1. Haiku Poem
2. Contrast Poem
3. Turn-around Poem
4. Short Story ( Filipino Mythology)
POEMS and Short Stories
1. The cactus( Tita Lacamba Ayala)
THEME: The survival of one person
2.The Rural Maid(
Fernando M.Maramag)
THEME: The poem is about a man who was in love with a
maid ( could possibly be his maid ). But because of the difference in
wealth or societies disagreement between the two lovers, she had to
leave and the poet is describing the feeling of his broken heart. This
poem gives advice to all broken hearten person that if they are failure
to love the still boy dream, and give as inspiration.
3.The Ink(Guillermo Castillo)
THEME: This poem relate to the life person., if
you judge a person in the physical way many people made wrong. In
reality, we are like ink—meaningless in a blank, chaotic entirety. Only
when we live our life according to our purpose will our existence be
sensible. Like ink, we cannot judge it is because ink is important to us
we do not know it help us every time we write.And we should know to
give its important.
4. The Small Key(Paz M. Latorena)
Characters:
Pedro Buhay- husband
Soledad- wife
Tia Maria
Doc.Santos
Setting:
Nipa house
PLOT:
It was very warm. The sun, up above a
sky that was all blue and tremendous and beckoning to birds ever on the
wing, shone bright as if determined to scorch everything under heaven,
even the low, square nipa house that stood in unashamed relief against
the gray green haze of grass and leaves.
It was a lonely dwelling, located far from its neighbors,
which were huddled close to one another as if for mutual comfort, it
was flanked on both sides by tall, slender bamboo tress which rustled
plaintively under a gentle wind.
On the porch a woman past her early twenties stood regarding
the scene before her with eyes made incurious by its familiarity. All
around her the land stretched endlessly, it seemed, and vanished into
the distance there were dark newly plowed furrows where in due time
timorous seedlings would give rise to study stalks and golden grain, to
a ripping yellow sea in the wind and sun during harvest time.
Promise of plenty and reward for hard toil! With a sigh of
discontent, however, the woman turned and entered a small dining room
where a man sat over a belated midday meal.
Pedro Buhay, a prosperous farmer, looked up from his plate
and smiled at his wife as she stood framed by the doorway, the sunlight
glinting on her dark hair, which was drawn back, without a relenting
wave, from a rather prominent and austere brow.
"Where are the shirts I ironed yesterday?" she asked as she approached the table.
"In my trunk, I think" he answered.
"Some of them need darning" and observing the empty plate, she added, "do you want some more rice?"
"No" hastily, "I am in a hurry to get back. We must finish plowing the south field today because tomorrow is Sunday."
Pedro pushed the chair back and stood up. Soledad began to pile the dirty dishes one on top of the other.
"Here is the key to my trunk" from the pocket of his khaki
coat he pulled a string of nondescript red, which held together a big
shiny key and another small, rather rusty - looking one.
With deliberate care he untied the knot, and, detaching the
big key, dropped the small one back into his pocket. She watched him
fixedly as he did this. The smile left her face and strange look came
into her eyes as she look the big key from him without a word together
they left the dining room.
Out on the porch, he put an arm around her shoulder and peered into her shadowed face.
"You look pale and tired", he remarked softly. "What have you been doing all morning?"
"Nothing," she said listlessly, "but the heat gives me a headache."
"Then lie down and try to sleep while I am gone." For a moment they looked deep into each other's eyes.
"It is really warm," he continued. "I think I will take off my coat."
He removed the garment absent-mindedly and handed it to her. The stairs creaked under his weight as he went down.
"Choleng" he turned his head as he opened the gate, "I shall
pass by Tia Maria's house and tell her to come, I may not return before
dark."
Soledad nodded. Her eyes followed her husband down the road,
noting the fine set of his head and shoulders, the ease of his stride. A
strange ache rose in her throat.
She looked at the coat he had handed to her. It exuded a
faint smell of his favorite cigars, one of which he invariably smoked,
after the day's work, on his way home from fields. Mechanically, she
began to fold the garment.
As she was doing so, a small object fell o the floor with a
dull, metallic sound. Soledad stooped down and picked it up. It was the
small key! She started at it in her palm as if she had never seen
before. Her mouth was tightly drawn and for a while she looked almost
old.
She passes into the small bedroom and tossed the coat
carelessly on the back of a chair. She opened the window and the early
afternoon sunshine flooded in. On a mat spread on the bamboo floor were
some newly washed garments.
She began to fold them one by one in feverish haste, as if seeking in the task
Of the moment a refuge from painful thoughts. But her eyes
moved restlessly around the room until they rested almost furtively on a
small trunk that was half concealed by a rolled mat in a dark corner.
It was a small, old trunk, without anything on the outside
that might arouse one's curiosity. But it held the things she had come
to hate with unnecessary anguish and pain, and threatened to destroy
all that was most beautiful between her and her husband!
Soledad came across a torn garment. She threaded a needle but
after a few uneven stitches she pricked her finger and a crimson drop
stained the white garment. Then she saw she had been mending on the
wrong way.
"What is the matter with me?" she asked herself aloud as she pulled the thread with nervous and impatient fingers.
What did it matter if her husband chose to keep the clothes of his first wife?
"She is dead now, anyhow, she is dead." She repeated to herself over and over again.
The sound of her own voice calmed her. She tried to thread
the needle once more. But she could not, for the tears had come
unbidden and completely blinded her.
"My God," she cried with a sob "make me forget Indo's face as he put the small key back into his pocket"
She brushed her tears with a sleeve of her camisa and
abruptly stood up. The heat was stifling, and the silence in the house
was beginning to be unendurable.
She looked out of the window. she wondered what was keeping
Tia Maria Perhaps Pedro has forgotten to pass by her house in his
hurry. She could picture him out there in the south field gazing far
and wide at the newly plowed land, with no thought in his mind but
work. Work. For. To the people of the barrio whose patron saint, San
Isidro Labrador, smiled on them with benign eyes from his crude altar
in the little chapel up the hill, this season was a prolonged hour of
passion during which they were blind and deaf to everything but the
demands of the land.
During the next half hour, Soledad wandered in and out of the
rooms, in an effort to seek escape from her own thoughts and to fight
down an overpowering impulse. Tia Maria would only come and talk to her
to divert her thoughts to other channels!
But the expression of her husband's face as he put the small
key back into his pocket kept torturing her like a nightmare, goading
her beyond endurance. Then, with all resistance to the impulse gone,
she was kneeling before the small trunk. With a long drawn breath she
inserted the small key. There was unpleasant, metallic sound for the
key had not been used for a long time and it was rusty.
II
That evening Pedro Buhay hurried
home with the usual cigar dangling from his mouth, please with himself
and the tenants because the work in the south field has been finished.
He was met by Tia maria at the gate and was told by her that Soledad
was in bed with a fever.
"I shall go to town and bring Dr.Santos," he decided, his cool hand on his wife's brow.
Soledad opened her eyes.
"Don't Indo," she begged with a vague terror in her eyes
which he took for anxiety for him because the town was pretty far and
the road was dark and deserted by that hour of the night. "I shall be
all right tomorrow."
Pedro returned an hour later, very tired and rather worried.
The doctor was not at home. But the wife had promised to send him to
Pedro's house as soon as he came in.
Tia Maria decided to remain for the night. But it was Pedro
who stayed up to watch over the sick woman. He was puzzled and worried -
more than he cared to admit. It was true that Soledad had not looked
very well when he left her early that that afternoon. Yet, he thought,
the fever was rather sudden. He was afraid it might be a symptom of a
serious illness.
Soledad was restless the whole night. She tossed from one
side to another, but towards morning she fell into some sort of
troubled sleep. Pedro then lay down to snatch a few winks.
He woke up to find the soft morning sunshine streaming
through the half opened window, playing on the sleeping face of his
wife. He got up without making any noise. His wife was now breathing
evenly. A sudden rush of tenderness came over him at the sight of her -
so slight, so frail.
Tia Maria was nowhere to be seen, but that did not bother him
for it was Sunday and work in the south field was finished. However,
he missed the pleasant aroma which came from the kitchen every time he
woke up early in the morning.
The kitchen looked neat but cheerless, and an immediate
search for wood brought no results. So, shouldering an ax, Pedro
descended the rickety stairs that led to the backyard.
The morning was clear and the breeze soft and cool. Pedro
took in a breath of air. It was good - it smell of trees, of the rice
fields, of the land he loved.
He found a pile of logs under the young mango tree near the
house, and began to chop. He swung the ax with rapid clean sweeps,
enjoying the feel of the smooth wooden handle in his palms.
As he stopped for a while to mop his brow, his eye caught the remnants of a smudge that had been built in the backyard.
"Ah!" he muttered to himself. "She swept that yard yesterday
after I left her. That coupled with the heat must have given her a
headache and then the fever."
The morning breeze stirred the ashes and a piece of white cloth fluttered into view.
Pedro dropped his ax. It was a half - burnt panuelo. Somebody
had been burning clothes. He examined the slightly ruined garment
closely. A puzzled expression came into his eyes. First it was doubt
groping for truth, then amazement, and finally agonized incredulity
passed across his face. He almost ran back to the house. In three
strides he was upstairs. He found his coat hanging from the back of a
chair
Cautiously he entered the room. The heavy breathing of his
wife told him that she was still sleep. As he stood by the small trunk,
a vague distance to open it assailed him. Surely, he must be mistaken.
She could not have done it, she could not have done that…that foolish…
Resolutely he opened trunk. It was empty.
It was nearby noon when the doctor arrived. He felt Soledad's pulse and asked questions which she answered in monosyllables.
Pedro stood by listening to the whole procedure with an
expression when the doctor told him by the gate that nothing was really
wrong with his wife although she seemed to be worried about something.
The physician merely prescribed a day of complete test.
Pedro lingered on the porch after the doctor had mouthed his
horse and galloped away. He was trying not to be angry with his wife.
He hoped it would be just an interlude that could be recalled without
bitterness. She would explain sooner or later, she would be repentant,
perhaps she would even try to convince him that shi had done it because
she loved him. And he would listen and eventually forgive her for she
was young always remain a shadow in their lives.
How quiet and peaceful the day was! A cow that had strayed by looked
over her shoulder with a round vague inquiry and went on chewing her
cud, blissfully unaware of such things as a gnawing fear in the hear of a
woman and a still smoldering resentment in a man.
THEME:
"The lack of communication between a couple can lead to misunderstanding"
. It is because Soledad and Pedro hardly speak to
each other, they are not demonstrative that was why it urged Soledad to
do the incident.
5.The Two Brothers(Rony Diaz)
Characters:
Simon -brother
Litoy- the oldest brother
Mang Orto- an old man
Settings: at the Dock
6.People of Consequences
C
haracters:
-Camus
-Meding
Setting:
Capitolyo
THEME: Strive and become a successful
7. The Quarrel
Characters:
Ismael-husband
Nina-wife
Mrs.Smith-landlady
Mang Jose-
Settings:
Boarding House
THEME: To understand and be responsible every time
8. A Night in the Hills
Characters:
Gerardo Luna
Sotera
Peregrina
Settings:
Forest
Theme:
To be contented
Plot:
A night in the Hills is a short story written by Paz Marquez Benitez.
It is a story about a man who had a dream about going to a forest,
seeing something different than what he has been seeing for years.
9. Youth
Theme- reminiscing the childhood
The concept for sustainable
development emerged as a response to a growing concern about human
society's impact on natural development.
The literature surrounding the integration of sustainable development into the formal education curriculum, this chapter also at life-long learning and training and skills for sustainable development. The wider issue of the communication of sustainable development principles in the public domain is, additionally, touched upon, although not dealt with in depth.
The literature of the Philippines is
predominantly a reflection of the influence of the Spaniards on the
indigenous culture and traditions. The people of Manila and native
groups within the Philippines used to write on bamboo and the arecaceae
palm. They used knives for inscribing the ancient Tagalog script.
The literature thus preserved was limited to the seventeen basic
symbols of the language. With just three vowels and consonantal
symbols that had predetermined, inherent sound, the literature
handed down was in a 'raw' state and needed to be developed. 
