The ocean recedes, the seabed appears, the seawater boils, and a big wave rears its towering cowl, and heads for...
61.9 million: Estimated number of Roman Catholics in PH (2000) 43,000+: Number of hits garnered by http://visitaiglesia.net, a website put...
1. When you wake up, open your mouth and let the one-winged butterflies of secrets out. Set them free. As...
Firefly (For Deanna) Told you about a firefly that found itself inside my room one Saturday night in this ultramodern...
Dusk descends on us, while we luxuriate in damascene sensations, warmth and perfume, and bathe in voluptuous colors, till every...
At age 70, Virgilio “Gil” Yuzon has a social network to rival that of an avid Facebook user. This, despite...
Are Jose Corazon de Jesus and Florentino Collantes turning in their graves? Is Alejandro Abadilla furious at the present state...
The Maningning Miclat Art Foundation Inc. (MMAFI) will remember visual artist and trilingual poet Maningning Miclat’s 11th death anniversary by...
At the Singapore Writers Festival recently, Sir Andrew Motion, his wavy hair, eyebrows and lids already slightly gray but still blazing with manic Blakean fire, his patrician chin, cheek and jaw supremely sharp as to frame his face elementally like the gods of Parnassus, tall and lean and stooping politely to get to the level of his medium-height Singaporean hosts, cut a most dashing, almost Byronic figure, and if that passage is ridden with clichés, tendentious speech, and gross rhetorical crimes according to the book of the Samuel Johnsons and the guardians of the English language, then this writer pleads guilty. After all, it is not everyday that Asia gets to meet Britain’s Poet Laureate, the Empire’s chief minstrel and myth-maker, even if, strictly speaking, he’s already retired.
I learned from Igan D’Bayan’s column in The Star that the great David Medalla was in town. It brought me back to the Ermita days of the ’50s, when some rubble still remained from the bombing of the Ermita-Malate area during the Liberation.
