The writers/contributors of UBOD 2020 Online, a project of the National Committee on Literary Arts of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts.
suno kay Estrella Taño Golingay sa “Heneral“ Mahangop sa pagbuhi sang baboy ang pagkataohanon. Kuno isa-isahon sa sugod ang mga nahanabo sa pag-abotsang buhion: amat-amat nga nagadakoang adlaw sa ibabaw sa kabukiran sang Roxas nga indi kilalahonsa tumandok nga ngalan kay Ilonggoang mga magbuhi; nagabadlak ang hulumayan, nagapadumdomnga ara lang ini kon indi pilion ang kamatayon;...
suno kay Jade Mark Capiñanes sa “A Portrait of a Young Man as a Banak” Paano mo masagadsad nga indisila makahisayod kag makabatyag sang kasulgan ukon nga kasubonggihapon nga panong ang makit-annga nagabalik? Matuod lamang nga indi silaisahanon. Madugay nanga nadula ang akon abilidadnga masaypan nga General Santos ang pila ka bahin sang Kamaynilaan.Hapos lang sa imo ipatultolang mga...
Saif speaks of the struggleTo the listening birds of the tugan,Words persuadingSheltered in frail nests.
Listen! The crescentAnd star calling azan.Once again, the birds returnLooking for twigsFor their nests.
The call is answered.The tugan is the final meeting place.
At dawn, the march beginsOn the path only the heart knowsTo the hills of warAnd freedom.
At the back of the truck,Guns clank againstThe metal floor. RocksAnd shallow cratersMock our short naps. “Assalamo alaykom!”Welcoming men smiling,Standing by the masjid.Kids waving at us,Forgetful of their white kupyasAnd beaded tondongsGathering dust. In my vision, Darapanan flashesParadise. The wrap aroundMy head removed,Loosened by swift, suddenWind. I hold my breath,To hear the chant of...
Your wounded bodyFits the old mattress.Your death corrupts time.Still is the hut, whileFighters stifle cries.In the forest, warGoes on, and the sunDries the wet puddles.Paradise awaits youNow. The peaceYou died for remainsA hopeful promise.Now we both returnBut part ways. I go backTo the forest. You, to Him.
The child’s eye peeks into the holesOne to anotherOf the masjid’s walls, innocentOf the terror of old nights,Of wounds and laments. The holes won’t showThe burning trees,No longer the lifeless scree.The smoke invisible,The spilled blood dries. Only the swaying leavesDew from yesterday’s rainFlash before his eyes. He seesAnd hears the river revived. As he glancesThrough the eyehole once more,He...
How are the sunsetsOf the old mujahid?Melancholy overThe dormant, rusted boloThe sole unyoung rifleSpangled with scarsFrom trenches forgottenGnaws at his bonesThe growing dark.When will the sunset everSlip out without notice? The last rays through curtainHoles before himStays his solitude.His dead war comradesMarch in single file.He hears bombsFlight of bulletsSmell of earthDamp grass again. But...
I. In their bamboo huts, where bulletsCould trace them, they tried to hideBehind their mothers’ bodies as ifThey could be infants in wombs again. Their mothers’ pleas the only shield,“Tama na! Mga sibilyan lang mi!”But foes remained unmindful—the earsDid not hear what the hearts refused to see. Like dominoes standing, the mothers fell.Blood ran to the edges of bamboo floorsBefore they even hit...
Sa akong yutang natawhan sa lungsod sa Matanao, adunay usa ka sityo nga ginganlag Kasiawa. Sa Kasiawa ako nagdako ug nakabaton og buot. Malipayon ang akong pagkabata kay luyo sa mga dagkong balay, adunay drier o bularanan sa mga humay, kopras, ug mais. Kung way nakabulad sa driermapuno kini og mga bata nga di maluyag dagan-dagan. Ang among mga inahan na lang ang maugtas og binadlong. Wa gyoy...
to Mufti Ismail Menk When grenades rumbled in Lanao forests,I thought the dream would remain a dreamIn slumbers during nights of sweat and pain.The nights when more eyes were rather awake,Peeking at open windows, than asleep and calm. Now those eyes are fixed onto you, sparklingLike dew over leaves when the sun rises.I am the eagle observing everything. In this place where a Maranao sits with a...