A poetic sigh

by Marlon Viloria

The image is a poem written by my 8-year old nephew that won him a poetry competition at his school, which also formed the basis of this essay. Yes I got that right, an 8 years old kid with a budding creativity in English literature, beating his peers fairly and squarely. In addition to this developing skill, his good grasp of mathematics is also now evident, as well as a promising pianist in the making. In a manner of speaking, he has an all-round ability in academic and extra curricular activities, including sports and if I may also add, keen interest in playing electronic games like Xbox, Nintendo, etc. just like any other kid (or adult) who enjoys such kind of entertainment too.

My Family

by Mabes Luczon
(as published 4 years ago in MVP)

A group, a cousin, or just a friend
Doesn’t matter which they are as long as they defend
And accept the person you truly are,
Like you are part of their family, someone whom they love, their shining star

Amanda, Benito, and Shieryl Luczon
Are three people I have loved since the day I was born
Three people who show the meaning of love and respect
Two words I will never forget and never neglect
For they show love and respect every single day
By simply dropping me to work or calling my cell to see if I am okay
Three wonderful people to whom I want to say,
“I love you, very much” every single day
And every single day is a challenge to overcome
Part of life’s great mysteries to help you blossom
Into a strong person, one who perseveres
Through a test called life to which we must adhere
And who better to overcome challenges with
Than a loving cousin and a best friend
Two girls I have grown up with, two girls I can depend
On being my two shoulders when I need to cry
Two girls who will never let me down and never deny
Our friendship, which has lasted for as long as twelve years
Christine and Angelica, trustworthy and sincere

A mother, a father, a sister, a cousin and best friend
Are all part of my family because they defend
And accept me for who I truly am,
Their daughter, sister, cousin and friend till the end

THE GRAVE AND YOUR POLLEN DUST

by Alex Chan
(as published 3 years ago in MVP)

una carta para reponsder el ultimo poema de Dr. Jose Rizal -  “mi ultimo adiós”.

I have heard of your last good bye a long time gone.

I stand alone now carrying a sack behind me, barefooted, eyes swollen from the tiredness of my journey.  I came back from the fiesta where people enjoyed their cerveza that finished with the noise of the ancient fireworks.

When was it the last time, I saw your grave, of people calling your name, of your greatness and your travels, of telling us not to forget, yet now I search for your grave, thinking about all the scars, the tiredness, the fear, and the happiness I longed for my soul.

Once, I gained all the silver in the world and lost them all.  I had worn a suit most gentlemen would admire and of young ladies would lay before me for I had the breeding, a pedigree of prejudice judged and perfected by society. But now, I lost them all and I have nothing to offer you.

We followed you and traced the travels of your youth; we have spoken languages far more than anybody else could.  We have learned cultures that enriched us so much more than before.

But when I look at the mirror, I can hardly see myself as I am surrounded by the fog and the light that you often mentioned that should greet us every morning.  It never greeted us.