Papa Osmubal, a Macao, South China resident, is currently a graduate student at the University of Macau, enrolled in MA in Applied English. His two children, a girl named Yeda (Lei Man Lok) and a boy named Yuri (Lei Man Hou), make his home an eternal spring.

PAPA'S PUBLICATIONS / SOON TO BE PUBLICATIONS:

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Writing Macao (University of Macao), Adagio Verse Quarterly, Mitochondria, Quarterly Literary Review Singapore, Retort Magazine, Jacobyte Poetry, Dalityapi Makata, Bird and Egg, Spreadhead, Philippines Free Press, Philippine Graphic, National Midweek (Phils), A Critical Survey of Philippine Literature, The Surface, Stylus Poetry Journal, Our Own Voice: Filipino Literature in the Diaspora, and others. And other pieces of his are forthcoming in future issues of Snow Monkey, Rattle, Fine Lines, Aesthetica: A Review of Contemporary Artists, Poems Niederngasse, Muse Apprentice Magazine, amongst others. Some pieces of his will also be anthologized in the Synaptic Graffiti: Slam the Body Politik (poetry and art on CD, Australia) and in Mitochondria: an Anthology of Rarities and Loose Ends (USA), which are both coming before the end of 2004. An amateur artist, he held in early 2004 a solo art exhibition of pen-and-pencil collection at Unesco Center, Macao.

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PAPA ADMIRES...

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BEN OKRI

Click image for and overview of Okri and his writing on the Scholars website; for and interview with Ben Okri on E. Meagwali's website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here

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e.e. cummings

Click image for a biography, bibliography and selection of online poems by cummings on the Poetry Exhibits website; for Isabelle Alfandary's article 'Violence and Silence in e.e. cumming's Poetry', click here or for related items on Amazon, click here

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ALBERT CAMUS

Click image for a biography and a great selection of links relating to Camus and his works; for a selection of critical essays of Camus' work, click here or for Camus' works on Amazon, click here

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CARLOS BULOSAN

Click image for a tribute to Carlos Bulosan on the Reflections of Asia website; for the Bulosan Memorial Exhibit website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here

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VINCENT VAN GOGH

Click image to visit the Vincent Van Gogh Gallery website; to visit the website of Amsterdeam's Van Gogh Museum, click here or for Camus' works on Amazon, click here

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WASSILY KANDINSKY

Click image selection of paintings by Kandinsky on the Bella Museum website; for a biography of Kandinsky on the Artelino website, click here or for related books on Amazon, click here

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PAUL GAUGUIN

Click image for links to international galleries featuring Gauguin's work on the Art Cyclopedia website; for an overview of Gauguin and a tour of his paintings on the National Gallery of Art website, click here or for Camus' works on Amazon, click here

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PAUL CEZANNE

Click image for a profile of Cezanne on the Web Museum, Paris website; for the French Cezanne website, click here or for related books on Amazon, click here

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PAPA'S LIKES

SELECTED
POETRY
by PAPA OSMUBAL

'YURI, TWO, PLAYING AT HO YIN GARDEN. MACAO'

Go, laugh, smile,
be brighter than the flowers.
Run, shout, sing,
be more rhythmic than the birds.
Now a brother to birds and flowers,
yours now is the language of the winds;
yours now is the secret of the mountains.
Now like the winds and mountains,
your youth is evergreen and eternal.

© Papa Osmubal

(a reminder from a professional bum)

when after waking
you had no memory
of your dreams

consult your pillow —

it has not only your loose hairs
but also all the dregs
of your lost and wasted whispers

'PRISONER'

A hundred and twenty long years —
three years per stab, sixty years per soul.
People say it is brutal and cruel only the very angry could do it.
I am very angry, and I know all about anger.
Anger blinds.
Anger defies all rules and logic.
A love-sired anger: she run off
with my heart, future and fortune to join him.
My world here is barred — not different from the one I left.
Bars are omnipresent.
Bars haunt.
Bars divide.
Bars prevent.
Freedom is just a mental product, an impossible toy in a child’s dream.
In here we are also at the mercy of sorrow, of love, of gaiety, of treachery, of wrath. Spending time here does not at all pain me; the memory of the world I left does.
To live the past is a very excruciating sentence!

That helluva doorbell
rings again:

Even if it is God
or Susanna calling on

I would not
give a damn.

They should know
at this very moment

I have a serious conversation
with my soul.

Oh, please! not that bloody
Chinese landlord

Or else — Heavens, forbid! — I would chase
him away with a newly sharpened kitchen knife.

(for my father, Oscar Cruz Balajadia, Sr.)

He looked around
as if to say things were fine
and would still go well;
then he closed his eyes — slow
and fragile like a setting sun.
He carved us
in his heart.
He fossilized everything
in his mind.

And we know we are all still with him:
he keeps us, perpetually, eternally.

When I touched you
your eyes burst open
revealing
your dazzling entirety —
your secrets,
your silence,
your dream,
your lost youth,
your fire.
They shut back again
after having my image
carved in them.
And you sighed.
Your sigh
spoke.

Sisyphus is almost all consumed:
fatigue is now heavy in his veins and bones.
The rock marks its cruelty
upon his palms, arms and breast.
Knees shaking, aching and bending,
he seems to give into the call of dust.
But who is this Sisyphus whose heart and eyes
are designed to defy reasons and seasons!
I looked moments ago into his burdened mien
and saw something there only few men possess.

'NIGHT'

the moon is a silent feline
hiding among the grasses

its footsteps are mute
and its eyes are fire

its only companions are the herd
of sleepy roaming goats and cattle

tired after another day of drudgery
the world has paused for a respite

fireflies hover around busily looking
for something they can not find

© Papa Osmubal

'BIRD'

(the missing fragment of the Book of Genesis)

Then God asked:
and who will inherit the sky?

I will,
volunteered the Fire shyly.

So God armed it
with Wings and Songs

And commissioned it
to be His constant pulse in the winds.


© Papa Osmubal
Reproduced with permission

Down the craggy shores
waves crack

Flaunting the hidden fury
of the crying sea:

I shall listen
to the cracking of waves

As I too secretly sob
flaunting the tempests of my wounded heart

'FRAGMENT'

janus wearing masks
hiding a thousand miens

© Papa Osmubal

'AT THE EMBASSY'

The officer, in his most learned and commanding
poise and accent, asked me my name.
Next he asked my number.
Then he asked where I come from.
He asked me about everything
except for what toothpaste brand I use,
which I bet he would want to know should he had enough time.
He turned and left with a mocking smile in his face.
“What the heck are you smiling for? ” asked his companion.
“I took his spirit, his soul, ” he said
pointing his thumb at me over his shoulder.

© Papa Osmubal
Reproduced with permission

'YOUR KISS'

(to Lei Kam Sio)

Your kiss O your embrace
O fire in this winter wind

I the burning one O the most vivid star
in this lyrical night


© Papa Osmubal
Reproduced with permission

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