Depth of Field
by Tammy Sulit
The picturesque visual blurring at the background
Will have its moment to own;
When focus is not anymore spotted
At the apple of the eye alone.
Beauty can wait for time,
Since true of its kind is priceless;
When the apple of the eye is gone,
Still real beauty remains endless.
Human eyes view err,
Capturing shallow subjects;
But when art is stitched to the soul,
You’ll know the beauty which has value like gold.
by Mujel Hasan
Seven thousand and a hundred plus islands,
Floating like emeralds on seas and oceans;
Conquerors saw our abundance,
But our heroes never abandon our lands!
Our roots spring from the Malayans,
Inherently mystique and unique;
United by strong spirits that stick,
One soul in words, minds, and deeds!
My land is a haven for all,
Though mired by abusive political structure;
And dampened sometimes by the wrath of nature,
Yet, smiling, rising up and standing tall!
I may work and stay in far off places,
Where my fantasy chases;
However hard, reasonless, and offhand,
I still return, in the end, to my homeland!
by GAP Gutierrez
I once wore the coat and arms
of pride and flame.
I fought wars.
Against my enemies.
Someone else’s war.
And even with my own self.
Now, I just take the spits and blows with a shrug and smile.
The truth is… I’m tired and spent.
I let go of my identity.
And drowned in the mainstream.
I remember, before, I knew my own handwriting.
But “A” is for “Apple”.
We don’t produce apples.
So I did the logical thing to do.
I changed how I write my word.
Electric gossip and melodrama help me speed up the time.
Everything is moving fast. I don’t have time to think for myself.
Hell! I don’t even have time to think about my thoughts.
Thinking will only bring the demons from the trenches.
I am a patriot and a sell-out.
My being was a fragment of everyone’s soul.
Stitched together by my will.
To survive but not to live.
I spend my liberty.
Like it will never exhaust.
My First Poem
by Ellen Alliah Tabaya (LenzKie)
I’m the one,
I always stand;
the pen in my hand
is writing into sand.
The first time
too short a poem,
I added some words,
let you right my work.
It’s not easy to reckon,
for me, everything seems
hard because of you,
I made a poem
Time to keep
writing my heart
for my next poem,
So you can say:
Yes, you did it!
Published: TFM-The Filipino Magazine in Kuwait. Kuwait: Alpha Solutions Advertising, February 2014. p. 21.