EASTERN VISAYAS STATE UNIVERSITY- TANAUAN CAMPUS

Tanauan, Leyte

Submitted by:
Emana, Monica Denise G. BSA 1A

Submitted to:
Mr. Jonathan D. Bacallo, Ph. D

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Activity No. & Tittle

1. Overview of the literature in the Philippines

2. General types of literatures PROSE & POETRY
 3. Authors from different region and their literary piece and impact
4. Literary genres, structures, traditions
5. Most notable genres in 21st century
6. Literary genres, elements, structures & traditions

Assignment no. and Tittle

1. LESSON 1: Four types of literature and 3 samples in each type

2. LESSON 2: Famous Philippine Dramatic Poetry in the Philippines; Comedy,
Melodrama, Tragedy, Farce and Social Poems
3. Four types of literature and 3 samples each type
4. Philippine Literature during Spanish and American Period
5. Songs and poems that has an Impact on each life

Activity no. 1

1. What is Literature?

Literature, a body of written works. The name has traditionally been applied to
those imaginative works of poetry and prose distinguished by the intentions of
their authors and the perceived excellence of their execution. Literature may be
classified according to a variety of systems, including language, national origin,
historical period, genre, and subject matter.

2. Discuss Literature in the Philippines.

 Philippine literature is literature associated with the Philippines from prehistory,
through its colonial legacies, and on to the present. Pre-Hispanic Philippine
literature was actually epics passed on from generation to generation, originally
through an oral tradition

3. Discuss the concept and significance of Philippine Literature in our lives.

 Literacy is for all Filipinos. It is a kind of valuable remedy that helps people plan
their own lives, to meet their problems, and to understand the spirit of human
nature. A person’s riches may be lost or depleted, and even his patriotism, but not
literature. One example is the advancement of other Filipinos. Although they left
their homeland, literature was their bridge to their left country. In the social,
national, and global affiliation, literature is one of the basics of gaining the success
and failure of a nation and the relations of nations.

ACTIVITY NO.2
 ACTIVITY NO. 3

17 Region (Famous Authors and their

Literary Works)
Region 1
Carlos Bulosan
 Carlos Sampayan Bulosan (November 2, 1913 – September 11, 1956) was an English-
language Filipino novelist and poet who spent most of his life in the United States. His best-
known work is the semi-autobiographical Americas is in the house..Carlos Bulosan was born
to Ilocano parents in the Philippines in the rural village of Mangusmana, in the town of
Binalonan, Pangasinan. There is considerable debate around his actual birth date, as he himself
used several dates, but 1911 is generally considered the most reliable answer, based on
his baptismal records, but according to the late Lorenzo Duyanen Sampayan, his childhood
playmate and nephew, Carlos was born on November 2, 1913. Most of his youth was spent in the
countryside as a farmer. It is during his youth that he and his family were economically
impoverished by the rich and political elite, which would become one of the main themes of his
writing. His home town is also the starting point of his famous semi-autobiographical
novel, America is in the Heart.

Literary Work.
This previously unpublished novel by the author of America Is in the Heart dramatizes the
resourcefulness, cunning, and pain of the Filipino peasants' struggle against a heritage of
colonization, first by Spain and later by the United States. Set during the political upheavals of
the 1940s and 1950s, seven underground rebels—old and young, male and female, intellectual
and peasant—set off across the Philippine countryside fuelled by their outrage over continued
U.S. domination. They combat both internal foes from their past memories and experiences and
visible enemies who view their clandestine work as a destructive force of communism. As they
confront danger and face physical and emotional sacrifices along the way, their sense of mission
conveys a profound vision of democracy and self-determination. We as a Filipino, we dream of
equality and freedom. When asked what impelled him to write, Bulosan replied, "To give literate
voices to the voiceless...to translate the desires and aspirations of the whole Filipino people in the
Philippines and abroad in terms relevant to contemporary history. Bulosan wants us to be more
aware on what is happening in our country and also those politician who corrupts the money of
the people.

2. F. Sionil José
José was born in Rosales, Pangasinan, the setting of many of his stories. He spent his childhood
in Barrio Cabugawan, Rosales, where he first began to write. José was of Ilocano descent whose
family had migrated to Pangasinan before his birth. Fleeing poverty, his forefathers traveled
from Ilocos towards Cagayan Valley through the Santa Fe Trail. Like many migrant families,
they brought their lifetime possessions with them, including uprooted molave posts of their old
houses and their alsong, a stone mortar for pounding rice. One of the greatest influences to José
was his industrious mother who went out of her way to get him the books he loved to read, while
making sure her family did not go hungry despite poverty and landlessness. José started writing
in grade school, at the time he started reading. In the fifth grade, one of José’s teachers opened
the school library to her students, which is how José managed to read the novels of José
Rizal, Willa Cather’s My Antonia, Faulkner and Steinbeck.
Literary works.
The conflict in this novel about the Hukbalahap uprising in the fifties is not just the enmity in the
guerrilla war. It is the deeper symbolic conflict between two brothers and their vastly different
and estranged worlds. Here, too, is the trauma of traditional society undergoing change, and the
old refusing to let go. Here in our country even if it is one of your family members or even
though it is your own brother, he will be the one who backstab you at the most. The most person
you trusted eventually will going to be your downfall.

Region 2
1.Emmanuel Agapito Flores Lacaba (December 10, 1948 – March 18, 1976), popularly known
as Eman Lacaba, was a Filipino writer, poet, essayist, playwright, fictionist, scriptwriter,
songwriter and activist and he is considered as the only poet warrior of the Philippines. Lacaba
was killed on March 18, 1976 in Tucaan Balaag, Asuncion, Davao de Norte he was set to go
back shortly to the city for a new assignment that would have used his writing skills, and had
even agreed to write a script for Lino Brocka once he got back there. He was 27 years old.

Literary works.
“You want to know, companions of my youth,
How much has changed the wild but shy young poet
Forever writing last poem after last poem;
You hear he’s dark as earth, barefoot,
A turban round his head, a bolo at his side,
His ballpen blown up to a long-barreled gun:
Deeper still the struggling change inside.”
It was one of Lacaba works, it is about the struggles he used to face every day but it doesn’t stop
him to right. As well us, we always face struggles in our daily life but it won’t stop us achieving
our goals and dream to have a better life.

2. Leona Florentino (April 19, 1849-October 4, 1884) was a Filipino poet in

the Spanish and Ilocano languages. She is considered as the "mother of Philippine women's
literature" and the "bridge from oral to literary tradition".
Born to a wealthy and prominent family in Vigan, Ilocos Sur, Florentino began to write her first
verses in Ilocano at a young age. Despite her potential, she was not allowed to receive a
university education because of her gender. Florentino was instead tutored by her mother, and
then a series of private teachers. An educated Ilocano priest taught her advanced Spanish and
encouraged her to develop her voice in poetry.
Florentino married a politician named Elias de los Reyes at the age of 14. They had five children
together. Their son Isabelo de los Reyes later became a Filipino writer, activist and senator. Due
to the feminist nature of her writings, Florentino was shunned by her husband and son; she lived
alone in exile and separately from her family.She died at the age of 35.
Literary works.

Blasted Hopes.But that joy is followed by a description of suffering that seems to have come
from those curtailed hopes. She speaks of her “tongue remaining powerless,” and is resigned that
“to be spurned is my lot.”Despite all that, she ends: “Ngem umanayento a liolioac/Ti
pannacaammon itoy a panagayat/ta icarickenca ket isapatac/nga sica aoan sabali ti pacayatac
(But would it be my greatest joy/to know that it is you I love/for to you do I vow and promise I
make/It’s you alone for whom I would lay down my life).” It is a tragic love story for us. The
impact of this to us is our love ones who died in this pandemic and can’t have them back. As for
me that I lost my grandfather that died at august this year. We can’t make yearn to my lolo
because he is in maynila and died because of Covid-19 even though his not, my uncles’ are
fighting because of the money they get after his death. The poem her made is actually about hope
but it turns out to be a losing hope.

Region 3
1. Francisco Balagtas
Francisco Balagtas y de la Cruz (April 2, 1788 – February 20, 1862), also known as Francisco
Baltazar, was a prominent Filipino poet, and is widely considered as one of the greatest Filipino
literary laureate for his impact on Filipino literature. The famous epic, Florante at Laura, is
regarded as his defining work. The name "Baltazar", sometimes misconstrued as a pen name,
was a legal surname Balagtas adopted after the 1849 edict of Governor-General Narciso Claveria
y Zaldua, which mandated that the native population adopt standard Spanish surnames instead of
native ones.
Francisco Balagtas was born on April 2, 1788 in Barrio Panginay, Bigaa, Bulacan as the
youngest of the four children of Juan Balagtas, a blacksmith, and Juana de la Cruz. He studied in
a parochial school in Bigaa and later in Manila. During his childhood years. Francisco later
worked as houseboy in Tondo, Manila.The popular Filipino debate form Balagtasan is named
after Balagtas. Balagtas learned to write poetry from José de la Cruz (Huseng Sisiw), one of the
most famous poets of Tondo, in return of chicks. It was de la Cruz himself who personally
challenged Balagtas to improve his writing. Balagtas swore he would overcome Huseng Sisiw as
he would not ask anything in return as a poet. (source: Talambuhay ng mga Bayani, for Grade 6
textbook)
In 1835, Balagtas moved to Pandacan, where he met María Asunción Rivera, who would
effectively serve as the muse for his future works. She is referenced in Florante at Laura as
'Celia' and 'MAR'.
Balagtas' affections for MAR were challenged by the influential Mariano Capule. Capule won
the battle for MAR when he used his wealth to get Balagtas imprisoned under the accusation that
he ordered a servant girl's head be shaved. It was here that he wrote Florante at Laura—In fact,
the events of this poem were meant to parallel his own situation. He wrote his poems in Tagalog,
during an age when Filipino writing was predominantly written in Spanish. Balagtas
published Florante at Laura upon his release in 1838. He moved to Balanga, Bataan in 1840
where he served as the assistant to the Justice of peace and later, in 1856, as the Major
Lieutenant. He was also appointed as the translator of the court. He married Juana Tiambeng on
July 22, 1842 in a ceremony officiated by Fr. Cayetano Arellano, uncle of future Philippine
Supreme Court Chief Justice Cayetano Arellano. They had eleven children but only four
survived to adulthood. He died on February 20, 1862 at the age of 73. Upon his deathbed, he
asked a favor that none of his children become poets like him, who had suffered under his gift as
well as under others. He even went as far as to tell them it would be better to cut their hands off
than let them be writers.
Balagtas is so greatly revered in the Philippines that the term for Filipino debate in
extemporaneous verse is named after him: Balagtasan.
Literary Works.
Florante at Laura
Florante and his troop rescued the girl who was Laura. Eventually, Florante saved his kingdom
including King Linseo, Duke Briseo and Adolfo. After that triumph, another army headed by
Miramolin tried to invade the Kingdom of Albanya. Fortunately, Florante has succeeded victory
again. It about filled with passages on living the upright life and respecting elders and the values
of love for country, industry and patriotism. One of its central themes is that religious differences
should not be used to discriminate against another.

2. Tomas F. Agulto
Born on 21 December 1953 in Hagonoy, Bulacan. He wrote poems at a young age and had they
commented on by his family and neighbors. He further honed his poetic skills as a member
Galian as Arte at Tula, and went on to work on various jobs, especially in non-government
sector, in pursuit of his own maturity. his poetry collections Lagi Na'y Kailangan Kong
Gumising Nang Maaga at Iba Pang Pagdidilidili (Always I have To Wake Up Early and Other
Redlections, 1981),Bakasyunista (Summer Folk, 1984) and Batanes at Iba Pang Pulo (Batanes
and Other Lands, 1989) all won prizes in the Don Carlos Palanca Awards for Literature. His
essay “Ang Mga Badjaw sa Tungkalang” (The Bajao of Tungkalang, 1988) also won in the
Palanca Award. In 1987, the CCP Literary Contest awarded him a prize for his short story “Ang
Walang Lubay na Istasyon ng Pag-asa (The Unending Stations of Hope and Search). The
following poems have won in the annual poetry contest of the Komisyon sa Wikang Filipino (oe
KWF, formerly the Surian ng Wikang Pambansa and later Linangan ng mga Wika sa Pilipinas):
“Kalatas kay Pinang” (Letter to Pinang) and “Umulan Man at Umaraw” (Rain or Shine); and
“Malayo Na Ang Narating Ng Prusisyon” (The Procession Has Covered a Lot of Ground). KWF
has proclaimed him Poet of the Year three times, the first time in 1988 for his poem “Polusyon”
(Pollution) and 2 nd Prize for the same award for a poem on the great plebeian Andres Bonifacio
in 2009. His book Ang Magandang Babae sa Sta. Elena is an anthology poems, stories, and
essays; while SA.BA.TRISa Masaganang Milenyo (2001) is a novel. His book of poems and
essays, Kuntra Krusada is forthcoming.

Literary works.

Huwag na po kayong tutula ng papuri tungkol sa amin

Mapikon na ang mapipikon. Huwag na kayong tutula

ng pagmamahal tungkol sa amin. Hindi ninyo maaarok

ang kalooban ng mga anak-pawis. Kumbakit kinakayang

pasanin ng isang pahinante – halimbawa – ang tatlong sakong

bigas nang magkakapatong. Huwag nyo kaming gamitin

sa mga libro ng panghuhula. Bukod sa kawalang

pakundangan, nasasalaula ang wika dahil sa takbo ng inyong

panulaan. Sa inyo na lang ang mga eleganteng pamimilifino,

huwag na pong ialay sa amin. Baka nga masyado kayong

malalim. Gifted. Kober pa lamang ng inyong mga libro’y

nananakot na. Klasiko. Papostmodern. Mono-syllabic.

Yes/No. Hindi ito tula. Go home and plant kamote!

Balagtas's influence on his poetry and appreciation of life was inherited from the Vatican
ideology, a rotten culture and caused our national superstitions and tarnished values of life, I
deserve to face the frog in the jar the trophy handed to me by the National Artist Virgilio
Almario and I accepted conditionally. And I called on that conference to re -evaluate the value of
Balagtas in our literature, no matter how good he is at writing and reciting, for me the idea of
Balagtasism espoused by traditional poets is bad and against the empowerment of man and
people.

Region 4
N. V. M. Gonzalez
Néstor Vicente Madali González (September 8, 1915-November 28, 1999) was a Filipino
writer.
He was born on 8 September 1915 in Romblon, Philippines.[1] González, however, was raised
in Mansalay, a southern town of the Philippine province of Oriental Mindoro. González was a
son of a school supervisor and a teacher. As a teenager, he helped his father by delivering meat
door-to-door across provincial villages and municipalities. González was also a musician. He
played the violin and even made four guitars by hand. He earned his first peso by playing the
violin during a Chinese funeral in Romblon. González attended Mindoro High School (now Jose
J. Leido Jr. Memorial National High School) from 1927 to 1930. González attended college
at National University (Manila) but he was unable to finish his undergraduate degree. While
in Manila, González wrote for the Philippine Graphic and later edited for the Evening News
Magazine and Manila Chronicle. His first published essay appeared in the Philippine
Graphic and his first poem in Poetry in 1934. González made his mark in the Philippine writing
community as a member of the Board of Advisers of Likhaan: the University of the Philippines
Creative Writing Center, founding editor of The Diliman Review and as the first president of
the Philippine Writers' Association. González attended creative writing classes under Wallace
Stegner and Katherine Anne Porter at Stanford University. In 1950, González returned to
the Philippines and taught at the University of Santo Tomas, the Philippine Women's
University and the University of the Philippines (U.P.). At U.P., González was only one of two
faculty members accepted to teach in the university without holding a degree. On the basis of his
literary publications and distinctions, González later taught at the University of California, Santa
Barbara, California State University, Hayward, the University of Washington, the University of
California, Los Angeles, and the University of California, Berkeley.
Literary Works.
"Winds of April starts with the narrator recounting his early years in Mindoro and Romblon.
Acquainted with two languages and cultures, Tagalog and Visayan, it is the water that separates
these two places that is closest to his heart. His numerous travels, however, bridges the distance.
Just like Gonzalez’s other works, a substantial part of the story revolves around the countryside.
The rustic landscape and the local color that Gonzalez uses mirrors the Filipinos and the growing
rejection of American predominance at the height of the Commonwealth era, a time when the
Philippines was still seeking its independence from the United States.

2. Jose P. Rizal

José Protasio Rizal Mercado y Alonso Realonda (June 19, 1861 – December 30, 1896), was
a Filipino nationalist, writer[8] and reformist. He is widely considered the greatest national
hero of the Philippines.[9] He was the author of Noli Me Tángere, El Filibusterismo and a number
of poems and essays. He was executed on December 30, 1896.REGION IV.
Jose Rizal was born to a wealthy family in Calamba, Laguna and was the seventh of eleven
children. He was born on June 19, 1861 to Francisco Engracio Rizal Mercado y Alejandro
(1818–1897)[1][13] and Teodora Morales Alonso y Quintos (1827-1911); whose family later
changed their surname to "Realonda"[15] His parents were prosperous farmers who were granted
lease of a hacienda and an accompanying rice farm by the Dominicans. Rizal was the seventh
child of their eleven children namely: Saturina (Neneng) (1850–1913), Paciano (1851–1930),
Narcisa (Sisa) (1852–1939), Olympia (1855–1887), Lucia (1857–1919), María (Biang) (1859–
1945), José Protasio (1861–1896), Concepción (Concha) (1862–1865), Josefa (Panggoy) (1865–
1945), Trinidad (Trining) (1868–1951) and Soledad (Choleng) (1870–1929).
Rizal, 11 years old, a student at the Ateneo Municipal de Manila.

Rizal first studied under Justiniano Aquino Cruz in Biñan, Laguna before he was sent to Manila.
As to his father's request, he took the entrance examination in Colegio de San Juan de Letran and
studied there for almost three months. The Dominican friars asked him to transfer to another
school due to his radical and bold questions.[18]

He then enrolled at the Ateneo Municipal de Manila and graduated as one of the nine students in
his class declared sobresaliente or outstanding. He continued his education at the Ateneo
Municipal de Manila to obtain a land surveyor and assessor's degree, and at the same time at
the University of Santo Tomas where he did take up a preparatory course in law.[19] Upon
learning that his mother was going blind, he decided to switch to medicine at the medical
school of Santo Tomas specializing later in ophthalmology.

Literary works.
El Filibusterismo
 Rizal is too specific in his prescriptions and moralizing -- the case for education, and in
particular for teaching Spanish, is a good one, but Rizal tries a bit too hard to weave that
repeatedly into the narrative -- but it's the stray stories, illustrative of excess and corruption, that
ultimately prove most distracting. Some of these are very entertaining, and some of the points
both amusing and well-made, but ultimately Simoun is left in the shadows too much of the time.
Almost too powerful a figure, it's understandable that Rizal did not constantly want him at the
fore, but he's certainly the figure readers want to hear and see more from. Meanwhile, Rizal also
isn't quite willing to allow other significant figures, such as Basilio (who becomes a doctor) to
take a more prominent place in the narrative either.
 While much of the social criticism here is specific to a time and place, enough is certainly
universal; Rizal was also clearly well-versed in the European fiction of the time, and El
Filibusterismo is certainly comparable to -- and often more entertaining -- than much of the
social fiction coming out of Europe at the time. The impact of it to us Filipino, we should
prioritize our studies and have a better life.

Mimaropa Region
1. Alejandro G. Abadilla
Poet, essayist and fictionist Alejandro G. Abadilla (a.k.a. AGA) was born in Salinas, Rosario,
Cavite, on March 10, 1906. Finishing elementary school at Sapa Barrio School and high school
in Cavite, he went abroad where he worked in a small print shop in Seattle. There he edited the
Filipino section of the Philippine Digest , became managing editor of the Philippine-American
Review , and established the Kapisanang Balagtas which aimed "to develop the Tagalog
language." Back in the Philippines, he earned a BA in Philosophy from the University of Santo
Tomas in 1931. Until 1934, he served as municipal councilor of Salinas, after which he made a
living selling insurance for the Philippine-American Life Insurance. He had eight children with
wife Cristina Zingalava. He passed away on August 26, 1969

Literary Works.
Ako ang daigdig
ako daigdig           
ako ang tula
ako ang daigdig ng tula
ang tulang daigdig
ako ang walang maliw na
ako ang walang kamatayang
ako ang tula ng daigdig
I think this poem is also related to love..Love to our country and also our love to our love
ones..The message means if you really love your country we should not do anything to destroy
its good name.we should always think for the good of our fellowmen.Just like if you love
someone he or she.you're always thinking of the person.

2. Bayani Abadilla
To his colleagues, Bayani Abadilla or Ka Bay is the hero of the Filipino people because he was
not a simple teacher, poet and journalist; he also went underground to fight Marcos dictatorship
and later on became a fighter in the cultural sphere.
Until his last breath, he served as the associate of the Pinoy Weekly, a progressive
weekly newspaper, to wave his struggle for national freedom and genuine democracy. Together
with Bienvenido Lumbera, Abadilla worked in Panulat para sa Kaunlaran ng Sambayanan or
PAKSA which was formed in 1971. He was a member of the Communist Party of the
Philippines (CCP) and the organizer for the Kabataang Makabayan (KM) IN 1970. He was
persistent in removing imperialism, feudalism and bureaucrat capitalism in the country.

Literary works.
He spent much of his life writing and working against oppression and tyranny, from the Marcos
dictatorship to today. Last year, he published his first collection of poetry, Sigliwa Kamao, a
testament to his invaluable contributions to the movement for freedom and democracy as it is to
his poetry.We owe a lot to Ka Bay and his generation of activists who had embraced frugal lives
and never expect to live in comfort. The least that we could do is to ease their suffering during
these very trying times in their lives.

Region 5

Azucena Uranza was born on 27 January 1929 in Sorsogon, Sorsogon. She received her BA in
Journalism (1952) and MA in English (1969) from the Far Eastern University. Her books
include Bamboo in the Wind (novel, 1990); A Passing Season (novel, 2002); Feast of the
Innocents (novel, 2003); Women of Tammuz  (novel, 2004); Voices in a Minor Key (short story
collection, 2005); andArbol, An Etnographic Record of a Family (coffee table book, 2002).
Many of her short stories were published by Philippines Free Press, Weekly Women's Magazine,
Focus Magazine , and Ginoo Magazine . Her awards include Philippine Centennial Awards for
Literature; Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature; Focus Philippines Literary Awards; Pama-
as, Gintong Bai Award from the National Commission for Culture and the Arts; Green and Gold
Artist Award from FEU. Her stage, television, and radio plays were produced by Channel 4,
DZRH, and FEU. She was an associate professor at Far Eastern University, and taught Literature
and Humanities.

Literary Works.
A Passing Season is the saga of families during the time of the twin wars of 1896 and 1898,
known in history as the Philippine Revolution and the Filipino-American War. It is the story of
the Eduartes, the de Almogueiras, the Herreras, and their neighbor and occasional friends, the
Ricaforts, trying to hold on to old and trusted rituals of daily life amidst the turbulance and
upheaval in the last years of the nineteenth century of Manila. Most of all , A Passing Season is a
novel about ordinary people --of Tibor and Aurora, Masin and his cousin Subas, of Torcuato, the
servant boy who knows no other existence, but who, in the end, establishes a kinship with the
epical herores of the nation because his sacrifice has not been less noble.

2.Luis Cabalquinto

Luis Cabalquinto was born in Magarao, Camarines Sur, Philippines on January 31, 1935. He
earned the B.A. in Mass Communication degree at thenU.P. Diliman Institute of Mass
Communication. Later, after getting the degree, transferred to the UP College of Forestry in Los
Banos, working there as an instructor and "Chief" of the Publication & Information Section. He
received a Fulbright-Hays grant (in 1968) and went to Cornell University in Ithaca, New York
for further studies in mass communication. Cabalquinto enrolled in fiction and poetry writing
workshops conducted by A.R. Ammons, William Matthews, James McConkey, and others in the
English Department. He had been sporadically writing poetry and fiction since high school but at
Cornell his creative writing teachers convinced him that he should pursue imaginative writing
more seriously.
Also, at this time, LC was further encouraged when some of his poems were published for the
first time in the US--in small-press journals like Alkahest, Greenfield Review, New: American &
Canadian Poetry. He has received fellowships and awards from the following: Bread Loaf
Conference (Vermont); New York University--Academy of American Poets poetry prize; New
School for Social Research--Dylan Thomas Poetry Award; New York Foundation for the Arts-
fellowship award in poetry.
Literary Works.
Bridgeable Shores by Luis Cabaquinto
Cabaquinto’s poems on love and sex are delicately phrased. He skates round the topic as if he is
trying to avoid treading on eggshells by thinly disguising the subject matter. Seen in this light,
they are humorous and diverting. Sex is fun as well as being just one of many aspects of love.
Cabalquinto seems to be saying that you can either write about it in a romantic vein, or you can
skirt round the topic by writing about it in a light-hearted vein. In The Pornographer Labours on
His Lead he makes it clear that he rejects the notion of writing about it in a crude vein.  After
giving us a brief extract penned by the pornographer, the poem concludes:

He did not like the passage. He would work

on it some more, though it was late. he rose
and went to the fridge, reached for a Bud.

Outside, a wondrous dawn.

Someone’s small dog, barking.

Region 6
Mark Anthony A. Grejaldo was born August 11, 1980 in Iloilo City. He is a graduate of Mass
Communications from the West Visayas State University. He started writing poetry in 1998. In
1999, he became a fellow for Poetry in the Iligan National Writers' Workshop and the U.P.
National Writers' Workshop in Davao City. "Lihim ng mga Alitaptap" (his first attempt in
writing a screenplay) was a finalist in the 3rd Star Cinema Screenwriting Contest.

Literary Works.
MY MOTHER IN ILIGAN
(For Merlie M. Alunan)
O Mother, you bore me
As a writer there 
In Iligan. I still remember
You bathing me
With your fragrant criticism
For I peed with stinking
Letters on my fresh 
Poems;
Your planting 
Some ideas on writing
Which I now 
Harvest.

This work of him is all about his mother. For as Filipino we both love loved our parents but ever
since our mother, she is the one who always there for us ever since. The impact of his literary
piece to us is to love our mother and always obey her, because mother’s knows the best.

Ricardo Demetillo
Ricaredo Demetillo was born on June 20, 1920 in Dumangas, Iloilo. He was a poet, essayist and
critic who graduated cum laude in AB English, 1947 in the University of the Philippines; School
of Letters, Bloomington, Indiana; MFA in English and Creative Writing in State University of
Iowa in 1952. He married Angelita Demetillo. He was a scholar of SU in Presbyterian and
International in 1949; fellow of Rockefeller Foundation in 1952; Pro Patria Awardee in 1961;
Republic Cultural Heritage Awardee in 1968; UP Golden Jubilee for Poetry, Art Association,
and Palanca Awardee in 1972, 1973 and 1974; Rizal Centennial Awardee; and Gawad Balagtas
in 1991.    

Literary works
The Heart of Emptiness Is Black, Demetillo dramatizes the tragic conflict between the lovers
Kapinanga and Guronggurong, on the one hand, and the oppressive authority of the leader of the
expedition, Datu Sumakwel, and the priest Bangutbanwa, on the other. Kapinanga's adultery
with Guronggurong leads to his death and her exile, as decreed by her husband, Sumakwel. An
eloquent argument for the integrity of the artist as both individual human being and as social
person. However, goes further, looking for additional values that may enhance the beauty and
significance of human life. As a poet Demetillo has attained a stature that in Philippine literature
is hard to erode and difficult to surpass.

Region 7

1. Cecilia Manguerra Brainard

Cecilia Manguerra Brainard (born 1947) grew up Cebu City, Philippines, the youngest of four
children to Concepcion Cuenco Manguerra and Mariano F. Manguerra. The death of her father
when she was nine prompted her to start writing, first in journals, then essays and fiction. She
attended St. Theresa's College and Maryknoll College in the Philippines; and she did graduate
work at UCLA. Brainard has worked with Asian American youths for which she received a
Special Recognition Award from the Los Angeles Board of Education. She has also received
awards from the California State Senate, 21st District, several USIS Grants, California Arts
Council Fellowship, and an Outstanding Individual Award from the City of Cebu, Philippines,
Brody Arts Fund Award, a City of Los Angeles Cultural grant, and many more. The books she
has written and edited have also won awards, the Gintong Aklat Award and the International
Gourmand Award among them. Her work has been translated into Finnish and Turkish.
Literary Works.
Magdalena (novel, Plain View Press, 2002)
Ambitious novel of forbidden love. Set against the turbulent history of East Asia in the twentieth
century and by turns erotic and tragic, Magdalena vividly depicts three generations of strong
Filipino women. Cecilia Manguerra Brainard s novel Magdalena takes its title from a protagonist
descended from several generations of equally compelling female characters. Brainard uses a
nonlinear narrative and multiple points of view to describe the history of the Philippines that
roughly corresponds to its contact with the United States from the Spanish American War to the
war in Vietnam. The novel brings into focus not only the romantic and social conflicts of
different generations of women but also economic and racial divisions in the Philippines.
Interspersed throughout the novel are archival photographs of places and people, photographs
that remind the reader that while the characters are fictional, the backdrop is historical reality.

Antonio M. Abad

Antonio Martinez Abad known as the “el gran novelista de la literatura Filipino hispana despues
de Rizal”. He was born on May 10, 1894 in Barili, Cebu and studied at Colegio de San Carlos.
He was a poet, fictionist, playwright, and essayist who wrote in Spanish; a master of a master
of costumbrismo (local color), in a personal form of anecdote known as instantánea or ráfaga.
He became a professor at Far Eastern University and the University of the Philippines, where he
taught Spanish and co-founded the Department of Spanish (now European Languages). One of
his novels, La Oveja de Nathan, is widely discussed in the following article in Spanish, by
Professor Manuel Garcia Castellon, from University of New Orleans.

Some of his novels include El Último Romántico (1929), La Oveja de

Nathán (1929), Dagohoy (1939), El Campeón (1939), and La Vida Secreta de Daniel
Espeña (1960; one of the last Filipino novels written in Spanish). He won the Premio Zobel for
his El Último Romántico and La Oveja de Nathán (with Flaviano Zaragoza), and Premio
Concurso Literario de la Mancomunidad Filipina for novels Dagohoy and El Campeón. He was
also one of the recipients of the Commonwealth Literary Awards. Abad was also the editor of La
Revolution, El Precursor, El Espectador, The Cebu Advertiser, and El Debate; and in 1926, he
became the president of La Opinion. He is the father of poet and critic Gemino Abad. He died on
April 10, 1970

Literary Works.
The novel “El campeón” is told from the point-of-view of the rooster Banogon who, after
suffering a crippling injury in a cockfight, had been destined for the chopping board. However,
because of his fame as a cockfighting champion, he is instead brought to a farm where he was to
guard the mother hens from preying hawks. There, he befriends the caretaker, with whom he
shares the tales of his reign as a national champion and the story of his first great love, Baikiki,
whom he eventually meets again in the den where he was destined to spend his remaining days
as a cripple. To fully appreciate the genius that Abad had created, it must be noted that “El
campeón” was written during a time when the American colonial government had been pushing
for the eradication of cockfighting in the Philippines. The novel was Abad’s reflection on the
polemic that was resonating in the streets of Manila then. In reply, Abad wrote about the art
inherent in this sport that many Filipinos, up to this very day, take delight in.

Region 8
Iluminado Lucente
(May 14, 1883 - February 14, 1960) was a Filipino writer, primarily writing poetry and drama in
the Waray language. He is considered to be one of the finest writers in the Waray language.
Lucente was a member of the Sanghiran san Binisaya ha Samar ug Leyte (Academy of the
Visayan Language of Samar and Leyte). His most famous work is the poem An Iroy Nga
Tuna (The Motherland). Lucente was born on May 14, 1883 into a well-off family
in Palo, Leyte. His father was Curicoco Lucente and his mother was Aurora Garcia. His family's
status allowed him to be tutored privately before he attended university in Manila.
In 1906, Lucente established the periodical An Kaadlawon (The Day Break), becoming
responsible for the proliferation of Waray literature in the years to come.
Becoming mayor of Tacloban in 1912, he was elected to the Philippine Congress representing
Leyte and later became Secretary to the Governor, then Secretary of the Senate, for Senate
president Franciso Enage
He wrote about 30 plays, and was known for both satire using character stereotypes and
linguistic humor, which often took the form of plays on language, combining the sounds of
Spanish, English and Waray.
Literary Works.

An Iroy Nga Tuna (1945)

Most of these dealt with domestic conflicts and the changing mores of Waray society during his
time. All of us should not focus on whats trend. We should be more appreciative of other
regional writers which would probably give more interesting works. It can make them be more
motivated in doing lots of works just like Illuminado Lucante.

Norberto Romuáldez y López

(June 6, 1875 – November 4, 1941) (often referred to as Norberto Romuáldez, Sr. to
distinguish him from his son with the same name) was a Philippine writer, politician, jurist, and
statesman. He was the first Lopez-Romuáldez to attain national prominence, and is deemed the
"Father of the Law on the National Language".[1] He was the eldest son of Doña Trinidad Lopez-
Romualdez, the Romualdez grand matriarch, and uncle of First Lady of the Philippines Imelda
Romualdez Marcos, the daughter of his youngest brother Vicente Orestes Lopez Romualdez.
Literary works.

 An Pagtabang ni San Miguel (The Aid of Saint Michael)

The earliest zarzuela production involved that of Norberto Romualdez’ An Pagtabang ni San
Miguel, which was staged in Tolosa, Leyte in 1899. The zarzuela as a dramatic form enthralled
audiences for its musicality and dramatic action. Among the noteworthy playwrights of this
genre were Norberto Romualdez Sr., Alfonso Cinco, Iluminado Lucente, Emilio Andrada Jr.,
Francisco Alvarado, Jesus Ignacio, Margarita Nonato, Pedro Acerden, Pedro Separa, Educardo
Hilbano, Moning Fuentes, Virgilio Fuentes, and Agustin El O’Mora. Viewpoints is an
internationally refereed journal that publishes scholarly articles and other materials on the history of
the Philippines and its peoples, both in the homeland and overseas. It believes the past is illuminated
by historians as well as scholars from other disciplines; at the same time, it prefers ethnographic
approaches to the history of the present. It welcomes works that are theoretically informed but not
encumbered by jargon. It promotes a comparative and transnational sensibility, and seeks to engage
scholars who may not be specialists on the Philippines.

Region 9

Antonio Reyes Enriquez is the author of several books of short stories and novels.Heq was born
in Barangay Labuan, Zamboanga city in 1936. He was educated at a local Jesuit school in
Zamboanga. His parents wanted him to study medicine and sent him to a university in Manila,
but after several years, he returned to Zamboanga City without a college degree. Enriquez later
did various jobs like writing a news and other features for various news papers and magazines.
He also joined a surveying company in Cotabato where his experience provided him settings and
characters for his novel Surveyors of the Liguasan Marsh. Antonio Enriquez won a writing
fellowship award which brought him to Siliman University where he graduated with a liberal
degree in creative writing.

Literary Works.
Surveyors of the Liuasan marsh –  South of the city of Cotabato lies the famed Liguasan
marsh, on the southern Philippine island of Mindanao. It is probable that the author who worked
for a time with a surveying company in the province of Cotabato has taken his material from
actual experiences, but the episode in the novel whether whether the or in the hinterland depict
less of the charm and hospitality of Zamboanga in particular than of the tensions and frustations
of people that part of the world. Strong antagonism is seen between christians and muslims and
the novel while not all sentimental reflects the point of view of the Christians.

Ibrahim Jubaira
Is perhaps the best known of the older generation of English language-educated Muslim Filipino
writers and one of the most prolific, with three volumes of short stories published and two more
collections of unpublished material? Born in 1920, Jubaira began writing in high school. He was
editor of the Cresent Review Magazine and the Zamboanga Collegian, as well as a columnist for
the Zamboanga City Inquirer  and Muslim Times. His own education and social standing – he
came from a family of minor royalty – put him on a path familiar in colonial history. Coming of
age under the colonial American government, his English-language education led him to
government service: first as a teacher in Zamboanga and later with the Department of Foreign
Affairs, which took him to Sri Lanka (1969-78) and Pakistan (1982-85). A number of his later
stories were set outside the Philippines. In 1970, Jubaira received the Presidential Medal of Merit
in Literature from Ferdinand Marcos. As a young man, he published frequently in The Free
Press, a magazine which was established in 1907 and published until it was shut down by the
Marcos government in the 1970s. Throughout the 1940s, 50s, and 60s, The Free Press was – to
paraphrase literary historian Resil Mojares – a middle-class bible, carrying articles on culture and
current affairs, as well as a steady supply of  English-language short-stories. The Free
Press actively sought contributions from unknown or lesser-known writers in the provinces
outside Manila, and it came to serve as a venue for such young writers. To publish in The Free
Press was to be given a national, English-language audience for subject matter about which the
readership may not have been knowledgeable.

Literary Work.
“Blue Blood of the Big Astana” was published in 1941, on the eve of World War II. Philippine
independence was not formalized until 1946, and the great migration of Christian Filipinos
to Mindanao did not get underway until the 1950s. But like many intellectuals and political
leaders of his generation, Jubaira advocated an integrationist approach in the southern
Philippines, believing that only a measure of accommodation with the “Christian state” could
protect Muslims from unscrupulous newcomers. For a time in the 1950s he served on the ill-
fated Commission on National Integration. Both as a writer and as a high-status Muslim with the
benefit of a colonial education, his voice assumes a distance from the world he describes in
“Blue Blood.” Jubaira’s curious use of the Anglo-English term “Mohammedan,” for example, is
an important marker of his complicated “debt” to American schooling and sets him apart as one
empowered and knowledgeable enough to convey the world of datus, astanas (palaces), and
“Mohammedans” to others.
The story is striking for the degree to which that world, a Tausug Muslim world, exists as a
discrete entity. With few referents to location or time, the world of theastana is conveyed in its
wholeness, as is fitting for a story that recreates bittersweet childhood experiences. The narrator
Jafaar, an impoverished orphan, is left in the care of the local datu, whose home is called
an astana. Taken there against his will, he is instructed about how to live in the datu’s home; his
low status requires that he quickly learn the language and manner appropriate to address the datu
and his household. The separateness of this world is a function of physical distance and
proximity to other/outside places.
Region 10
Emmanuel Agapito Lacaba
Lacaba was born in Cagayan de Oro and lived there with his family until moving to Pateros, at
the age of seven. After attending Ateneo de Manila University, he worked in a variety of fields:
as a teacher, production hand, and stage actor. During this time, he also became deeply involved
in labor movements, such as Panulat Para sa Kaunlaran ng Sambayanan (PAKSA), as well as
leftist political groups like the New People's Army
A prolific diarist and writer, Jose Lacaba wrote of his brother Emmanuel, "When there was no
more paper to write on, he would write on the backs of cigarette tinfoil." As Emmanuel became
more deeply involved with the New People's Army, and with other guerilla groups opposed
to martial law under the Marcos dictatorship, he went deeper into the Philippines' underground,
but his poems and stories continued to circulate and find wide readership.
Lacaba, along with three other dissidents, was killed on March 18, 1976 in Tucaan
Balaag, Asuncion, and Davao del Norte by members of the Integrated Civilian Home Defense
Forces. He had been set to go back shortly to the city for a new assignment that would have used
his writing skills, and had agreed to write a script for director Lino Brocka once he got back
there. He was 27 years old.

Literary work.
Lacaba wrote the lyrics of "Awit ni Kuala", the song sung by Lolita Rodriguez in the classic
Lino Brocka masterpiece 'Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang '. He also composed new revolutionary
lyrics in Cebuano for some well-known folk songs.
I am guilty for judging others and mind on what should be 'their business'. For instance, a
helpless child asks for money. Instead of lecturing why they beg for money, maybe I should shed
out a few of what I have. I always think that giving will just help the poor become lazier. But
what if they really can't get a job? Yep, I’ve realized it’s time to change.
It may still occur to me as if they're fooling me. But I got to try right? We as a community should
try.

Jose Maria Flores Lacaba,

Popularly known as Pete Lacaba, is a Filipino film writer, editor, poet, screenwriter, journalist
and translator. Born in Misamis Oriental in 1945 to Jose Monreal Lacaba of Loon, Bohol and Fe
Flores from Pateros, Rizal. Lacaba is one of the leading figures in Philippine literature today. He
is well known in various fields, including creative writing, journalism, editing and scriptwriting.
He is also well known for his role in the fight against President Ferdinand Marcos and his US-
backed military dictatorship during the Philippines' martial law era.
Lacaba has been especially recognized for his coverage of the First Quarter Storm, an anti-
Marcos movement, in 1970. His firsthand account of the events of the First Quarter Storm
protests, Days of Disquiet, Nights of Rage (1982), compiled from articles first published in the
Philippine Free Press and the Asia-Philippines Leader magazines, are considered important
accounts of that period.
Another influential work Lacaba wrote during this period, under the nom de plume Ruben
Cuevas, was the poem "Prometheus Unbound," which was published by Focus, a magazine allied
with the Marcos regime. The editors did not immediately realize that the work was an acrostic
poem, whose first letters spelled out the popular protest slogan "Marcos Hitler Diktador Tuta"
(Marcos, Hitler, Dictator, and Lapdog).
Lacaba's poetry has been compiled in collections which include Ang Mga Kagilagilalas na
Pakikipagsapalaran ni Juan de la Cruz (1979), Sa Daigdig ng Kontradiksyon (1991) and Sa
Panahon ng Ligalig (1991).
He worked with well-known directors like Lino Brocka and Mike de Leon in producing films
that expose ordinary people's lives that experienced poverty and injustice. He continued writing
poems, and in 1999, was decorated as one of 100 "Bayani ng Sining". Lacaba is currently the
executive editor of Summit Media's YES! magazine, the sister publication of PEP. His screenplay
credits include Jaguar, which competed at the Cannes International Film Festival in 1980,
while Bayan Ko: Kapit sa Patalim competed in 1984. Orapronobis was screened out of
competition in 1989. Ricky Lee co-wrote Jaguar with Lacaba. In honor of Lacaba for being the
2008 Lifetime Achievement Awardee, the classic film Bayan Ko was screened as the closing
film of Dekada Cinemanila. According to Anima Aguiluz, the daughter of Direk Tikoy and
festival programmer of Cinemanila, Bayan Ko could be found in Toronto, Canada.

Literary Works.

"Tatsulok" was originally sung in 1991 by a trio folk-rock band, Buklod, who writes and
performs songs about environment, politics, and human rights. The song was written in 1989 by
Rom Dongeto, during the so-called "Total War Policy" of Philippine Government, under the late
President Corazon Aquino with New People's Army (abbreviated as NPA), the armed wing of
revolutionary organization, Communist Party of the Philippines.  The NPA is referenced in the
song as the color "Red" (Filipino: "pula") due to association to Communism and the Philippine
Government is referenced as the color "Yellow" (Filipino: "dilaw"), being the color that Aquino
is known for.
The song explains that the armed conflict between the NPA and the Philippine Government
under Aquino Administration is just the effect of a bigger problem. To fully understand, before
Aquino came into office, Philippines was on a fourteen year Martial Law under late
President Ferdinand Marcos. And NPA was one of the groups that helped toppled Marcos,
vacating the seat which Aquino later took when she was inaugurated on 5 February 1986. So the
war of NPA with the previous Marcos administration of Philippine Government simply
continued under Aquino administration, thus the "never-ending war".

Region 11

Jhoanna Lynn B. Cruz

  Jhoanna serves the writing community as president of the Davao Writers Guild, which
organizes readings and writers workshops in Davao City, as well as publishes new writing from
Mindanao in print and in the website dagmay.kom.ph. For the past six years, she has served as
the Regional Coordinator for Eastern and Southern Mindanao of the National Committee on
Literary Arts under the National Commission on Culture and the Arts. She is also a founding
member of the Asia Pacific Writers and Translators organization. Her poems, stories, essays, and
plays have been published extensively in the Philippines, and have won the prestigious Palanca
Memorial award for literature. She has presented her work in literary events in Hong Kong,
Bangkok, Singapore, Vietnam, and Australia. Her recent work appears in the “New Asia Now”
issue of Australia’s Griffith Review. She has received several Philippine writing fellowships and
a writing residencies in Vietnam and Australia from the Writers Immersion and Cultural
Exchange (WrICE) Program of RMIT University in Melbourne. Through WrICE, she was a
featured Philippine writer at the Melbourne Writers Festival in 2015.

Literary work.

Women coveting women, women pleasuring other women- this must be the subject of more and
more stories, subject to opening up. Thankfully, the vicarious rewards are shared quite amply if
quietly, pleasurably, in this victorius collection that goes beyond a Victoria's Secrets-type of
emancipation. These stories are as strong as the stronger sex, or astounding sex, since like the
characters they "will keep paying the price for loving..." and "saying that it is worth it."

Tita Lacambra-Ayala
Born on January 2, 1931 at Sarrat, Ilocos Norte,Is a writer, poet and multi-media artist. She grew
up in neighboring Benguet, her playmates belonging to the Igorot tribe of that mountain
province. While studying for a degree in education at the University of the Philippines,
Lacambra-Ayala supported herself by freelance writing for metropolitan magazines and as press
officer of the UP Los Baños College of Agriculture Extension Office, she eventually settled in
Mindanao with her husband painter Jose V. Ayala, Jr. During the mid-1950's she moved to the
southern region of Mindanao, where she simultaneously taught journalism at a private university
and worked for a pineapple-canning factory. She won the Palanca in the English Short Story
Category “Everything” (Third Prize, 1967), and for Poetry in English “A Filigree of Seasons”
(Second Prize). She also garnered the following awards and citations: Gawad Balagtas Awardee
for Poetry in English (1991), Manila Critics Circle Special Citation for Road Map Series (1989),
Philippine Free Press Awardee for Short Story (1970, Third Prize), Focus Philippines Poetry
Awardee, Gawad Pambansang Alagad ni Balagtas UMPIL Achievement Award (1991), and
National Fellow for Poetry, UP Creative Writing Center (1994-95).
Lacambra-Ayala is a founding member of the Davao Writers Guild, and is the mother of famous
songwriter-musicians Joey Ayala and Cynthia Alexander and poet Fernando (Pido) Ayala.
I highly appreciated Tita Lacambra-Ayala works. She’ve done so much to our literature as a
Filipino. We must be proud our native writer as she had contributed so much in our country. We
must be proud of our own country. We the 21st Century youths have nothing to shame on it
instead we must embraced on it.
Literary work
The sunflower is not the subtlest of flora (indeed it preens without pretense). The key to the
sunflower is not its wide eye, but its neck as it turns toward the sun, hiding whatever bitterness it
has at the source, and carrying a bit of sun with it wherever it goes, and in whatever weather.
Lacambra-Ayala, in this poem, could very well have been talking about herself, or her dream
self. She dispelled winter gloom wherever she went.

Region 12
Florentino Hornedo was born in Savidug, Sabtang, Batanes on October 16, 1938. He
received his BSE from the University of Santo Tomas in 1961, his MAs in English and
Philosophy from St. Louis University in 1966 and 1972 respectively, his Ph.D. in Literature
from UST in 1977, and a post doctorate in History and Political Science from UST
completed in 1985-88. He also has training in Journalism and Cultural Anthropology.
Dr. Hornedo has authored 13 books in Philosophy, Education, Culture and History. He has been
editor of Ad Veritatem , a Journal of Research at the UST Graduate School, and Ivatan Studies
Journal , a Graduate School Research Journal at the Saint Dominic College of Batanes. He has
garnered several awards , among them the Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature,
National Catholic Authors Award, Pilak Award for Service to Culture, the Arts and Community,
of the Cultural Center of the Philippines, Annual Book Awards of Ateneo de Manila University,
Batanes Provincial Achievement Recognition for Cultural and Social Research, Recognition
Award for Social Research, from the UST College of Education Alumni Association, and Most
Outstanding Thomasian Alumni Awardee in the Arts & Humanities 2006.

Literary work.
laji an ivatan folk lyric tradition
Laji is a short lyric folk poetry composed of verse lines generally of 14 syllables, of which the
4th, 7th, 10th, are stressed without rhyme scheme. This type of poetry reflects a concern for
Ivatan social life and problems through the greatest number of recorded and well known laji
focus on lives and marriage related lyrics. The laji may be sung for rituals, at courtship and
prewedding ceremonies, at social events and celebrations, at drinking sessions and at funeral
wakes or even in private.

Fernando Mamuri Maramág 

Was born on January 21, 1893 in Ilagan, Isabela. He was educated in the Philippine
Normal School, and then transferred to the University of the Philippines. He worked as teacher at
the Instituto de Manila, which later became the University of Manila. He was also writer and
editor at several magazines, including Rising Philippines, Citizen, Philippine National Weekly,
Philippines Herald, and The Tribune. He also served in the Publication Division of the
Department of Justice, and then transferred to the office of the President of the Senate under
Manuel L. Quezon.
A poet and essayist, Maramág translated Ibanag folk songs into English, such as the “Cagayanon
Labor Song,” “A Translation of an Orphan’s Song,” and “Cagayano Peasant Song”. His poems
include “To a Youth,” “The Aetheist,” and “Moonlight on Manila Bay”. His essays were
anthologized in Leopoldo Yabes’ Filipino Essays in English 1910-1954 (1954). He passed away
on October 23, 1936.

Literary work.

It may evoke sadness, joy, laughter, reiicule or wisdom. The verzista is Cagayan's version of the
scop, minstrel, and bards of England and European countries who is lavishly repaid by the host
with gift or cash, palay, corn or any food stuff. Among the most popular versos are the "Osse-
osse" and the "Kilingkingan" usually giving the vocal accompaniment of dances by those names?
This is an expression of the determination of cock-sureness of the Ibanag in love, courtship, fight
or contest, despite his size, humility, poverty and misery. This explains why he has survived all
adversities under different regimes in the hands of colonial powers and during the Martial Law
days.

Region 13

José Íñigo Homer Lacambra Ayala (born June 1, 1956 in Bukidnon, Philippines),

professionally known as Joey Ayala, is a Filipino singer, songwriter and former chairman of the
music committee of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts. He is well known for his
style of music that combines the sounds of Filipino ethnic instruments with modern pop music.
His public music life started when he released an album recorded in a makeshift studio in 1982
in Davao City. To date, he has released fourteen albums.
He is the elder brother of singer-songwriter Cynthia Alexander.
Some of the Filipino ethnic instruments Ayala is known to use include the two-
stringed Hegalong of the T'Boli people of Mindanao, the Kubing, the bamboo jaw harp found in
various forms throughout the Philippines, and the 8-piece gong set, Kulintang, the melodic gong-
rack of the indigenous peoples of the southern regions of the country. He also uses modern
instruments in his music, such as the electric guitar, bass guitar, synthesizer/sequencer and
drums.
The name of his band "Bagong Lumad" literally means "New Native", a name and philosophy
that was carried over into Bagong Lumad Artists Foundation, Inc. (www.blafi.org), now a
"UNDP Responsible Party" working on SiningBayan (Social Artistry) capacity-building projects
with the Civil Service Commission, the Department of Education, and other GOs and NGOs in
the Philippines. He served as the (2008–10) Chairman and Vice-Chairman (2011–13) of the
National Committee on Music under the National Commission for Culture and the Arts.
In 2013, Ayala entered the second Philippine Popular Music Festival as a composer and
interpreter for the song, "Papel", where it vied as one of its twelve finalists. The song featured
collaborations with rapper Gloc-9 and guest vocals by Denise Barbacena. He previously
participated in 2012 as an interpreter for the song "Piso" written by Kristofferson Melecio.

Literary works.
Kundiman
Filipinos love to sing. Just consider the popularity of the karaoke, singing contests and musical
variety shows and you will agree that the love of music is in the Filipino DNA. From the
timeless kundiman (love song) and other indigenous music to the revolutionary and protest songs
as well as the ubiquitous Western tunes, Philippine musical genres are as diverse as the language
groups in the archipelago.
Centuries of colonial struggle generated songs that ignited and sustained the revolution against
Spain and the United States. Certainly, political activism eloquently and oftentimes poignantly
expressed through songs continued in later decades. For instance, radical agrarian and labor
movements in the 1930s used music to recruit, organize and boost morale (Rodel, 2002). Using
historical and qualitative textual analysis, this chapter hopes to illuminate the role of music in the
political awakening of Filipinos through the years. The researchers are mainly interested in
popular music and anchor the study on concepts of popular culture and the process of meaning
making. Fernandez (1981) contends that from a Philippine standpoint, popular culture is a
powerful discourse that can serve strategic value development and social consciousness
objectives. According to Lockard (1996) “Popular culture affects people’s imaginative pictures
of the world, molding perception of reality including that of politics; hence it involves political
socialization (the acquisition of images and ideas about the political world and the individual
citizen’s role in it)” (pp.150-151).
The study on which this chapter is based upon, therefore, recognizes the intersection of music, as
a universal element of popular culture, and politics. By examining the relationship between
protest music and politics, this study ventures into a rather neglected scholarly territory
especially in the Philippines where music is a rare topic of research (Concepcion, 2015). This is
where this initial peek into the role of Philippine songs in many of the country’s political
struggles and the message in these songs might make its modest contribution.

Edith L. Tiempo
National Artist for Literature (1999)
(April 22, 1919 – August 21, 2011)

A poet, fictionist, teacher and literary critic, Edith L. Tiempo is one of the finest Filipino writers
in English. Her works are characterized by a remarkable fusion of style and substance, of
craftsmanship and insight. Born on April 22, 1919 in Bayombong, Nueva Vizcaya, her poems
are intricate verbal transfigurations of significant experiences as revealed, in two of her much
anthologized pieces, “The Little Marmoset” and “Bonsai”. As fictionist, Tiempo is as morally
profound. Her language has been marked as “descriptive but unburdened by scrupulous
detailing.” She is an influential tradition in Philippine literature in English. Together with her late
husband, Edilberto K. Tiempo, she founded and directed the Silliman National Writers
Workshop in Dumaguete City, which has produced some of the country’s best writers.

Literary works.
A Blade of Fern: A Novel about the Philippines
Set in the exotic background of the little mining village of Nibucal in the southern Philippines, A
Blade of Fern sketches a panoramic vista of rural life and problems of survival among miners
prospecting for gold. The novel is in the tradition of the Romantic hero who runs away from a
society he rejects to seek regeneration in a deeply natural environment. A Blade of Fern should
be of interest to students of Philippine literature in English and the general reader.

Region 14
John Iremil Teodoro (*November 14, 1973 in Maybato Norte, San Jose de
Buenavista, Antique, Philippines) is a Filipino writer, creative writing and literature teacher,
literary critic, translator, and cultural scholar. He is also considered to be a leading pioneer in
Philippine gay literature and the most published author in Kinaray-a. Born to a middle-class
family in Antique province, Teodoro gained early recognition as a creative writer since his
college years His father is an international ship captain and his mother a full-time housewife. He
writes in four languages, namely English, Filipino, Hiligaynon and Kinaray-a. He is a member of
the Alon Collective and the Tabig/Hubon Manunulat Antique. Many of his literary works have
been published in some of the country's leading journals, magazines and newspapers like Ani,
Idea, Tomas, Agung, The Daily Tribune, and Liwayway. His poems are also published and
translated ito English by the State of Virginia Poet Laureate Luisa A. Igloria in international
online literary journals like Qarrtsiluni and Plume Poetry. Teodoro is a five-time awardee of
the Palanca Awards and has published countless books of fiction and poetry. He obtained his
bachelor's degree in biology from the University of San Agustin in Iloilo City and completed an
MFA degree in creative writing and a PhD in Literature from the De La Salle University-
Manila where he is now teaching creative writing, literature, and art appreciation since 2016. His
new essays in Filipino can be read in his blog Pagmumuni-muni ni Putri Duyung
(jieteodoro.com).

Literary works.
Kung ang Tula ay Pwedeng Pambili ng Lalake

At the onset, if we are to go for the titles literal translation (“if a poem could buy a guy”) then the
author runs the risk of displeasing some gays. Why buy men in the first place, the politically-
correct gays among us would say, with the idea alone of paying for sex already off-putting to
some gays who have never done it. And whatever happened to the idea of using one’s beauty
solely (“ganda lang” or G.L.) to attract one’s man, others would likely chorus. This literal
translation of the title could also unnecessarily brand Iloilo-based Teodoro as a gay guy who
buys off his men.

On the one hand, isn’t Teodoro merely acknowledging how things are in this country? That
“G.L.” is an illusion and gays do pay for sex in the country and if not in the form of cash, men
are bought off with educational scholarships, townhouses, cars, jewelry, watches, shoes,
cellphones, and even e-load? And that yes, he too, is not exempt from such a reality? 

Yet if we opt for yet another translation: “if poems could be exchanged for a man,” anchored on
the idea of bartered goods being exchanged only with goods of equivalent or equal value, then
the “lalaki” (man) in the title is ennobled. In this case, the man becomes equal in value to a
poem. The poems also become a kind of an offering as flowers are to an idol. The only other
question such a proposition creates is the question now on the value of the poem itself: did the
poems retain or lose its value when it became worthwhile enough to be exchanged for men?

ACTIVITY NO. 4

Compare and contrast the various literary genres between The Pre-colonial period and The Spanish period
citing their elements, structures and traditions.
The Pre-colonial Period
Filipinos often lose sight of the fact that the first period of the Philippine literary history is the longest.
Certain events from the nation’s history had forced lowland Filipinos to begin counting the years of
history from 1521, the first time written records by Westerners referred to the archipelago later to be
called “Las islas Filipinas”. However, the discovery of the “Tabon Man” in a cave in Palawan in 1962,
has allowed us to stretch our prehistory as far as 50,000 years back. The stages of that prehistory show
how the early Filipinos grew in control over their environment. Through the researches and writings
about Philippine history, much can be reliably inferred about precolonial Philippine literature from an
analysis of collected oral lore of Filipinos whose ancestors were able to preserve their indigenous culture
by living beyond the reach of Spanish colonial administrators.
The oral literature of the precolonial Filipinos bore the marks of the community. The subject was
invariably the common experience of the people constituting the village-food-gathering, creature and
objects of nature, work in the home, field, forest or sea, caring for children, etc. This is evident in the
most common forms of oral literature like the riddle, the proverbs and the song, which always seem to
assume that the audience is familiar with the situations, activities and objects mentioned in the course of
expressing a thought or emotion. The language of oral literature, unless the piece was part of the cultural
heritage of the community like the epic, was the language of daily life. At this phase of literary
development, any member of the community was a potential poet, singer or storyteller as long as he knew
the language and had been attentive to the conventions f the forms.
In settlements along or near the seacoast, a native syllabary was in use before the Spaniards brought over
the Roman alphabet. The syllabary had three vowels (a, i-e, u-o) and 14 consonants (b, d, g, h, k, l, m, n,
ng, p, r, s, t, w, and y) but, curiously enough, had no way of indicating the consonantal ending words.
This lends credence to the belief that the syllabary could not have been used to produce original creative
works which would all but be undecipherable when read by one who had had no previous contact with the
text. When the syllabary fell into disuse among the Christianized Filipinos, much valuable information
about precolonial culture that could had been handed down to us was lost. Fewer and fewer Filipinos kept
records of their oral lore, and fewer and fewer could decipher what had been recorded in earlier times.
The perishable materials on which the Filipinos wrote were disintegrate and the missionaries who
believed that indigenous pagan culture was the handicraft of the devil himself destroyed those that
remained.
There are two ways by which the uniqueness of indigenous culture survived colonization. First, by
resistance to colonial rule. This was how the Maranaws, the Maguindanaws, and the Tausogs of
Mindanao and Igorots, Ifugao, Bontocs and Kalingas of the Mountain Province were able to preserve the
integrity of their ethnic heritage. The Tagbanwas, Tagabilis, Mangyans, Bagobos, Manuvus, Bilaan,
Bukidnons, and Isneg could cling on the traditional way of life because of the inaccessibility of
settlements. It is to these descendants of ancient Filipinos who did not come under the cultural sway of
Western colonizers that we turn when we look for examples of oral lore. Oral lore they have been
preserve like epics, tales, songs, riddles, and proverbs that are now windows to a past with no written
records which can be studied.
Ancient Filipinos possessed great wealth of lyric poetry. There were many songs of great variety in lyrics
and music as well as meter. Each mountain tribe and each group of lowland Filipinos had its own. Most
of the may be called folksongs in that there can be traced in them various aspects of the life and customs
of the people. Precolonial poetry were composed of poems composed of different dialects of the islands.
The first Spanish settlers themselves found such poetry, reproduced them, and recorded in their reports
and letters to Spain. Although precolonial poems are distinct from the lyrics of the folksongs the said
poems were usually chanted when recited, as is still the custom of all Asiatic peoples and Pacific Ocean
tribes. It is true that many of the precolonial poetry is crude in ideology and phraseology as we look at it
with our present advanced knowledge of what poetry should be. Considering the fact that early Filipinos
never studied literature and never had a chance to study poetry and poetic technique, it is surprising that
their spontaneous poetic expression had some rhythmic pattern in the use of equal syllabic counts for the
lines of stanza, and have definitely uniform rhyming scheme. Spanish missionaries writing grammars and
vocabularies had made good use of these early beginnings of Filipino poetry to illustrate word usage
according to the dictionary and grammatical definitions they had cast.
Thousands of maxims, proverbs, epigrams, and the like have been listed by many different collectors and
researchers from many dialects. Majority of these reclaimed from oblivion come from the Tagalos,
Cebuano, and Ilocano dialects. And the bulk are rhyming couplets with verses of five, six seven, or eight
syllables, each line of the couplet having the same number of syllables. The rhyming practice is still the
same as today in the three dialects mentioned. A good number of the proverbs is conjectured as part of
longer poems with stanza divisions, but only the lines expressive of a philosophy have remained
remembered in the oral tradition. Classified with the maxims and proverbs are allegorical stanzas which
abounded in all local literatures. They contain homilies, didactic material, and expressions of homespun
philosophy, making them often quoted by elders and headmen in talking to inferiors. They are rich in
similes and metaphors. These one stanza poems were called Tanaga and consisted usually of four lines
with seven syllables, all lines rhyming.
The most appreciated riddles of ancient Philippines are those that are rhymed and having equal number of
syllables in each line, making them classifiable under the early poetry of this country. Riddles were
existent in all languages and dialects of the ancestors of the Filipinos and cover practically all of the
experiences of life in these times.
Almost all the important events in the life of the ancient peoples of this country were connected with
some religious observance and the rites and ceremonies always some poetry recited, chanted, or sung.
The lyrics of religious songs may of course be classified as poetry also, although the rhythm and the
rhyme may not be the same.
Drama as a literary from had not yet begun to evolve among the early Filipinos. Philippine theater at this
stage consisted largely in its simplest form, of mimetic dances imitating natural cycles and work
activities. At its most sophisticated, theater consisted of religious rituals presided over by a priest or
priestess and participated in by the community. The dances and ritual suggest that indigenous drama had
begun to evolve from attempts to control the environment. Philippine drama would have taken the form of
the dance-drama found in other Asian countries.
Prose narratives in prehistoric Philippines consisted largely or myths, hero tales, fables and legends. Their
function was to explain natural phenomena, past events, and contemporary beliefs in order to make the
environment less fearsome by making it more comprehensible and, in more instances, to make idle hours
less tedious by filling them with humor and fantasy. There is a great wealth of mythical and legendary
lore that belongs to this period, but preserved mostly by word of mouth, with few written down by
interested parties who happen upon them.
The most significant pieces of oral literature that may safely be presumed to have originated in prehistoric
times are folk epics. Epic poems of great proportions and lengths abounded in all regions of the islands,
each tribe usually having at least one and some tribes possessing traditionally around five or six popular
ones with minor epics of unknown number.
Filipinos had a culture that linked them with the Malays in the Southeast Asia, a culture with traces of
Indian, Arabic, and, possibly Chinese influences. Their epics, songs, short poems, tales, dances and rituals
gave them a native Asian perspective which served as a filtering device for the Western culture that the
colonizers brought over from Europe.

The Spanish Colonial Period

The existing literature of the Philippine ethnic groups at the time of conquest and conversion into
Christianity was mainly oral, consisting of epics, legends, songs, riddles, and proverbs. The conquistador,
especially its ecclesiastical arm, destroyed whatever written literature he could find, and hence rendered
the system of writing (e.g., the Tagalog syllabary) inoperable. Among the only native systems of writing
that have survived are the syllabaries of the Mindoro Mangyans and the Tagbanua of Palawan. The
Spanish colonial strategy was to undermine the native oral tradition by substituting for it the story of the
Passion of Christ (Lumbera, p. 14). Although Christ was by no means war-like or sexually attractive as
many of the heroes of the oral epic tradition, the appeal of the Jesus myth inhered in the protagonist’s
superior magic: by promising eternal life for everyone, he democratized the power to rise above death. It
is to be emphasized, however, that the native tradition survived and even flourished in areas inaccessible
to the colonial power. Moreover, the tardiness and the lack of assiduity of the colonial administration in
making a public educational system work meant the survival of oral tradition, or what was left of it,
among the conquered tribes. The church authorities adopted a policy of spreading the Church doctrines by
communicating to the native (pejoratively called Indio) in his own language. Doctrina Christiana (1593),
the first book to be printed in the Philippines, was a prayerbook written in Spanish with an accompanying
Tagalog translation. It was, however, for the exclusive use of the missionaries who invariably read them
aloud to the unlettered Indio catechumens (Medina), who were to rely mainly on their memory. But the
task of translating religious instructional materials obliged the Spanish missionaries to take a most
practical step, that of employing native speakers as translators. Eventually, the native translator learned to
read and write both in Spanish and his native language. This development marked the beginning of Indio
literacy and thus spurred the creation of the first written literary native text by the native. These writers,
called Ladinos because of their fluency in both Spanish and Tagalog (Medina, pp. 55-56), published their
work, mainly devotional poetry, in the first decade of the 17th century. Among the earliest writers of note
were Francisco de San Jose and Francisco Bagongbata (Medina). But by far the most gifted of these
native poet-translators was Gaspar Aquino de Belen (Lumbera, p.14). Mahal Na Pasion ni Jesu Christo, a
Tagalog poem based on Christ’s passion, was published in 1704. This long poem, original and folksy in
its rendition of a humanized, indeed, a nativized Jesus, is a milestone in the history of Philippine letters.
Ironically — and perhaps just because of its profound influence on the popular imagination — as artifact
it marks the beginning of the end of the old mythological culture and a conversion to the new paradigm
introduced by the colonial power. Until the 19th century, the printing presses were owned and managed
by the religious orders (Lumbera, p.13). Thus, religious themes dominated the culture of the Christianized
majority. But the native oral literature, whether secular or mythico-religious continued. Even among the
Christianized ethnic groups, the oral tradition persisted in such forms as legends, sayings, and wedding
songs such as the balayan and parlor theater such as theduplo (Medina, p. 32). In the 18th century, secular
literature from Spain in the form of medieval ballads inspired the native poetic-drama form called
the komedya, later to be called moro-moro because these often dealt with the theme of Christians
triumphing over Moslems (Lumbera, p. 15).

       Jose de la Cruz (1746 – 1829) was the foremost exponent of the komedya during his time. A poet of
prodigious output and urbane style, de la Cruz marks a turning point in that his elevated diction
distinguishes his work from folk idiom (as for instance, that of Gaspar Aquino de Belen). Yet his appeal
to the non-literate was universal. The popularity of the dramatic form, of which he was a master, was due
to it being experienced as performance both by the lettered minority and the illiterate but genuinely
appreciative majority.

       Francisco Baltazar (1788 – 1862), popularly called Balagtas, is the acknowledged master of
traditional Tagalog poetry. Of peasant origins, he left his hometown in Bigaa, Bulacan for Manila, with a
strong determination to improve his lot through education. To support his studies, he worked as a
domestic servant in Tondo. He steeped himself in classical studies in schools of prestige in the capital.

       Great social and political changes in the world worked together to make Balagtas’ career as poet
possible. The industrial revolution had caused a great movement of commerce in the globe, creating
wealth and the opportunity for material improvement in the life of the working classes. With these great
material changes, social values were transformed, allowing greater social mobility. In short, he was a
child of the global bourgeois revolution. Liberal ideas, in time, broke class — and, in the Philippines —
even racial barriers (Medina). The word Filipino, which used to refer to a restricted group (i.e., Spaniards
born in the Philippines) expanded to include not only the acculturated wealthy Chinese mestizo but also
the acculturated Indio (Medina). Balagtas was one of the first Indios to become a Filipino.

       But the crucial element in Balagtas’ unique genius is that, being caught between two cultures (the
native and the colonial/classical), he could switch codes (or was perceived by his compatriot audience to
be switching codes), provide insight and information to his oppressed compatriots in the very style and
guise of a tradition provided him by a foreign (and oppressive) culture. His narrative poem Florante at
Laura written in sublime Tagalog, is about tyranny in Albanya, but it is also perceived to be about
tyranny in his Filipino homeland (Lumbera).

       Despite the foreign influence, however, he remained true to his native traditions. His verse plays were
performed to the motley crowd. His poems were sung by the literate for the benefit of the unlettered. The
metrical regularity and rhyme performed their age-old mnemonic function, despite and because of the
introduction of printing.

       Printing overtook tradition. The printed page, by itself, became the mnemonic device, the stage set
for the development of prose. The first Filipino novel was Ninay, written in Spanish by Pedro Paterno, a
Philippine-bornilustrado (Medina p. 93). Following the sentimental style of his first book Sampaguitas (a
collection of poems in Spanish), the novel endeavored to highlight the endearingly unique qualities of
Filipinos.

       National Hero Jose Rizal (1861 – 1896) chose the realistic novel as his medium. Choosing Spanish
over Tagalog meant challenging the oppressors on the latter’s own turf. By writing in prose, Rizal also cut
his ties with the Balagtas tradition of the figurative indirection which veiled the supposed subversiveness
of many writings at that time.

       Rizal’s two novels, the Noli Me Tangere and its sequel El Filibusterismo, chronicle the life and
ultimate death of Ibarra, a Filipino educated abroad, who attempts to reform his country through
education. At the conclusion of the Noli, his efforts end in near-death and exile from his country. In
the Filibusterismo, he returns after reinventing himself as Simoun, the wealthy jeweler, and hastens social
decay by further corrupting the social fabric till the oppressed react violently to overthrow the system. But
the insurrection is foiled and Simoun suffers a violent death.

       In a sense, Rizal’s novels and patriotic poems were the inevitable conclusion to the campaign for
liberal reforms known as the Propaganda Movement, waged by Graciano Lopez Jaena, and M.H. Del
Pilar. The two novels so vividly portrayed corruption and oppression that despite the lack of any clear
advocacy, they served to instill the conviction that there could be no solution to the social ills but a
violent one.

       Following closely on the failed reformist movement, and on Rizal’s novels, was the Philippine
revolution headed by Andres Bonifacio (1863 – 1897). His closest aide, the college-bred Emilio Jacinto
(1875 – 1899), was the revolutionary organization’s ideologue. Both were admirers of Rizal, and like
Rizal, both were writers and social critics profoundly influenced by the liberal ideas of the French
enlightenment, about human dignity. Bonifacio’s most important work are his poems, the most well-
known being Pag-Ibig Sa Tinubuang Lupa. Jacinto wrote political essays expressed in the language of the
folk. Significantly, although either writer could have written in Spanish (Bonifacio, for instance, wrote a
Tagalog translation of Rizal’s Ultimo Adios), both chose to communicate to their fellowmen in their own
native language.
       The figure of Rizal dominates Philippine literature until the present day. Liberalism led to education
of the native and the ascendancy of Spanish. But Spanish was undermined by the very ideas of liberation
that it helped spread, and its decline led to nativism and a renaissance of literature in the native languages.

       The turn of the century witnessed not only the Philippine revolution but a quieter though no less
significant outbreak. The educated women of the period produced significant poetry. Gregoria de Jesus,
wife of Andres Bonifacio, wrote notable Tagalog poetry. Meanwhile, in Vigan of the Ilocano North,
Leona Florentino, by her poetry, became the foremost Ilocano writer of her time.

Provide at least 5 samples of the following; (each must be written in a bond

paper in preparation for your project “Portfolio”)

(a) Riddles
Riddle: What is always in front of you but can’t be seen?
Answer: The future

Riddle: There’s a one-story house in which everything is yellow. Yellow walls, yellow doors, yellow
furniture. What color are the stairs?
Answer: There aren’t any—it’s a one-story house.

Riddle. What can you break, even if you never pick it up or touch it?
Answer: A promise

Riddle: What goes up but never comes down?

Answer: Your age

Riddle: A man who was outside in the rain without an umbrella or hat didn’t get a single hair on his head
wet. Why?
Answer: He was bald.

(b)Proverbs
*An apple a day keeps the doctor away.
(Means: If you eat healthily, you will be healthy!)
*It’s better to be safe than sorry.
(Means: You should always take any necessary precautions.)

*Better late than never.

(Means: Of course it’s better to do things on time, but doing something late is
better than not doing it at all. It can also mean you are never too old to do
something you want to do.)

*You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

(Means: If you have a sweet disposition you will get more from people than if
you are rude to them.)

*Actions speak louder than words.

(Means: What you do shows how you actually feel more than what you say.)

(c) Songs- Folk songs

1. Atin Ku Pung Sinsing (Once I had a Ring - Lyrics in Panpango)

Atin cu pung singsing

Metung yang timpukan
 Amana ke iti qng indung ibatan
Sangkan keng sininup qng metung a kaban
Mewala ya iti eku amalayan
Waa...
Atin cu pung singsing
Metung yang timpukan
Amana ke iti qng indung ibatan
Sangkan keng sininup qng metung a kaban
Mewala ya iti eku amalayan
Ing sukdal ning lub ku
Susukdaul qng banua
Mengurus kung gamat
Babo ning lamesa
Ninu mang manakit
Qng singing kung mana
Kalulung pusu ku, manginu ya keka
Ikit keing singsing mung mana
Bayu je ibye keka
Ibye mepa ing mayumung mung wa!
Atin cu pung singsing
Metung yang timpukan
Amana ke iti qng indung ibatan
Sangkan keng sininup qng metung a kaban
Mewala ya iti eku amalayan
Ing sukdal ning lub ku
Susukdaul qng banua
Mengurus kung gamat
Babo ning lamesa
Ninu mang manakit
Qng singing kung mana
Kalulung pusu ku, manginu ya keka

2. Magtanim Ay Di Biro (Planting Rice)

Magtanim ay di biro,
Maghapong nakayuko.
Di man lang makaupo,
Di man lang makatayo.
 Braso ko'y namamanhid,
Baywang ko'y nangangawit.
Binti ko'y namimitig,
Sa pagkababad sa tubig.
Sa umagang paggising,
Ang lahat iisipin.
Kung saan may patanim
May masarap na pagkain.
Braso ko'y namamanhid,
Baywang ko'y nangangawit.
Binti ko'y namimitig,
Sa pagkababad sa tubig.
Halina, halina, mga kaliyag.
Tayo'y magsipag unat-unat.
Magpanibago tayo ng lakas,
Para sa araw ng bukas.
Para sa araw ng bukas!

3. Bahay Kubo (Nipa Hut)

Bahay-kubo, kahit munti

Ang halaman doon ay sari-sari
Singkamas at talong
 Sigarilyas at mani
Sitaw, bataw, patani
Kundol, patola, upo't kalabasa
at tsaka mayro'n pang
Labanos, mustasa
Sibuyas, kamatis, bawang at luya
Sa paligid-ligid ay puno ng linga
Bahay-kubo, kahit munti
Ang halaman doon ay sari-sari
Singkamas at talong
Sigarilyas at mani
Sitaw, bataw, patani
Kundol, patola, upo't kalabasa
At tsaka mayro'n pang
Labanos, mustasa
Sibuyas, kamatis, bawang at luya
Sa paligid-ligid ay puno ng linga
Sa paligid-ligid ay puno ng linga

4. Isa, Dalawa, Tatlo (One, Two, Three)

 Isa dalawa tatlo una unahan tayo
Apat lima anim sa balong malalim
Pito walo siyam lakad parang langgam
Pagdating sa sampu ang lahat ay umupo

Isa dala...

5. Ang Panday (The Blacksmith)

Kling klang kling klang klang klang klang

Awit ng palihan sa pukpok ng panday
Nagbabagang bakal ay nagiging balaraw

Kling klang kling klang klang klang klang

Awit ng palihan sa pukpok ng panday
Nagbabagang bakal ay nagiging balaraw

Kling klang kling klang klang klang klang

Klang klang klang kling klang kling klang

Lullaby
1. “Ili Ili Tulog Anay”

Ili-ili tulog anay,

Wala diri imong nanay.
 Kadto tienda bakal papay.
Ili-ili tulog anay.

mata kana tabangan mo

ikarga ang nakompra ko
kay bug-at man sing putos ko
tabangan mo ako anay

ili ili tulog anay

wala diri imo nanay
kadto tienda bakal papay

ili ili tulog anay

2. “Sa Ugoy ng Duyan”

Sana'y di magmaliw ang dati kong araw

Nang munti pang bata sa piling ni Nanay
Nais kong maulit ang awit ni Inang mahal
Awit ng pag-ibig habang ako'y nasa duyan
Sana'y di magmaliw ang dati kong araw
Nang munti pang bata sa piling ni Nanay
Nais kong maulit ang awit ni Inang mahal
Awit ng pag-ibig ako'y nasa duyan
Sa aking pagtulog na labis ang himbing
Ang bantay ko'y tala
Ang tanod ko'y bituin
Sa piling ni Nanay
Langit ang buhay
Puso kong may dusa
Sabik sa ugoy ng duyan mo Inay
Sana narito ka Inay
 Sana'y di magmaliw ang dati kong araw
Nang munti pang bata sa piling ni Nanay
Nais kong maulit ang awit ni Inang mahal
Awit ng pag-ibig hang ako'y nasa duyan

3. “Dandansoy”

Dandansoy, bayaan ta icao

Pauli aco sa Payao
Ugaling con icao hidlauon
Ang Payaw imo lang lantauon.
Dandansoy, con imo apason
Bisan tubig di magbalon
Ugaling con icao uhauon
Sa dalan magbobonbobon.
Convento, diin ang cura?
Municipio, diin justicia?
Yari si dansoy maqueja.
Maqueja sa paghigugma
Ang panyo mo cag panyo co
Dala diri cay tambijon co
Ugaling con magcasilo
Bana ta icao,asawa mo aco.

4. “Dungdungwen Kanto”

Dungdunguen kanto unay unay,

Indayonen kanto iti sinamay

Tultuloden kanto ti nalumanay
 Pagamuanen inka mailibay...

*Annay, pusok, annay, annay,

Nasaem, naut-ut la unay.

Itdem kaniak ta pannaranay
Ta kaasiak a maidasay.

Apaman nga inkanto makaturog

Iyabbongkonto ta rupam daytoy paniok.

Tapnon dinakanto kagaten ti lamok
Ket maimasmonto’t maturog.

*Annay, pusok, annay, annay,

Nasaem, naut-ut la unay.

Itdem kaniak ta pannaranay
Ta kaasiak a maidasay.

Dungdunguen kanto unay unay,

Indayonen kanto iti sinamay
Tultuloden kanto ti nalumanay
Pagamuanen inka mailibay...
*Annay, pusok, annay, annay,
Nasaem, naut-ut la unay.
Itdem kaniak ta pannaranay
Ta kaasiak a maidasay...
Agyamanak Apo!!!

5. "Good Night"
Now it's time to say good night,
Good night, sleep tight.
Now the sun turns out his light,
Good night, sleep tight.
Dream sweet dreams for me,
 Dream sweet dreams for you.
Close your eyes and I'll close mine,
Good night, sleep tight.
Now the moon begins to shine,
Good night, sleep tight.
Dream sweet dreams for me,
Dream sweet dreams for you.
Close your eyes and I'll close mine,
Good night, sleep tight.
Now the sun turns out his light,
Good night, sleep tight.
Dream sweet dreams for me,
Dream sweet dreams for you.
Good night,
Good night, everybody,
Everybody, everywhere,
Good night.

Serenade
1. "Forevermore"

There are times

when I just want to look at your face
 with the stars in the night
there are times
when I just want to feel your embrace
in the cold of the night
I just can't believe that you are mine now
You were just a dream that I once knew
I never thought I would be right for you
I just can’t compare you with
anything in this world
you’re all I need to be here with forevermore
All those years I've longed to hold you in my arms
I've been dreaming of you
Every night
I've been watching all the stars that fall down
Wishing you would be mine
I just can't believe that you were mine now
You were just a dream that I once knew
I never thought I would be right for you
I just can’t compare you with
anything in this world
you’re all I need to be here with forevermore
Time and again
there are these changes that we cannot end
Sure a star that keeps going on and on
my love for you will be forevermore
I just can't believe that you were mine now
You were just a dream that I once knew
I never thought I would be right for you
I just can’t compare you with
anything in this world
As endless as forever
our love will stay together
you’re all I need to be here with forevermore
Ohh...
You're all Ineed
to be here with forevermore...

2. "Set You Free"

We often fool ourselves

And say that it's love
Only 'cause when it's gone
 We end up being lonely
So how are we to know
That it just isn't so
That we just have to let each other go
There were many times
When we shared precious moments
But later realized they were only stolen moments
So how are we to know
That it just wasn't so
That we just had to let each other go
If loving you is all that means to me
when being happy is all I hope you'd be
then loving you must mean
I really have to set you free
Each day we meet my love for you
keeps growing stronger
but every time we meet
Makes leaving you so much harder
so how are we to know
that this just wasn't so
That we just have to let each other go
If loving you is all that means to me
When being happy is all I hope you'd be
Then loving you must mean
I really have to set you free
Letting go is not an easy task
When smiling feels like
I must wear this lonely mask
It hurts deep inside
And I just cannot hide
That there's anguish at the thought
That we should have to part
If loving you is all that means to me
when being happy is all I hope you'd be
then loving you must mean
I really have to set you free
If loving you is all that means to me
when being happy is all I hope you'd be
then loving you must mean
I really have to set you free

3. "Your Love"
 You're the one that never lets me sleep that lights up my whole world
To my mind, down to my soul I feel the warmth inside
You touch my lips Your love is like the river
You're the one that I can't wait to see that flows down through my veins
With you here by my side I feel the chill inside
I'm in ecstasy Your love is like the sun
I am all alone without you that lights up my whole world
My days are dark without a glimpse of you I feel the warmth inside
But now that you came into my life Your love is like the river
I feel complete that flows down through my veins
The flowers bloom, my morning shines I feel the chill inside
And I can see Your love is like the sun
Your love is like the sun that lights up my whole world
that lights up my whole world I feel the warmth inside
I feel the warmth inside Your love is like the river
Your love is like the river that flows down through my veins
that flows down through my veins I feel the chill inside
I feel the chill inside Your love, your love...
Every time I hear our music play
Reminds me of the things that we've been
through
In my mind, I can't believe it's true
But in my heart the reality is you
I am all alone without you
My days are dark without a glimpse of you
But now that you came into my life
I feel complete
The flowers bloom, my morning shines
And I can see
Your love is like the sun
that lights up my whole world
I feel the warmth inside
Your love is like the river
that flows down through my veins
I feel the chill inside
Your love is like the sun

4. "I'll Never Go"

You always ask me Every single day

Those words I say You always act this way
And telling me what it means to me For how many times I told you
 I love you for this is all I know that I need you so
Come to me and hold me for this is all I know
And you will see I'll never go far away from you
The love I give Come to me and hold me
For you still hold the key And you will see
Every single day The love I gave for you still hold the
You always act this way key
For how many times I told you Every single day you always at this
I love you for this is all I know way
I'll never go far away from you For how many times I told you
even the sky will tell you I love YOU for this is all I know
that I need you so I'll never go far away from you
for this is all I know even the sky will tell you
I'll never go far away from you that I need you so
Come to me and hold me for this is all I know
And you will see I'll never go far away from you
The love i give I'll never go far away from you
For you still hold the key even the sky will tell you
Every single day that I need you so
You always act this way for this is all I know
For how many times i told you I'll never go far away from you
I love you for this is all I know I'll never go (I'll never go...)
I'll never go far away from you I'll never go (never go...)
even the sky will tell you Far away from you

5. "Let Me Be the One"

Somebody told me you were leaving But it doesn't show

I didn't know somebody told me that you don't want me no
somebody told me you're unhappy more
so you're walking out the door
Nobody told me you've been cryin'
Every night
Nobody told me you'd been dyin'
But didn't want to fight
Nobody told me that you fell out of love from
me
So I'm settin' you free
Let me be the one to break it up
so you don't have to make excuses
We don't need to find a set up where
Someone wins and someone loses
We just have to say our love was true
But has now become a lie
So I'm tellin' you I love you one last time
And goodbye
Somebody told me you still loved me
Don't know why
Nobody told me that you only
Needed time to fly
Somebody told me that you want to come back
when
Our love is real again
Let me be the one to break it up
so you don't have to make excuses
we don't need to find a set up where
someone wins and someone loses
we just have to say our love was true
but has now become a lie
so I'm tellin' you I love you one last time
and goodbye
Just turn around and walk away
You don't have to live like this, oh
But if you love me still then stay
Don't keep me waiting for that final kiss (oh)
We can work together through this test
Or we can work through it apart
I just need to get this off my chest
That you will always have my heart
Let me be the one (let me be the one)
Let me be the one to break it up
So you don't have to make excuses
We don't need to find a set up where
Someone wins and someone loses
We just have to say our love was true
But has now become a lie
So I'm tellin' you I love you one last time
Oh and goodbye
D. Chants

1. “Pagaling ka, amang, mahirap ang may

karamdaman"
2. “Puso’y sumusulak, sa praning ang
utak”
3. “Tabi tabi po apo, alisin mo po ang
sakit ng pamilya ko"
4. "Lumakas-sana ang ulan, upang mabasa
ang lupang tigang"
5. "Pagpalain ka nawa"
E. Epics
1. Hudhud of the Ifugao

Once upon a time, in a village called Hannanga, a boy was born to the couple named Amtalao and
Dumulao. He was named Aliguyon. He was an intelligent, eager young man who wanted to learn many
things, and indeed, he learned many useful things, from the stories and teachings of his father. He learned
how to fight well and chant a few magic spells. Even as a child, he was a leader, for the other children of
his village looked up to him with awe.
Upon leaving childhood, Aliguyon betook himself to gather forces to fight against his father’s enemy,
who was Pangaiwan of the village of Daligdigan. But his challenge was not answered personally by
Pangaiwan. Instead, he faced Pangaiwan’s fierce son, Pumbakhayon. Pumbakhayon was just as skilled in
the arts of war and magic as Aliguyon. The two of them battled each other for three years, and neither of
them showed signs of defeat.
Their battle was a tedious one, and it has been said that they both used only one spear! Aliguyon had
thrown a spear to his opponent at the start of their match, but the fair Pumbakhayon had caught it deftly
with one hand. And then Pumbakhayon threw the spear back to Aliguyon, who picked it just as neatly
from the air.
At length Aliguyon and Pumbakhayon came to respect each other, and then eventually they came to
admire each other’s talents. Their fighting stopped suddenly. Between the two of them they drafted a
peace treaty between Hannanga and Daligdigan, which their peoples readily agreed to. It was fine to
behold two majestic warriors finally side by side.    
Aliguyon and Pumbakhayon became good friends, as peace between their villages flourished. When the
time came for Aliguyon to choose a mate, he chose Pumbakhayon’s youngest sister, Bugan, who was
little more than a baby. He took Bugan into his household and cared for her until she grew to be most
beautiful. Pumbakhayon, in his turn, took for his wife Aliguyon’s younger sister, Aginaya. The two
couples became wealthy and respected in all of Ifugao.

The Pre-Hispanic epic poem Biag ni Lam-ang

Don Juan and his wife Namongan lived in Nalbuan, now part of La Union in the northern part of the
Philippines. They had a son named Lam-ang. Before Lam-ang was born, Don Juan went to the mountains
in order to punish a group of their Igorot enemies. While he was away, his son Lam-ang was born. It took
four people to help Namongan give birth. As soon as the baby boy popped out, he spoke and asked that he
be given the name Lam-ang. He also chose his godparents and asked where his father was.

After nine months of waiting for his father to return, Lam-ang decided he would go look for
him. Namongan thought Lam-ang was up to the challenge but she was sad to let him go.

During his exhausting journey, he decided to rest for a while. He fell asleep and had a dream about his
father’s head being stuck on a pole by the Igorot. Lam-ang was furious when he learned what had
happened to his father. He rushed to their village and killed them all, except for one whom he let go so
that he could tell other people about Lam-ang’s greatness.
Upon returning to Nalbuan in triumph, he was bathed by women in the Amburayan River. All the fish
died because of the dirt and odor from Lam-ang’s body.

There was a young woman named Ines Kannoyan whom Lam-ang wanted to woo.  She lived in
Calanutian and he brought along his white rooster and gray dog to visit her. On the way, Lam-ang met his
enemy Sumarang, another suitor of Ines whom he fought and readily defeated.

Lam-ang found the house of Ines surrounded by many suitors all of whom were trying to catch her
attention.  He had his rooster crow, which caused a nearby house to fall.  This made Ines look out. He had
his dog bark and in an instant the fallen house rose up again. The girl’s parents witnessed this and called
for him. The rooster expressed the love of Lam-ang. The parents agreed to a marriage with their daughter
if Lam-ang would give them a dowry valued at double their wealth. Lam-ang had no problem fulfilling
this condition and he and Ines were married.

It was a tradition to have a newly married man swim in the river for the rarang fish. Unfortunately, Lam-
ang dove straight into the mouth of the water monster Berkakan. Ines had Marcos get his bones, which
she covered with a piece of cloth. His rooster crowed and his dog barked and slowly the bones started to
move. Back alive, Lam-ang and his wife lived happily ever after with his white rooster and gray dog.

The Ullalim epic songs of the Kalinga

An ullalim epic is a traditional music and poetry form of the Philippines. These are long chanted stories
passed down for hundreds of years that tell the exploits of heroes. They are classics of the Malayo-
Polynesian language family. The most skilled poets would memorize epic cycles that took two to four
days to recite during all-night dramatic performances. Two examples of precolonial (before the Spanish
came) epics that survive today are Biag ni Lam-ang (Legend of Lamang) in Ilocano (a northern Luzon
dialect) and Ibalon in Bicol (a southern Luzon dialect). The term ullalim is sometimes used today to refer
to that style of song, but the real ullalim is the epic poem of the Kalinga people. An article I read says that
the singer would dress up in brilliant, flashy clothes like the hero described in the story.
It is the considered an epic of the kalinga people depicting the struggle of Banna and Lagunwa who were
the main characters of the love story Ullalim-this is a long epic song of the Kalinga about the adventures
of Banna, the hero of the epic. Tagalog Epic Story Maragtas is the counterpart of the Ullalim Epic of the
Kalinga people. Ullalim-this is a long epic song of the Kalinga about the adventures of Banna, the hero of
the epic, and his amorous relationship with Laggunawa. The story tells us that Banna was a travelling
adventurous man going from place to place in search for a maiden to marry until one day he found
Lagunnawa that truly mersmerize him until they fall in love with each other. Lagunawa was known as the
most beautiful woman in the villages he went through while Banna was known to be a young, handsome
and brave tribal leader with unmatched skill in hand to hand without without spear or bulo. He was feared
by all men for having that lightning speed during combat but so sought by many woman with his sterling
qualities and handsome looks and athletic feature.
One day, he came to a village and met Lagunawa that for the first time he felt in love with this beautiful
woman oozing with enchanting beauty of an angel. To get her, he serenaded her with a song that started
by giving a "moma" singing that if you like me oh woman of beauty so serene like the melody of the
moon shining above, take my simple offering from the bottom of my heart. The woman on the other hand
being so in love with this man whom he behold so handsome and kind, accepted the moma and chewed it
while singing, " oh you are the man of my dream that cherished every dreams I have, come let me love
thee with all the pearl of my heart. " Together, they dance and sing song full of burning passion until they
decided to get married and form a union of their waring villages to end the conflict between their villages.
From such marriage, the villages live in peace and harmony and shared the spirit of love Banna and
Lagunawa have for the two village.
Every village have their own Ullalim depicting the struggle and journey of Banna in search for the
woman of her heart, Lagunawa. Even the place of Maducayan, have such epic handed down from
generations to generations depicting the struggle of a man in search for true love and passion. Banna was
believed to originate from Maducayan an old village in the hinterlands of the Mountainous areas of the
Cordillera Region. Lagunnawa, on the other hand, was believe to be from a village far away in the land of
Kalinga.

The Ibalon epic from Bicol

The epic opens with Iling requesting the bard Kadunung to recount the tale of the glorious Ibálong of long
ago.
Forthwith Kadunung described the ancient land and spoke of its first hero, Baltog, a white Aryan, who
had come from Boltavara (Bharata-varsha or India). He planted a linsa patch in Tondol (now in Kamalig)
which, one night, was foraged by a giant wild boar (Tandayag). The furious Baltog chased the Tandayag,
killed it with his bare hands, and hung its enormous jawbones on a talisay tree in front of his house
in Tondol. For this marvelous feat, he was acknowledged chief of the local hunters. The clans
of Panicuason and Asog came over to marvel at the monstrous wild boar in Ibálong.
Next to come was Handyong. With his followers, he fought the monsters of the land. But Oryol, a
wily serpent who appeared as a beautiful maiden with a seductive voice, was one whom Handyong could
not destroy. Meanwhile, Oryol admired Handyong's bravery and gallantry. Because of
this, Oryol helped Handyong clear the region of ferocious beasts until peace came to the whole of the
land.
With Ibálong rid of wild creatures, Handyong turned to making wise laws and planting the land to linsa
and rice. A period of the invention followed: boat, farming tools, weaving looms, claywares, kitchen
utensils, tree houses, and even a syllabary. Together, the people built a society with culture. It was a
golden period in Ibálong when even slaves were respected under the laws of Handyong.
Then came a great flood, freed by Unos that changed the features of the land. Three volcanoes,
named Hantik, Kulasi, and Isarog erupted simultaneously. Inundations caused lands to sink, from which
Lake Buhi came about, or rise, as in the strip of seacoast in Pasacao, Camarines Sur, and wiped out many
settlements, especially the Dagatnong settlement in the Kalabangan Gulf. The Malbogong Islet formed in
the Bicol River while the Inarihan River altered its course. A lofty mountain sank at Bato, forming a lake.
Despite the calamities, Ibálong grew powerful under Old Chief Handyong, whose constant companion
and good friend, by then, was the young Bantong.
Although given a thousand men to destroy the half man and half beast Rabot, who could change its
enemies into rocks, Bantong slew it single-handedly – to the loud cheers of his thousand warriors that
reverberated throughout the forests and mangroves swamps. Brought to Ligmanan, the corpse
of Rabot was horrible to behold that the Great Handyong himself was shocked at the sight.
At this point, the Ibálong epic-fragment ends abruptly, and Kadunung promises to continue the story
some other time
The Hinilawod – the longest and oldest epic of the Hiligaynon people

Hinilawod is the oldest and longest epic poem in Panay. It is usually sung for a period of
three weeks at intervals of two hours at night. It contains, in its complete form, some
eighteen stories. Each story represents three generations
In the eastern part of what is known as the Philippines, there lived a beautiful goddess
named Alunsina, goddess of the eastern sea. Alunsina fell in love with an ordinary
mortal named Paubari and she married him though she knew that marriage between
heavenly persons and ordinary mortals was frowned upon.
When the marriage was discovered, Maklium-sa-t’wan, god of the plains and valleys,
became angry. He vowed to make life miserable for the unfortunate couple. Together
with other gods who felt insulted by the marriage, Maklium-sa-t’wan sent down raging
storms and floods to the kingdom, of Paubari and Alunsina.
Fortunately, Suklang Malayon, the guardian of happy homes, had warned the couple
beforehand. Heeding the warning, the two fled to the top of the Madyaas Mountains and
stayed there until the gods had spent their wrath.
With the deluge over, the couple descended to the plains to live in peace and raise a
family. Eventually, Alunsina gave birth to triplets. These three children grew up to
become giants, all endowed with superhuman strength which they used for helping their
parents and the people in outlying villages.
With their coming of age, Labaw Dingin, the eldest of the three, asked his parents,
“Respected Father, O, my Beloved Mother, I ask your permission to go and seek a loving
and industrious woman who will give me sons and daughters and who will serve you in
your old age.”
“Go, my son,” replied the two. “Bring back a woman who will be a source of happiness
for all.”
But bringing back the woman of his dreams was no easy task. To win his first wife, he
had to vanquish Manalutad, a monster. For his second wife, he had to kill a hydra-
headed giant named Sikay Padalogdog. And for his last love, Labaw Dinggin had to fight
Saragnayan, the lord of darkness. For many moons they grappled with each other until
Labaw Dinggin was overpowered. He was thrown into prison and there, he languished
for many years until one of his children fought the lord of darkness and killed him.
When Alunsina’s second son, Humadapnin, heard of the maltreatment suffered by his
brother, he set out to punish the people of the lord of darkness. He brought with him his
trusted warrior Buyong Matang-ayon. Along the way, they met a sorceress named
Pinganun-Pinungganum. The Sorceress had the taken the form of a woman so beautiful
that in no time, Humadapnin was bewitched. Fortunately, Buyong Matang-ayon
succeeded in breaking her spell and the two were able to escape.
Upon reaching the kingdom of Umban Pinaumbaw, they found their way blocked by a
huge boulder. Because of this huge rock the people in the kingdom could not move
about freely. The two friends tried to go around the boulder but it seemed that the rock
Hinilawod is the oldest and longest epic poem in Panay. It is usually sung for a period of
three weeks at intervals of two hours at night. It contains, in its complete form, some
eighteen stories. Each story represents three generations
In the eastern part of what is known as the Philippines, there lived a beautiful goddess
named Alunsina, goddess of the eastern sea. Alunsina fell in love with an ordinary
mortal named Paubari and she married him though she knew that marriage between
heavenly persons and ordinary mortals was frowned upon.
When the marriage was discovered, Maklium-sa-t’wan, god of the plains and valleys,
became angry. He vowed to make life miserable for the unfortunate couple. Together
with other gods who felt insulted by the marriage, Maklium-sa-t’wan sent down raging
storms and floods to the kingdom, of Paubari and Alunsina.
Fortunately, Suklang Malayon, the guardian of happy homes, had warned the couple
beforehand. Heeding the warning, the two fled to the top of the Madyaas Mountains and
stayed there until the gods had spent their wrath.
With the deluge over, the couple descended to the plains to live in peace and raise a
family. Eventually, Alunsina gave birth to triplets. These three children grew up to
become giants, all endowed with superhuman strength which they used for helping their
parents and the people in outlying villages.
With their coming of age, Labaw Dingin, the eldest of the three, asked his parents,
“Respected Father, O, my Beloved Mother, I ask your permission to go and seek a loving
and industrious woman who will give me sons and daughters and who will serve you in
your old age.”
“Go, my son,” replied the two. “Bring back a woman who will be a source of happiness
for all.”
But bringing back the woman of his dreams was no easy task. To win his first wife, he
had to vanquish Manalutad, a monster. For his second wife, he had to kill a hydra-
headed giant named Sikay Padalogdog. And for his last love, Labaw Dinggin had to fight
Saragnayan, the lord of darkness. For many moons they grappled with each other until
Labaw Dinggin was overpowered. He was thrown into prison and there, he languished
for many years until one of his children fought the lord of darkness and killed him.
When Alunsina’s second son, Humadapnin, heard of the maltreatment suffered by his
brother, he set out to punish the people of the lord of darkness. He brought with him his
trusted warrior Buyong Matang-ayon. Along the way, they met a sorceress named
Pinganun-Pinungganum. The Sorceress had the taken the form of a woman so beautiful
that in no time, Humadapnin was bewitched. Fortunately, Buyong Matang-ayon
succeeded in breaking her spell and the two were able to escape.
Upon reaching the kingdom of Umban Pinaumbaw, they found their way blocked by a
huge boulder. Because of this huge rock the people in the kingdom could not move
about freely. The two friends tried to go around the boulder but it seemed that the rock
Labaw Donggon, the eldest of the three, asked his mother to prepare his magiccape, hat, belt and kampila
n for he heard of a place called Handug where abeautiful maiden named Angoy Ginbitinan lived.

Labaw Donggon proceeded home with his new bride.

The giant would not allow Labaw Donggon to go through without a fight.

Labaw Donggon won the hand of Abyang Durunuun and also took her home.

The moment he set foot on the ground Saragnayan asked him,
“Who are youand why are you here?” To which he answered,
“I am Labaw Donggon, son ofDatu Paubari and goddess Alunsina of Halawod. I came for the beautifulM
alitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata.” Saragnayan laughed.

Labaw Donggon then challenged Saragnayan to a duel saying that whoeverwins will have her.

Labaw Donggon submerged Saragnayan under water for seven years, but whenhe let go of him, Saragnay
an was still alive.

The latter uprooted a coconut tree and started beating Labaw Donggon with it.
He survived the beating but was not able to surpass the powers ofSaragnayan’s pamlang and eventually h
e gave up and was imprisoned bySaragnayan beneath his house.

They rode their sailboats through the region of eternal darkness, passed theregion of the clouds and the la
nd of stones, finally reaching Saragnayan’s home.

Labaw Donggon’s defeat and subsequent imprisonment by the Lord of Darknessalso angered his brothers.

Humadapnon was so enraged that he swore to the gods of Madya-as that hewould wreak revenge on all of 
Saragnayan’s kinsmen and followers.

Humadapnon prepared to go to Saragnayan’s domain.

Right after Humadapnon left to seek Saragnayan’s followers and relatives’ his
brother Dumalapdap left for Burutlakan-ka-adlaw where the maiden Lubay-Lubyok Hanginun si Mahuyo
khuyokon lived.

Labaw Donggon went to the north, Humadapnon went south, Dumalapdap tothe west and Datu Paubari re
mained in the east.

F. Myths
Creation Story – Story of Bathala (Tagalog)
In the beginning of time there were three powerful gods who lived in the universe. Bathala was the
caretaker of the earth, Ulilang Kaluluwa (lit. Orphaned Spirit), a huge serpent who lived in the clouds,
and Galang Kaluluwa (lit. Wandering spirit), the winged god who loves to travel. These three gods did
not know each other.

Bathala often dreamt of creating mortals but the empty earth stops him from doing so. Ulilang Kaluluwa
who was equally lonely as Bathala, liked to visit places and the earth was his favorite. One day the two
gods met.

Ulilang Kaluluwa, seeing another god rivalling him, was not pleased. He challenged Bathala to a fight to
decide who would be the ruler of the universe. After three days and three nights, Ulilang Kaluluwa was
slain by Bathala.

Instead of giving him a proper burial, Bathala burned the snake’s remains. A few years later the third god,
Galang Kaluluwa, wandered into Bathala’s home. He welcomed the winged god with much kindness and
even invited him to live in his kingdom. They became true friends and were very happy for many years.

Galang Kaluluwa became very ill. Before he died he instructed Bathala to bury him on the spot where
Ulilang Kaluluwa’s body was burned. Bathala did exactly as he was told. Out of the grave of the two dead
gods grew a tall tree with a big round nut, which is the coconut tree. Bathala took the nut and husked it.
He noticed that the inner skin was hard. The nut itself reminded him of Galang Kaluluwa’s head. It had
two eyes, a nose, and a round mouth. Its leaves looked so much like the wings of his dear winged friend.
But the trunk was hard and ugly, like the body of his enemy, the snake Ulilang Kaluluwa.

Bathala realized that he was ready to create the creatures he wanted with him on earth. He created the
vegetation, animals, and the first man and woman. Bathala built a house for them out of the trunk and
leaves of the coconut’ trees.

For food, they drank the coconut juice and ate its delicious white meat. Its leaves, they discovered, were
great for making mats, hats, and brooms. Its fiber could be used for rope and many other things.

The Creation – Lumawig (Igorot)

Lumawig the Great Spirit - Igorot

Lumawig was the Great Spirit before the earth had any people or things. Descending from the Sky, He cut
up reeds into pairs and placed them in various places of the world. Eventually, he told them that they must
speak, and so they turned into men and women who though able to talk could not understand each other
for their languages were different. These were the peoples whom the Great Spirit Lumawig would help
and command to procreate. When there were once no people on earth, many descendants of the couples
who originated from reeds populated the earth and spoke the same language as their parents. To some,
Lumawig provided supplies for their needs, suggesting them to boil salt for business or use their
highlands’ rich clay to create pottery and jars. The world began with only the seas, the sky, a flying kite -
a type of bird - and no land. This kite became restless flying all the time and started stirring up the sea
which threw up its waters against the sky, which retaliated by showering islands onto its surface. The kite
was able to land on one of the islands to build a nest and leave the two in peace.

At this time, the land breeze and sea breeze’s marriage produced a bamboo, which struck the heel of the
kite who pecked at it, and from one section came out a man and another a woman who bore many
children. Their father out of desperation over their offsprings’ uselessness started beating his children,
who happened to be the different races of the world: chiefs, slaves, free men, negroes, and white men. In
the beginning, there were no sun, stars, moon, or even land, only a vast sea and an empty swirling sky
lorded by the god of the sea Maguayan and the god of the sky Captan. Maguayan had a daughter named
Lidagat and Captan had a son named Lihangin, and these two were married happily with four beautiful
children: strong and brave Licalibutan who had a body of rock, happy Liadlao who was formed of gold,
timid Libulan who was made of copper, and the beautiful and gentle Lisuga of pure silver.

After the death of Lidagat and Lihangin, power-hungry Licalibutan with the help of his two brothers
incited an attack on the steel gates of the kingdom of the sky. Captan destroyed his attackers with
lightning bolts, Liadlao and Libulan turning into molten metal and Licalibutan into large chunks of rock
that became what is known as land; Lisuga searched for them but too was pulverized into countless silver
specks. Captan eventually mourned his grandchildren, and turned golden Liadlao into the sun, copper
Libulan into the moon, Lisuga into the countless stars, and Licalibutan into a land for the people. We
hope we inspired you to choose Philippines, which is not only a fun country, but one that is filled with a
rich mythical folklore and many points of interest.

Bagobo (Mindanao)

In the beginning there lived one man and one woman, Toglai and Toglibon. Their first children were a
boy and a girl. When they were old enough, the boy and the girl went far away across the waters seeking
a good place to live in. Nothing more was heard of them until their children, the Spaniards and
Americans, came back. After the first boy and girl left, other children were born to the couple; but they all
remained at Cibolan on Mount Apo with their parents, until Toglai and Toglibon died and became spirits.
Soon after that there came a great drought which lasted for three years. All the waters dried up, so that
there were no rivers, and no plants could live.

"Surely," said the people, "Manama is punishing us, and we must go elsewhere to find food and a place to
dwell in."

So they started out. Two went in the direction of the sunset, carrying with them stones from Cibolan
River. After a long journey they reached a place where were broad fields of cogon grass and an
abundance of water, and there they made their home. Their children still live in that place and are called
Magindanau, because of the stones which the couple carried when they left Cibolan.

Two children of Toglai and Toglibon went to the south, seeking a home, and they carried with them
women's baskets (baraan). When they found a good spot, they settled down. Their descendants, still
dwelling at that place, are called Baraan or Bilaan, because of the women's baskets.

So two by two the children of the first couple left the land of their birth. In the place where each settled a
new people developed, and thus it came about that all the tribes in the world received their names from
things that the people carried out of Cibolan, or from the places where they settled.

All the children left Mount Apo save two (a boy and a girl), whom hunger and thirst had made too weak
to travel. One day when they were about to die the boy crawled out to the field to see if there was one
living thing, and to his surprise he found a stalk of sugarcane growing lustily. He eagerly cut it, and
enough water came out to refresh him and his sister until the rains came. Because of this, their children
are called Bagobo.

The Story of the Creation

Bilaan (Mindanao)
In the very beginning there lived a being so large that he cannot be compared with any known thing. His
name was Melu, and when he sat on the clouds, which were his home, he occupied all the space above.
His teeth were pure gold, and because he was very cleanly and continually rubbed himself with his hands,
his skin became pure white. The dead skin which he rubbed off his body was placed on one side in a pile,
and by and by this pile became so large that he was annoyed and set himself to consider what he could do
with it.

Finally Melu decided to make the earth; so he worked very hard in putting the dead skin into shape, and
when it was finished he was so pleased with it that he determined to make two beings like himself, though
smaller, to live on it.

Taking the remnants of the material left after making the earth he fashioned two men, but just as they
were all finished except their noses, Tau Tana from below the earth appeared and wanted to help him.

Melu did not wish any assistance, and a great argument ensued. Tau Tana finally won his point and made
the noses which he placed on the people upside down. When all was finished, Melu and Tau Tana
whipped the forms until they moved. Then Melu went to his home above the clouds, and Tau Tana
returned to his place below the earth.

All went well until one day a great rain came, and the people on the earth nearly drowned from the water
which ran off their heads into their noses. Melu, from his place on the clouds, saw their danger, and he
came quickly to earth and saved their lives by turning their noses the other side up.

The people were very grateful to him, and promised to do anything he should ask of them. Before he left
for the sky, they told him that they were very unhappy living on the great earth all alone, so he told them
to save all the hair from their heads and the dry skin from their bodies and the next time he came he
would make them some companions. And in this way there came to be a great many people on the earth.

The Creation Story

Tagalog
When the world first began there was no land, but only the sea and the sky, and between them was a kite
(a bird something like a hawk). One day the bird which had nowhere to light grew tired of flying about,
so she stirred up the sea until it threw its waters against the sky. The sky, in order to restrain the sea,
showered upon it many islands until it could no longer rise, but ran back and forth. Then the sky ordered
the kite to light on one of the islands to build her nest, and to leave the sea and the sky in peace.

Now at this time the land breeze and the sea breeze were married, and they had a child which was a
bamboo. One day when this bamboo was floating about on the water, it struck the feet of the kite which
was on the beach. The bird, angry that anything should strike it, pecked at the bamboo, and out of one
section came a man and from the other a woman.

Then the earthquake called on all the birds and fish to see what should be done with these two, and it was
decided that they should marry. Many children were born to the couple, and from them came all the
different races of people.

After a while the parents grew very tired of having so many idle and useless children around, and they
wished to be rid of them, but they knew of no place to send them to. Time went on and the children
became so numerous that the parents enjoyed no peace. One day, in desperation, the father seized a stick
and began beating them on all sides.

This so frightened the children that they fled in different directions, seeking hidden rooms in the house --
some concealed themselves in the walls, some ran outside, while others hid in the fireplace, and several
fled to the sea.
Now it happened that those who went into the hidden rooms of the house later became the chiefs of the
islands; and those who concealed themselves in the walls became slaves. Those who ran outside were free
men; and those who hid in the fireplace became negroes; while those who fled to the sea were gone many
years, and when their children came back they were the white people.

G. Legends
The girl who turned into a Fish
Once upon a time there lived, on the bank of a stream, a man and a woman
who had a daughter. As she was an only child, and very pretty besides, they never
could make up their minds to punish her for her faults or to teach her nice manners;
and as for work– she laughed in her mother’s face if she asked her to help cook the
dinner or to wash the plates. ‘Well, you are a beauty!’ she cried to herself; but the
fish looked up to her and said:
‘You had better not kill me, for, if you do, I will turn you into a fish yourself!’
‘I am not a fish at all,’ said the new-comer, swallowing a great deal of salt water as
she spoke; for you cannot learn how to be a proper fish all in a moment. ‘I am not a
fish at all, but a girl; at least I was a girl a few minutes ago, only–‘and she ducked
her head under the waves so that they should not see her crying. Now, when she
plunged deeper her eyes fell upon strange things.
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, inestimable stones, unvalued
jewels– all scattered in the bottom of the sea! Dead men’s bones were there also,
and long white creatures who had never seen the light, for they mostly dwelt in the
clefts of rocks where the sun’s rays could not come.
In a moment the small, slimy body disappeared, and in its place stood a beautiful
beast with branching horns and slender legs, quivering with longing to be gone.
Throwing back her head and snuffing the air, she broke into a run, leaping easily
over the rivers and walls that stood in her way. ‘By your favour let me go, and do
not kill me,’ said the deer, turning to the prince with tears in her eyes, ‘for I have
far to run and much to do.’ And as the prince, struck dumb with surprise, only
looked at her, the deer cleared the next wall and was soon out of sight. There was
silence between them for a moment, then, turning away his head, the prince
answered gently:
‘I have fallen in love with a beautiful deer!’

Abadeha: The Philippine Cinderella

Abadeha was a beautiful young girl who worked very hard. However her mother was
dead, and her wicked step-mother was mean to her. One day when Abadeha was crying at the
river, and the Spirit of the Forest (fairy godmother) heard her cries. The Spirit helped Abadeha
and told her not to give up. Then she gave Abadeha a chicken. Abadeha thanked her for her help
and her gift, and hurried home.The next day when Abadeha was away from the house, her cruel
step-mother took the chicken, killed it, and cooked it. When the girl returned, only the feet of her
chicken were left. She cried over her loss, and ran to the river. When the Spirit of the Forest
heard what had happened, she told Abadeha to take the chicken’s feet and plant them in the
forest. Abadeha went home, took the feet, and carried them with her to the forest. There she
made a little garden, and planted the feet. A month later, she visited her garden in the woods, and
was amazed to see that the feet had grown up into the air, and had pearls, diamonds, and gold
rings on the branches. Abadeha did not tell her step-mother about the garden. One day the son of
the richest man in town came across the little garden in the forest. He picked off a ring and put it
on his finger. When he reached home, his finger began to swell. His father called in all the best
doctors, but they could not remove the ring. Then he called in all the girls of the town, and said
that the one who could take the ring from the finger of his son should be his son’s wife. All the
girls of the town tried except Abadeha. She did not try, because her step-mother would not allow
her to go. At last someone told the rich man that there was still one girl who had not tried. Now,
her step-mother was forced to let her go. Abadeha went to the rich man’s house. As soon as she
touched the ring, it slid off. The next day Abadeha was married to the son of the rich man. The
young couple lived happily for many years.

The Story of the Piña

The legend of the pineapple is a folktale about a young girl named pina. She was,
without a doubt, the most spoiled child her village have ever seen
When her mother grew ill, pina could not be bothered to help, even though her
mother only asked her to boil some rice. pina claimed she couldn't find the laddle.
Her frustrated mother made a wish that pina would grow a thousand eyes so she
could see the laddle. pina disappeared and the neighbors had to help her mother get
well. Her mother searched for pina, but couldn't find her. Finally her mother found
a large round fruit growing with a thousand unseeing eyes. Her mother took the
seeds from. The fruit and grew a lot of them, then gave them to the people in the
village. This was the first and only generous thing pina had ever done for anyone
else.

The Legend of Bulkang Mayon

It tells the story of a young woman, Daragang Magayon, who fell in love
with an outsider, Panganoron, who had saved her from drowning. Paratuga, a
rejected suitor, kidnapped the young woman’s father and demanded her hand in
marriage as ransom.
Not that Daragang Magayon was a woman of unquestionable virtues. Despite her
love for Panganoron, she did not want to marry him because he was an outsider.
She was afraid of what her fellow Bicolanos would think of her and the possible
ostracism she was facing. She confided as much in her father who promised to help
her find a way out of her dilemma. It was while her father was still thinking of a
solution that Paratuga decided to kidnap him to force his daughter to marry him.

Panganoron heard the news and gathered his tribe to attack the village of Paratuga.
Panganoron arrived as the wedding ceremony was being peformed. Daragang
Magayon rushed to him and was hit by a stray arrow. As Panganoron lifted her
body, he was attacked from behind. The lovers died. Dagarang Magayon’s
bereaved father buried her with all her earthly possessions including the gold,
pearls and diamonds that Paratuga had given to her as wedding gifts. A week later,
the burial ground started to rise to the surprise of the villagers. Even more
astounding was the constant presence of white clouds hovering over it. As time
passed, the mound rose higher and higher

Mother Mountain 
A young, restless mother and her family move from the city to an
idyllic country property at the base of a mystical and sacred Aboriginal
mountain (Gulaga, or "Mother Mountain"), with the hope of starting a
new life. Still haunted by a marriage break-up and a strained relationship
with her parents, she struggles to find a meaningful connection with her
new partner. When her daughter is bullied at the local school, an
Indigenous boy comes to her aid and opens her eyes to the magic of the
mountain and its bucolic surrounds, while the mother reconnects with
her Jewish spirituality for guidance. But an unexpected visit from her
parents, reopens old wounds and threatens to fracture her family forever.

H. Fables

The Dog and the Shadow (Animal Fable)

 A Dog was carrying a piece of meat in his mouth to eat it in peace at home. On his way
he had to cross a bridge across a brook. As he crossed, he looked down and saw his own
reflection in the water. Thinking it was another dog with another piece of meat, he made up
his mind to have that also. So he made a snap at the shadow in the water, but as he opened
his mouth the piece of meat fell out, dropped into the water and was lost. A Dog, to whom
the butcher had thrown a bone, was hurrying home with his prize as fast as he could go. As
he crossed a narrow footbridge, he happened to look down and saw himself reflected in the
quiet water as if in a mirror. But the greedy Dog thought he saw a real Dog carrying a bone
much bigger than his own. If he had stopped to think he would have known better. But
instead of thinking, he dropped his bone and sprang at the Dog in the river, only to find
himself swimming for dear life to reach the shore. At last he managed to scramble out, and as
he stood sadly thinking about the good bone he had lost, he realized what a stupid Dog he
had been.

The Frog Who Wished to be as big as an Ox (Animal Fable)

Once a little Frog sat by a big Frog, by the side of a pool. “Oh, father,” said he, “I have just seen
the biggest animal in the world; it was as big as a mountain, and it had horns on its head, and it
had hoofs divided in two.”
“Pooh, child,” said the old Frog, “that was only Farmer White’s Ox. He is not so very big. I could
easily make myself as big as he.” And he blew, and he blew, and he blew, and swelled himself
out.
“Was he as big as that?” he asked the big Frog.
“Oh, much bigger,” said the little Frog.
The old Frog blew, and blew, and blew again, and swelled himself out, more than ever.
“Was he bigger than that?” he said.
“Much, much bigger,” said the little Frog.
“I can make myself as big,” said the old Frog. And once more he blew, and blew, and blew, and
swelled himself out,—and he burst!

Self-conceit leads to self-destruction. One day a countryman going to the nest of his Goose found there an
egg all yellow and glittering. When he took it up it was as heavy as lead and he was going to throw it
away, because he thought a trick had been played upon him. But he took it home on second thoughts, and
soon found to his delight that it was an egg of pure gold. Every morning the same thing occurred, and he
soon became rich by selling his eggs. As he grew rich he grew greedy; and thinking to get at once all the
gold the Goose could give, he killed it and opened it only to find nothing.
Greed oft o’er reaches itself.
 The Greedy Crow (Fable / Pabula)

“One morning time, young Beau Crow felt terrible rumbles from his tummy below… / it was
only an hour since breakfast at most, when Beau had gobbled grubs on toast.” So Crow flies off
to find a field of worms and starts gorging himself. Hare and Mouse tell Crow to stop being so
greedy and selfish, and Badger warns him that he will get so fat he won’t be able to fly, but he
keeps on eating. Sure enough, when Fox saunters by, Crow can’t get off the ground to escape the
predator. A chase ensues, and he finally gets enough exercise to slim down and lift off. The fable
ends with an admonition: “After his journey Beau had reduced in size, and promised to be more
healthy and wise.” The rhymes and rhythm work quite well in this silly story (though they are
not written as verse but in short paragraphs), whether readers choose the British narration, the
“record me reading” option or just read it aloud. Double-clicking brings up a rather glitch-y
navigation menu. The illustrations are almost too sketchy and simple, though they are in keeping
with the sparse but humorous animations, like the rubber-band effect when Crow is pulling up a
worm from its hole, or the round-and-round screen chase with Fox.

 The Locust and the Ant (Animal Fable)

When a lazy grasshopper prefers to sing and dance rather than forage like his friends the ants, he
learns to regret it when winter approaches. The ants save his life and in return he entertains them with his
music.
As in the classic fable, the grasshopper plays his fiddle and lives for the moment, while the industrious
ants squirrel away massive amounts of food for the winter. With his song, he's able to convince at least
one small ant until the queen arrives and scares him back to work. The queen warns the grasshopper of
the trouble he'll be in the coming winter. Winter comes, and the grasshopper, near starvation, stumbles
across the ants, who are having a full-on feast in their snug little tree. They took him in and warmed him
up. The queen tells him only those who work can eat so he must play for them.

 The Monkey and the Crocodile (Fable / Pabula)

This story tells us about the famous monkey and crocodile story in which the monkey lives
alone in a tree. The tree is on a riverbank and is laden with fruits. The monkey eats the fruit of
his liking to his heart’s delight.
The monkey is happy but something still feels incomplete. He does not have a friend to talk to
and share the fruits with. So, he longs for one. However, one fine day, a crocodile comes there.
The monkey offers him fruit to eat. The crocodile accepts and finds the fruit to be really
delicious. Thus, he begins visiting the monkey regularly and eat fruits with him. Now, their
bond turns stronger and they become close. While the crocodile eats the fruits himself, he also
 carries some of them for his wife. The monkey and crocodile talk about everything from birds to
animals. Further, they also talk about the villagers nearby and the difficulty they have in raising
good crops because of the lack of rain. One day, the crocodile’s wife asks him about his friend.
The crocodile tells her that his friend is a nice monkey who send her fruits every day. Thus, the
wife expresses her wish to eat the heart of his friend, monkey. She orders him to bring him over
someday but the crocodile does not agree to it. He cherishes his friend and does not want to kill
him. However, she finally manipulates him to invite him for dinner. He goes to the river bank
and invites him over for dinner for a meal. The monkey happily accepts and rides the
crocodile’s back to reach the middle of the river. However, the crocodile cannot lie to him and
tells him about his wife’s plan. Soon, the monkey realizes the situation and fools him. He tells
him he has left his heart at the tree so he must go back to get it. When they reach the riverbank,
the monkey quickly jumps back on the tree. Then, he bids the crocodile goodbye. This saddens
the crocodile as he has lost a dear friend and he starts crying. So, we see how the crocodile
never got to taste the sweetness of fruits again. Therefore, we learn how this story teaches about
different human traits through animals. Traits like friendship, betrayal, wisdom and
estrangement.

I.Folktales

Sleeping Beauty 
After being snubbed by the royal family, a malevolent fairy places a curse on a princess which only a
prince can break, along with the help of three good fairies.
After the beautiful Princess Aurora is born into royalty, everyone gathers to celebrate. Everything is
perfectly fine until an unwanted guest appears, the evil fairy Maleficent. Maleficent curses the young
princess and announces that she will die by pricking her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel before
sunset on her 16th birthday. Fortunately, one of the good fairies, Merryweather, changes the spell so
Aurora will fall into a deep sleep instead, and the only way to wake her from her sleep is true love's kiss.
Finally the day comes.

RED RIDING HOOD

Is set in a medieval village. A beautiful young girl falls for an orphaned woodcutter, much to her
family’s displeasure. When her sister is killed by the werewolf that prowls the dark forest
surrounding their village, the people call on a famed werewolf hunter to help them kill the wolf.
As the death toll rises with each moon, the girl begins to suspect that the werewolf could be
someone she loves. Panic grips the town as she discovers that she has a unique connection to
the beast–one that inexorably draws them together, making her both suspect…and bait.

Hansel and Gretel

Hansel and Gretel are brother and sister who lived in a small, humble house with their
father and stepmom. Their house was at the edge of the forest, far away from all others. Since
they were very poor the stepmom suggested to her husband that they should leave their kids
somewhere deep inside the woods so they would survive.
After they were left in the forest Hansel and Gretel found their way back because Hansel threw
stones while they were walking so they just followed them back. The stepmom was persistent
and suggested they left the kids in the forest again. This time they couldn’t find their way back.
They were in the forest, hungry and scared. They decided to find a shelter and they came
across a house made of cake and bread. They were so hungry that they just started chewing
the house.
An older woman came out of the house and called them to come inside. She made them
delicious meals and put them to bed. The kids didn’t suspect she was a evil witch that wanted to
eat Hansel.
The next morning she locked them up in a barn and made Gretel cook meals for Hansel so he
would get fatter so she could eat him in the end. The witch checked his weight everyday but
Hansel found a way to fool her.
Instead of his finger he would have the witch a little bone to touch so that she would think he
gained no weight. After a month of waiting the witch got tired and decided to eat him, no matter
what his weight was.
She ordered Gretel to get inside the oven and check if the temperature is alright. The girl knew
what her intentions were so she pushed her inside the oven and she burned to death. Gretel
freed Hansel and before they went home they gathered all of the gold and took it with them.
They decided to go home to their father. He was thrilled about their arrival and they lived happily
ever after. The stepmom died while the kids were held captive.

Snow White 
A beautiful but orphaned princess, Snow White, lives with her stepmother, the wicked Queen,
who previously relegated her to servitude. The Queen is jealous because she wants to be known as "the
fairest in the land" when Snow White's beauty surpasses her own. A prince passes by, hearing Snow
White's singing, and falls immediately in love with her and her beauty. Witnessing this, the Queen
summons her loyal huntsman to take Snow White into the forest and kill her, but he cannot bring himself
to do so because of her innocence and beauty, and instead begs Snow White to run away into the forest
and never return to the castle. The forest animals befriend Snow White and take her to a cottage, where
seven dwarfs live. The dwarfs grow to love their unexpected visitor, who cleans their house and cooks
their meals. But one day while the dwarfs are away at their diamond mine, the Queen arrives at the
cottage disguised as an old peddler woman and persuades Snow White to take a bite of a poisoned apple,
promising her it will make all her dreams come true. Snow White wishes for a reunion with the prince,
takes a bite, falls into a deep sleep, and the peddler woman declares she's now the fairest in the land. The
dwarfs, alerted by the forest animals, rush home to chase the witch away and she falls to her death, but
they are too late to save Snow White. Thinking her dead, too, the dwarfs place Snow White in a glass and
gold coffin in the woods and mourn for her. The prince, who had searched far and wide for Snow White,
hears of Snow White asleep in the glass coffin and awakens her with love's first kiss.

The Little Mermaid

Sixteen year old mermaid Ariel is dissatisfied with underwater life in the kingdom of Atlantica, a
fantasy kingdom in the Atlantic Ocean. She is fascinated by the human world. With her best
friend Flounder, Ariel collects human artifacts in her grotto. She ignores the warnings of her father King
Triton, the ruler of Atlantica, which contact between merpeople and humans is forbidden. One night,
Ariel, Flounder, and Horatio Thelonious Ignacious Crustaceous Sebastian, a crab who serves as Triton's
adviser and court composer, travel to the ocean surface to watch a birthday celebration for Prince Eric.
Ariel falls in love with Eric. A violent storm arrives, wrecking the ship, and knocking Eric overboard.
Ariel rescues Eric and brings him to shore. She sings to him but leaves just as he regains consciousness to
avoid being discovered. Fascinated by the memory of her voice, Eric vows to find the girl who saved and
sang to him, and Ariel vows to find a way to join him in his world. Discovering a change in Ariel's
behavior, Triton questions Sebastian about her behavior and learns of her love for Eric. An outraged
Triton travels to Ariel's grotto and destroys her collection of artifacts. After Triton leaves,
two eels named Flotsam and Jetsam convince Ariel to visit Ursula the sea witch.
Ursula makes a deal with Ariel to transform her into a human for three days in exchange for Ariel's voice,
which Ursula puts in a nautilus shell. Within these three days, Ariel must receive the "kiss of true love"
from Eric. If Ariel gets Eric to kiss her, she will remain a human permanently. Otherwise, she will
transform back into a mermaid and belong to Ursula. Ariel accepts and is then given human legs and
taken to the surface by Flounder and Sebastian. Eric finds Ariel on the beach and takes her to his castle,
unaware that she is the one who had rescued him earlier. Ariel spends time with Eric, and at the end of the
second day, they almost kiss but are thwarted by Flotsam and Jetsam. Angered at Ariel's close success,
Ursula disguises herself as a beautiful young woman named Vanessa and appears onshore singing with
Ariel's voice. Eric recognizes the song and, in her disguise, Ursula casts a hypnotic enchantment on Eric
to make him forget about Ariel.
The next day, Ariel discovers that Eric will be married to Vanessa. Scuttle, a seagull who Ariel visits and
offers inaccurate knowledge of human culture when she was a mermaid, discovers Vanessa's true identity
and informs Ariel, who immediately pursues the wedding barge. Sebastian informs Triton, and Scuttle
disrupts the wedding with the help of various sea animals. In the chaos, the nautilus shell around Ursula's
neck is destroyed, restoring Ariel's voice and breaking Ursula's enchantment over Eric. Realizing that
Ariel is the girl who saved his life, Eric rushes to kiss her, but the sun sets and Ariel transforms back into
a mermaid. Ursula then kidnaps Ariel. Triton confronts Ursula and demands Ariel's release, but the deal is
inviolable. At Ursula's urging, Triton agrees to take Ariel's place as Ursula's prisoner, giving up his
trident. Ariel is released as Triton transforms into a polyp and loses his authority over Atlantica. Ursula
declares herself the new ruler, but before she can use the trident, Eric intervenes with a harpoon. Ursula
attempts to kill Eric, but Ariel intervenes, causing Ursula to inadvertently kill Flotsam and Jetsam.
Enraged, Ursula uses the trident to grow to a monstrous size.
Ariel and Eric reunite on the surface just before Ursula grows past and towers over them. She then gains
full control of the entire ocean, creating a storm and bringing sunken ships to the surface. Just as Ursula is
about to kill Ariel, Eric commandeers a wrecked ship and kills Ursula by impaling her with its
splintered bowsprit. With Ursula dead, Triton and the other polyps in Ursula's garden revert to their
original forms. Realizing that Ariel truly loves Eric, Triton willingly changes her from a mermaid into a
human permanently and approves her marriage to Eric. Ariel and Eric marry on a ship and depart.
 ACTIVITY NO.5
POEMS

 “No Man Is an Island” by John Donne

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I He gives his harness bells a shake
know.
To ask if there is some mistake.
His house is in the village though;
The only other sound’s the sweep
He will not see me stopping here
Of easy wind and downy flake.
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
My little horse must think it queer
But I have promises to keep,
To stop without a farmhouse near
And miles to go before I sleep,
Between the woods and frozen lake
And miles to go before I sleep.
The darkest evening of the year.

“Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

With your bitter, twisted lies, Does my sassiness upset you?

You may tread me in the very dirt Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells You may kill me with your
hatefulness,
Pumping in my living room.
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Just like moons and like suns,
Does my sexiness upset you?
With the certainty of tides,
Does it come as a surprise?
Just like hopes springing high,
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
Still I’ll rise.
At the meeting of my thighs?
Did you want to see me broken?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
I rise
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
Weakened by my soulful cries.
I rise
Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard?

’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold

mines

Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

 HYPERPOETRY

Last Love
By: J.D. Mariposa
 
                                                           
Best of friends
together took a leap
Now true friends
ahh! Feelings run deep                            
Two hearts fused
Hands ever entwined

 Ti's all worth the wait

 to care for one as kindly   
 Never never too late
 to love but not blindly
 
So, to you my friend first, 
My last love, I say 
I'll be true every and
Each of my waking day!

Last Piece in the Puzzle of My life

                   Vic P. Yambao

The sweetness of your Voice

Your soul searching eyes
 Throw in the smiling lips
 Makes my life complete

 Missing you,when you're gone

 But frozen stiff
 when you're around
 As my worthless life
 is now complete
This dream might end...  
 if I'll stir...
  Friendship
Vener Santos

Days will pass,

and things will grow old.
Flowers will bloom,
And soon will decay.
But when friendship starts,
all of the year it will remain fresh.

Friends will grow old,

but friendship will never.
As long as we both care,
It will remain young forever.
Death will separate it on earth,
but it will reborn in heaven.

SPOKEN WORD POETRY

"Salamat sa Lahat"
Sisimulan ko ang aking tula
Kung saan ako nagmula
Kung kailan kita nakilala
At sa pagpapatawad sa aking pagkakasala
'Di pa man mulat ang aking kaisipan
panahon ng aking kabataan
Kung ano ang iyong pangalan
Kung ikaw ba ay tunay na makapangyarihan
Kaya noon, sabik akong maunawaan
ang mga salita mo na nais kong panghawakan
Binasa ko ang iyong mga salita
Kinabisa ang bawat letra
isinabuhay ang bawat kapitulo
lahat ng ito'y aking isinaulo
At ito'y aking tinatandaan,
SA bawat kabanata ng aking pinagdadaanan.
Puso ko'y tila nag-iinit
sa pagpuri sa'yo na aking isinambit
ako'y sayo ay lumalapit,
At patuloy akong kakapit
dadamhin ang yakap mong kayhigpit
Sasambahin kita ng paulit-ulit.
madalas man akong magkasala
lahat ng iyon tila'y nawawala
sa tuwing ako ay mananalangin
lahat ng ito ay iyong tatanggapin
kahit 'di man kita makita tulad ng hangin
nariyan ka palagi upang ako'y dinggin.
hindi matutumbasan ng ilang pasasalamat
ang kabutihan mong bukod tangi sa lahat
talikuran man ako ng lahat,
ikaw lang ang nag-iisang tapat
Kahit ako'y 'di karapat-dapat
sa pagmamahal mo na aking tinanggap.
Salamat sa pagprotekta palayo sa kapahamakan
Salamat sa pag-ibig na iyong pinaramdam
Salamat sa biyaya na iyong inilaan
Salamat sa taglay mong kabutihan
Araw-araw kong itataas ang iyong matamis na pangalan
Panginoon ko, Salamat sa buhay na walang hanggan.

"Friendzone"
Sa isang banda tayo'y pinagtagpo
Sa kabila ng kanya-kanya nating pinagdaanan
Kapwa puso natin ay bigo
Sa pagmamahal na akala natin ay walang hanggan
Ininda lahat ng sakit
At sa pag-ibig tayo'y sumuko
Hanggang sa araw na puso natin ay pinagtagpo
Nagsimula sa magkaibigan,
Sa simpleng barkadahan
Mga puso nating sugatan ay pinapasaya at pinapalimot sa nakaraan
Tila lahat ay naramdaman na lamang ng kusa
Ang dating tratong kaibigan sa isa't isa ay nag-iba na pala
May naramdamang kakaiba
Na higit pa sa kaibigan
Kapwa tayo ay nagtapat sa isa't isa
Di man tayo makapaniwala
Kung paano nagsimula at kailan
Ngunit tadhana natin ay nauulit,
Kung paano tayo unang nagkakilala
Ang estoryang Ikaw at Ako
Na kasisimula pa lang
Ay napagdesisyonang tapusin at di na ipagpatuloy pa
Na sa walong letra lang dapat tayo hahantong
At ito ay" KAIBIGAN"
Ang walong letra na iyong binitiwan
Kahit kapwa may nararamdaman
Ngunit ito'y dapat ng pigilan
Gusto ko mang hindi sumang-ayon
Ngunit ayoko namang ipilit pa
Kung sa bibig mo na mismo narinig ang mga katagang
"Ihinto na natin to kasi ito ang dapat at nararapat"
Magkaibigan at wala ng hihigit pa.

"GABING MALIWANAG"
Ang tahimik ng paligid,
Hindi ko mabatid.
Ba't wala akong marinig?
Nasaan ang mga tinig?
Bumabalik ang mga alaala,
Habang nakahiga sa aking kama.
Lahat ng litrato sa aking ulo,
Ay may kalakip na luha sa mga mata ko.
Bakit pa dumating kung aalis din naman?
Bakit pa minahal kung ako ay iyo ring sasaktan?
Lumipas ang araw, buwan, at taon,
Ngunit bakit di pa rin maka-ahon?
Matagal nang gising,
Pero tila binabangungot pa rin.
Bawat tanong na 'di masagot,
Isipan ay umiikot
Luhang bigla na lang tumutulo,
Bakit biglang nagkadulo?
Madalas maalala ang iyong ngiti,
Ngunit ito ay may kasamang pighati.
Na, bakit nagkaroon ng dulo?
Bakit 'di na-ipaglaban ang puso?
Bakit bigla kang sumuko?
Alam kong hindi ako perpekto,
Na iisa lang ang kayang ipangako,
At yon ay mahalin ka ng totoo at walang halong biro.
Pero ang tadhana talaga ay mapaglaro,
Tayo'y pinagsama ngunit 'di itinadhana.
Pinagtagpo ngunit 'di pinag-isa ang puso.
Pasenya sa gabing tahimik,
Sa langit ako'y humahalik.
'Di mabatid ang sarili,
Unti-unti nang nahuhuli.
Pipikit at matutulog,
Baka sakaling 'di na mahulog.
Sa kahapong pilit kinakalimutan,
Ako na ay magpapaalam.

DRAMA (MOVIE-STORY TELLING ABOUT MOVIE)

Mank (2020)

Mank” is not, as several have proclaimed, a “love letter” to old Hollywood, or to the movies
themselves, and I can’t fathom why anyone would think so. The movie capital of the United
States depicted here is one where almost nobody is happy in their work, or proud of it for that
matter. Except maybe mogul Louis B. Mayer, whose pleasure derives from his venality:
Speaking of the individual moviegoer, Mayer (played by a very animated Arliss Howard, who
is made up to look not just like Mayer, but like Mayer as a wizened homunculus) proclaims:
“What he bought still belongs to the man who sold it. That’s the real magic of the movies and
don’t let anybody tell you different,” He says this to Herman and younger brother Joseph (Tom
Pelphrey) as they walk with the mogul to a presentation where Mayer announces salary
rollbacks to the group of employees he calls “family.”
But “Mank” is not entirely a poison pen letter, either. Fincher’s usual mode of cinematic
discourse is on commendable display in the shot depicting writer and Mankiewicz crony
Charles Lederer’s introduction to Hollywood: a closeup of the telegram, in Lederer’s hand,
containing Mankiewicz’s invitation to Tinseltown (“Millions to be made here and your only
competition is idiots,” which is what Mankiewicz actually wrote to Ben Hecht, who unlike
Mank practically did make millions). Then the hand goes down, and a painted backdrop on
rollers travels from right to left on the lot’s street; the camera moves up to show a big poster
reproduction for a current Paramount production, painted on a soundstage wall. Here, the
breathless rush of a hive of commerce and maybe art is evoked with commendable cinematic
dispatch and imagination.
As for its title character, the writer Herman J. Mankiewicz, a New York journalist and wit who
sought fortune, and found dissolution, in Hollywood—until the prospect of authoring, or co-
authoring, what some might call The Great American Screenplay offered a shot at redemption
—“Mank” does not chronicle his fall from grace. Right off the bat he’s a lost soul.
Whether with or without honor in Hollywood, he is no prophet. In an early scene of drunken
besottedness, he proclaims to his wife, whom he’s nicknamed “Poor Sara,” that “The Wizard of
Oz” is going to “sink” MGM. Presiding over a writer’s room full of other Algonquin Round
Table types, Mankiewicz places extravagant bets on coin flips while poor brother Joe tries to
work on dialogue with a stenographer who seems to have come straight from a side gig at a
burlesque show. Summoned to pitch a story to studio executive David O. Selznick and director
Josef Von Sternberg, Mank and his merry men troll him with an improvised “Frankenstein”
variant.
Mankiewicz, the man and writer, recollects this, and much more, as he lies bedridden at a
remote ranch house, dictating what would become “Kane” to a soulful Englishwoman (Lily
Collins) who’s got a husband in the war. She, a German housekeeper, and then-Mercury-
Theater-overseer John Houseman (Sam Troughton) are the writer’s keepers during his process,
and part of Houseman’s mission is to keep the alcoholic scribe dry. To this end, we learn that
Orson Welles has gifted Mankiewicz with a private stock of what looks to be whisky but is
actually Seconal, to be administered at the end of a day’s work. This movie is manifestly a work
of fact-extrapolated fiction, that can’t be emphasized enough. But while the then-24-year-old
Welles is referred to as a “Wunderkind” throughout, the idea that his expertise extended to
pharmacopeia is a particularly ostentatious stretch in this film of stretches.
In his labors, Herman also recalls a peculiar tangle of relationships. One with Mayer, another
with the media magnate William Randolph Hearst (Charles Dance, in an energetic sketch of
magisterial rot) and his mistress Marion Davies (played by Amanda Seyfried, the only actor in
the picture who could be said to extend some affection to an Old Hollywood type), a fine film
comedienne who Hearst wanted to transform into a dramatic diva. He entertains these powerful
folk, and forms a bond with Davies that leans toward intimacy, and never quite achieves it. He
also remembers how Mayer and Hearst conspired to squash the 1934 gubernatorial campaign
of Upton Sinclair, the inspired muckraking author whose socialist ideals disgusted, and
frightened, Hollywood capitalists. Toggling between these remnants of the past and
Mankiewicz’s creative efforts—which eventually are speeded to an inspired completion via a
smuggled box of real booze, and include a famous bit in “Kane” that is an outstanding highlight
of what Mank will recognize as his best work—the movie is at its most engrossing and credible.
Its tendrils suggest themes from “Chinatown” and “Shampoo,” and also have slight echoes
of Wim Wenders’ “Hammett”—a story of a detective writer working on a case of his own.
Mankiewicz’s isolation (underscored potently by, among other things, a poignant music score
by Fincher regulars Atticus Ross and Trent Reznor) gives Fincher the opportunity, in the
movie’s last third, to concoct discrete narrative modules in which Mankiewicz is visited by
various personages who entreat him to abandon his folly. Hearst is still a powerful man, and can
ruin him. But Mankiewicz clearly doesn’t believe he can be ruined any further than he already
is. And now, in fact he wants to be known for this work.
Which leads to his final confrontation with Welles. For as long as “Mank” holds the great
filmmaker at arm’s length, it’s on solid ground. But the movie doesn’t cover itself in glory
when Welles comes center stage to balk at Mankiewicz’s request for credit. It is true that, in his
initial contract with Mercury, Welles’ lawyer included a “for hire” clause stipulating that the
writer would receive no credit at all. The real-life negotiations that earned the writer the credit
we see in the titles for “Citizen Kane” are sufficiently dry that they would not make good
“drama.” So here we are given a violent Welles reaction.
The problem isn’t with actor Tom Burke, who does a better than fair approximation of Welles
in that era. The problem is the petty material with which he has to work. Certainly there are
sufficient real-life examples of Welles waxing indignant and/or truculent to have provided the
filmmakers with good models; but what they come up with here sorely lacks. (As do the
rationales of the characters working for Welles. At one point fussy Houseman, played extra
fussily by Troughton, says of his boss, “Don’t be fooled, he’s a showman, busker, reveling in
sleight of hand.” Come on. This is like the bit on “SCTV” with John Candy doing Welles on a
“Merv Griffin Show” parody saying that in showbiz you need something to fall back on
—“fortunately I have magic.”)
And because of the richness of “Kane” itself, turning over the argumentation of this particular
scenario about a part of its making (the movie proper ends before the first scene of Welles’
movie is shot, after all) reveals some curiosities. If you’re a man whose idealism and sense of
social justice has been trampled by dark forces ruled by a ruthless media tycoon, and you
contrive to get a form of payback by writing a movie about that tycoon, wouldn’t it stand to
reason that you include the relevant precipitating incident in that movie? Charles Foster Kane is
never shown steamrolling a socialist’s gubernatorial campaign; rather, it shows him losing his
own bid, on what we can infer was a progressive platform, because of his own personal
indulgences and some attendant political blackmail. And Kane refuses to accept any attendant
humiliation stemming from this course of events because he can afford to. Some pieces of this
movie’s puzzle aren’t an entirely comfortable fit.

Nevertheless, when the movie swings, it brings you with it. A walk and talk between Herman
and Hearst at their introduction to each other happens while Hearst is traveling on a gigantic
camera dolly, overseeing a Davies picture. The staging, shooting and editing here represent
Fincher at his most inspired, creating an undercurrent of exhilaration even as we are aware that
we’re witnessing crummy people doing crummy things.

While watching “Mank,” I was reminded of an essay the critic and filmmaker Kent Jones wrote
for in 2016, called “The Marginalization of Cinema.” Specifically, its opening: “About a year
ago, a director I know invited me to watch a movie on one of the old Hollywood lots. As we
were strolling to the screening room, we passed a little gathering of elegant business-casual
types seated at makeshift outdoor tables, casually listening to one of their ilk delivering a casual
talk. And just as we walked by, we caught the following remark: ‘We have a little saying
around here: “F*ck the director.”’ Cue a soft sound of quietly knowing laughter from the casual
audience. My friend was momentarily taken aback but finally nonplussed. It was more of the
usual. Sort of.”

That story is reflective of the same-as-it-ever-was Hollywood ecosystem depicted in “Mank,”

only here it’s more of a chain. The bosses do unto the director, and the director does unto, well,
the writer. Again: Some “love letter.”

The Imitation Game (2014)

This atypical biopic about the brilliant, impossibly arrogant and socially awkward
mathematician (played by Benedict Cumberbatch, impeccably perfect in every way) is a
somewhat hard read at first. Most likely, it was the intent of screenwriter Graham Moore to
make a puzzle out a film about puzzle solving. That is not necessarily a bad thing, however,
once the pieces fall into in place. The fractured narrative starts off as a mystery in 1951 with a
detective investigating a burglary at Turing’s home where, strangely, nothing was stolen.
Eventually, the plot flashes back to 1928 and shifts into a heart-breaking love story as a teen
Turing, a brutally bullied school-boy prodigy, chastely falls for a fellow classmate named
Christopher.
But “The Imitation Game” is most on its game when it primarily sticks to being a John le Carre-
lite espionage  version of “Revenge of the Nerds,” beginning in 1939 as it introduces a
battleground of the mind that relies on superior intellect rather than bombs to beat the enemy.
Norwegian director Morten Tyldum in his English-language debut provides just enough science
to explain what is at stake while escalating the beat-the-clock tension involved in the mission
conducted by Turing and a handful of other high-IQ cohorts. Alexandre Desplat’s hauntingly
propulsive score further enhances the suspense while capturing the gravity of the situation.
It might seem a no-brainer to hire Cumberbatch for the job of bringing Turing to life. After all,
what other actor these days is as well-suited to emblemize an aloof smarty-pants? Sorry, Robert
Downey Jr. The torch has been passed. Instead of constantly reminding “Sherlock” fans of his
Emmy-winning role as the Arthur Conan Doyle’s master of deduction, Cumberbatch has broken
his own code of how to distinguish this particular eccentric genius as a completely separate but
yet no less compelling entity.

To portray Turing, Cumberbatch’s seductive purr is less mellifluous, his lips are slightly pursed,
his gaze is often averted and, despite his unwavering confidence in his thinking skills, there is
an air of vulnerability and melancholy about him.

But, like Sherlock, Turing is given to verbal dust-ups that often end amusingly, especially with
such haughty superiors as the uncompromising Commander Denniston (a superb Charles
Dance, whose patrician nose practically rears up in disgust whenever his by-the-book overlord
encounters Cumberbatch’s defiant whiz). Turing also has his protector in Mark Strong’s head of
intelligence, who calmly, coolly and with a sly wink runs interference for his not-exactly-
diplomatic secret weapon at every turn.
As for the rest of the code breakers, Matthew Goode stands out as a caddish chess champ Hugh
Alexander, who initially butts heads with Turing until he realizes the depth of his abilities. On
board as John Cairncross is Allen Leech, best known as Branson the Irish chauffeur-turned-
terrorist-turned aristocrat on “Downton Abbey,” who is the most tolerant of Turing’s
idiosyncrasies.

If anyone comes close to matching Cumberbatch’s efforts, however, it is Keira Knightley. She
brings a much-needed warmth, humor and Anglicized spunk to the proceedings as Joan Clarke,
immediately winning over the audience’s affections when she is mistakenly pegged as a
secretarial candidate while trying out for a code-breaking position. Clarke is as much of an odd
duck as Turing—and perhaps even brighter—as the lone female involved in deciphering
Enigma. Since it is considered “indecorous” for a single woman to work and share living
quarters alongside men, she must sneak about to contribute to the effort.

Some of the best scenes involve Clarke and Turing, who confide in one another as equals—
especially since both must hide their true identities. One of the more meaningful moments
arrives when Turing jealously watches as Clarke immediately charms Alexander, a shameless
pickup artist. When Turing asks her how she so easily made him like her, Clarke replies with
Knightley’s posh accent, “I’m a woman in a man’s job. I don’t have the luxury of being an ass.”
The "like you" at the end of that sentence is implied, of course.

Matters turn slightly hokey as the final solution to Enigma code relies on several “By Jove, I’ve
got it” revelations. But, by then, you will likely be fully invested in the outcome, no matter how
out of left field it might seem.  Some of Cumberbatch’s most affecting work is when the older
and close-to-defeated Turing is at the end of his rope, unable to even focus on a crossword
puzzle because of the drugs he has been given. But as I sit here typing away, I realize I have
Turing to thank for being able to access a wealth of information with just a few key strokes and
a click of a mouse.

Not only did Turing help save the world, he continues to influence it every day. 

Becoming Jane (2007)

"Becoming Jane" is a movie every Janeite will want to see, although many will not approve of
it. The Jane Austen in the film owes a great deal more to modern romantic fancies than to what
we know about the real Jane Austen, and if Austen had been as robust and tall in those days
(circa 1795) as Anne Hathaway, the 5-foot-8-inch actress who plays her, she would have been
considered an Amazon. Studying the only portrait drawn during her life, by her sister
Cassandra, I think Austen looks more like Winona Ryder. But no matter. Patton was no George
C. Scott.
My quarrel involves what this film thinks Jane is 'becoming': A woman, or a novelist? The
action centers on a passionate romance between Jane at about 20 and a handsome, penniless
young lawyer named Tom Lefroy (James McAvoy). What intimacies or decisions they arrive at,
I will leave for you to discover, but surely few of Jane's contemporaries would have allowed
themselves to be so bold. Jane, in any event, discovers love. And in the movie's sly
construction, she also discovers a great deal of the plot of Pride and Prejudice, beginning with
Mr. Lefroy as the original for Mr. Darcy. She even happily chances on what will become the
novel's opening words: "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession
of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."

Austen is already an author as the movie opens, although she will not for many years be a
published one. We see her sitting at a beautiful desk in a beautiful chair, writing with a beautiful
quill pen in a stylish script and gazing out at a beautiful pastoral view, like an illustration for a
Regency edition of the Levenger catalog.

Reader, it was not so. In her famous A Room of One's Own, Virginia Woolf writes: "A woman
must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." But Austen, a rector's
daughter, had neither. Woolf writes: "The middleclass family in the early 19th was possessed
only of a single sitting room between them. If a woman wrote, she would have to write in the
common sitting room -- Jane Austen wrote like that to the end of her days. 'How she was able to
effect all this,' her nephew writes in his memoir, 'is surprising, for she had no separate study to
repair to, and most of the work must have been done in the general sitting room, subject to all
kinds of casual interruptions.' "

BLOG

01. Zion Adventure Photog

Zion Adventure Photog is a great blog example because of the way its design mirrors its
content. The blog posts provide detailed guidance about specific hikes, as well as useful
information about activities such as canyoneering and activities for kids. From the written
content within, it’s clear that Arika, the creator of this adventure photography website, is in-the-
know about her field.

Other features also make this evident. One of those is the rugged, playful atmosphere of the
blog, which uses a green and yellow color scheme to evoke ideas of nature and sunshine. The
blog’s homepage is rich with images of happy clients enjoying their adventures - visual
testimonials that confirm Arika’s skill as a photographer. She further encourages engagement
by embedding her Instagram Feed directly onto her site, spreading the word about her service
and drawing people deeper into her brand.

Ultimately, Arika’s blog serves a dual purpose: it’s a portfolio of her photography skills, while
simultaneously highlighting her knowledge about the Zion area. By turning her expertise into a
business, she’s able to make money blogging.

02. GrossyPelosi

Who says blog posts have to be serious? Dan Pelosi, founder of the food blog GrossyPelosi,
proves that humor makes a brand instantly lovable. He’s informative as well as entertaining,
making his recipes just as fun to read as they are to cook.

Notably, Dan is also skillful at organizing his blog. While the homepage sorts his articles
according to the most recent, he also includes separate sections for each of his different blog
ideas. His recipes tab, for instance, features chocolate sheet pan cookies and ambrosia salad,
while the lifestyle category offers tips on making Easter eggs and maintaining beautiful tulips.
Forming the backdrop of his site is Dan’s creative blog design. With a blue and white checkered
pattern and a spaghetti icon in the header, his blog instantly evokes associations with Italian
home cooking.

03. Simply Tabitha

Tabitha's personal blog is a stellar example of how sharing your thoughts and advice online is a
powerful engine for building your brand.

She doesn’t simply dish out fashion and beauty advice to her audience of mommas and
mommas-to-be; she also hands over the tools to make it all happen with a “Shop the Post”
widget. Placed at the end of blog posts, this widget allows viewers to replicate her look. And
with Pinterest's Save buttons hovering over each picture, fans can keep her glamorous aesthetic
on hand for inspiration.
Take note from this blog example - linking out to recommended products is a great way to
monetize your blog and earn some extra cash. If you partner with an affiliate and link to their
products in your posts, you’ll get a commission for every sale that comes through your site.

CREATIVE NON FICTION

1. An American Childhood by Annie Dillard
Annie Dillard is one of today’s most celebrated CNF writers. Her prose punches holes in other
people’s prose. This book is an interesting example of a memoir written not about the author
herself but as an exploration of a specific theme: what it feels like to be “alive.”
I defy anyone to read An American Childhood and not catch curiosity fever. Her powers of
observation of the natural world are wonderful. She is esteemed both as a memoirist and as
a riveting nature writer.

2. The Genesee Diary by Henri Nouwen

Henri Nouwen, evangelicalism’s favorite Catholic (yes, I know about Tolkien), kept a journal
during a six-month stay at a Trappist monastery in Western New York. The result is this quiet,
but grounding spiritual travel log—Nouwen is physically restricted, but slowly journeying to
a wide and open peace in his inner life.
It’s a strong example of editing and re-sequencing a private journal to present to others. It’s
also interesting because it manages to avoid being a devotional book while exploring
devotion.
 

3. Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury

Like An American Childhood, this is a memoir, but Ray Bradbury has taken creative liberties
in the telling that many memoirists would eschew.
A celebration of childhood, Dandelion Wine is delightful while also sometimes somber, and is a
provocative read for writers trying to work out what the balance should be between fact and
storytelling in their own nonfiction work.
I enjoy comparing and contrasting this book to Dillard’s.

CHICK-LIT

The Other Boleyn Girl (Movie Tie-In)

New official film tie-in edtion of this magnificent tale of rivalry and jealousy set in the volatile
court of King Henry VIII. The Boleyn family is keen to rise through the ranks of society, and
what better way than to place their most beautiful young woman at court? But Mary becomes
the king's mistress at a time of change. He needs his personal pleasures, but he also needs an
heir. The unthinkable happens and the course of English history is irrevocably altered. For the
women at the heart of the storm, they have only one weapon; and when it's no longer enough to
be the mistress, Mary must groom her younger sister in the ways of pleasing the king. Now this
bestselling novel is brought to life as a major film, starring Scarlett Johansson and Natalie
Portman as the Boleyn sisters and Eric Bana as Henry VIII. The cast also features Kristin Scott
Thomas and Mark Rylance. Directed by highly acclaimed Justin Chadwick (BAFTA and Emmy
nominated for 'Bleak House') with screenplay by Peter Morgan (Oscar nominated for 'The
Queen'; BAFTA winner for 'The Last King of Scotland').

Memoirs of a Geisha
In this literary tour de force, novelist Arthur Golden enters a remote and shimmeringly exotic
world. For the protagonist of this peerlessly observant first novel is Sayuri, one of Japan's most
celebrated geisha, a woman who is both performer and courtesan, slave and goddess.

We follow Sayuri from her childhood in an impoverished fishing village, where in 1929, she is
sold to a representative of a geisha house, who is drawn by the child's unusual blue-grey eyes.
From there she is taken to Gion, the pleasure district of Kyoto. She is nine years old. In the
years that follow, as she works to pay back the price of her purchase, Sayuri will be schooled in
music and dance, learn to apply the geisha's elaborate makeup, wear elaborate kimono, and care
for a coiffure so fragile that it requires a special pillow. She will also acquire a magnanimous
tutor and a venomous rival. Surviving the intrigues of her trade and the upheavals of war, the
resourceful Sayuri is a romantic heroine on the order of Jane Eyre and Scarlett O'Hara.
And Memoirs of a Geisha is a triumphant work - suspenseful, and utterly persuasive.

Emma (Modern Library Classics)

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy
disposition seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly
twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.” So begins Jane Austen’s
comic masterpiece Emma. In Emma, Austen’s prose brilliantly elevates, in the words of
Virginia Woolf, “the trivialities of day-to-day existence, of parties, picnics, and country dances”
of early-nineteenth-century life in the English countryside to an unrivaled level of pleasure for
the reader. At the center of this world is the inimitable Emma Woodhouse, a self-proclaimed
matchmaker who, by the novel’s conclusion, may just find herself the victim of her own best
intentions.
ILLUSTRATED NOVEL

A Subjective History of Lebanon

by Mazen Kerbaj
Translated by Edward Gauvin

The sight of armed civilians in the streets of Beirut sets me smoking again.

Gay Giant

by Gabriel Ebensperger
Translated by Kelley D. Salas

Have you ever had the feeling that even if you wanted to, you’d never blend in?
 Tiananmen 1989: Our Shattered Hopes

by Lun Zhang and by Adrien Gombeaud and by Améziane

Translated by Edward Gauvin

Not a day goes by that I don't go back to Tiananmen Square.

DIGI FICTION

GRAPHIC NOVELS

 Maus by Art Spiegelman (which won the Pulitzer Prize)

 Most of the book weaves in and out of two timelines. In the frame tale of the narrative
present,[1] Spiegelman interviews his father Vladek in the Rego Park neighborhood of
New York City[2] in 1978–79.[3] The story that Vladek tells unfolds in the narrative past,
which begins in the mid-1930s[2] and continues until the end of the Holocaust in 1945.[4]
 In Rego Park in 1958,[3] a young Art Spiegelman is skating with his friends when he falls
down and hurts himself, but his friends keep going. When he returns home, he finds his
father Vladek, who asks him why he is upset, and Art proceeds to tell him that his friends
left him behind. His father responds in broken English, "Friends? Your friends? If you
lock them together in a room with no food for a week, then you could see what it is,
friends!"[5]
 As an adult, Art visits his father, from whom he has become estranged.[6] Vladek has
remarried to a woman called Mala since the suicide of Art's mother Anja in 1968.[7] Art
asks Vladek to recount his Holocaust experiences.[6] Vladek tells of his time in the Polish
city of Częstochowa[8] and how he came to marry into Anja's wealthy family in 1937 and
move to Sosnowiec to become a manufacturer. Vladek begs Art not to include this in the
book and Art reluctantly agrees.[9] Anja suffers a breakdown due to postpartum
depression[10] after giving birth to their first son Richieu,[b] and the couple go to a
sanitarium in Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia for her to recover. After they return,
political and anti-Semitic tensions build until Vladek is drafted just before the Nazi
invasion. Vladek is captured at the front and forced to work as a prisoner of war. After
his release, he finds Germany has annexed Sosnowiec and he is dropped off on the other
side of the border in the German protectorate. He sneaks across the border and reunites
with his family.[12]


 "Prisoner on the Hell Planet" (1973), an early, expressionistic strip about Spiegelman's
mother's suicide, reprinted in Maus

 During one of Art's visits, he finds that a friend of Mala's has sent the couple one of
the underground comix magazines Art contributed to. Mala had tried to hide it, but
Vladek finds and reads it. In "Prisoner on the Hell Planet",[13] Art is traumatized by his
mother's suicide three months after his release from the mental hospital, and in the end
depicts himself behind bars saying, "You murdered me, Mommy, and left me here to take
the rap!"[14] Though it brings back painful memories, Vladek admits that dealing with the
issue in such a way was for the best.[15]
 In 1943, the Nazis move the Jews of the Sosnowiec Ghetto to Srodula and march them
back to Sosnowiec to work. The family splits up—Vladek and Anja send Richieu
to Zawiercie to stay with an aunt for safety. As more Jews are sent from the ghettos to
Auschwitz, the aunt poisons herself, her children and Richieu to death to escape
the Gestapo and not die in the gas chamber. In Srodula, many Jews build bunkers to hide
from the Germans. Vladek's bunker is discovered and he is placed into a "ghetto inside
the ghetto" surrounded by barbed wire. The remnants of Vladek and Anja's family are
taken away.[12] Srodula is cleared of its Jews, except for a group Vladek hides with in
another bunker. When the Germans depart, the group splits up and leaves the ghetto.[16]
  In Sosnowiec, Vladek and Anja move from one hiding place to the next, making
occasional contact with other Jews in hiding. Vladek disguises himself as an ethnic Pole
and hunts for provisions. The couple arrange with smugglers to escape to Hungary, but it
is a trick—the Gestapo arrest them on the train (as Hungary is invaded) and take them
to Auschwitz, where they are separated until after the war.[16]
 Art asks after Anja's diaries, which Vladek tells him were her account of her Holocaust
experiences and the only record of what happened to her after her separation from Vladek
at Auschwitz and which Vladek says she had wanted Art to read. Vladek comes to admit
that he burned them after she killed herself. Art is enraged and calls Vladek a "murderer".
[17]

 The story jumps to 1986, after the first six chapters of Maus have appeared in a collected
edition. Art is overcome with the unexpected attention the book receives[4] and finds
himself "totally blocked". Art talks about the book with his psychiatrist Paul Pavel, a
Czech Holocaust survivor.[18] Pavel suggests that, as those who perished in the camps can
never tell their stories, "maybe it's better not to have any more stories". Art replies with a
quote from Samuel Beckett: "Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and
nothingness", but then realizes, "on the other hand, he said it".[19]
 Vladek tells of his hardship in the camps, of starvation and abuse, of his resourcefulness,
of avoiding the selektionen—the process by which prisoners were selected for further
labor or execution.[20] Despite the danger, Anja and Vladek exchange occasional
messages. As the war progresses and the German front is pushed back, the prisoners are
marched from Auschwitz in occupied Poland to Gross-Rosen within the Reich and then
to Dachau, where the hardships only increase and Vladek catches typhus.[21]
 The war ends, the camp survivors are freed and Vladek and Anja reunite. The book
closes with Vladek turning over in his bed as he finishes his story and telling Art, "I'm
tired from talking, Richieu, and it's enough stories for now."[22] The final image is of
Vladek and Anja's tombstone[23]—Vladek died in 1982, before the book was completed.
[24]

 Ghost World by Daniel Clowes.

 Ghost World by Daniel Clowes is a graphic novel about Enid Coleslaw and Rebecca
Doppelmeyer, two girls who have recently graduated from high school. Enid and
Rebecca spend most of their time making fun of other people they encounter and
occasionally playing mean tricks on them. Enid and Rebecca both become romantically
interested in a young man named Josh, which causes tension between Enid and Rebecca.
This tension is heightened by the possibility that Enid might leave for college.
 In the first chapter, Enid and Rebecca sit in Rebecca's bedroom and watch television.
Enid tells Rebecca about a diner named Angels where she always sees a Satanist couple
whom she finds interesting. The last time Enid ate there she met a strange man named
Bob Skeetes.
 In chapter two, Enid is holding a garage sale, but does not appear interested in actually
selling anything because she abandons the garage sale to go to Angels with Rebecca in
the hopes of seeing the Satanists. Enid and Rebecca do not see the Satanists at Angels,
 but do randomly run into them at a grocery store. Enid and Rebecca makes fun of the
male Satanist for only buying Lunchables.
 Enid cuts her hair into a punk style in the third chapter and goes with Rebecca to Angels
and another cafe. Enid complains about every guy there, but Enid tells Rebecca that she
is planning to meet a cartoonist the next week whose work she enjoys. Upon seeing the
cartoonist, Enid is disappointed. At the end of the chapter, Enid explains to Rebecca that
she is so sexually frustrated that she cannot even masturbate.
 In chapter four, Enid calls Rebecca to say that she went to a pornography store with their
mutual friend Josh earlier that day. The store makes Josh very uncomfortable. Enid also
explains the story of the first time she had sex. Enid seems far more concerned with
Rebecca's reaction to her sexual experience than the experience itself.
 In the fifth chapter, Enid and Rebecca go to a 1950s themed diner named Hubba Hubba.
While eating there, they go through the personal advertisements in a magazine and decide
to call one of the men, claiming to be the woman he is looking for, and tell him to meet at
Hubba Hubba. Enid and Rebecca talk Josh into driving them back to Hubba Hubba to
witness the man from the personal advertisement's humiliation. The man soon figures out
a joke is being played and curses at Enid, Josh, and Rebecca as he leaves, which makes
all three feel remorseful.
 Enid and Rebecca are eating at Angels at the beginning of chapter six and see Josh
walking by outside, and they talk to him briefly. Later, Enid and Rebecca see the female
Satanist by herself at a movie theater. By eavesdropping, Enid and Rebecca discover that
the Satanists are no longer a couple.
 Chapter seven begins with Enid and Rebecca going through old photographs, which leads
Enid on a search to find a record from her childhood. Enid and Rebecca search the record
stores but are unsuccessful, so they go to eat at Angels. Enid and Rebecca argue in the
diner over the possibility of Enid leaving for college. Both girls cry over the fight, and
Enid goes over to Josh's apartment and almost has sex with him before leaving.
 In the eighth chapter, Enid prepares to take an entrance exam and move away to college.
Enid tells Rebecca that Josh likes Rebecca more than Enid, and Rebecca begins seeing
Josh. After Enid takes the entrance exam, she goes on a short trip with Rebecca to
Cavetown, USA to relive Enid's only happy childhood memory. On the trip, Enid and
Rebecca discuss the possibility of Rebecca moving away with Enid, but Rebecca
ultimately rejects the idea. Back at home, Enid receives a letter from Strathmore College
telling her that she did not pass the entrance exam. Enid visits Rebecca at work and goes
to the beach where she gets an astrological reading done by Bob Skeetes. Enid leaves the
beach and sees a woman painting "Ghost World" on a building, and Enid chases after this
woman but cannot catch her. Enid boards a bus and leaves town.

Ice Haven by Daniel Clowes.

 Ice Haven is a 2005 graphic novel by Daniel Clowes.[1][2] The book's contents were
originally published as the comic book Eightball #22 and were subsequently reformatted
to make the hardcover Ice Haven book.[3]
  Ice Haven takes the form of 29 short, stylistically diverse comic strips about different
residents of the small town of Ice Haven. Although each strip is separately titled and
presented as if it is self-contained, together they tell a story about the characters'
interrelated lives. The uniting plot line of the book involves the kidnapping of a boy
named David Goldberg.

DOODLE FICTION
Pie in the Sky

by Remy Lai (Author)
A poignant, laugh-out-loud illustrated middle-grade novel about an eleven-year-old boy's
immigration experience, his annoying little brother, and their cake-baking hijinks! Perfect for
fans of Raina Telgemeier and Gene Luen Yang! A Parents Magazine Best Kids Book of the
Year! A New York Public Library Best Book of the Year! An NPR Best Book of the Year!
A Horn Book Best Book of the Year! A Kirkus Best Book of the Year! Recipient of FIVE
starred reviews! "Pie in the Sky is like enjoying a decadent cake . . . heartwarming and rib-
tickling." --Terri Libenson, bestselling author of Invisible Emmie When Jingwen moves to a
new country, he feels like he's landed on Mars. School is torture, making friends is impossible
since he doesn't speak English, and he's often stuck looking after his (extremely irritating) little
brother, Yanghao. To distract himself from the loneliness, Jingwen daydreams about making all
the cakes on the menu of Pie in the Sky, the bakery his father had planned to open before he
unexpectedly passed away. The only problem is his mother has laid down one major rule: the
brothers are not to use the oven while she's at work. As Jingwen and Yanghao bake elaborate
cakes, they'll have to cook up elaborate excuses to keep the cake making a secret from Mama.
In her hilarious, moving middle-grade debut, Remy Lai delivers a scrumptious combination of
vibrant graphic art and pitch-perfect writing that will appeal to fans of Shannon Hale and
LeUyen Pham's Real Friends, Kelly Yang's Front Desk, and Jerry Craft's New Kid. A Junior
Library Guild selection! "Seamlessly mixes together equal parts of humor, loss, identity,
discovery, and love to create a delicious concoction of a story. . . illustrated beautifully with
Lai's insightful drawings." --Veera Hiranandani, Newbery Honor-winning author of The Night
Diary * "The humor [is] akin to that of Jeff Kinney's popular "Wimpy Kid" series . . . the
perfect mixture of funny and emotionally resonant." --School Library Journal, starred review *
"Perfect for fans of Gene Luen Yang and Victoria Jamieson." --Shelf Awareness, starred review
This title has common core connections.
Max and the Midknights (Max & The Midknights)

by Lincoln Peirce (Author)
Join Max's quest to become a knight in this laugh-filled, New York Times bestselling adventure
from the author of the Big Nate series! "Max is epic fun!" --JEFF KINNEY, New York
Times bestselling author of the DIARY OF A WIMPY KID series Max wants to be a knight!
Too bad that dream is about as likely as finding a friendly dragon. But when Max's uncle
Budrick is kidnapped by the cruel King Gastley, Max has to act...and fast! Joined by a band of
brave adventurers--the Midknights--Max sets out on a thrilling quest: to save Uncle Budrick
and restore the realm of Byjovia to its former high spirits! Magic and (mis)adventures abound
in this hilarious illustrated novel from the New York Times bestselling creator of the Big Nate
series, Lincoln Peirce. "Fantastic! I loved it!" --DAV PILKEY, New York Times bestselling
author of the DOG MAN series

TEXT TALK NOVELS

Ada Twist, Scientist

by 
Andrea Beaty

Scientist Ada has a boundless imagination and has always been hopelessly curious. Why are
there pointy things stuck to a rose? Why are there hairs growing inside your nose? When her
house fills with a horrific, toe-curling smell, Ada knows it’s up to her to find the source. What
would you do with a problem like this? Not afraid of failure, Ada embarks on a fact-finding
mission and conducts scientific experiments, all in the name of discovery. But, this time, her
experiments lead to even more stink and get her into trouble!

A Chair for My Mother (Paperback)

"A tender knockout . . . it's rare to find much vitality, spontaneity, and depth of feeling in such a
simple, young book."—Kirkus Reviews
After their home is destroyed by a fire, Rosa, her mother, and grandmother save their coins to
buy a really comfortable chair for all to enjoy. A Chair for My Mother has sold more than a
million copies and is an ideal choice for reading and sharing at home and in the classroom. "A
superbly conceived picture book expressing the joyful spirit of a loving family."—The Horn
Book

The Most Magnificent Thing (Hardcover)

 Award-winning author and illustrator Ashley Spires has created a charming picture book about
an unnamed girl and her very best friend, who happens to be a dog. The girl has a wonderful
idea. “She is going to make the most MAGNIFICENT thing! She knows just how it will look.
She knows just how it will work. All she has to do is make it, and she makes things all the time.
Easy-peasy!” But making her magnificent thing is anything but easy, and the girl tries and fails,
repeatedly. Eventually, the girl gets really, really mad. She is so mad, in fact, that she quits. But
after her dog convinces her to take a walk, she comes back to her project with renewed
enthusiasm and manages to get it just right.For the early grades' exploration of character
education, this funny book offers a perfect example of the rewards of perseverance and
creativity. The girl's frustration and anger are vividly depicted in the detailed art, and the story
offers good options for dealing honestly with these feelings, while at the same time reassuring
children that it's okay to make mistakes. The clever use of verbs in groups of threes is both fun
and functional, offering opportunities for wonderful vocabulary enrichment. The girl doesn't
just “make” her magnificent thing --- she “tinkers and hammers and measures,” she “smoothes
and wrenches and fiddles,” she “twists and tweaks and fastens.” These precise action words are
likely to fire up the imaginations of youngsters eager to create their own inventions and is a
great tie-in to learning about Science, Technology, Engineering and Math.

by Mark K – a writer? Trying hard.

 Snail racing: Not an exciting sport.

 Twenty-twenty vision but he’s deaf.
 My Teddy bear died last night.
 Airline stewardess joins mile high club.
 When she went, my world stopped.
 Then diamond tears track furrowed cheeks.
 I’ll so miss her child-like smile.
 Her voice is like an angel’s.
 The door closed, my lips trembled.
 Sweet silence reigned, she’d left me.

by Sal Buttaci finds humor in life

 Words of kindness transcend all tongues.
 In sleep no one is harmed.
 Life is measured with a thimble.
 The last Great War was not.
 Counting to six, use both hands.
 Can “I do” be empty boasting?
 Find your purpose and live it.
 By Samantha Wilcox, navigates life through writing
 Mix up, mothered the wrong child.
 Two men, three girls, one sigh.
 Her assistance declined, she left carefree.
 Ignored his call and walked away.
 Colorado snowfall brightened the dark firs.
 She failed and so I won.
 Excited, needed to share, chose you.
 Icy, moved fast, bad move, dead.
 Wrote this and more inspiration came.
 Degree’s done, job’s unfulfilling, still searching.

FANTASY

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll is a story about Alice who falls down a
rabbit hole and lands into a fantasy world that is full of weird, wonderful people and animals. It
is classic children's book that is also popular with adults. Personally, at 16, I found the book
strange and uninteresting. However if I was 8-14 I would have loved the fantastic fantasy world
Carroll creates. I never expected the events that happened because they were bizarre and
unpredictable. I loved the Cheshire cat's wit and intelligence. I also love the hatter because his
eccentric personality reminded me of the eccentric people I know. My favourite part was when
Alice met the caterpillar, this was because of his ambiguous conversation with Alice.

However, I thought the events were sometimes random and didn't always connect. I also
disliked the number of characters, this is because sometimes I found it uninteresting and
sometimes it meant that I didn't have the development of scenes I wanted.

I believe that it is a clever book that I world have preferred when I was younger because now I
have a different taste in books. Carroll has depicted a unique world that I hadn't seen before.

The Hobbit
novel by Tolkien
Hobbits, a race of small humanlike creatures, characteristically value peace, simplicity, and
cozy homes yet are capable of incredible feats of courage and resourcefulness. The
unwilling hero of The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, is persuaded to join Thorin and his 12 dwarfs to
recover their stolen treasure, which is being guarded by the dragon Smaug. During the
expedition, Bilbo finds a magical ring that renders the wearer invisible, which figures
prominently in The Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit is the story of Bilbo’s maturing from a seeker
of warmth and comforts to a fighter, however humble, for the greater good.
The Lord of the Rings
work by Tolkien
The Lord of the Rings, fantasy novel by J.R.R. Tolkien initially published in three parts as The
Fellowship of the Ring (1954), The Two Towers (1955), and The Return of the King (1955). The
novel, set in the Third Age of Middle-earth, formed a sequel to Tolkien’s The Hobbit (1937)
and was succeeded by his posthumous The Silmarillion (1977). The Lord of the Rings is the
saga of a group of sometimes reluctant heroes who set forth to save their world
from consummate evil. Its many worlds and creatures were drawn from Tolkien’s extensive
knowledge of philology and folklore.

At 33, the age of adulthood among hobbits, Frodo Baggins receives a magic Ring of Invisibility
from his uncle Bilbo. Frodo, a Christlike figure, learns that the ring has the power to control the
entire world and, he discovers, to corrupt its owner. A fellowship of hobbits, elves, dwarfs, and
men is formed to destroy the ring by casting it into the volcanic fires of the Crack of Doom,
where it was forged. They are opposed on their harrowing mission by the evil Sauron and his
Black Riders.

HORROR
Sleep Story
by John Merino
           Insomnia runs in my family, afflicting both sides of it with equal intensity. That’s nearly
four centuries of Mexican tossing and Italian turning, with fits of German cursing and crying in
between. A long heritage of discomfort, and, according to family gossip, one that has only been
interrupted by the rotting medicines that tempt anyone who’s had to put up with an extended
period of lost sleep – drugs, alcohol, compulsive anger, and every possible combination of the
three. With the advent of psychotherapy, and the discovery that trauma is an actual illness and
not a defect of character, many of us have learned to deal with insomnia in less destructive
ways.
In 2010, my father was prescribed a small dose of the sleep aid Zolpidem, brand name Ambien,
by his psychiatrist - a neat, gentle little drug that has chemical kinship with tranquilizers like
Valium and Xanax, but without their addictive and narcotic qualities. To my dad, who had long
suffered from sleepless nights and long days spent dragging himself through his work as an
electrician, this was the answer to all of his prayers. After his inaugural dose, he smiled and
drifted off into what I’m sure was the finest sleep he’d had in decades. I’m also sure this is all
he remembers of that first night, and he’s better off for it. Zolpidem has a blackout effect on the
mind, like a drinking binge without the hangover. My mother and I recall it in deeper, less
relaxing ways. For her, it brought on the uncomfortable squeeze of an abused past, and, for me,
it brought forth the very shadow of death. It was an alien shape seen in my peripheral vision
that night. We all have to see that shape at least once in our lives. Knowing I’ll have to see it
twice frightens me. 
 Watching my dad’s face slacken at the dinner table after taking his first dose was distressing. It
bore the stamp of deep intoxication, and it was immediate, without any intervening period of
jollity or talkativeness. No time to acclimate to it. Only a high-school junior at the time, I was
unfamiliar with the actual sensation of being drunk, but I would later come to know it well as a
solitary confinement for the soul.
In certain quantities, liquor utterly disables your ability to step outside yourself. For the
constructive drinker, often an artist, leaving this ability behind is useful and focusing, like a
monk retreating into his cell to pray. Booze simply becomes a chemical means of getting to that
same, isolated room. For the drunk however, who often harbors a deep hatred for what he sees
in the mirror, this blind isolation is an addictive, absolute deliverance, and an absolute terror for
those around him. There are few things in this world as wonderful as being drunk, and even
fewer as awful as seeing someone else drunk. (This is why I’ve always thought of the
designated-driver concept as something nice in theory and unimaginable in practice. Drunk
people are only bearable when you’re also drunk, and being sober among drinkers has the same
world-shattering effect as catching a glimpse of yourself having sex. “Is this what it really looks
like when I do this?”) Blissfully sliding about inside his cell without mirrors, or even the faint
reflectivity of a window, it becomes nearly impossible for anyone to make the drunk see that he
is trapped, or that there is a world outside. My mother watched helplessly from outside like this
for most of her childhood as my grandfather, Andrew, committed himself to this living death,
dumping frightening amounts of alcohol into himself and raging as if there were no one else in
the room. My dad’s face that night, so relaxed it might have melted right off of his skull,
brought these times closer to her than she’d felt in years.
By the time I began to know him, Andrew had long been sober, and the sleep story he told me
when I was seven was an isolated horror from an age so far away I could barely imagine it. I
had no idea that he was, in his own way, doing a dry run of the apology he would never get to
make to his own children. A veteran of the Battle of Iwo Jima, the Second World War’s
bloodiest passage in the Pacific, and the first and only battle in which American casualties
exceeded the Japanese, he recalled trying to sleep in the rare moments between fighting, curled
up against the black volcanic dust that blankets the island like a mourning veil. This dust is soft
and pliant, and might have been comfortable for him to lay on, drawing him down into sleep for
seconds so split they barely existed. The Japanese had dug a vast network of bunkers and
tunnels through the island before he arrived, and he would wake up again, and again, and again,
to their muffled voices only a few feet underneath him. Imagine drifting off to the sounds of
men planning how best to kill you. It’s the boogeyman in the childhood closet made real. It’s
the suppressed nightmare of ancient humanity, resting in caves and clearings while hungry
beasts waited behind the trees. Who wouldn’t try to drink until they’d totally drowned such a
memory?
Some, but not all, of these thoughts were with me as my dad began to nod off over his
unfinished dinner. The absent ones, the adult ones, the ones I’ve laid down here, made
themselves known that night as a warm tightness in my chest, my body figuring things out for
me long before my brain did. My mother and I woke him up with a gentle shake and told him it
was time for bed, but he simply hovered above his seat for a moment and plopped back down
under the weight of his medication. We approached him, realizing we would have to actually
walk him to his bedroom, but before we arrived, he pointed across the table and into the
kitchen, calmly informing us there was a little girl standing in front of our refrigerator.
I once saw a production of The Crucible in Austin, Texas, and at a climax in the play, one of the
bewitched girls feigned seeing a demonic bird perched just beyond the tribunal. The actress
pointed to it, and roughly half the audience turned around in their seats to look where she had
pointed. I looked at them looking, and silently judged them fools. It was only a play. Did they
really expect something to be there? I can’t remember if either one of us turned around to see
the little girl. Such a decision, to look or not to look, is the whole ancient struggle with the
material world in embryo, and it is too freighted with pride for me to remember it accurately.
I’d like to say I didn’t look, my refusal a harbinger of the staunch atheism that would eventually
develop out of my catholic upbringing, but that’s just wishful thinking.
If my mother and I had bothered to read the literature that came with my dad’s prescription, we
would have known that hallucinations are a common accessory in Zolpidem’s package deal of
side effects, especially upon its first dose. This harmless hiccup in my father’s nervous system
nonetheless had a chilling effect on us, and we quickly gathered him up from his chair and into
bed, where he curled up and left us to stew in our thoughts. Here is where I must speculate
entirely, because, after my dad fell asleep, there is a patch of nothing in my head that looks to
be about the length of an hour. Guided by my current habits, I can safely assume that, in my
distress, I listened to an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000 on my iPhone while I milled
around the kitchen, munching on a hastily stacked turkey sandwich, the kind where the lunch
meat is constantly sliding out from between the bread on a slick of mustard. There was a threat
in the air that I had to escape. Birds come down onto branches and stay put before a
thunderstorm, and cows lay down to sleep. I should have just stayed in the kitchen.
My memory picks up again as I cross from the kitchen into the dining room, feeling in the
corner of my eye the tall window that looks out onto the lawn. A warm flood light brightens the
first few feet of our concrete driveway and the right edge of our boxwood hedge. Beyond that is
total darkness after nine P.M, and nothing can be seen for twenty yards except the neighbors’
porchlights across the street. Although small and narrow, it is a picture window in the most
wonderful sense. At any time of night, you can see raccoons, opossums, squirrels, cats, dogs,
and all manner of mammalian life slinking by to sniff and enjoy the food and water we leave
out for the neighborhood strays. Sometimes, an enormous moth of exquisite pattern will flutter
over and land with a thump on the glass, allowing anyone who happens to be in the dining room
to admire it for hours. It’s like our own private zoo. But that night, there wasn’t a creature
stirring anywhere. No crickets, no thumping moths, no hideously sleek roaches trying to get
inside – a bad stillness that made me want to look away from the window as I sat down at the
table to finish my sandwich.
But it still beckoned my gaze, pulling my eyes towards it like a private letter left open on
someone’s desk, and, as I looked up from my sandwich, the little girl my father had seen passed
by the window. I remember snapping my head back towards the kitchen, thinking my mother
had come into the dining room and that I was seeing her reflection, but I was alone. When I
looked back, the little girl was gone, but I was sure I had seen a tan, diaphanous dress, fluttering
in the humid summer air, and young skin on a solid face, free of any adolescent blemish,
shining in the porch light as thick and alive as my own. I can still see the turn-of-the-century
brocade of her outfit, and the unsettling way she quickly floated by the window, as if on roller
skates.
A trick of the light no doubt, primed for a ghostly vision by my father’s hallucination, could
easily explain away what I saw that night. But, in my memory, I can feel the weight of that
girl’s body. Her reality is indisputable for me, but reality has shrunk for me as I write this. All
of us are pining for physical connection like we’ve never done before. The world we miss, the
one we think will finally satisfy us, is the unmasked closeness of parties and movie theaters and
sex that we once knew without limit. Perhaps, for the first time in history, we wish that this
really was all that there is. Hamlet’s terrifying assertion that there are more things in heaven and
earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy has only been sharpened in the meantime, and our
reunion with material life will find us totally unequipped, or, worse, totally unwilling, to
confront it.
I still don’t believe in ghosts, or gods, or prayers, or blessings and mystical vibrations, or any of
the lies people tell themselves and their children so that life doesn’t seem like a succession of
random cruelties. This is a function of privilege. I’ve never really known the dire, physical
desperation that is a rule for most of the proletariat world – desperation for food, for shelter, for
a face that doesn’t regard you as an obstacle, for a day spent without the wounding anxiety of
poverty and parenthood. My worries have been wholly neurotic. There’s no inherent honor or
intelligence in being worried about death and the process of dying. It’s a cheap anxiety that
everyone buys the moment they are born, and it’s most sharp for me whenever I’m falling
asleep. It’s how I react to this fear, when I’m clamped inside the space between consciousness
and sleep, between life and death, that seems most important to me now. My generation likes to
sneer at the ones that came before it. They were all asleep at the wheel of history and willing to
take whatever heinous orders they were given to preserve their sense of security, but us
millennials are still utterly unable to be alone with our thoughts. Sensing the responsibility we
carry as stewards of a rapidly crumbling world, we search for disciplines that will show us the
way forward, and healthier ways of beating back the impish mental chatter that comes for us
when all the lights are off and there’s no one to talk to – meditation, exercise, natural
supplements like melatonin and valerian root, soothing whispers and roleplays – but, come
morning, we still find ourselves upright and emptyhanded, like every generation before us.
I still do believe that my father’s drug, by bringing him closer to real sleep, brought him closer
to death, and that this closeness allowed death to bleed into my waking life. It doesn’t matter if
what I saw was real in the supernatural sense, and I don’t claim to have a better grasp on my
own life because of it.

An Uninvited Guest

Dancers spun past in whirling flurries of color:  scarlets, golds, midnight blues and deep
luxurious purples. Wine flowed freely and tables stood piled high with succulent dishes too
tempting for even the solomnest guest to resist. Revelers drifted past on feet made light by
merriment. Lightning split the sky outside, and a heavy rain beat a martial rhythm against the
enormous windows but inside laughter echoed through the ornate hall, reverberating off marble
columns and a domed ceiling gilded with filigree. The walls were adorned with the intricately
rendered figures of fawns and fairies who’s extravagant carousing mirrored that of the
partygoers who moved past them.
One figure alone among the crowd seemed to stand perfectly still. Solitary and aloof, she
watched each flushed face that traveled past with a detached interest. Her clothing too stood out
from the rest, the only figure in a mass of swirling color dressed entirely in black. In fact the
only real similarity between herself and the others was the mask which obscured the upper half
of her face from view. This too was an unassuming, plain black where those around her were
adorned in glittering gems and feathers that fluttered lightly as their wearers spun on the dance
floor. Golden curls were perfectly arranged atop her head but she wore none of the glittering
adornment of the others and when she moved she did so silently, like a shadow given substance.
What was perhaps most peculiar about the woman, was the way that despite the somewhat
remarkable strangeness of her appearance, the eyes of the other party guests seemed to slide
over her without really taking her in. 
There is much to do tonight She thought, and tilted her head slightly, gazing around the room
with mild disinterest. One pale, long-fingered hand slid out from beneath the flowing folds of
her black gown and delicately reached for one of the many half drunk glasses of wine which
now adorned nearly every surface of the hall like their own kind of vulgar decoration. This one
stood abandoned on a silver tray at the end of one of the long tables piled high with food. The
woman lifted the glass, gently swirled the wine and sniffed lightly at it. For the first time
something like the ghost of amusement twitched at the corner of her lips. 
It was at that moment that her gaze was met by that of a figure across the room. He was tall,
slender, and dressed in the same garish fashions as the rest of the party guests; there was, at first
glance, nothing particularly remarkable about him. Nonetheless, the woman held his gaze,
interested, almost amused. She smiled at him, raised the glass in her hand to him, and pointedly
set it back down onto the tray. The man’s posture stiffened, and he quickly turned away,
disappearing back into the crowd. 
The clock above the fireplace struck an echoing chord that reverberated through the room,
sounding the arrival of one o’clock. The woman moved through the crowd, searching; drawn on
by her ineffable purpose. She drifted ethereally through the crowd, touching no one despite the
closeness of room and the number of dancers still spinning with a frenzied enthusiasm. At last
she found her mark, at the far end of the hall. 
The first was a man, middle aged and heavy set, a nearly empty wine glass still clutched in his
hand. She stood over him for several silent moments; waiting. He began to cough, his breathing
becoming more labored and his hazy, drunken eyes finding focus as they registered the woman
standing over him. He wheezed and spluttered, trying to speak, but the woman merely smiled
and shook her head. Laying one long, slender finger to her lips, she leaned down and gently
touched the man’s thick hand which glittered with rings. He let out a shuddering breath, and
breathed no more. 
At last the room was still and silent save for the clamor of thunder and rain which still raged
outside. The harsh chime of the clock struck one o’clock, a discordant sound that reverberated
through the hall that had been so full of life at its last toll and was now a hushed tomb. All the
revelers had stilled, only the young man still stood, surveying the slaughter he had wrought.
Blood had pooled at his feet and soaked through his shoes, but he walked through it as though it
was nothing more than rain water. 
“Fools” he said and his voice held the same harsh cut as his eyes. “You fools!”
The Vault

Week 1
Alex was sitting on the edge of the control console while Jan sat in her chair by her station, only
half interested in watching the monitors in front of her. Alex fumbled with the plastic wrap
around a tuna sandwich he was holding, and nodded toward the window before them.
“Where do you think they found this guy?” he asked.
The guy in in question – they didn’t know his name, for security reasons – had been interviewed
by them two days prior. And like all of their ‘interviews’, his had been short and sweet.
“So you want me to stay down in a big room?”
“Yes. A vault.”
“A vault. For how long?”
“As long as you want.”
“And it pays three thousand a week, you said?”
“Yes.”
Jan rolled her chair around the control console and peered out the window. “I don’t know where
they found him. Could be anywhere, really. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they’re not
exactly recruiting doctors or lawyers, here. These are people that are desperate for money,
maybe suffering mental illness or substance abuse. They’re definitely willing to stay down here
longer than your average Joe Blow. And I’d wager most of them are folks that don’t have any
real ties to the surface. No real family or friends. Nobody that will say anything when they get
out, because God knows they’re usually not the same after the Vault.”
Alex chuckled. “You can say that again. It’s hard to take someone seriously when they don’t
have that much credibility to start with, I suppose.”
Below them lay the Vault, a room made completely of concrete. At a hundred feet by a hundred
feet, it was a sprawling example of minimalism. Jan and Alex were both in a small control room
that viewed out into this larger room, close to the room’s ceiling, about thirty feet above their
test subject. The rest of the room was scantily furnished, outfitted with a sofa, a desk and chair,
a cot for sleeping and a few other staples, all arranged in a clumsy semi-circle. This was most
likely for the purposes of monitoring rather than obtaining the maximum feng shui of the space,
Jan admitted.
They called the room the Vault for very good reason. Embedded in the wall opposite them,
looming like a metal sentinel was a vault door. It was straightforward as far as vault doors went,
but its presence alone added an air of foreboding. It was never opened, its contents never
revealed, and somehow that made its mystery that much more unsettling.
Alex leaned in. “Any bets on how long he’ll last?”
Jan shook her head. The last three volunteers hadn’t lasted longer than a couple of weeks, the
very last having to be physically removed after repeatedly stabbing her left hand over and over
again with a ballpoint pen. There was a good chance the woman’s hand would never work
properly again, but Jan was optimistic that she was no worse for wear. Relatively speaking.
Jan sighed. “Anybody’s guess. But,” she said, pointing down to the man in the large concrete
room, “so far so good, right?”
Alex shook his head. “Yeah, maybe. Hopefully we don’t get another one like last time. You
know how hard it is to get blood out of concrete? Those cleaners were down there for hours.”
Jan could only remain silent. She’d rather not think about that.
After a while, Alex turned to her. “So where do you think they send them? You know, after
their ‘volunteer’ service is up?”
“Couldn’t say.”
Alex harumphed. “Well, I mean it’s not like they’re just going to be dropped off at home again
with a nice fat cheque in their hands. ‘Hey, thanks for the service, here’s you fifteen grand.
Give us a call if you’d like to participate in a future test.’ That sort of thing. There’s no way.”
Jan, who again would rather not think about those things, simply nodded. “No, probably not.
But hey, that’s above our paygrade. Right?”
“Sure, sure. Maybe that one guy just got dropped off at the hospital, right? And when they
asked him why he’d ingested close to an entire paperback novel, he’ll just say it was part of an
experiment. Or maybe when that other guy gouged out one of his eyes with a plastic knife, he
just went home and showed his girlfriend that sweet paycheque and they both had a laugh about
it.” Alex was obviously dubious.
So was Jan, but again, “It’s above our paygrade.”
Week 2
Jan had been standing next to the glass, watching the man downstairs in the concrete room. Her
and Alex had nicknamed the man Harley, because of the Harley-Davidson t-shirt he was
wearing. To use his real name would be in direct violation of the contract they had signed.
Harley was currently sitting on the sofa with his head bowed, hands between his knees. He’d
been sitting like that for the last hour. He had been mumbling something, but even the
microphones could barely pick it up. Not that it mattered much. Those audio tapes would later
be reviewed by their superiors, and frankly Jan didn’t care. It was above her paygrade, after all.
Alex tipped his head in the direction of the vault. “So, what do you think is in there?”
Jan rolled her eyes. Not this question again. “I truly have no clue.”
Alex paced the small control booth, and Jan knew this meant he was about to go on one of his
rants. “I mean, this all can’t just be psychological, right? Like this isn’t just like some elaborate
version of a deprivation tank or something. It can’t be.”
She could feel a headache coming on. “I don’t know, Alex.”
Alex continued anyway. “I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s like one of those LRAD’s or
something? I’m not sure why they would hide it behind a big vault door, but maybe they’re
trying to test its effectiveness behind a barrier?”
Jan was getting annoyed “What’s an LRAD?”
“A Long Range Acoustic Device. Do you remember hearing about those C.I.A. agents in
Havana a few years ago? The ones that all got sick at the same time?”
Jan was barely able to suppress a groan. “Yeah. They ruled that as mass hysteria.”
Alex waved a hand, as if physically pushing the comment away. “Sure, sure. But like, what if
something like that actually exists? I don’t think it’s completely out of the realm of possibility.
Look at our volunteers. They certainly show signs of mental stress and anguish after a while. I
mean, I get that we’re fourteen stories underground, but it’s not exactly like we’re forcing these
people into solitary confinement. Four or five weeks shouldn’t cause a total mental breakdown
like this.”
Jan cut him off. “Are we done here?”
Alex blinked. “Don’t you ever feel bad?”
What the hell are you talking about now? she thought.
“Bad?” she asked instead.
Alex was looking down at Harley, who hadn’t moved in a few hours now. He was still down
there muttering incoherently. “I mean bad. Don’t you ever have any regrets about what we’re
doing here? These people… They’re just regular people. In most cases, probably less fortunate
or more vulnerable than regular people. And they’re really not prepared for any of this.”
Jan shrugged. “I didn’t go through four years in the C.I.A., two in the F.B.I. and now two
stationed here to start suddenly growing a conscious.”
Alex sighed. “Let me guess. It’s above your paygrade, huh?”
Week 3 - Morning
The energy in the room was seeping with dread. Alex had been pacing again, and Jan could feel
his restlessness permeate their small control booth. She had put up with it for a while, but it was
beginning to drive her up the wall. The air in the Vault and their control room felt thick, full of
unease. For some reason today her eyes kept being drawn to the Vault door downstairs. Had it
gotten bigger, somehow? That was impossible.
Alex continued his pacing and Jan eventually broke.
“Can you please just stop walking around like that?” It was snippier than she had intended.
Alex stopped, shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah. Sorry.”
Down in the Vault, Harley was similarly pacing. He had been talking aloud for the last half an
hour, walking in circles around the perimeter of the Vault. Jan had been trying to ignore it, only
half successfully. He was mumbling about crawling, or hearing crawling or something, and Jan
had to use all of her restraint just not to hop on the P.A. and tell him to shut the hell up. She
could feel herself losing her cool.
Next to her, Alex still seemed like he was vibrating with energy.
“Hey Jan,” he said.
It was all she could do not to not bite his head off. “Yes?”
“Do you forgive me?”
What was he rambling about now? “For pacing? Just stop doing it, is all.”
He didn’t answer immediately, and she could tell he was about to tell her something she didn’t
want to hear.
“I went down there,” was all he said.
Jan closed her eyes. She didn’t need for him to clarify where he meant. “When?”
"Last night.”
Jan held her breath for five seconds and quietly exhaled. “After hours?”
Alex shrugged. “Well, this place never really closes. But at night, yes.”
Jan was furious, but still too curious not to ask. “And?”
Alex looked awful. “It’s not a weapon. Definitely not a LRAD or anything like that. At least not
in the conventional sense.”
Jan was confused. “So you saw it? How did you get in?”
Alex shook his head, as if that was just about the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “See it? No,
no. I don’t have access to open that thing. Not without clearance. But it didn’t matter. I
could feel it.”
Jan didn’t answer.
Alex continued. “Like, there’s something in there. I could feel it, needling its way into my
brain. Like a… Like a wave of energy or something. And it was calling me. It wanted me to
open the door, Jan. Like it knew, somehow.”
Jan couldn’t help herself. “Knew?”
Alex blinked, licking his lips. “It knew that I could help it. Janice, don’t you get it? All these
other people that we put down there, it’s like it knows that they’re useless. But with me…”
When he trailed off, Jan asked the only sensible thing she could think of. “What do you
mean it? You keep saying ‘it’. What are you talking about?”
Alex winced, as if he was in pain. “Nothing, nothing. It’s not an ‘it’. Maybe you’re right.
Maybe a radio wave transmitter. Jamming up the signals? I don’t know. Forget I said anything.”
Evening
Jan most certainly did not forget that Alex had said anything, nor could she have ignored it.
Harley didn’t make it through the afternoon. At sometime around three, he let out a guttural
howl that seemed to fill the Vault with a haunting echo, then staggered toward the vault door
and began smashing his head against the thick metal alloy, over and over again. By the time
security had been able to get to him, Harley had managed to knock himself unconscious,
covered in his own blood and twitching on the floor. Foam frothed from his mouth, the white of
his eyes the only thing visible.
Jan, however, paid little attention to any of this. During all of the confusion with security and
the medics, Jan saw Alex slip off somewhere out of their control room. When he returned, he
seemed unnaturally calm, and Jan didn’t trust that. When she asked where he went, all he could
do was shrug and say the bathroom.
So, she returned to the control room after hours and sat in the darkness, waiting. On several
occasions, she had almost convinced herself that she was overthinking things and that this was
all a waste of time, but in the end she held fast. In truth, that same energy she had felt earlier
that day was still hanging in the air, like a static field but soaked in dread. She just bit her lip
and reminded herself she needed to be patient and to stop scaring herself. Finally, around
twelve-thirty, her patience paid off.
The single door that led to the Vault slowly opened, a large rectangle of light widening across
the cement floor. A figure entered the room and closed the door behind them. There were a few
moments of silence, then suddenly a beam of light flickered into existence. It was a flashlight,
and even with the distance between them, Jan saw all she needed.
It was Alex.
Jesus. What are you doing?
Alex moved quickly, placing the flashlight on the table and carefully aiming it at the giant Vault
door. The screen on his cellphone briefly lit up, casting him in a sickly pale light, and he rested
it precariously next to the flashlight.
He’s trying to record this.
He stood in front of his propped-up phone. “Hey everyone. Just want to say I love you all. God
forgive me.”
With nothing else to add, he turned away. He then produced something from his coat pocket
that resembled a television remote and aimed it at the Vault.
Jan had to stop him. Suddenly, she didn’t care about what this might mean for their jobs, or
even what secrets they might stumble upon. She didn’t want him to open the Vault; suddenly,
she was sure that only death lay beyond. 
She fumbled for the microphone and pressed the button. Overhead the P.A. speakers bleated,
causing both her and Alex to jump. “Alex! Alex, stop!”
Alex had enough time to look up to the control booth. “Jan?”
But it was already too late. Whatever buttons or commands Alex had entered on the remote,
they had worked. The Vault thumped as long silent gears and cogs sprang into life again. There
was a hissing, like can of soda being opened, and Jan had enough time to think it’s
pressurizing. It’s pressurizing because there are two different atmospheres.
A strong wind pushed through the Vault as its door swung open. Jan couldn’t see anything, the
door blocking whatever lay within, but Alex could see, and his eyes were wide. He began
yelling up to her.

ACTIVITY NO. 6
 ASSIGNMENT NO. 1

General Types of Literature

Literature can generally be divided into two types; prose and poetry. Prose consists of those written
within the common flow of conversation in sentences and paragraphs, while poetry refers to those
expressions in verse, with measure and rhyme, line and stanza and has a more melodious tone.

PROSE

There are many types of prose. These include novels or biographies, short stories, contemporary
dramas, legends, fables, essays, anecdotes, news and speeches.

a. Novel. This is a long narrative divided into chapters. The events are taken from true-to-life stories…
and span a long period of time. There are many characters involved. Example: WITHOUT SEEING
THE DAWN by Steven Javallena.

b. Short Story. This is a narrative involving one or more characters, one plot and one single
impression. Example: THE LAUGHTER OF MY FATHER by Carlos Bulosan.

c. Plays. This is presented on a stage, is divided into acts and each act has many scenes. Example:
THIRTEEN PLAYS by Wilfredo M. Guerrero.

d. Legends. These are fictitious narrative, usually about origins. Example: THE BIKOL LEGEND by
Pio Duran.

POETRY

A. Narrative Poetry.
This form describes important events in life either real or imaginary.

Metrical Tale. This is a narrative which is written in verse and can be classified either as a ballad or a
metrical romance. Examples: BAYANI NG BUKID by Al Perez 

B. Lyric Poetry. Originally, this refers to that kind of poetry meant to be sung to the accompaniment of
a lyre, but now, this applies to any type of poetry that expresses emotions and feelings of the poet.
They are usually short, simple and easy to understand.

Sonnets. This is a lyric poem of 14 lines dealing with an emotion, a feeling, or an idea. These are two
types: the Italian and the Shakespearean. Example: SANTANG BUDS by Alfonso P. Santos

C. Dramatic Poetry

Comedy. The word comedy comes from the Greek term “komos” meaning festivity or revelry. This
form usually is light and written with the purpose of amusing, and usually has a happy ending.
Example:
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