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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.

Monday, June 6, 2011


Above the treeline/ it flies, little beak a caret marking where/ some buoyancy or joy’s gone missing.*
How long would you have gone,
or how far would you have flown
to salve your pain, to ease a burden?
Would those you leave behind know
that one day your flight could finally
be the last one, and must be kinder?
You have all the agility and the grace
of one who has known too many hurts
to plan on a escape and not return.
Fly if you must, to some distant shelter,
but it is your heart’s constancy turns
you back to one who will always wait
by an open window, leaning out to see
if  by sundown you will be back, perch
on the branch at the edge of the woods,
and warble your coming home song
forgiving what needs to be forgotten
and finally fly into these fevered arms.
—Albert B. Casuga

* Poem Prompt: "Proof" by Luisa A. Igloria, Via Negativa, 06-04-11

Pall falls around trees
in the gathering storm and
a robin hops down.
Out of the forest,
it darts off with a green leaf,
as dark skies clear up.
Twittering robins
sing incessantly on trees,
bringing in sunshine.
Red breasts bask brightly
as the sun-drenched maple trees
sway with the warblers.
On my porch, I sip
my morning tea, gently chirp
with the singing birds.
—Albert B. Casuga

Poetic Prompt: The robin hops down the road at his usual speed despite the cold. Five minutes later he flies out of the woods with a bright green morsel.---Dave Bonta, Morning Porch, 06-04-11

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