The Weekend

Poetry by | November 24, 2013

It seems like a lifetime
ago since I last had
the weekend all to myself.
And that includes every
Friday afternoon that went

unspent on cheap spirits,
and strangely riotous porn.
Instead, there is always
work. These days,
there is always work,

or a phone call, or a lover.
It seems like I have grown
heavier since I last enjoyed
dinner, or excessive
sleep, or a lonesome run

in the morning. Only
the alarm clock keeps
me quick on my feet
these days. Even when
I wake up on the wrong

side of the bed, I roll
out with enough patient
alertness. There are
absences I have yet
to offset as always._


Allen Samsuya is a creative writing major from the University of the Philippines Mindanao. He is not a porn star, yet.

Gravity

Poetry by | July 14, 2013

We spent our evenings afloat under the stars,
quietly drifting across auroras. This was before
you were lonely. This was before you left
for the rest of the world. Now, elsewhere

in the atmosphere, I am afraid that I too have
grown fond of gravity, of the Earth, of the down
-ward spindrift of streetlights. Love, I am fearful
that when I finally fall, I will whisper your name
far too often, far too many times until all my breath
escapes me and I disappear completely before I hit
the ground.


Allen Samsuya hails from the Creative Writing program of University of the Philippines Mindanao. He was a fellow in the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop, the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and the 50th Silliman National Writers Workshop.

Samurai

Poetry by | March 31, 2013

The professor wanted to wield a katana
many years ago. But even then, he understood
that the world has long since moved on
and that a sword is a thing of the past.
He adores olden blades that are kept undrawn
inside their scabbards. In his sleep, he dreams
of himself in battle, unsheathing a blade
that is as bare and as inconsolable as rain.
He crosses swords with a hundred warriors
in the heart of his moonless slumber. Later,
when he awakes, the professor can only
jump out of bed. Outside, the sun is vengeful
and daylight shoots through the window
like ancient arrowheads.


Allen hails from the Creative Writing program of UP Mindanao. He is a fellow of numerous regional and national workshops, and is a regular contributor to this section.

Zero Gravity

Poetry by | December 16, 2012

gravityThe astronaut is dreaming of Earth in zero gravity.

Tucked in the weightlessness of space, he free floats

across the cabin and softly bounces against the walls.
He is dreaming of old alleyways and of older nightclubs

and of the girl he left back in the city a few million miles

away. She is lovely. It is nighttime and she is looking
at the stars, wondering what it feels like to sleep alone

in the sky. It feels like it is never morning, he would tell

her. It feels a little cold but the weather is not that bad.
The astronaut is awake. He blinks his eyes into dreams

of rain.

Ode to a Facebook Photo

Poetry by | December 2, 2012

This time, there are only your eyes.
Your gaze, fixed intently into space
as if searching the air for lost light
waves, digital owls, a revelation
of vagrant angels. I turn my laptop
towards the window so you too
could see a band of moonlit clouds,
some apple trees, and at a distance,
a pack of griffins.


Allen Samsuya is a creative writing major from the University of the Philippines Mindanao. Instead of a dislike button, he hereby proposes a “throw magic tomato button” on Facebook.

Footprints

Poetry by | August 5, 2012

Moonlight was our perfect alibi for breaking
this quiet darkness. Ancient nights when olden
rooftops made for a dozen water beds
and we had no need for mattresses and pillows
beneath our backsides and our heads. Back then,

we spent our nights learning how stars unravel
the direction of our home. Back when our eyes
were keen enough to watch snowfall from halfway
across the globe. Now, old and bitter as those cheap

wines we used to buy, I can’t climb a tree house
to save my life. My Love, I have my eyes squinting
skywards all night long. I swear I will see you soon.

Tonight, I chase your footprints across the surface
of the moon.


Allen Samsuya is a graduate of Creative Writing student from the University of the Philippines- Mindanao. He was a fellow for poetry in the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop, the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and the 50th Silliman National Writers Workshop. His works have appeared in Philippines Free Press, Philippines Graphic, Sunstar Davao and the Best of Dagmay Anthology.

Nocturne

Poetry by | January 15, 2012

I listen to the sky speak of tenderness
in a dialect dappled with stars. I listen
to trees talk eagerly of cooler winds

and true love among everything else
that is awfully missed in this part of town.
Like an ancient thief prying for the word

that reveals Earth for all its treasures,
I listen so I can learn about the night
and its most careful gestures so when

it is my turn to speak I can say – Yes,
the world insists on darkness and difficult
magic. And yes, there is music to ease us

in our sleep. In my dreams, I learn of time
as the heartbeat of angels spoken with
indelicate accents of light, and although

I have yet to offer what little I have left
of prayer, I keep my fingers unfurled,
my palms open to promises of better days

and lovelier afterhours. Yes, let us talk of love.
Let us talk of prayer. Let us talk of things
we have yet to offer. Because when this part

of town slowly yields to slumber,
it will be to the drone of rainclouds drifting
over a thousand fluorescent flowers.


Allen Samsuya was a Creative Writing major at UP Mindanao. He was a fellow for poetry at the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop, at the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and at the 50th Silliman National Writers Workshop. Some of his works have appeared in Philippines Graphic, SunStar Davao and the Best of Dagmay anthology.

Inside the Raincloud

Poetry by | August 14, 2011


You came up to me
inside the raincloud,
a couple of storms back,
and asked me of secrets
that only the sky and I
know of. I remember
telling you a handful

of stories like how lightning
is a few flimsy strings
that broke from the harps
of angels, how gardens grow
between the colors of a rainbow ,
how the moon really is
an island made of haloes.

It was a good talk. I remember
holding your hand as we walked
slowly towards that corner
where you gave me a kiss
and refused to say goodbye.
I remember watching you
step inside that single raindrop
that brought you back
to your part of the world
where you became part
of the flood once more.­­


Allen Samsuya had been a fellow for poetry during the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop, the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and the 50th Silliman National Writers Workshop this year.