.
I feel some kind of fever coming.
I have to fight it.”
“It’s a song,” you said
then you pointed to the wooden balcony.
“Do you see it?
Do you see us?” I asked.
“I see you, us,” you answered.
Meanwhile, our hands held each other,
Our eyes stared at each other,
Nothing to hide here,
“Me siento mejor,” la Niña sang through my iPhone,
Yes I feel better, ya me siento mejor.
Now I feel better.
“Quiero quitarte la ropa!”
“Si yo pudieras mover la manilla del reloj del tiempo”
There is a scent here with me
That isn’t mine.
(I’ve walked that street with you before,
Everyone should be jealous.)
“Scent?” you asked.
“Yes, it’s a woman’s scent,
But it’s gone now.” Then my mind added,
“Was it you?”
Contributed by I. Regalado
Athena and the Moon laughed tonight
With keen wintry eyes they knew
I hurled them searing torches
Fire came back, my doom.
I return to them
As I return to you
That dream I never dreamed
Or that missing picture in the fireplace mantle.
These days are filled with a thousand things
That the weight of memories bends itself towards forgetting.
There is a door that let's things in--noise, music, images, smells; the smell of onions from the kitchen, family, the hand of a lover. It is horrible and beautiful--for a few moments everything is inevitable! You cannot stop it. There is no need to decide.
will mark this passing
No tender words will be uttered
Stone will rest precariously on stone
But none will stir
The trees will stand stupefied
A thousand limbs twisted
In a pitiful embrace.
And not even one bird
A Naiveté’s Confession
by Jo March
One spring night of ‘07 I was at this club
That’s aptly called Double Happiness
Right down at the Lower East Side.
On my way out the bathroom
I met this amazingly drunk guy
Then held his glass as he took his turn at the bowl.
He thanked me for being very nice
And asked my name with a sheepish smile
I told him mine, and Michael he said he was.
He had a face like this BH 90210 guy
So tall, fine and cute even when doused.
He fuelled my curiosity; I decided to close my eyes.
‘There’s not much like you from where I came from’.
He said as he keenly groped me in the dark.
‘Never met someone from where you came from’, I hissed back.
Michael and I came back holding hands.
Both smashed and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Funny, I shocked all my friends with my impulsive act.
It’s embarrassing what else I did that night,
With too much tea martini running in my blood.
Let me just admit I’ve been really, really bad.
He got my number that I remembered right
For he called the following morn to ask me out
I firmly said NO for I was sober to realize
These boys want nothing else but my girly warmth
written by Jo March
Our contributor, Mark Martinez, is a Speech Communications graduate of UP Baguio. On his free time he writes prose and poetry in three languages: English, Tagalog and Ilocano. He is a freelance journalist and currently dabbles in photography.
Ubing ak pay lang idi pimmanaw ni manang ko
Napan jay Amerika ta pinitisyunan ni apong ko
Narigat kano ditoy isu nga ijay nga agbirok ti trabaho
Ijay na nga ikurri tay BS Nursing na nga kurso
Imbati na tay lakay na nga isu met ti bayaw ko
Maysa a tricycle driver tay naasawa ni manang ko
Plinano da nga mapan met ijay ni manong Pilo
Ngem madi met makaala-ala Visa tapno makasaruno
Adda ti anak da nga lalaki ti timmao
Dimmakkel tay kaanakak nga awan ti ina na nga mangisuro
Disisaisen tay ubing, tattan ket bumaro
Nasursuro nan ti arak, sigarilyo, ken naduma-duma pay a bisyo
Ado ti nagbaliwen manipod di nag-abroad ni manang ko
Ado met ti nasurutan nan nga madi tay piman a bayaw ko
Awanen tay singpet nan nga naayatan da tatang ko
Sugal, bulang, arak, babae-- napirdin ni bayaw ko
Nakadanon kenni manang ko tay napasamak a kanito
Nasaktan nakem na ta naanakan ni manong jay kabit na nga bisyo
Atay baro na ket madin nga matukkol jay sara na nga timmubo
Nakunsumisyon, nagsakit-- nagbalin a de-baterya tay puso ni
Anyan a rigat ti sukat ti panagadayo
Agpayso nga ado ti kwarta ngem ni lakay na met ket nagloko
Dakes nga anak, napaturay a sakit ti ulo
Nu agbalikbayan ni manang ko, madi nga agkonswelo
Ado ti namnama di nakadanon California ni manang ko
Naragsak isuna idi nga umiliw jay pamilya na nga binuo
Limmabas ti mano a tawen nga bimmaliw; nangindulto
Napukaw tay ragsak ken namnama, nasukatan ti sakit a pudno
Maminsan nga nakatungtong ko ni manang ko
Dinamag ko panagbiag na jay Amerika no kasano
"Ayna, ading, tagabo nak ti amerikano,
Caregiver ak ijay-- tagapakan, taga-ilo!"
Tags: ilocano language
, ilocano poem
, immigrant poem
, Mark Martinez
Our Ilocana contributor is a serious blogger, educator, and a graduate of the UP-Diliman's Department of English and Comparative Literature (DECL), a Center of Excellence in Literature and in the English Language in the Philippines. She writes in Tagalog, Ilocano and English.
The poem is a dialogue between a husband and wife that was mainly carried by text messenging. It shows conflicting views with the wife offering a more conservative stance while the husband, inspired by a 'balikbayan friend', contemplates working abroad for better opportunities.
Agur-urayak kengka, simmangpet
Iti “text” mo kenyak,
Maka-abroad ak tu man met kuma asawak
Dattuyak gayyem ko, naggapu idiay Dallas.
Mayat ngatan ti bumaknang
Agay-ayab pay isuna idiay bistruan
Naganas ngatan a maygatangak
Kanayon a litson ti pamilyak nga awidan.
In-“reply” ko met: Mayat dayta a arapaap
Ngem ana ngatan ti lid-liday na
nu haan agkakadwa?
Mayaten a makaawid ka, nasalun-at,
Naragsak tayo nga ag-iinnisturya.
Idi kuwan, nagsipngeten
Kinnit ti lamok ti kadwa mi dagiti annak mo idiay ruaren
Gasyan kami maturugen
Idi simmangpet ka- napnek ka ti araken.
Ti abroad ket mayat, aglalo nu maysa a bakkat
Ngem ti simple a biag, haan ko pay la isukat
Nu laeng ti papanan na ti ado nga kuwarta ket kasta
Ay haanen- nu agur-uray met latta ti pamilya.
Dimo ammo iti daras
ko nga nangipalpas,
sangwanan ti pag-pagay, arakup ti angin nga pariir
a palamuyuten napnu ti init ken ayat
ayti pagbadum kuma inton bigat
nu rubwatak ti nagaget a rumaep nga asawak.
Below is a whimsical poem about one's desperation at finding the proverbial 'right one'. Written in Long Island, New York almost five years ago, the poem captures the common complaint of women of this generation: there simply isn't one. However, desperation turns into plea as persona puts her ill fate in God's hand while just waiting --- a passive and slightly self-defeatist response cultivated and encouraged by religion.
I'm Not Searching, Just Waiting
For F., I., and V.
Dear God, is there someone for me?
One good man who will truly love me
To share with me all life's kindness
And walk with through all the worlds' darkness.
I really would want to know
If he isn't born yet or has moved on.
I earnestly pray he's just perfectly well
So he can find me here someday.
Is he tall, tanned and dishy?
And has a big smile that'll pin me quick
I wish he were a dancer that I never was,
Together we'll sing songs that touch the heart.
Does he smoke, drink and curse?
Is he a gambler, bummer or a miser?
Worse, he maybe a Casanova in disguise;
Lord, I hope, wish, and pray that he's not!
Will he be sweet, engaging and smart?
With a wit that battles the wisest man
I pray he is kind, delightful and couth
A man, I know, will make me proud.
I wonder how many girls he kissed.
Or is he an artist, extrovert, or what may be?
Does he love to read like I do?
Oh how I wish he'd eat whatever I can cook!
Is he now in great America?
Or trail biking in beautiful Australia?
Wherever he may be, this I know--
Someday I'll show him my Manila.
My God, tell me do I know him?
Is he Steve, John or William?
Or the comely man I saw at the park?
He can be anyone oh this is hard!
Was he at my favorite park last night?
Or will be at the corner grocery tonight?
Oh my good Lord please show some signs,
Let him find me quick before I expire.
October 1, 2007_ Long Island