Homecummings

Reading the Second-Prize Winners
of the 2005 Home Life Poetry Contest

FUNDAMENTAL
(IN MEMORIAM: FELINO ARITAO VILLALVA GARCIA, 1925–2002)
Felino Garcia

Father walked out of our house
dragging his feet heavy with age.

When he rested,
he sat in his wheelchair
beneath the shade of the santol tree
hiding the sun-rinsed clouds.

Days later, something tore at my chest
when I saw him in his hospital gown,
tube down his throat…

Last night I dreamed of father walking
light-footed, weightless like air,
out of his body
as if he had long wanted to leave the body,
the fever, the shivers,
the endless restlessness—lakat ‘t, mapuli ‘ta
and pain—Toto, kasakit, masakit…
on the thin white sheet

and float

up those intravenous needles.
past the oxygen tanks and respirator,
beyond the day’s last
remaining

light—

Father walking into his new home
without roof nor door
in the boundless
sky.


In this cliché, sentimental verse by a son about his father, the younger Felino Garcia laments the death of his parent who has the same name as himself who succumbed to a disease in a hospital bed.

Modern poetry, they say, is still considered poetic and highly artistic even if it reads so prosaic. Why? Perhaps because life’s experience is such. And to turn it into a poem is to elevate the experience for much appreciation.

Here, the son persona relates his father’s story in two parts—the first presents his father as a weak patient, “dragging his feet heavy with age.” He is being wheeled to the yard, where the son saw the sun-rinsed clouds. Such images of nature.


AGUA DE MAYO
Kristian Cordero

Hinimay natin nang matiyagang-matiyaga
Ang muling pagbagsak ng mga luha
Sa bahaging ito naitom ang pisngi ng langit
Alam nating darating ito ngayong gabi,
Walang buwan, ang mga bituin nakatulog
Samantalang gumuguhit ang kidlat at kulog,
Ang ihip ng hangin tumatagos sa laman,
Malamig ngunit tayo’y pinagpapawisan.
Walang ekspresyon ang ating mga mukha,
Ngunit mabilis ang pintig ng ating mga puso,
Nababagabag sa pangambang bumabalot
Sakaling di bumuhos ang ulan ngayong gabi,
Dala ang tubig na siyang hihilom sa sugat na dulot
Ng katotohanang ngayong gabi lang tayo
Maaaring magsama’t maging totoo
Dahil bukas, mag-iiba tayo ng mga anyo,
Iisang uri ng damit ang ating isusuot,
Maliligo sa parehong banyo, kakain nang sabay,
Mag-aaral sa pinaghalo-halong pilosopiya,
Iipunin ang mga natuyong dahon ng akasya,
Susunugin at hahayaang paglaruan ng pantasya,
Mag-uusal ng mga panalanging litaniya
At pag-uusapan ang ilang mga bagay
Na parang mga bata at walang malay
Sa kung ano ang nangyari nu’ng nakaraang dilim
Habang hinihintay natin ang unang pagbuhos
Ng ulan na alam nating di dumating ngunit
Nagising tayong basang-basa
At di makatingin sa isa’t isa.

“I’m coming out, I want the world to know…” goes a radio jingle. The same is true for this poem about a cloistered persona who vacillates between being cloistered himself perhaps in a seminary and being able to break free, and fling himself open to expressing his own true self.

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