Explore more Articles in

Philippines Graphic Reader

Penalty of our Frailties

“And it never failed that during the dry years the people forgot about the rich years, and during the wet years they lost all memory of the dry years. It was always that way.”—John Steinbeck, East of Eden Our city offers a beautiful scene,...

Prelude to a Gig

San Francisco, back in the day, was everyone’s favorite city, ‘the city that knows how,’ cosmopolitan city by the bay, where one grew up with musicians and artists and writers walking its steep and windy streets in almost every neighborhood. This is a...

Bulul in the Midst of Change

The wind whispered and caressed the land. The night was filled with the symphony of crickets and things. It was music within the dark of the mountain, echoing, bouncing against the rice paddies that looked like the stairs of gods that made their...

Madonna of endless linen

Our lady of one day at a time Our lady of veils allowed to droop Our lady of the thrice-revised corner Madonna of postponement Madonna of a thumb in the eye Our lady done with these pulling at my ears Our lady but a tear in the equipment Virgin of...

That male thing

“Come in,” he said in response to the five steady raps on his door. There was a soft squeak as the door opened to let in a waft of the shimmery perfume the woman was wearing. Lawrence Gaston, Director of the St. Francis...

The darkest light—a Christmas tale

The many-colored, Christmas star lantern hanging from their second-floor window was the most beautiful thing that 9-year old Mira Delos Reyes had ever possessed. Mira lived in the most-underdeveloped and most-neglected area in their district, and behind their house was an alley that...

Random Pickings

Sugar Dreams

She was finally here. Hong Kong. A place that wasn’t in her bucket list, but life had other plans and threw it her way....

Binondo Church

For its brick walls were blotched with rednessLike a child with a high grown fever,The tolling of its bells, bounty and scared. The plaza on...

Shadow in the Garden

(Thinking of my daughter on her first death anniversary) It is a recurring thoughtAs lightsCast a shadowOn a familiar bookIn my gardenOn a restlessEarly morning. What...

My Body, for Sale

-1- Azalea stood in the dimly-lit alley, the cold night air biting her skin. She clutched a tattered piece of paper with an address scribbled...