Leyte
by Victorio N. Sugbo
Island of nothing,
Tower of suffering,
Mystery of hunger,
Star of Concabato,
Playground of the south wind and Rainstorm,
Bulwark of Queen Imelda,
Maker of copra for the Ang Gos,
Buoy for those without salvation,
Manufacturing plant of children,
Trail of typhoon Yolanda,
For all these, we still love you.
Showing posts with label Victorio N. Sugbo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Victorio N. Sugbo. Show all posts
A Way to Kill Schoolchildren by Victorio S. Sugbo (Poem)
A Way to Kill Schoolchildren
by Victorio N. Sugbo
Earlier, the President said that
the country had managed its debt
problem better than other debtor
countries, citing an economic
analysis by economist Richard Mattione
entitled “Managing World Debt: Past
Lessons and Future Prospects.”
– BT 2 February 1986
Tell them fairy tales –
A huge boar gores mountain villages;
Black-streaked monkeys tote guns in tree perches;
Charmed mice with pots and pans flee
to the lowlands;
A dreaded king eats slime to live.
If they look wide-eyed,
It is not out of wonder;
They cannot think beyond listening
The gnawing at their stomachs.
If they shake their heads
Or rankle or yawn,
Give them melted caramels.
Promise them toy trains, toy rails, toy bridges.
Show them how a brat can be made invisible
Under their breaths.
And when they clasp their hands
Like little angels,
Tell them more fairy tales.
by Victorio N. Sugbo
Earlier, the President said that
the country had managed its debt
problem better than other debtor
countries, citing an economic
analysis by economist Richard Mattione
entitled “Managing World Debt: Past
Lessons and Future Prospects.”
– BT 2 February 1986
Tell them fairy tales –
A huge boar gores mountain villages;
Black-streaked monkeys tote guns in tree perches;
Charmed mice with pots and pans flee
to the lowlands;
A dreaded king eats slime to live.
If they look wide-eyed,
It is not out of wonder;
They cannot think beyond listening
The gnawing at their stomachs.
If they shake their heads
Or rankle or yawn,
Give them melted caramels.
Promise them toy trains, toy rails, toy bridges.
Show them how a brat can be made invisible
Under their breaths.
And when they clasp their hands
Like little angels,
Tell them more fairy tales.
Paleontology by Victorio N. Sugbo (Poem)
Paleontology
by Victorio N. Sugbo
Grandfather, you had left long before
You even heard my very first gasp of air.
Only these papers wrapped in
Manila paper are all I have of you.
I had long wanted to see you
And knew this was a long shot.
Father is gone. So is mother.
And on my table, I place
Your Ateneo diploma de mercantil,
Your marriage contract with grandmother,
This roto picture when you once ran for city mayor,
The twelve land titles, your letters to grandmother,
This brownish piece of cloth that graphs the streets of our house,
This cursive Spanish-worded document with your signature.
I arrange your papers,
Hoping I would see you here.
by Victorio N. Sugbo
Grandfather, you had left long before
You even heard my very first gasp of air.
Only these papers wrapped in
Manila paper are all I have of you.
I had long wanted to see you
And knew this was a long shot.
Father is gone. So is mother.
And on my table, I place
Your Ateneo diploma de mercantil,
Your marriage contract with grandmother,
This roto picture when you once ran for city mayor,
The twelve land titles, your letters to grandmother,
This brownish piece of cloth that graphs the streets of our house,
This cursive Spanish-worded document with your signature.
I arrange your papers,
Hoping I would see you here.
Once When I Visited Uncle Santo by Victorio N. Sugbo (Poem)
Once When I Visited Uncle Santo
by Victorio N. Sugbo
Do you still go fishing?
Not anymore. I do not have my boat;
The sea swallowed it
In the last storm.
Don’t you miss the sea, Tata?
It has been ages
Since I visited the sea.
I like to spend my time here
In this old boat,
My bed.
For when I cast a line
So many stars
So much fish come
Circling
Under the water where I row.
by Victorio N. Sugbo
Do you still go fishing?
Not anymore. I do not have my boat;
The sea swallowed it
In the last storm.
Don’t you miss the sea, Tata?
It has been ages
Since I visited the sea.
I like to spend my time here
In this old boat,
My bed.
For when I cast a line
So many stars
So much fish come
Circling
Under the water where I row.
State of the Nation by Victor Sugbo (Poem)
State of the Nation
by Victor Sugbo
Noy Tatong cooks for a Panamanian crew
Of a Dutch cargo ship;
His letters tell of vast oceans and waves
Huge as town cathedrals:
The icy coldness he dreads each time
The ship tosses wildly in the Arctic dark;
Nang Loleng babysits for an Arab couple in Dharan;
She cries when she is left alone
Locked in her master’s house like some convict;
She writes young girls like her jump
Out of windows there;
Nanay collects their dollars always with a long deep sigh;
Noy Tatong, Nang Loleng, I keep your pictures
Between the folds of my notebook;
O how we must live apart
To stay together.
by Victor Sugbo
Noy Tatong cooks for a Panamanian crew
Of a Dutch cargo ship;
His letters tell of vast oceans and waves
Huge as town cathedrals:
The icy coldness he dreads each time
The ship tosses wildly in the Arctic dark;
Nang Loleng babysits for an Arab couple in Dharan;
She cries when she is left alone
Locked in her master’s house like some convict;
She writes young girls like her jump
Out of windows there;
Nanay collects their dollars always with a long deep sigh;
Noy Tatong, Nang Loleng, I keep your pictures
Between the folds of my notebook;
O how we must live apart
To stay together.
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