Rhymes of PEG (meaning Poetry Expression Group), a community of writers and artists, held a “Poems in Print” Exhibit at Kapihan Café in Legazpi City, Albay from April 27 to May 11, 2024 (extended through May 18, 2024).
A celebration of local poetry
Featuring poetry pieces by local writers, the exhibit aims to celebrate poetry just in time for National Poetry Month, which occurs every April. It also aims to showcase and highlight the works of poets, regardless of their native language, and to present them together in an exhibit for many people to read and appreciate. It’s like achieving the best of both worlds when art meets poetry and combines them into one masterpiece.
“We have seen paintings displayed in exhibits. We have read poems published in books. But we haven’t yet seen an exhibit that displays poems, and that would be an artistic fusion that we want people to witness,” said Lorena Gaveria, Albay-based poet, writer, publisher of Pain and Poesy, a zine, and an active member of Rhymes of PEG.
Lastly, the exhibit hopes to provide an avenue for literary arts enthusiasts to come together and strengthen the pillars of local literature. For Jessa Erandio, book author and Rhymes of PEG’s representative, “We all have to start from somewhere and promote our advocacy to make more people appreciate poetry and art in general. We want to begin with Bicol, one of the few provinces that values art and conducts initiatives for local creatives. So, this month, our Poems in Print Exhibit is in the Bicol region. Who knows, maybe your place is our next destination.” Jessa Erandio and Lorena Gaveria are co-authors of the book, “Bluer than Blue,” about all kinds of love with no happy endings.
These were the submitted poems…
A Stone’s Throw | Yel M. Grageda
Cast off…
Ripples, far and wide
As the pebble treads
Lightly, as the child sleeps
It weeps
Under tides of doubt
Clouded, beyond tranquil shores
The pebble treads
Deeply, as the thunder grows
It flows
Ripe as the summer glow
Ripples, on mute fabric
Ripped apart, torn, frantic
It sinks
Flightless, as a bird of
Prayer floating down above
Up below, a fading light
Kneeling into black
The pebble sleeps.
I am a poet, of course
this isn’t about a pebble.
Ang Panulat at Ako | Razchech Aycardo
Sa aking paglalayag, nahanap kita
Papel at panulat, sandatang panlaban.
Una pala’y mahirap ang paghabi
Ng mga salitang nais mong sabihin,
Hindi naman maproseso, ngunit tila ba’y magulo—
‘Yung tipong, para kang nangangapa sa dilim
Walang katiyakang magkaroon ng liwanag upang tahakin ang paligid;
Ang buhay ay hindi palaging makulay at masaya,
May mga oras na ‘di sasang-ayon ang tadhana
Madadapa’t masusugatan, minsa’y paulit-ulit nalang
Mga salita ay kusang nawawala, ‘di mahagilap
Nabablanko ang utak, ‘di makakibo
‘Di ko na alam kung papaano mailahad ang damdamin ko
Pagod lang ata ito?
Pero teka, ‘di susundin ang mga salitang nagsasabing, “sumuko ka na”
Bakit? Sa papaanong paraan?
Marami pa kasing mga dahilan para lumaban;
Ni hindi pa nga nababasa ng mundo
Ang mga salita ko,
Patuloy mang tangayin ng mga alon—
‘Di matitinag
Idadaan ko nalang sa salita
Ang nararamdaman ng damdamin.
Ano Ang Tula? | RV Joaquin (balrogEX)
ano ba ang tula para sa akin?
ang tula ay isang ilaw.
nagbibigay ng tanglaw sa ibang kamalayan
pinupukaw nito ang kanilang paguunawa
at ang bawat salita nito'y sumisinag
sa may-akda na kanyang pagkatao't saloobin
ang tula ay isang saloobin.
nagsisilbi ko syang kakampi't sandalan
sa pamamagitan ng pagkatha,
lakas-loob nyang naihahayag
ang nilalaman ng damdamin
at pagpapahiwatig ng kalayaan
ang tula ay isang kalayaan.
walang tama, walang mali...
sadyang kalayaan lamang
lahat ay walang hangganan
hangga't kinukumpas ng damdami't isipan
at ito ang nagdadala sa kanyang pagkasining
ang tula ay isang sining.
dahil nga sa kalayaan, malaya tayong magbulalas
kahit nakakubli man ang kanyang totoong aral o paksa,
pinapaganda natin ang diwa ng katha
at dinadala nya tayo sa kanyang "daigdig"
dito'y masasabi nating mayroon syang buhay
ang tula ay buhay.
sa aking pagkatha, ako'y naghahayag
sa aking pagkatha, ako'y umaawit
sa aking pagkatha, ako'y gumigiting
sa aking pagkatha, ako'y humahanga
sa aking pagkatha, ako'y umiibig
sa aking pagkatha, ako'y lumuluha
sa aking pagkatha, ako'y umaahon
sa aking pagkatha, ako'y humihilom
sa aking pagkatha, ako'y nabubuhay...
Di ka Pasisiil | Jeffrey Pangibitan
Dumanak ang dugo sa tinubuang lupa, ang dating luntia’y naging ilog na pula.
Ang bayan ko’y tigib ng hapis at dusa.
Sinong magtatanggol ng buong puso’t may kusa,
Kung nakapinid ang tabing , na tigmak ng dugo’t pawis at luha.
Paminggalan ay payak, sa ulam at kanin ay hikahos ,
Sariling lupa’y nakasangla bakit kayhirap matubos.
Kong titignan ay marangal ngunit tinuring na busabos,
Isang tumpok na pag-unlad sa palengke ng dahas,
ang bayong ng pag-asa’y napigtal at butas,
yaring tanglaw na kandila’y dahan-dahang nautas.
Kaya sa pagkakataong ito ay huwag nating biguin ang mga nauna sa atin,
Ipamalas ang angking dunong at tapang sa mabuting mithiin.
Huwag nating hayaan na maulit pa ang nakaraan na tayo’y pinagtaksilan at inalipin,
Sapagkat kailanman hindi natatalo ang isang Pilipino na tapat sa Inang bayan at sa kaniyang tungkulin.
Lagi nating pakatandaan na mas mahalaga ang pag-ibig natin sa Inang bayan,
ngunit huwag kalimutan ang laman ng isang kasabihan.
Aanhin mo ang kalayaan ng mga tinatapakan
kung bukas ay sila naman ang siyang maghahari-harian.
Gayunpaman, tanggapin natin ang ating sasapitin sa ngalan ng pag-ibig o anupaman.
Bilang pagpupugay sa mga bayaning nag sakripisyo mabuhay lamang tayo ng may laya at saya,
Nawa’y huwag nating hayaang masayang ang lahat ng kanilang pagsisikap at mga ginawa,
ganundin ang kanilang alaala.
Hindi na lingid sa atin na may malaking pagkakamali ang nakaraan,
Kaya, ang tanging magagawa na lamang natin ay itama ito sa kasalukuyan nang buong puso’t katapatan.
Upang ang kinabukasan ng mga susunod na henerasyon ay may mabuting kahinatnan,
Maging karapatdapat nawa tayo sa bansang Pilipinas
para sa ating mga dakilang bayani na naghandog sa atin ng kalayaan.
Echoes of the Soul: A Poet’s Odyssey | Becca (Rebecca Co)
In words, I find my essence true,
A symphony of thoughts, a kaleidoscope hue.
Through poetry's lens, I see the world unfold,
Emotions unfurl, stories untold.
With each verse penned, I bare my soul,
A journey inward, to make me whole.
In rhythm and rhyme, I find release,
A canvas of words, where emotions cease.
From heartache's depths to joyous heights,
Poetry captures life's vivid lights.
It molds my pain into beauty's mold,
Transforming scars into stories bold.
Through stanzas crafted, I navigate,
The twists and turns of fate.
In every line, a piece of me,
A testament to my humanity.
So let the words flow, like rivers free,
A testament to what it means to be.
For poetry, in its purest form,
Is the heartbeat of the human norm.
Enchanting Poetry | Gandalang
Poets write ideas as dancing suns
Guiding through darkness like beacons shine.
With hands marked by ink, they work to preserve,
The sanctity of written lines and verse
In midst of chaos, their craft takes flight,
Each verse a melody, born from the light.
Through sung sonnets and spun ballads true,
They uphold poetry, ever anew.
The poet sparked with imagination
That swirled around in different dimensions.
Their pens move in dance, with rhythm’s embrace,
Breathing life to words, eternal in space.
Within each verse, worlds unfurl wide,
Where dreams soar high and truths abide.
With every rhyme, they push to thrive,
To keep poetry's essence alive.
Let's cherish this art, timeless and grand,
Let it resonate within every mind.
For within its lines, forever we'll see,
Beauty of life, enchanting poetry.
I am a poet, of course… | Jennifer Lauren Olaso
I am a poet, of course, and I love writing poems and stories. I used to dream when I was thirteen years old. Since I was an outcast or a high school loner who used to stay in the library during lunchtime. I loved to read books and newspapers. I have no other best friends since my classmates hated me. But I have one imaginary best friend who taught me how to write, and my only noontime inspiration when used to make a beautiful story remained unfinished and perished for a long time. Just like a piece of life for me as now an adult. All of my failures, losses, and heartbreaks that made my dreams and youthful writing aspirations fall. I was taking a rest for a while. I deleted my Facebook and other old social media accounts for good. I started studying the Bible after attending three events in April 2018. I hated my false friends, but I forgave them. I learned a lot of lessons and many times of losing my loved ones. I was cut off from my toxic relatives from my Mom's side because of my traumas and betrayals. I believe money is the main reason why my whole family and I were suffering. I also hated my fake mother, but the real one I knew was dead. So I write stories and poems about my life and never forget. I lost my old, youthful dreams, but my writing essential never dies. My poems are mightier than weapons because I fight and trust the heart of a poet as God's gift and thank him. I am a poet, of course, because I write for my love and life!
I’m a poet, of course, I give hope | Danna E. Garbida
I’m a poet, of course I give hope
written in lines and verses,
because all I wish is for you to constantly fight your silent battles.
So, in poetry, I say,
“go out in the wilderness
face the art of brokenness,
for there’s a wagon of life that awaits
in every sunrise and sunsets
its hue gives life, and winds wipe up tears.
as words hug longing arms
and as landscape listens
to every pain that bleeds
and souls that grieves.
you’re not alone facing dark shadows.
you lost yet remember you’ve won.
you fail yet remember you’ve learned.
you fall yet remember you’ve risen.
and I hope when the night comes,
remember that His grace lights up
for He always loves us.
I not I | Ramil Abellon
I not I
nor "I" is you.
I am a word
stored in a hoard
I have lots of hue,
but what I love is blue.
It drives me to be me
a word, not man, of poetry.
Don't be misled
when I said blue, something is shed.
Analogy it is is
'cause take note, I am poetry's mistress.
When knowing me
take with you patience
'cause sometimes I am reticent.
I'd rather sigh
no cry
than tell a lie.
Again, I not I
nor a poem.
But I am a poet.
In and out | Justine Morales
poetry, in and out of itself, mends
the brokenness and keeps
the wholeness of one's soul
a miracle, in times myself is
in and of out mYseLf
Kalawakan | Trisha A. Bitara
Sa pagkakadapa at sa muling pagbangon
Sa paglubog ng araw at sa pagbukang-liwayway
Sa pagtubo at paglagas ng mga dahon -
Ito ang tanging nanatili at umagapay.
Sa pagsasatitik ng mga damdaming bumubugso
Sa pagragasa ng galit, takot, luha, o lungkot
Lunurin man ako ng mga along nakapanlulumo
Ito ang salbabidang umahon sa akin sa pagkakalubog.
Gamit ang blangkong papel na ipapatong sa lamesa
Daramputin ng mga daliri ang lumang pluma
Isusulat ang mga letrang bubuo sa mga talatang -
Siyang maghahayag ng mga nakakubling sapantaha.
Tulad ng angklang nagpapatatag sa pagtigil at paglayag
Natuto akong huwag magpatangay sa mga daluyong.
Nagsilbi ring kumpas na nagtuturo ng daang mapagpalayang lubos
Nang makamtan ng puso ang liwanag at direksyong naaayon.
Instrumentong higit pa sa pagpapahayag ang kabuluhan —
Ito ang tahanan, kanlungan, kakampi, at uwian.
Binigyang lalim at pag-unawa ang samu't saring karanasan —
Sa panulaan natagpuan ang kahulugan ng buong kalawakan.
Lost At 24 | John Michael Misolas
life of a wasted potential
clinging to the words
scribbled on blank spaces.
there's a war within myself,
equipped with nothing
but a stylus and a dream.
unhinged emotions,
trapped in papers.
'twas never been uttered even one bit.
scared of writing stanzas,
fear of getting burned
and crucified as the villain.
thorned scales and wings,
chained up in the dark.
then, found solace for a moment.
trenches of mariana,
inked to nothing.
my soul's deeply sunken all this time.
Once A Poet | Unknownymouself_
I'm a poet of course
My poems are stories of silent battles I chose to hide.
Silent voices inside my head that through words I gave it a life.
Writing to me, is to mend the catastrophic pieces of one's heart
I write because it is the only way for me to cope.
It's my way to endure because I believe that you can turn brokenness into art.
Somewhere down the road, maybe my words can give someone the courage to live.
Soft hands that will tap their shoulders to go on, and their hope will be anchored deep.
So when I fade into the Oblivion, and my name is forgotten.
I hope through my words I'll be remembered;
keeping poetry alive, because through rhymes,
My story is fully written.
Paghilom | Ian Llaneta
Nagagamot din pala ng mga salita ang malalalim na sugat
Simula nang maging makata at tutukang magsulat
Pinaubaya na sa tula ang lagay nitong mga pilat
Tandang-tanda ko pa noong dumating ka at ako'y isalba
Habang naghahanap ng lunas sa lumalalang pangamba
Doon kita natagpuan, sa gitna ng saradong mga botika
Ako itong paboritong pasyente ng iyong papel at pluma
Mula sa pag-ibig, sa pangarap, at maging sa pagtanda
Nasaksihan mo akong mabigo, madapa, at manghina
Sa'yo ko ipinagkatiwala ang masasakit na kwento't ala-ala
Sa'yong tinta isinusugod ang pamumutla't kawalan ng pag-sa
Sa'yong pahina pinatutuyo ang mga luha't pinahuhupa
Ganito ko na pinipiling magpagaling ngayon
Pagbuo ng tula ang paraan ng pagbangon
Mabagal, tahimik ngunit totoong paghilom
pahina at tinta | Alyza Amor
Matagal na simula nung huling sulat ko
Sinubukan ko lang bumalik ng paunti-unti,
Nakita ko kasing muli ang lumang notebook
Ginamit ko na rin ang ballpen na napulot ko
May naisulat naman, pero ewan mapurol ang tinta
Baka dahil sumuka nung nakaraan 'tong napulot kong ballpen,
Nakapanghihina na ang totoo'y wala talaga 'kong maisulat
Inabot ko nalang ang selpon at doon nagtitipa
Kalauna'y sumabog nalang lahat ng emosyon
Reyalisasyon na kaya ko pa rin naman palang sumulat
Kahit maubos pa ang tinta ng ballpen pati ang mga pahina ng papel
Buhay pa rin pala ang panulaan sa aking kalooban
Sa katunayan akala ko'y matagal na ako nitong nilisan
Hindi lang pala makalabas ang mga salita sa sobrang dami
Isa pa 'di rin kasi malinaw ang takbo ng aking isipan
Sa katunayan magtagal ko ng gustong magsulat muli—
Nawala lang talaga ang kumpyansa ko sa'kin
Tila bawat letrang maisulat ay kalaban na sumusugat
Sa huli anumang uri ng ramdamin ito’y aangkinin
Babalik sa pagsulat ng buo ang kalooban kahit na hinamak ng pahina at tinta
Poetry for me… | JAKE
Poetry for me is...
an escape to reality.
Sometimes, I wonder what it's like
to be in someone's world
Poetry for me is...
a voice in my mind
There are words that I cannot say
but I can write through poetry
Poetry for me is...
the stories shared from the people
I met in this lifetime and
allowed me to share their stories
Poetry for me is...
my letters to the people I love
I want to share the world
how much I love them
Poetry for me is...
my teacher
It will always be a continuous learning
of listening and writing
Poetry for me is…
my sanctuary.
Despite of my imperfections, worries, and
it will always be my safe place.
Poetry is Life | Maki (Mark Edison Camacho)
I’m a poet of course… I am not afraid to die,
I just find no reason as to why
They’re so scared to be in deathbed.
I will live as long as someone will read.
I’m gonna leave an imprint,
No one would ever forget.
I’ll make sure I get remembered
My name will be on every poem you’ll read
I’m a poet of course… I like to lie
Yes indeed, I just lied on the first line
I really am scared about death
I’m afraid of the day I’ll draw my last breath
But what I’m more scared of is being forgotten
After I walk towards the trodden path to heaven
I’m not afraid to put my thoughts into writing.
I want to leave something worth remembering
I’m a poet. Of course, I’ll continue to exist as long as there is poetry.
Rimuranon | Jaime Jesus Borlagdan
Mas maray pa an masinghot ki rimuranon
kaysa magdangog sa tawong paralibakon.
An rimuranon, lawas sana kaya gadanon.
An tataramon kan paralibak hudong
na itanom sa saimong pinakairarom.
Minatambong tinanom na matunukon.
Daing ibang bunga buda ogma
kundi magpalakop ki sakit buda diklom.
It’s better to be bitten by a snake
than listen to a backbiter
Snake venom can only kill your body
The backbiter’s word is poison
planted deep within you
It sprouts as a plant full of thorns
and bears no fruit and joy
but to spread pain and gloom.
Sailing in Poetic Sea | Abby Ruth Labja
Dissolving into a sea of thoughts, I set sail.
On an expedition where words are unfurl and prevail.
Every line is a wind directing my pen's course.
Sailing through the depths of emotion without remorse.
Like a captain traversing uncharted seas,
I am exploring rhythms with practiced ease.
Meter and rhyme, the stars in my sky,
Guiding me forward as the time passes by.
This ocean of language feels like my home.
Where waves of expression freely roam.
In each stanza, another horizon appears.
As I sail through waters of my hopes and fears.
Therefore, let the wind of inspiration blow.
While I undertake this poetic show,
Writing poetry is like sailing to me.
A voyage full of adventure, wild and ..
Someone and Poetry | Michelle M. Lozañes
Do you love poetry?
Do you understand every unspoken line that nobody can see?
Do you read between the lines and not take it literally?
Do you hear music in my heart even if I keep it inside of me?
If you love poetry, you are wider than the sea
If you understand poetry, I want you as my company
If you read poetry I want to be a part of your journey
If your heart is into poetry, please introduce yourself to me.
I need to have someone who would listen to me
I need to have someone who could understand me with glee
I need to have someone to share how life is supposed to be
I need to have someone to express how to make me feel free.
SYMPTOMS OF A POEM | lore
the suffocating silence at dawn. the pulsating noise of mind. cracking knuckles until they're pale. loose grips and gritted teeth. body grieving. intoxicated breaths. tears yearning. long phone calls metamorphosing into voicemails. the underlying cause of unseen messages. empty room and bare skin. progressing grief. lights flickering. an untouched plate of cold food. mouth dry in the absence of words. cowardice waltzing into chronic greed. a half-empty bottle of truth. the lungs accumulating sins. bones sinking into rotten flesh. sinner unbecoming. the daylight eyes that only see the haunting. regrets in the bloodstream. heavy footsteps on the pavement. conspiracy theories about being held. what feels tender and why it aches. recurring sighs and a throbbing chest. the incurable desire to keep wanting. everything that is never meant to stay.
The Cardigan’s Tale | H A S P E R
Like a thief, they snatched my unsuspecting heart out of the closet
Wrapping it around their aching body and fancy imagination
Until they found a new sweater to keep them company for the night
I collected the worn-out piece as if it was my only prized possession
Delicately stitched them back into a cardigan of unpoetic poetry
Until another hand grabbed it from the pile of used clothing
One scratch got me scarred, another twist distorted my perceptions
Every hem and fabric that was shredded left me nothing at all
Still I hid the remaining threads that were scattered on the floor
Mending them piece by piece into a weave of literary narratives
A tapestry of memories that would haunt me forever in my sleep
For letting my heart out of the closet
Untitled | Charm Solis
Ano nga ba ang tula para sa akin?
Ang tula ay parang musika,
Dahil ang nilalaman ng aking isip ay syang melody ko
Minsan dumadagdag pa ang aking imahinasyon bilang aking tempo
Pero syempre hindi magpapatalo ang nilalaman ng puso ko
Dahil ito ang nagsisilbing kumpas ko.
Katulad nina Dr.Jose Rizal at Balagtas
Kanilang mga damdamin ay dinaraan sa tula
Parang ako nakaka pagsulat ng tula pag ako’y masaya
Lalo na’t pag ang damdamin ko’y hindi maipabatid
Ililihim para hindi masaktan at makasakit
Ngunit minsan ay hindi mapigilan.
Sadyang sa iba ito ay lipas na
Ngunit para sa akin ito’y paglaya ng isang damdamin
Ni hindi ka titignan sa kulay, estado ng buhay o ano man ang iyong kasarian
Dahil kahit sino man walang karapatan para ika'y husgahan
Kaya masasabi ko isa akong makata at ipinag mamalaki ko na
isa akong Filipino.
Untitled | Rhoda Senpai
Being a poet is nothing but twisting yourself in your own miseries. It is piercing at your open wounds to make sure the blood never stops bleeding. It is making out scenarios in your head over and over until dawn breaks and another sleepless night has died. It is wallowing in your tears of regret and savoring the pangs of what ifs. Being a poet is nothing but bearing a thousand deaths, an endless cycle of wretchedness.
Weekends in Legazpi | Janelle Tanguin
The poem is the cup of coffee you don’t drink,
but your friends do. The half-eaten cheesecake.
Your cheeks ache from laughing all afternoon.
Six bean brown eyes to watch the sunset,
two mouths to say goodbye to you.
There’s only one way home
and you have to go,
but you promise,
you’ll see them again soon.
When love is genuine and true | Wynonna
When love is genuine and true,
it brings immeasurable delight
when your lips curved warmly,
you bear a kaleidoscopic gaze
when your eyes meet mine,
you paint my day, and my soul
when every stroke of your palm caresses,
you sing melodious song to my ears
when you whisper and call my name,
these unfathomable affections of yours
every time, I swear I’ll revere,
every thing I do resonates my yearning,
every memory of you and me,
and of the words I hold dear,
of you whom I truly admire,
for you who were never mine,
the beginning and the end of my love
shall only live
in this poem of mine
Note: Poem can be read in reverse.
Where Words Collide | Pearl G.
When there's no more shoulder to cry on,
no tears to find,
and voices to whisper,
let poetry's pen and paper,
take its own course.
From your heart to hands,
May unplanned words unfold,
May their verses finally be told
On the canvas of thoughts, let them flow.
The silent friend,
Where words beyond compare,
Where unspoken thoughts effortlessly bend,
An embrace for souls, in despair.
So when the world stops,
let your whispers drop,
let poetry's quill,
Embrace your heart's will.
You, a Stimulus | Anthony Shieh
Your essence, a poetry in the making,
You, the spur behind my writing,
A kindling of why words keep flowing.
Your eyes, a genesis, deep and far-reaching,
Your mind, cosmos, vast and expanding.
You are the poetry,
Through your being, its root gives glory.
Through reading, its life force ignites a flame so fiery.
One absorbs, one infuses, its core reveals a truth so weighty.
You share, its lifeblood finds its way to a heart so weary.
In you, Poetry’s dignity finds its reflection.
I pen unending words, my heart's dedication.
I spill words with infinite devotion.
I craft words to succor your life's direction.
I desire to inflame your passion’s motion.
For life is brief, words are forever.
You, a poet or student of poetry, gloom under the sun's glare.
Let words bloom in countless orchards afar.
Let words endure, their perpetuity secure.