Lazy Sunday afternoon, 71°F , New York City Even when I was still full from lunch, I couldn’t help but salivate when I saw the...
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NI MANANG KO
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...
Luck by Langston Hughes
Luck Sometimes a crumb falls From the tables of joy, Sometimes a bone Is flung. To some people Love is given, To others Only heaven. Langston Hughes (1902-1967) So what does the poem Luck has to do with an expatriate in New York? Apparently,...
Buhay Migrante, Isang Tula
BUHAY MIGRANTE Ang pagiging migrante ay hindi parang susubo ng mainit na kanin at iluluwa na lamang kapag napaso Ang pagiging migrante ay saktong sinusubo ang mainit na kanin at lulunukin ito. Kahit mapaso ang dila, Kahit maiyak sa init. Kailangan mo, eh....
Idi Nagawidak Diay Pilipinas
Our Ilocana contributor is a serious blogger, educator, and a UP Diliman schooled English major. The poem is about an OFW mother who after working abroad finally returns to her country. She laments about what she saw upon her arrival and realized she may...
Paalam Sampaguita by Yano
Paalam sampaguita Bakit ka lalayo pa Maninirahan sa america Di na tayo magkikita Anong silbi ng larawan mo Kung hindi ka naman naririto Habangbuhay ko bang ilalagay Sa pitika ko na un ibibigay Tatay at nanay mo ang nagsabi Di raw tayong maaring mag-steady...
Siak Ket Ilocano, an Ilocano Poem
SIAK KET ILOCANO Wen Manang, Ilocano ak. Madik nga mai-lemmeng. Uray pay nu kuna da nga estetsayd ak kon. Ket adda met iti nagbaliwan iti kudil kon Siak iti pudno nga pay laeng nga Ilocano.Wen Manang, Ilokano ak. Nu iti rupa siguro, madim nga...
Here is New York
from “Here is New York” (1948) by E. B. White There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as...
Untitled Poem from German Poet Rainier Maria Rilke
Do you know, I would quietly slip from the loud circle, when first I know the pale stars above the oaks are blooming. Ways I will elect That seldom any tread in pale evening meadows — and no dream but this: You come...
