Jaime Jesus Borlagdan

Jaime Jesus Borlagdan Poems

Jaime Jesus Borlagdan Biography

Jaime Jesus Borlagdan is, by all indications, one of the main tributaries from the Albay sector feeding into the onrushing river of writing that's happening in the Bikol language today. One of the most active in literary writing in the Web today, Borlagdan, maintains two sites: a website for his works at www.jimplejimple.blogspot.com/ and Karangahan (Pagranga sa Pagsurat Bikolnon) at http: //karangahan.multiply.com/, a site " honoring Bikol literature that has been written and still being written in contemporary times." Of his own poetry, Jimple, as he his called by friends, says (in Bikol, which I essay in translation) , " ...all this is at the back of what I say, and it cannot be molded by words, it cannot be put within gun sight, but if in reading my work you run into a fugitive emotion that you can't utter..." the rest is a passionate enumeration of possibilities. Bikol critic Tito Genova Valiente reacts to his poetry by saying that it is " heartbreaking to feel the forms." --Marne Kilates, poet * * * The first time I read the poems of Jesus Jaime Borlagdan, Jimple to those who know him, I felt immediately the seething movement of the words. There was a rush of metaphors in his works. I immediately liked the feeling that the rhythm caused in one's reading for poetry, in my book, should always be read aloud. I was hearing the voice. It was a voice that happened to sound from afar and it was struggling to link up with a present that would not easily appear. It was heartbreaking to feel the form. I felt the lines constricting. I saw the phrases dangling to tease, breaking the code of straight talk and inverting them to seduce the mind to think beyond the words. Somewhere, the poems were reverting back to direct sentences, weakening the art of poetry with its universe of ellipses and nuances, but then as suddenly as the words lightened up, the poems then dipped back into a silent retreat, into a cave, to lick its own wounds from the confrontation that it dared to initiate. For this column, I decide to share parts of the longer paper I am writing about this poet. In Karangahan, the poet begins with: Bulebard, ikang muymuyon na salog/ki gatas buda patenteng nakahungko, /ako ngonian kahurona. Borlagdan translates this into: Boulevard, you forlorn river/ of milk and downcast lights/ speak to me now. Savor the translation, for in Bikol that which is a dialog has become an entreaty.) The poet is always talking to someone but in An istorya ninda, an osipon ta, he talks about a the fruits of some narrative: Ta sa dara nindang korona kita an hadi/ sa krus, kita su may nakatadok na espada./Naitaram na ninda an saindang istorya./Punan ta na man su satong osipon./This I translate as: For in the crown they bear we are the King/ on the cross, with the embedded sword./ Marvel at this construction, as the poet cuts at the word " hadi" and begins the next line with " krus" and the " espada." Marvel, too, at how he looks at conversion and faith, a process that made us special but also wounded us with ourselves stuck with the sword. Finally, the poet says those lines of the true believer: They have already spoken their story, now let us begin with our tale. The poet does not have a translation but will the istorya in this line be " history" and osipon be " myth." Shall these last four lines in the first stanza be both a subversion of our faith embedded in a foreign culture or a celebration of what we are not, and what we have not become? Puni na an paghidaw. Puni na an pagluwas/hali sa kwartong pano ki luha, puni na/an paghiling sa luwas kan bintana./Puni na an paghidaw para sa binayaan./Puni na an pagsulit sa daluging tinimakan./Puni na an paghidaw sa mga sinugbang utoban. Terrifying lines as the poet calls us to begin the remembering and also begin the moving out from the room full of tears. In the poet's mind, the lacrimarum vale or valley of tears had become an intimate area for instigating his own release. The rhythm is there as in a prayer. But it is no prayer. There is the repetition but it is not a plea. There is the self but it is one that has turned away from itself into something else. That self is one that shall face the recollection of the faith that has been burned. And yet the poet, resolute when he wants to, loves to sing and hint of fear and anxiety. Even when he is merely observing children playing in the rains, he summons images of terrible beauty. The skies become diklom na pinandon na " may luho" (with hole) . From this hole, comes the sarong pisi ki sildang/ tisuhon na buminulos. The poet stays with this metaphor with such intensity that the silken thread coming from the hole justifiably becomes luhang garo hipidon na busay/paluwas sa mata/kan dagom. Dark wit and a penchant for the horrifying are tandem graces in these lines. This is the poet who can, without self-consciousness, tell us of the …haya/kan mga ayam na namimibi/nakakapabuskad ki barahibo/nakakaulakit ki lungsi. He whispers of " halas na rimuranon, malamti/sa hapiyap kan mga bituon." This is a startling universe, where dogs pray (and bay) , and where fears bloom and paleness afflicts and infects, and serpents are caressed by the stars. A Rush of Metaphors, Tremor of Cadences, and Sad Subversions Notes on the Poetry of Jaime Jesus Borlagdan By Tito Genova Valiente Jaime Jesus Uy Borlagdan (born on 6 March 1979 in Tabaco City, Albay) is a contemporary Bicolano writer, musician, graphic artist, teacher and cultural worker. He is an awardee of several Premio Tomas Arejola for Bicol Literature both for his poetry and fiction: his collections " Karangahan" and " Ini, an mga buhay ta" won first prize for poetry in 2006 and 2007. " Hamot kan Narumdom" a collection of prose poems and the short story " Pagsarado" both won the grand prizes in the same literary contest in 2009. In that year he was also named by the Tomas Arejola Foundation as Parasurat kan Taon (Writer of the Year) for 2009. In 2008, his short story " Daramlagon" won 2nd prize in the Gawad Komisyon ng Wikang Filipino literary contest. He was awarded by the Provincial Government of Albay the 2015 Outstanding Albayano Artist for Literature. Borlagdan is the author of four books" Maynila: Libro ng Pobya (1999) , Que lugar este kan dayo sa sadiring banwa (2009) , Suralista (2010) , and X (2014) . His other books that are in e-book format are: Hamot kan Narumdom (2011) , Ha'dit sa biyahe (2013) , X (2012) , and Buhay-gadan (2013) , Ako, Kalag, Omay (2015) , Dios Mabalos (2017) . He edited " Ugbos: An anthology of Albayano Writers (2013) . He is a fellow at the Taboan International Writers Festival in 2009 and at the 10th Ateneo National Writing Workshop in 2010. Borlagdan was the convenor of and panelist in the Albay Writers' Workshop in 2011 and 2012. He is the founder of Tabaco Writers' Workshop (TAWO) , and is a member of UP Quill, An Banwa: Kultura buda Artes kan Tabaco Inc. (ABKAT) , Kabulig Bicol Inc., and Bicol X. As a musician, he fronts and writes music for Krear Bathala and AkoKalag, these bands are characterized by their original songs written in the Bikol Language. In 2010, he released his two songs " Istorya" and " Turog na an Gabos" . His song " BatangTulisan" composed for the movie Sundalong Kanin was nominated in the Star Awards for Movies 2015 in the category Indie Movie Original Song of the Year. His song " Gabos na pagkamoot sa kinaban makulog" will be included in the 3rd DaragangMagayon Song Co compilation. Borlagdan is a staunch advocate and supporter of the Mother Tongue-Based Multilingual Education and has worked with its proponents Dr. Ricardo Nolasco and Dr. Ched Azardon in its implementation in the Bicol Region. His article " An Muya ko kutang taramon sa paggawad kan Premyo Tomas Arejola para sa Literaturang Bikolnon 2007" is published in the book " Starting Where the Children Are (a collection of essays on Mother Tongue-Based Multilingual Education and Language Issues in the Philippines.) " As an entity in the world of social media, Borlagdan is the creator of the pages " Kun Bikalano Ka, Mag-Bikol Ka" and " Tirigsikan sa FB." The objective of the page " Kun Bikolano Ka, Mag-Bikol Ka" is to encourage Bicolanos to use and develop the mother language as a primary step in the realization of actual selfhood. In the page " Tirigsikan sa FB, " Borlagdan hosts " Aragyatan" (jousts) to engage members to try Tigsik, which is an ancient form of short poetry that demonstrates the natural and spontaneous literary talent of the Bicolanos. He is a volunteer for Science of Identity, Chaitanya Mission, and Yoga Meditation Tabaco City.)

The Best Poem Of Jaime Jesus Borlagdan

Alimagyo / Storm

Ini an gabat na hinuba kan langit
saralak an daga buda tubig.

Kun isusurulit o susurusugon, an gubot
garo pagsuruwayan hale sa kugos na mapulot.
Biribid an mga kalamias kan koryente
buda sanga, sarapi kan tanglay
sa lambang saro sarablay.
Mga dahon, mga batiris
na puminakit kan bintana.
Mga gasgas, mga duga
an nagtagas na gira.

Gira kan dalan na bulos
kan dagat na luminakaw sa daga,
kasubanggi sa irarom kan ipo-ipong bulan
na an sildang pairarom sa sadiring diklom.
Su kugos kan Habagat rapadong higot
maisog na duon na humalon an mawot
sa kinaban sa sarong gugom na kamot.
Halos daing takot, halos diit pang garo pagkamoot
na suminuklob sa gabos.

Sa tinampo, sa ugat
su hinalat na sinabat
kan kurutab-kutab
uminaging buhing mga kabayo.
Pagtundag kan alpog
an aga tamong na gubot.
Natada an daga na dai nang sulot.
Duman sa pagtakdag kan burak
sa ati na nag-aling sa gamot,
suminupang an hamot
kan gumos na awot.
Sa pangalag-kalag kan liwanag
su linaw giraray nabilog.
Sa napasang kaganan ini man sana
an nakasaray,
sa haloy na pagkaykay,
ini an laog kan kalot.
Pebrero 17 2005. Pawa

English:

This is the weight stripped off by the sky
mixed are the earth and water.

If the disorder will be put back in place or traced,
it would be like peeling away from a sticky embrace.
Twisted are the limbs of electricity
and branches, broken by strain
slumped at each other.
The leaves, the pebbles
which tore the windows.
Scratches, sap
were the solidified tracks.

Marks of the gushing path
of the ocean which walked the earth,
last night under the twister moon
whose beam was inward to its own gloom.
The embrace of the Habagat, south wind, was a whipping tight
brutal pressure whose desire is to devour
the world in one clenched hand.
Almost without fear, almost close to be like love
which enveloped all.

On the roads, in the veins
the waited which was met
by anxiety
wafted like untamed horses.
At the clearing of dust
the morning was a crumpled sheet.
Remained was the soil naked.
There in the falling of the flower
to the dirt which nursed the root,
bloomed the scent
of the trampled upon grass.
In the surfacing of light
clarity again is formed.
In the shattered container this alone
is what is kept
in the long digging
this is what's in the pit.

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