By Ricaredo Demetillo

There is no certain weather in the sky
That we should walk without a weatherproof,
For Madaket, Manila and the gulfs
Gather a rumor from the dry hot wind
That pigmies all the scare of former gales;
And Kowloon, Suez and Dover blanch to see
The seismographs…

By Rowena Tiempo Torrevillas

My father’s laughter took others by surprise. To those who did not know him well, it seemed at odds with what they thought they saw of the man: that hearty, sudden roar, the joie de vivre that sprang spontaneously from this dignified, quiet teacher who carried…

By Rowena Tiempo-Torrevillas

“Look to him, and be radiant
O taste and see…”
~ From Psalm 34

Blue pools of shadow on the road were quivering in the noon light as Aquiles swung the wheel of the pick-up angrily, raising dustclouds under the old tires. All the way down the…

By Rowena Tiempo Torrevillas

And in their chant shall enter, voice by voice,
The windy lake… and echoing hills,
That choir among themselves long afterward.
They shall know well the heavenly fellowship
Of men that perish and of summer morn.
And whence they came and wither they shall go
The dew upon their feet shall manifest.

By Reuben R. Canoy

Even now I still cannot understand why Father hated Mother so much. It was almost as if she were an ugly and thoroughly repulsive creature that had to beat and kick and push her hard against the loose sawali walls of our old house.

There were…

By Reuben R. Canoy and Claro R. Ceniza


The Mayor struts
Like a rooster.
He smiles at every one
But never at his wife.


The barber is sad.
He cannot cut
His own hair.


The Councilor
Is a man of the people:
He eats…

By Reuben R. Canoy

I was chewing on a pencil yesterday when a timid looking boy padded into my little cubbyhole and said, “Would you pass this letter on to other newcomers like me?” I told him I’d have to look at if first. The things I often get from…

By Grace R. Monte de Ramos

1. Ovulation

The cat is in heat. It wakes the teenage girl at 4 a.m. with its loud, imperious meowing. She is forced to get out of bed and

hunt for her iPod in the tumble of things on the floor. …

By Claro Rafols Ceniza

From Sands & Coral 1951

Literary journals in the Philippines are pretentious because Filipinos try to write in a manner appropriate to the minds of Eliot or Yeats before they have learned how to write in a manner appropriate to the minds of contemporary Filipinos.


Buglas Writers Project

An Online Archive of Negrense Literature of the Buglas Writers Guild

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