My photo
ALBERT B. CASUGA, a Philippine-born writer, lives in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada, where he continues to write poetry, fiction, and criticism after his retirement from teaching and serving as an elected member of his region's school board. He was nominated to the Mississauga Arts Council Literary Awards in 2007. A graduate of the Royal and Pontifical University of St. Thomas (now University of Santo Tomas, Manila. Literature and English, magna cum laude), he taught English and Literature (Criticism, Theory, and Creative Writing) at the Philippines' De La Salle University and San Beda College. He has authored books of poetry, short stories, literary theory and criticism. He has won awards for his works in Canada, the U.S.A., and the Philippines. His latest work, A Theory of Echoes and Other Poems was published February 2009 by the University of Santo Tomas Publishing House. His fiction and poetry were published by online literary journals Asia Writes and Coastal Poems recently. He was a Fellow at the 1972 Silliman University Writers Workshop, Philippines. As a journalist, he worked with the United Press International and wrote an art column for the defunct Philippines Herald.

Friday, April 29, 2011



The homo viator moves on his stage,
prompted by hoarded plaudits stored
in his hungry heart: one more bow,
and he retreats behind the curtains
to await those calls for an Encore!
No calls come, the curtains fall.

The gobbling fowl’s theatre is not off
the prompt mark: preening, hamming,
posturing, he goes through the acts
lusting for audiences who might weep,
laugh, bellow, strut, and ache with him.

When the curtain falls, and fleeting
encomiums echo only in the emptied
cavern, he wonders if the season
would end when even hummingbirds
no longer wait in the theatre wings.

—Albert B. Casuga

Poetic Prompt: Up in the field, a turkey erects his traveling theater and poses for an audience of two. The first hummingbird hovers in front of my face.---Dave Bonta, Morning Porch 04-28-11


…often there is no word/ for such intermissions./ …A homing— the way you cup/ the back of my head in your hand…---Luisa A. Agloria, from "Interior Landscape, with a Frenzy of Wings", Via Negativa

There is no word for such intermissions.
A rendezvous at some theatre wing,

a random counting of all the lost days
when you travelled to parts unknown,

a quick embrace, prolonged gazes heavy
with unspoken desire. O, I know this

was a homing—the way you cupped
the back of my head in your hand—

you are back, but you have not returned,
so, love, while the curtains are down

tilt my face toward the crack of light,
find my hungry mouth, fill my empty

arms before the final act opens, or even
before they send in an old, tired clown.

—Albert B. Casuga

Collaborative Poem Prompt: Luisa A. Igloria's poem, "Interior Landscape, with a Frenzy of Wings" posted in Via Negativa

No comments: