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LITERARY WRITING WORKSHOP 2024 (ENTRIES)

MULA LOS BAÑOS, TUNGONG LEGARDA At ang mga kwento sa

pagitan

nito

Acknowledgement:

THE ARELLANO STANDARD MANILA

Literary Writing Workshop 2024 compilation (ENTRIES) @bene.isl/@bene_slt

SALING-KITKIT PUBLISHING SPACE & .SLT 2024 4114/4030

12 KILOMETERS BYAHENG NAKARAAN BABABA BA? SUMAKABILA OUR FADING LUMINISCENCE HOW WOULD KNOW

I

TOUCH MOVE THE SEATS ARE EMPTY

MGA ISTASYON

12 KILOMETERS Mary Hershey Briones Ang pag-andar ng makina sa umaga, mga sasakyang bumubusina para sa kita.

Pag-hanap, pag-para, at pag-hinto, minsa'y hindi napagtanto.

Gumising nang maaga para hindi mahuli sa klase, hinahabol ang oras at naghanda ng onse.

Naglalakad papunta sa kabilang kalye, ngunit walang makitang bumabyahe.

Mga taong nagtipon-tipon sa isang tabi, natataranta, naghihintay, at nagmamadali.

Mabilis ang takbo ng oras, gaya na lamang ng hangin na walang wakas.

Ako'y hindi na kayang mag-timpi, pinag-iisipan kung lalakarin ba o hindi?

Naalala ang nakaraang masaya, tinuro mo sa akin kung paano magkaroon ng mahabang pasensya.

Nanatili ako at naghintay ng matagal, umaasa pa rin na maibabalik ang nakaraang pinigil. Tatlumpung minuto na ang nakalipas, tirik na ang araw parang lugar ni Satanas.

Hindi nag-aakalang may paparating, parang himala kung iisipin.

Papunta na sa aking patutunguhan, nagagalak dahil para akong binigyan ng sapat na yaman.

Pagbaba ng sasakyan, nakakalungkot ang aking natanaw.

Bumuboses ang mga bumubusina, ngunit hindi pinapakinggan ng nangunguna.

Napahinto at napatigil, hindi kayang tingnan ang nabaril na damdamin. Humihingi ng hustisya na kailangan para sa ligaya, pero hindi sapat ang nakukuha.

Byaheng Nakaraan Margaret Murillo Maingay at mausok ang kalsada. Nakabibingi ang mga busina ng bawat sasakyan na nagdudulot ng isang magulong musika na tila naging antem na ng trapiko.

Mainit ang ikot ng hangin dito sa loob ng lulan kong jeepney, marahil siksikan at dumagdag pa ang mabagal na usad ng trapiko. Nakababagot, hindi komportable at nakaiinit ng ulo.

Naalala ko noon, mas gusto kong maipit sa trapiko; kahit na masikip, mainit, at minsa’y nangangamoy pawis, hindi ito alintana dahil kasama kita. Hindi hadlang kung halos wala nang maupuuan o kahit na sumabit pa tayo basta ikaw ang nasa tabi ko. Naalala ko ‘yung mga panahong kasa-kasama pa kita sa jeep, papasok, pauwi at kahit pa sa mga takas na galaan. Subalit ngayon, wala ka na sa tabi ko, nagsawa ka rin siguro sa mainit at siksikang jeepney.

Nakalulungkot isipin na maraming hindi permanente sa mundo; kahit na ang mga jeepney na naging simbolo na ng Pilipinas at mga Pilipino, mapapalitan na sa darating na panahon. Nakalulungkot isipin na kasama lamang kita sa paglalakbay at hindi tayo pareho ng destinasyong babaan; na mas mauuna akong bababa at maiiwan kang lulan ng jeepney, kung saan pareho kayong magiging alaala na lamang ng masasayang nakaraan.

Bababa ba?

Jaydee Baquiran Ang nagslibing gabay, tungo sa patutunguhan Umulan man o umaraw, ika’y aking karamay Magkasama simula't sapul Ikaw ang nagturo sa’kin kung paano huminto, at hilain ang tali sa tapat para sabihing tigil na Ngunit ngayon ako’y muling nag-aabang Sa iyong muling pagbaybay, Dito sa terminal ng sakayan, kung saan ika’y aking unang nasilayan Bakit ang mga tao sa paligid ay nagkalat?

At iba’t iba ang isinisigaw, at heto ako sa kalagitnaan Nakikibaka na ika’y h‘wag sanang lumisan Ito ba ang sinasabing hangganan? Dito ba nagtatapos ang huling ruta? Parang kahapon lang ako’y iyong inihatid pa Nakangiti pagkagising matapos umidlip

Ngayon ay alam ko na Iyon pala ang hudyat nang huli na Ang pagwawakas ng paglalakbay, totoo bang ito na ang wakas?

Maari bang sa’yo ay humiling?

Nang isa pang muling pagkakataon Na ika'y aking muling makatabi At umidlip habang nasa byahe Pwede pa bang maibalik ang dati?

Simulan natin sa simula Gaya nang kung paano mo ako tinuruan Bumaba kapag nakarating na.

"Sumakabila" Mark Josefh Mondoñedo Simula nong umalis si Papa, hindi na ako sumayaw ng Cha-cha.

Lumisan siyang hindi lumilingon, nakabaluktot ang tingin, at walang balak na tumugon. Noongnawala siya, hindi na kaya ng musika na magpaindak. Natakot na ang notang magtiwalasapasaring na palpak. Hindi nila balak tumayo para samahan akong sumayaw, idinikit na nilaangprinsipyo sa kanilang pagkakaupo.

Naging malamig ang usapan sa hapag dahilan para maging bahaw ang kanin.

Binubuwagangkonstitusyon at hangarin upang termino nila ang palawakin. Hindi mangmang ang dalawakongmga paa, sadyang parehong naging kanan ito noong kumaliwa si Papa. Naging matalas angsistema sa tulad kong sinanay sa sugat.

Nagmistulang panganib ang tahanang nagpapasokngbuwaya. Inimpok nito ang panlilinlang at lumamon ng kaban at pera.

Ginagawa nilang bubot ang pilak na pinamulaklak sa tabi ng dagat at hinuhulmang maliit angnasa laylayan, gayong hitik sila sa kaitaasan. Wala silang tinatanaw at tanging pagpapalawaklamang nang pananakop, upang makapanloko, at upang lumago ang katakawakan sa posisyonat kapangyarihan.

Wala nang indayog ang duyan kong nakasanayan.

Kaya, simula nung lumisan si Papa, hindi na ako sumayaw sa saliw ng Cha-cha.

Sa sala.

Sa kusina.

Sa sariling institusyon.

Our Fading Luminescence Juliana B. Cabungcag Following the end of one media outlet which serves as a means of disseminating information, Is my disheartening realization that there are numerous unanticipated situations, Making me ponder, whether I had or have an opportunity to prevent such events from transpiring, To push through the doubts and hindrances even when the former igniting passion is dying.

Losing hope amidst the unfavorable circumstances and terrifying storm, Finding ways to overcome the strong feeling of gloom, Constantly yearning and longing for the once-warm presence, Eye pupils reflect confusion, seeing it gradually vanish in the present.

Acknowledging the fading connection, With a heavy heart, perhaps accepting is for the better, As we take steps in different directions, Embarking separate paths, may our own luminescence never wither.

How Would I Know Sophia Tancioco How would I know if he’s gone?

How would I know if something brews upon the beyond When his calls cannot reach me, who would declare me When disaster strikes who will hear the sound of pleas “Rescue, spare, and whisk me away” Words I wish not to sing at any day The latest cry turned senile so fast Faster than the rolling camera’s ever last Come save me, drive to me quickly Would you go eighty on a sixty?

Break the news baby, tell me slowly If you don’t plan to turn a blind eye coldly Pheme, tell their secrets and tell their lies Did Plutus keep the rich, and ate the kind Who is to trust and who is to save Deception creeps among these grave Words of mouth tend to ignite a war A war I wish not for you to endure Money, power and everything more Is useless if we let them through the open door Trust is profession, trust is sacred Now all on screens, the stories’ naked How would I know if the story is greedy So I would rather hear what’s on TV.

Touch Move Aeolus Zander Tanguin minor feelings all come undone to build the town was a step forward one to be the founding people couldn't fathom what was to come when there was none, the light we made grew the truth was all it seemed to be like magic, our vision came true we built this home on shaky ground the patches of mud from the violent storms the world made never seemed to make our home fall out of place you held my hand with patience “all will be fine” words they threw were sharp as knives but our hearts stood by the toughest times this chance was a voyage made true made fault of the thought of patriarchy and politics i was of harm they said filled with everything i thought was wrong my heart screamed behind the curtain calls could i be by your side when the waves span as high high as the dreams we wanted to reach? the time we crumbled and said “start again” was the start of something beautiful but something this beautiful would be bound to end.

The seats are empty What happened, happened once.

In the horrors of losing something never ceases, And I am once again a character robbed of choice, In the creaks of lights and loudness.

You are the sun bathing in the hot afternoon, And the ripped water on a rainy day.

I watched as your wheels grow old and wither As I listen to the sound of the pennies sitting on the counter.

“You take people to good places” In this space where people sat with such ease.

With your heart pointed in every direction, And a kind smile embedded in the souls of everyone.

I ran in the pace of your beating heart, As I watch the trees through the windows of your world.

I could’ve wished you’d still linger for awhile, And hoped to see the children of tomorrow call out to you.

At some point in the evening, I’d let the miles pass me by once more.

Who knows if we meet each other again?

In this jeepney ride home.

Literary Writing Workshop 2024 COMPILATION

SALING-KITKIT PUBLISHING SPACE 2024 4114/4030