Now/here no/where woman

One last, in case you aren't already tired of all these pine-scented rengas. This one was started by Alfred Yuson: Revive the scent of pine A scent of love and life The pine's scent, mundane yet surreal The scent covered by buildings Yes revive, revive the conforting fragrance of years gone past Pillars of spirit feed the spring Let the trees contort Joyce Kilmer into spring Misty pines, shadowless Rise up once more and embrace us With your warmth, with your protection Live, O Great Pine Much more than a tree It's this mountain's spirit. Contributors: Arci, Charity, Chinee Palatino, Bianca Santos, Karla Delgado, Frank Cimatu, Rishab Tibon, and Peter, who wrote two stanzas instead of just three lines.

This one begins with a line from Ed Maranan: (Hoy Nash, kilala ka daw nya.) the short fuse sputters, the days are dire but still my hunger for learning's desire and thirst for drops from the skies to clear heaps of grey, hurry to the west! lean fields of silenced myths grow desire For mists in the middle of the day, despite the sun. despite the moon, it's dry in the middle of the night. The contributors: Justine Jovero, Jette Dumpayan, Freda Dao-ines, Junley Lazaga, Rachel Pitlongay, Melvin Magsanoc.

This one was started by Priscilla Macansantos, mathematician, poet, Chancellor of UP Baguio: In summer I dream of water There's the bride's veil flowing in Kennon Where a dip reminds of laughter and childhood And a native lass numbly walks eyes all ablaze in the morning sun The water kisses her feet But she would rather choose to be abandoned in the sun. The contributors to this poem: Annaliza Lopez Nauyac, Melisa Therese N. Malingan-Sapdoy, Marilyn Cayabyab, Ida del Mundo, Chanelle Kim.

This one was begun by Francis Macansantos: There is only one river or one tree The words make you shiver voices that are free While spirits are laughing, And thunderbolts a-crashing The heart shuddering, that day, remembering Remembering that ring of fire Where no one knows what's low or higher I love the way you pronounce "intertextuality" Far in a land where stars are low doan How you clucked your tongue unshivers me. The contributors to this poem: Raja Shanti, Solana Perez, Mercy Hong, Frank Cimatu, and Rishab Tibon.

This one is from Marra Lanot: A scent of pine passing through the wind Just like lost loves fleeting with time Or like gentle lips that kiss the edges of my nostrils Memories spill from the cup of my thoughts, swirling away like steam A scent of pine piercing through the mist like a ghost drifting in the wind A stone drops from a tree Upwards to be free. Second to third lines are from: Baboo Mondoñedo, Solana Perez, Feliz Perez, Tann Arvisu, Raja Shanti, Kai Yulo.

This one was started by Sid Hildawa: You come to me like scent of pine Hoping to leave the armpits of Manila And expecting a feast of sun-dance picnics And inebriating spirits emerging from misty conversations. A scent I'll be, a scent of me To return again, knocking at your door To turn to fragrance the acrid score. Second to seventh lines were written by: Frank Cimatu, Merci Dulawan, Grace Subido, Rishab Tibon, Abigail Torreliza, and Junley Lazaga.

Nope, that is not a typographical error. Panagrenga it is! A celebration to rival the Panagbenga's frivolity and utter uselessness! At the poetry symposium held two weekends ago ( hardest hangover to shake off ever -- so far!), we had a renga experiment. A renga is a Japanese form of poetry in which the first three lines are composed by one person, and the next two lines are composed by another. We broke these rules of course. We asked the seven poets to start one renga each on seven sheets of paper, and we passed the sheets of paper along through the audience asking them to write a line or two each. Thankfully, we ended up with seven rengas with seven to ten lines each, instead of seven rengas with 50 lines each. (We had about 50 participants in all.) Here is the one begun by Marjorie Evasco: Pine, the word to name the tree and a longing Pine, so much more than a scent; it is our being Pine covered up by wires and walls Pine slowly enveloped by mounds of rubble Let your cool nee

Corinna came into town and left me with gifts: a conversation stretched across three days that covered the ten years we didn't see each other, laughter, news of old friends I'd lost touch with, thoughts on writing, and home-made pesto and buttered mushrooms in the fridge, and a link to a story she wrote that made my day. When everything is polluted beyond redemption, memory-evoking scents in sachets will be the new addiction.

Photo by VJP. Thank you! To Do or To Be is Done and I have decided that proximity to poets is dangerous, especially when you put at least seven of them (let alone 60) in a room. Every Thing that holds the fabric of daily life together falls away, one loose thread after another. Quotidian necessities and glad responsibilities -- the bed, the toilet, the child, the breakfast with coffee, the lover, the roof, the bulb, the oven -- cease to matter and sweet dreams of writing poetry, fiction, and single act plays attain a once-forgotten gravity. Illicit affairs and anguish become nearby possibilities and irrevocable departures no longer seem fearful. The steady plod of a life of calm, contentedness, and reason becomes untenable all over again. That was the promise of Saturday. But I refused to let go. Instead, I drank whisky and I danced. These two coupled are easy, temporary escapes. Sunday came with a hangover that was pleasurable for all it signified about the day before. Monda

Smart and Globe probably make millions a day from hundreds of thousands of text messages flying through the networks that say nothing but "YES" or "OK". What a waste of 300 alloted characters per text message, and what a waste of millions of pesos. If enough of us cellphone-dependents were to agree that 1 missed call without follow-up means YES or OK (instead of just texting 'yes' or 'ok'), we'd deprive Smart and Globe of profits they don't really deserve because when you get down to it their service sucks and they subject prepaid users to highway robbery. But even better than that, you might just save enough pesos to buy us a beer a day, and that would make us very happy :o) Spread the idea!

Poster designed by Baguio-based artist and arnis teacher, Rishab. The poet-speakers will read samples of their own works and talk about how they get their creative juices going, how they write their poems, or how the poems happen to them. TWENTY PESOS ONLY! SEATS STILL AVAILABLE. If you're interested, text the BWG number above.

Poster designed by Baguio-based artist and arnis teacher, Rishab. This came in the mail today. An open invitation from the Baguio Writers' Group to a night of good music in Baguio! It's scat time. "Jacqui Magno, known for her incredible range and versatility, is the main act in the Baguio Writers Group invitational concert “Jazz for Tonight” on Sept. 15 at 7 p.m. at the Par 7 of Baguio Country Club, South Drive, Baguio City. There is never any doubt that Jacqui is going to hit that note or weave through a trill. Taking music as an art not to be compromised, she used to be concerned with lyrics and melody. But now she has broadened her perspective, she creates music or just jams along. In the words of one journalist, “Jacqui’s style is fiercely individualistic.” Today Jacqui and jazz are practically synonymous. Mellowed by her years of search, she scatted her way into her real love: jazz. (Photo courtesy of Ms. Magno) The other pe