DAMPOL 2ND, PULILAN, BULACAN - Nandoon kami noong Biyernes Santo para saksihan ang isa sa mga tradisyon nating mga Pilipino tuwing Mahal na Araw, ang Penitensya.
Kumuha ako ng mga larawan at karamihan ay madudugo. Natilamsikan pa nga ako ng dugo kakukuha ng litrato at sa gulat ko napa-"Oh my God!" ako, napatingin tuloy sa'kin 'yung isang nagpepenitensya, nahiya ako kaya ngumiti na lang ako sa kanya sabay alis (kahiya). Hehe...
Sa una nagpapamanhid muna sila ng likod, palo dito, palo doon. Kapag wala pang dugo parang di masakit kung titignan, parang naglalaro lang kasi sila at pasayaw-sayaw pa. Kapag manhid na (siguro) kahahampas ang likod nila ay magpapapalo na sila ng kahoy na may tatlong talim na pinapahid sa saha ng saging. "Whew! I can see the blood running down on their back."
Papaluin nila ng papaluin ang likod habang naglalakad sa kalsada, tirik na tirik ang araw na lalong nagpapalakas ng daloy at tilamsik ng dugo. sige hampas...palo... Lalakad patungo sa bisita at sa bukana ay lalakad ng paluhod at dadapa sa tila nagbabagang semento na nakapormang pakrus. habang nakadapa ay may papalo sa may puwitan at hita nila.
Kung ang iba ay nagtatanong kung bakit nila ginagawa iyon, iyon ay dahil namamanata sila. Karamihan sa kanila ay may kahilingan tulad ng pagpapagaling sa kamag-anak nilang may malubhang sakit.
Nang kumukuha ako ng mga larawan may narinig akong bata na ang sabi, "Ang dami nila, hindi ko sila mabilang.". Tumutukoy iyon sa mga nagpepenitensya.
Kung makikiepal lang ako sa usapan nila sasabihin kong, "Kahit gaano pa sila karami at kahit mabilang mo sila hindi pa rin non matutumbasan ang mga sakripisyo ni Hesus upang iligtas tayo at mas hindi mo kayang bilangin ang mga kasalanang nagawa nila, ang mga nagawa namin at ang magagawa mo pa."
All great love stories end up tragically. Like when Romeo drank poison for Juliet or when Cleopatra let herself get bitten by a serpent for Mark Anthony or when Jack froze to death just to let Rose be safe from an icy ocean. But nothing is far greater love story than Jesus laying his life as ransom sacrifice for our sins. And that love story doesn't end. How thankful we should be to God who gave his son in behalf of many. (from Meei's text messsage to me)
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Pagsulat ng Tula
The Soil Tiller invited me again last April 12 as a resource speaker in Literary Writing (Pagsulat ng Tula) in their Journalism Seminar-Workshop. I'm very glad to be with my pubmates again. I'm also glad because I shared my knowledge, skills and thoughts to the new set of editors and staffs of the pub.
Narito ang ilang mga bagay na sinabi ko sa kanila na sana ay natandaan nila dahil maari rin nila itong maiapply sa kahit na anong uri ng sulatin ang gagawin nila.
Narito ang ilang mga bagay na sinabi ko sa kanila na sana ay natandaan nila dahil maari rin nila itong maiapply sa kahit na anong uri ng sulatin ang gagawin nila.
- Kung gusto mo talaga magsulat, magbasa at magsulat ka lagi, dapat ay patuloy at walang hanggan.
- Kung gusto mong makasulat ng magandang tula dadaan ka muna sa pagsulat ng maraming di masyado kagandahang tula, hindi pwedeng maganda kaagad. Kailanagan masanay ka muna at doon ka matututo at kapag tumagal na magugulat ka na lang na nakagawa ka na ng magandang tula.
- Sa pagsusulat kailangan mo ng inspirasyon, marami ka pwede paghugutan nun at hindi lang lagi ang boyfriend o girlfriend mo.
- Lahat ng nakapaligid sa iyo pwede mo gamitin sa pagsusulat mo, kahit maliit o walang kwenta sa ibang tao dapat mo makita doon ang hindi nakikita ng iba. Ipakita mo sa mambabasa ang 'di nila makita. Bigyan mo 'yon ng magandang kahulugan.
- Gumawa ka ng sarili mong estilo.
- Lahat ng bagay konektado sa isa't-isa, nasa kamay mo kung paano mo sila mapagdudugtung-dugtong.
- Kapag nagsulat ka, huwag mong isipin ang sarili mo, isipin mo ang mga makakabasa ng isinulat mo. Kailangan na maintindihan nila ang isinulat mo.
092609/100309
Nagngangalit ang hanging
walang habas
na nagpapaindayog
sa mga puno't halaman.
Nagmamaktol ang ulang
walang tigil
sa pagbayo
sa ating mga Pilipino.
Nagtatampo ang tubig
sa walang pasintabing
nakikituloy
sa ating mga bakuran.
Naghihimagsik ang lupang
walang awang
tumabon
sa mga munting pangarap.
Nagmamalupit ang hanging
walang habas
na tumatangay
sa kalawanging yero.
Nag-aatungal ang ulang
walang tigil
sa paghagupit
sa masang lalong nalumpo.
Nananagasa ang tubig
na walang pasintabing
nangingitil
ng iba't-ibang uri ng tao.
Nagrerebolusyon ang lupang
walang awang
naninira
sa pamilya't tahanan.
Naghihiganti ang kalikasan
na walang piniling
biktima,
sa kalupitan na rin ng tao
Naghihiganti ang kalikasan
na walang piniling
dagukin at lugmukin
sa pamamagitan ni Ondoy at Pepeng.
Narito naman ang ilang tula na napili ko na gawa ng mga umattend sa journalism seminar.
Paano
by: Marielle Apolinar
Paano ako gagwa ng tula?
Kung sa unang patak pa lang
ng aking pluma
ay agad na nilang tawa.
Paano ako magpapahayag?
Kung ang kanilang
matatalim at mapanuring mata
ay agad na namumuna.
Paano ako tatayo sa sariling mga paa?
Kung ang mga tao
sa paligid ang sýang sasaksak
sa aking mga mata.
What if?
by: CecileTrinanez
What if Monalisa cry?
Will you comfort her?
or just run
because of fright?
What if fishes fly?
or birds swim?
Would you think you're daydreaming
When you're damn awake and wandering?
What if the government takes charge,
help the poor or feed the hungry?
Will our country finally escape
from the undying poverty?
And what if my pen
stops writing for a moment?
Can I finish this poem?
Will you be able to read this?
Ang Manunulat
by: Yosef Hipolito
Dakilang manunulat
Silaý instrumento nating lahat
Upang tayo ay mamulat
Sa mga balitang kumakalat.
Silaý dapat gantimpalaan
ng ating lipunan
dahil silaý nakatutulong sa
ating araw-araw na talastasan.
Nandiyan sina Plaridel, Taga-ilog at Pingkian
na sumulat ng mga nag-aalab
n pahayagang tumuligsa
sa mga dayuhan.
Sulat dito, sulat doon
ang kanilang husay ay naroroon
Ngayon man o noon
Silaý maaasahan sa paglipas ng panahon
Mnunulat ng komiks man o aklat
silaý bumabanat,
hindi lang para magkalat
kundi para na rin tayo ay mamulat.
If Only
by: Fernando Dionisio
I can't help but see myself
looking unto you
Wondering what you're thinking
Am I the one you're dreaming?
I can't help myself from falling in love
with somebody like you
Do I have a chance if I tell you this?
"I love you since I met you."
Every night when I'm about to sleep
I pray to God
that somewhere, somehow
There will be "you and I"
Hoping...
But the reality is...
You and I will never be
You're not here beside me
You're with someone else.
If only...
Tulay (3rd)
by: Jobhert Pastrana
Ballpen at papel ang sandata nila
manunulat ang tawag sa kanila
Malaya tayong makapagpapahayag
sa tulong nila.
Tulay sa pagbabago
Tulay sa pagkakaisa
Tulay sa pag-unlad at
Tulay sa makabagong Pilipinas.
Mahalaga ang papel
na ginagampanan nila
Mga campus journalist
kailangan natin sila.
Broken Strings (2nd)
by: Lea Jane Rodriguez
My guitar weeps
As I strum its strings
Broken melodies
Together we sing
You'll never know
Unless we start
As I sing to the beat
of your broken heart
I was shocked at the sight
Of my bloodstained finger
The memory of your death
In my mind still lingers
Music is what you breathe
But to you, I can no longer sing with
Cry me a hymn,
And I still want to die with him
Now my life is a ruin...
I just want to say...
When I die, put my guitar in my coffin.
Kung Naging Babae L:ang Ako (1st)
by: Aldhe Cruz
Sana nakapagsusuot din ako ng mini skirt at spaghetti.
Sana katanggap-tanggap na paborito koý si Hello Kitty.
Sana panloob koý hindi brief, kundi panty.
Kung naging babae lang ako, ako sana ngayoý happy.
Hindi sana ako maiinggit sa mga umbok sa inyong dibdib.
Sana taguri nila sa akin ay hindi Adan, kundi Eve.
Sana akoý sa bahay lang at hindi nag-iigib.
Kung naging babae lang ako, sa girl sana akoý aanib.
Sana mapaglalaban ko ang pagmamahalan namin ni Rocco.
Sana hindi ako inuutusan ni tatay na umakyat ng buko.
Sana katawan koý balingkinitan, hindi barako.
Sana...kung naging babae lang ako.
by: Lea Jane Rodriguez
My guitar weeps
As I strum its strings
Broken melodies
Together we sing
You'll never know
Unless we start
As I sing to the beat
of your broken heart
I was shocked at the sight
Of my bloodstained finger
The memory of your death
In my mind still lingers
Music is what you breathe
But to you, I can no longer sing with
Cry me a hymn,
And I still want to die with him
Now my life is a ruin...
I just want to say...
When I die, put my guitar in my coffin.
Kung Naging Babae L:ang Ako (1st)
by: Aldhe Cruz
Sana nakapagsusuot din ako ng mini skirt at spaghetti.
Sana katanggap-tanggap na paborito koý si Hello Kitty.
Sana panloob koý hindi brief, kundi panty.
Kung naging babae lang ako, ako sana ngayoý happy.
Hindi sana ako maiinggit sa mga umbok sa inyong dibdib.
Sana taguri nila sa akin ay hindi Adan, kundi Eve.
Sana akoý sa bahay lang at hindi nag-iigib.
Kung naging babae lang ako, sa girl sana akoý aanib.
Sana mapaglalaban ko ang pagmamahalan namin ni Rocco.
Sana hindi ako inuutusan ni tatay na umakyat ng buko.
Sana katawan koý balingkinitan, hindi barako.
Sana...kung naging babae lang ako.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Missing You
April 6, after almost 2 years, I set foot again to my Alma Mater and to the office of the publication, The Soil Tiller that served as my home in my entire college life. I was just invited to be one of the interviewer to determine who will be the next editorial board by their Editor-in-Chief Sarah Mae Palaca and their adviser Ms. Imee Esguerra, the EIC of our batch. When I was already there I got the same feeling that I always felt whenever I'm in the pub office, (hindi yung parang feeling na may moomoo....) I, was happy I'm home. I realized then how much I miss the old times, the days... no, the years I've spent with the pub and with the most amazing, wonderful, brilliant, talented, and crazy but funny individuals. (Pusa, dapat 'pag nagkita-kita ulit ilibre nila ko ang daming adjectives non ah!)
Four years in the paper...ahhh...it was meaningful and very memorable.Being a journalist is my dream and TST made it come true. I'm proud I served many students and made a difference. I can't help but feel nostalgic about it.
I miss the overnight press work and most of the time it becomes over overnight. I miss the thrill of writing articles and editing to beat the deadline kahit madalas hindi naman nabibeat. I miss the memo of Rommel (EIC, a.y. 2007-2008) when our articles were late. I miss how we insult each other and yet we never get offended, we just laughed. I miss the balahuraan, kulitan, okrayan, asaran at tawanan during midnight wherein nagsisimula na kaming sapian ng pagkabangag ng antok. I miss the cramming and adrenalin rush of thinking what would be the cover of our magazine issue. I miss missing the class or a quiz to cover the latest news and happenings inside and out of the campus.
I miss the ginisang corned beef na may patatas na nalulunod sa sabaw and the rice na matigas kasi hilaw pa. I miss the boodle fight during acquaintance and Christmas party...the food...mmmm...sarap! Nilagang talong at sitaw na may sawsawang buro na 'di ko kinakain, fishball, kikiam, inihaw na tilapia, spaghetti...paghalu-haluin...perfect! That's our malinamnam na hapunan na may katas pa ng kamay ng mga di naghugas, 'yung sawsawan na lang ng fishball ang pinaghugasan. Hahaha! Yummy!
I miss Nana Bebe, utangan namin ng food and snacks whenever we lacked budget. I miss the tilapia of Ma'am Mae (super concern samin yun eh hehe). I miss Manong Guard who always checked us if we have a permit for overnight and reminding us to minimize our noise. I miss Ate Aida, our publisher who annually gave us memo pad and fast drafting the copy of our issue. I miss looking for Ma'am Malou, our adviser, and finding out that she's asleep. (Love you, ma'am.) I miss the footsteps upstairs that we hear at around midnight or three o'clock in the morning and we all know that nobody's there. (Hehe!)
But most of all, I miss the people that I've been with through the ups and downs in the paper. I miss how we stand and fight for the welfare of the students. I miss our brainstorming to balance issues and let them know the truth. I miss the people who strikes their eyebrows to us but still we managed to prove to them what freedom of the press is.
I learned a lot from the publication and I'm so thankful that I've been part of the TST. What I learned and experienced in the school paper is more than what the four corners of the classroom taught me... for it is beyond theories. Blood is my ink. Ink is my blood.
Four years in the paper...ahhh...it was meaningful and very memorable.Being a journalist is my dream and TST made it come true. I'm proud I served many students and made a difference. I can't help but feel nostalgic about it.
I miss the overnight press work and most of the time it becomes over overnight. I miss the thrill of writing articles and editing to beat the deadline kahit madalas hindi naman nabibeat. I miss the memo of Rommel (EIC, a.y. 2007-2008) when our articles were late. I miss how we insult each other and yet we never get offended, we just laughed. I miss the balahuraan, kulitan, okrayan, asaran at tawanan during midnight wherein nagsisimula na kaming sapian ng pagkabangag ng antok. I miss the cramming and adrenalin rush of thinking what would be the cover of our magazine issue. I miss missing the class or a quiz to cover the latest news and happenings inside and out of the campus.
I miss the ginisang corned beef na may patatas na nalulunod sa sabaw and the rice na matigas kasi hilaw pa. I miss the boodle fight during acquaintance and Christmas party...the food...mmmm...sarap! Nilagang talong at sitaw na may sawsawang buro na 'di ko kinakain, fishball, kikiam, inihaw na tilapia, spaghetti...paghalu-haluin...perfect! That's our malinamnam na hapunan na may katas pa ng kamay ng mga di naghugas, 'yung sawsawan na lang ng fishball ang pinaghugasan. Hahaha! Yummy!
I miss Nana Bebe, utangan namin ng food and snacks whenever we lacked budget. I miss the tilapia of Ma'am Mae (super concern samin yun eh hehe). I miss Manong Guard who always checked us if we have a permit for overnight and reminding us to minimize our noise. I miss Ate Aida, our publisher who annually gave us memo pad and fast drafting the copy of our issue. I miss looking for Ma'am Malou, our adviser, and finding out that she's asleep. (Love you, ma'am.) I miss the footsteps upstairs that we hear at around midnight or three o'clock in the morning and we all know that nobody's there. (Hehe!)
But most of all, I miss the people that I've been with through the ups and downs in the paper. I miss how we stand and fight for the welfare of the students. I miss our brainstorming to balance issues and let them know the truth. I miss the people who strikes their eyebrows to us but still we managed to prove to them what freedom of the press is.
I learned a lot from the publication and I'm so thankful that I've been part of the TST. What I learned and experienced in the school paper is more than what the four corners of the classroom taught me... for it is beyond theories. Blood is my ink. Ink is my blood.
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