The Philippines Graphic Reader

The first and only nationally-circulated magazine on Philippine literature in English

LET YOUR SHORT STORY OR POEM SHINE!

Under the Withered Roof

The tears I dropped on my mother’s casket were wiped off with an off-white handkerchief by a hand filled with bulging veins and dominating...

Rise in Love

A ping sounded on my phone, and the words blinked on the screen at six in the morning.  “RISE IN LOVE.” I squinted at the screen,...

The Man with Horns

Close to the end of my ties with Catharine, I was inconveniently reminded of the time when I learned that I grew up with...

Lines from My Nepal Notebook

A whiff of jasmine Rose petals scattering Mighty pines dancing Bamboos swaying, dipping, snapping back Sunflowers gazing at their namesake in giddy worship. A windy spring day in Godavari. (April,...

A Portrait of My Father

Last night was your birthday Forgot to tell my cousin to light a candle on your grave. DID I LOVE YOU ENOUGH DID MY WORDS HURT YOU YOUR SHADOW STALKED...

The Arrangement of Falling Things

Along the walk to the InstituteThe Indian cork tree begins its silent shift.White, five-pointed stars rest on the pavement,not fallen, but arranged,as if the...

Making Believe

How long to carry on this pretense That, yes, I am now fine Making believe that you are just away on another Of your many leavings But how...

These Invisible Forces

There was pain, lots of it. And it seared. It felt like fire, or like being eaten alive. Vincent screamed, using that one scrap...

Someone Else Will Help

Is the goodness of a man determined by the purity of his intentions or by the deeds he brings into the world? And what,...

Deliverance

Odessa accepted the fact that the Metro Manila she had known thirty years ago was now a mere memory. Seated inside an old van...

A Triangle of Triangles

She's a great little housewifeThough sometimes she talks like a foolBut she helps at the store in the holiday rushAnd she picks up the...

Love by Algorithm

“Good morning, Doc.” “Have a seat Mr. Peñaflor. I am Dr. Anton Abalos, but you can call me Ant or Doc Ant, whichever makes you...

Born of the Earth

We were all once born of the earth— keeper of her breath, kin to root and river, to feather and fur, to the anito, the diwata, and the taw’t talun, spirits...

Song of Nothing

Sunday blessed peace from nothing— and nothing was a woman reduced to a child's love running after drunken anger letting go of nothing, again nothing— nothing was napping in...

Pablo Tariman Spotted at Gourmet Gypsy Café

come to me in the high notes of an oboe amidst the din of a cafe turned concert venue for in your hands & vision every place can...

The Bliss of Old Socks

I toss brand new socks back and rifle through drawers for solace and kindness The old ones surrender and smile at me the garters have given up...

Risen

All that I've got is a sinful heart I am offering. What is it for a cloak in you that I wanted to be clothed in? Blessing...