(light and pen)

All literary work that is not in the public domain is owned by their current copyright owner(s) and is featured here for the purpose of education through free sharing of information and art. I make no claims to these works, nor do I profit from the use of any and all works which I do not hold copyright ownership. If I have posted a copy of your own work that you want removed, please reach out to me.

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Welcome!

This blog exclusively features literature from the Philippines, which I always found embarrassingly lacking from this site. However, out of more than 170 languages that the nation boasts, I unfortunately am only able to understand and speak two—English and Filipino, so it will be in those languages my posts will mainly revolve on.

For easy navigation, you may either search for a particular author or a genre—which I have listed in the tags below.

If you want me to feature a particular work or an author, please do not hesitate to reach out. The ask box is always open!

Finally, I am a relatively slow reader, so forgive me if I don’t update this blog as frequently as would be ideal.

Thank you for reading. Mabuhay ang panitikang Pilipino!

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PS: I have a digital Filipiniana Collection that you can always access.

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Resistance is in perpetual need of allies, and I think that if you are fortunate enough not to be in the direct line of fire, you shouldn’t let yourself off the hook too easily by invoking futility. Sure, we need only to look at Duterte’s immediate predecessors to see that state-perpetuated violence, though particularly explicit in its forms under the current regime, is nothing new. However, it is also clear that what is old news is getting worse. The status quo is not static. To write it off as unchangeable is, to say the least, inaccurate. The sentiment that resistance is futile reeks of individualism–even when it is despairing, and especially when expressed by those with food security, with job security, those able to retreat at the end of each day to the privacy of their homes.

Conchitina Cruz, in an Interview with Ivy Alvarez

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These arms want to touch you. Underground, intertwined, we share a drink of water. Perhaps we are made to be subterranean.

King Llanza, from "Crown Shyness" in All My Distances Point to Home (University of Santo Tomas Publishing House, 2022)

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These arms want to touch you. Underground, intertwined, we share a drink of water. Perhaps we are made to be subterranean.

King Llanza, from "Crown Shyness" in All My Distances Point to Home (University of Santo Tomas Publishing House, 2022)

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Reaching the Rio Grande de Pampanga he contemplated his crossing at length. The river was treacherous. It constantly rearranged its bed, cutting off one bank to add to the other, shifting its channel in order to waylay its annual victims. Along its length as it wound about Central Luzon, it dragged railroad ties and entire houses, eroded stone gobiernos and churches, transferred cemeteries as though to make up for bridges that had been erected across it in several places. Now high with the rain of several days it dragged itself across the plain like a snake faking injury in order to attack.

Linda Ty-Casper, from "The Three-Cornered Sun" (First Published in 1979 by New Day Publishers)

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Nueva Caceres was a town that slumbered by the foot of Mount Isarog, sprawled in a lush tropical basin of trees and rice fields. The Naga River meandered through it, gleaming like a dark green serpent that shed its skin periodically during the floods of the typhoon season. The strongest storms that scraped through the region several times during the year could wipe the land clean, sometimes bringing the entire river basin to waste, tapping into the people's reserves of hardiness to start over again.

Mary Jane Guanzon Uy, from "The Book of Pedro Bautista: A Novella" (Ateneo de Naga University Press, 2019)

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The waters of the river were dark, green with the coat of age lying at its bottom—a coat which could not be washed away even by the fiercest current.

Ninotchka Rosca, from "Bitter Country" in Stories of a Bitter Country (Anvil Publishing Inc., 2019)

It used to be a beauty, they say. In forgotten songs it was a femme fetale with a mournful tune and doleful stare. Now it could not even wash its hair.

Joel H. Vega, from "If This Dirty River Could Only Speak" in Drift: Poems (University of Santo Tomas Publishing House, 2018)

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The Dark Horse Mindset Book Pre-Launch Event · Luma

Own the Odds: Unlocking the Dark Horse Mindset is an intimate evening of honest conversation, practical insight, and community — built for t

Was invited but unfortunately unable to attend. Perhaps some of you here might be interested?

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adding the books i bought to the database and i as read the blurb from one of the books F. SIONIL JOSE DID ME A JUMPSCARE WTF i totally missed this when i was buying the book :/

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Books I got from the Philippine Book Festival 2026

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Philippine Book Festival | March 2026

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Lean Borlongan, mula sa "How to Make Sambal" sa Emi (Self Published, 2024)

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Nariyan lámang siya, tuwing may lagas na dahon, may ibinubuong. Isang pagpaparamdam. O pagtatapat. Kayâ dagli kang bumangon Nang bumitiw ang hulíng biktima ng init. Ikaw lámang ang narito. Damá mo ang pagdasal ng makahiya, ang pagdapa ng damo.

Enrique Villasis, mula sa "Diwata ng Ilog" sa Agua: Kalipunan ng Tula (LIRA Inc., 2015)

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[...] Madalas, pinakikinggan Ng mga bathala ang pagsumpa ng mga ina samantalang Hindi silá nakikinig sa mga pintig ng mangingibig.

Enrique Villasis, mula sa "Janitor Fish" sa Agua: Kalipunan ng Tula (LIRA Inc., 2015)

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Ibinabatay mo ang pananampalataya sa gaan ng nadaramá, at tulad ng pagbubukás sa umaga ng sapin-saping ningning sa kalawanging yero, ang paniniwalang, minsan pa, hindi lahat ng pagdurusa ay dahil sa pangungulila; ngunit, ang totoo, madalas, gusto kong sabihing nakasusugat ang ganitong kabanalan, na sadyang marupok ang pagkakaugnay ng mga bagay—na maging ang hangin ay nilulunod ng mga alon, na hindi lámang ang pagbabago ng panahon ang tinatakasan ng kawan ng mga dumaras, na maaaring manligaw ang pinakapinagkakatiwalaang talá.

Enrique Villasis, mula sa "Dorado" sa Agua: Kalipunan ng Tula (LIRA Inc., 2015)

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My preorder from Exploding Galaxies has arrived! At this point, I own 3/3 of their releases. One might say that I'm a fan of everything they put out.

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Current Akdang Pinoy reads.

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Mula sa Facebook Page ni Billy Ibarra: 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊/𝐏𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍

Narito ang 𝗕𝗶𝘆𝗮𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗴 𝗖𝘂𝗯𝗮𝗼 𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗮 𝗶𝗯𝗮 𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗮 𝗻𝗴 𝗴𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘁𝗮, isang zine na naglalaman ng mga tula ng pag-ibig na inilabas ng Gadgad Press noong 2024. Maaari n'yong i-download nang libre ang pdf at epub, pero hinihikayat ko kayong magbayad kahit magkano. Ang lahat ng ating malilikom na kita ay ibibigay natin sa grupong umaasikaso sa kaso ng mga kabataang dinakip sa Mendiola. 216 silang dinakip, 91 ang menor de edad, siyam na taong gulang ang pinakabata.

Hindi natapos ang pagkilos natin noong September 21 sa Luneta at Mendiola. Wala pa ring nananagot sa mga katiwalian sa flood control projects, nauna pa ngang kasuhan ang mga kabataang nagpahayag lang ng galit sa mga magnanakaw sa gobyerno. Ito lang ang munting magagawa namin ngayon para magpaabot ng suporta. Hinihikayat ko rin ang mga kapwa manunulat at artista ng bayan na tumulong sa abot ng kanilang makakaya.

Nasa ibaba ang QR Code para sa pagbabayad. Maaari din kayong rekta nang magpaabot ng tulong sa iba pang mga grupo.

Download link here.

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With the rains come a change of mood and a difference in hotness. If you felt broiled in March, you feel boiled in August. The seething month has nothing of the stillness, the candor, of summer. Its heat waves are in constant stir, building up to a fit. Danger looms if the air is unclear, like a smoke. This thickens and darkens until overheated; it explodes — into a thunderstorm, a cloudburst, a typhoon. But the storm neither clears nor cools the air. It only feels muggier afterward, and from the ground steams a miasma: the singaw ng lupa, or earthy smell, that's mustiest after an August flash flood. The alternation between heat wave and hurricane accounts for the myth of August as a violent month, the myth now recalled by Jack Henson on this August morning of 1972, as moving aimlessly he found himself on Rizal Avenue.

Nick Joaquin, from "Cave and Shadows" (first published, 1984)