Inkwell Chronicles

  The Voice of the Youth They say our words are far too small, Unshaped, untried, not worth the fight, Yet still we rise and break the wall, Our echoes blaze against the night. The world is heavy, worn, and old, Its silence built on ancient fears, But in our chests, the fire is bold, A song that storms the guarded ears. Though doubt may chain the trembling tongue, And shadows mock the dreams we keep, Our voices rise, forever young, A promise carved where silence sleeps. For every cry the dark ignores, A brighter dawn is brought to birth— The youth shall open silent doors, And speak the truth to wake the earth.

Horizons Unwritten by: Kathleen Joyce Jargue  I kept fighting, even as the battle tore me apart—shattering me, piece by fragile piece. And in the silence between the chaos, I whispered to myself: “Is this still worth it?” “Is love still worth the war… when I’m the only one bleeding for it?” “Is it still worth holding on to someone who never once reached out to hold me back?” In that fleeting moment, I realized I’d rather sail without a map. No longer holding back—just letting go and casting myself into the unknown. I thought it would be hard to sail on my own, afraid I might lose my way. But little did she know, sailing without a map would lead her to clearer skies—skies carved by her own hands. Now, I have found my peace—not in certainty, but in the fierce conviction of choosing myself. And in that choice, I carry no regrets—only freedom. Though it hurts to close the chapter you were once a part of, the ink of goodbye still stains the pages of my soul. No longer bound by...

The Ink of Parting by:  Jargue, Kathleen Joyce O. Moonlight's soft glow, shimmer tears silvery, Weeps for long lost love, turns to misery. His shadow hums in whispers through the tide, A name half-formed that will not be denied.   The aching winds consume her fleeting breath, Each sigh a vow that binds his soul to death. No dawn can heal the void his absence made, For even stars retreat to darker shade.   The sea laments with cries of sorrow deep, And rocks recall the vows he swore to keep. The night, a tomb that locks her broken plea, Enshrined her heart with chains of memory.   Trusting the winds will guide him to her shore, To bring the dawn her heart has longed for more. Till then, she watch the waves in endless flight, And guard his ghost within her souls dim light.    

  The Alchemy of Almost by: Jazmyn Alexa Ataylar  Caped with lonesome, smoky, gray-blue clouds Its musky-scented, bubbling waves—dark shrouds, Wrap around silent thoughts in cold caress Drawing mem’ries of my love’s lost embrace.   I conjured stars to spell your hidden name, Yet spells dissolve, illusions burn to flame. The quiet comfort of your fleeting gaze, A phantom fire that set my heart ablaze.   You were the dream I dared not call my own, An "almost" love carved deep into the stone. Each glance a charm, each word a sacred sign, I wished, I prayed, that I could call you mine.   This wound I nursed became my sweetest curse, An aching thirst that only grew perverse. It bled devotion, frantic, fierce, and stark, Yet time stole you, a thief hid in the dark.   But shadows whispered truths I failed to see, The sweetest lie was one I wrote for me. For in your silence, distance did reside, And all my magic vanis...

  The Silence After Ticktock by: Jazmyn Alexa Ataylar   Ticktock, ticktock… I watched the moment drift beyond the clock. As its hands moved clockwise, memories kept passing by like a piano that had lost its tune. Too frail to leap, I let the sound consume my soul. The ghost of “what would be”   won the show, and followed close to haunt my sleep each day.   Memories turned into nightmares that wounded me. I hear its whisper—ticktock, ticktock—when night is near. A breath of might have been chills my bone. It feeds on every choice I made in fear, and leaves me captive to the seeds I’ve sown in silence.   And I am here again, facing the clock. Ticktock, ticktock… Oh, if only risk had found a place in me, the path I lost might bloom with light and fire. But here I walk with specters I alone can see, the ghost of life denied by my desire.   Chains of doubt were forged by my own hand. They bind me fast to shad...

Katukayo “Hori, tigilan mo na nga pakikipag-usap dun sa katukayo ko,” daing ng kaibigan kong parang pinaglihi sa sama ng loob. Nagseselos na naman ang mokong dahil may kaibigan akong kapangalan niya. Ayaw niya raw na may iba akong “ best friend ” bukod sa kanya, kasi siya lang daw ang nakakatiis sa ugali kong daig pa ang math problems sa hirap intindihin at sa mood swings kong nahihiya raw pati climate change. “Hoy, magtigil ka nga Christian. Wag ka ngang OA, okey! Hindi lang ikaw ang pinanganak na Christian ang pangalan. Classmate ko yun, at matalino siya kaya kinakaibigan ko. ‘Wag kang panira ng trip, pwede?” Tahimik siyang tumingin, parang bata na inagawan ng paboritong laruan. Ang totoo, minsan talaga sarap upakan nun—ang lakas manita, ang daming bawal, pero siya rin yung unang nandiyan kapag sobrang malungkot ako. Kahit mukha na kong sirang plaka kakakuwento. Kaya kahit nakakapagod intindihin, hindi ko rin siya maiwan. Nakakatawa lang, kasi ang lakas niyang magbigay ng mixe...

  Online Class “Sino na ba ang magtatalakay ngayong araw?” tanong ng aming guro sa Filipino habang isa-isang sumisilip sa screen ang mga mukha naming kasing labo ng mata ko sa sobrang hina ng signal. Online class na naman kami dahil sa biglang pagkawala ng tubig sa barangay malapit sa aming paaralan. “Ako na po, Ma’am,” sagot ni Gayle, ang kaklase kong laging handa at mahusay sa reporting. Habang nagsisimula siyang magpaliwanag, dama ko agad na mas malinaw ko na namang mauunawaan ang paksa, ang hina ko kasi masyado sa Filipino. Ngunit sa kalagitnaan ng kanyang diskusyon, biglang bumungad ang tugtog ng “Maybe This Time” ni Sarah Geronimo. Saglit siyang natigilan, at kami naman ay nagkatinginan sa aming maliliit na kahon sa screen. Una ay iniisip naming aksidente lang pero habang tumatagal, palakas nang palakas ang musika—tila ba sinasadya. Sa halip na mainis, ngumiti lang si Gayle at biglang sinabayan ng pagkanta ang tugtog. Napanganga kami, maya-maya ay nagtawanan at sabay...

 KA-IBIGAN by: Lanie Afable     "Beshy"! Beshy ang tawag ko sa kanya, na kilala ko siya sa pag-aaral ko sa sekondarya. Tama kaibigan ko siya na naging ka-ibigan pero ako lang may alam. Labing-apat kami magkaklase pero habang tumatagal na pagsasama namin ay nahulog ako sa isa kung kaklase at kaibigan ko din, hindi sa basta basta lalaki, kundi isa siya sirena na lalaki, tama ang iyong hinala bading po siya.      Hindi ko naisip bakit nagkagusto ako sa kanya, pero sabi nga nila ang pag-ibig ay hindi sinasadya, basta nalang dumarating. Hanggang ngayon, hindi ko pa rin ito sinasabi sa kanya, masaya na ako na nakikita ko siyang masaya at nagtatawana sa lahat ng oras.

 Mukha ng Pagkatao by: Lanie Afable     Ako'y isang dilag na unti-unting nagdidiskubre ng aking pagkatao bilang isang dalaga. Pagtapak ko sa kolehiyo, naranasan ko ang lahat ng hirap ng pagiging babae at mag-aaral. Kinuha ko ang kursong Batselor sa Sekondaryong Edukasyon dahil gusto kong maging guro, ngunit hindi ko inaasahan na marami pa palang trahedya at pagsubok na haharapin ko. Mabuti na lamang at maaasahan ang aking mga kaklase, palagi silang nandiyan upang magkaisa at magtulungan kami sa bawat laban.     Tawanan ang naging susi ko upang mapagaan ang bawat araw sa paaralan. Ngunit sa likod nito, naramdaman ko rin ang matinding pagkukumpara sa aking sarili, bilang babae at bilang mag-aaral. Hanggang sa umabot sa puntong naging makasarili ako. Napagtanto ko na sa kagustuhan kong maging katulad nila, unti-unti ko palang sinasaktan ang sarili ko

The Loneliness of an Eldest Daughter             Being the eldest daughter in a family is often painted as a role of pride and responsibility. She is expected to be strong, dependable, and a role model for her younger siblings. While these qualities bring honor, they also come with a heavy emotional weight. Beneath the surface of maturity and resilience, the eldest daughter often carries a quiet loneliness that many fail to notice.             From an early age, she learns to put others before herself. Parents rely on her to help with chores, guide her siblings, and sometimes even to act as a second parent. This constant expectation to be responsible can rob her of the carefree moments of childhood. While her siblings are allowed to make mistakes, she is often reminded that she “should know better.” The pressure of always being the example isolates her making her feel that t...

  The Sea Remembers   Caped with lonesome, smoky, gray-blue clouds Its musky-scented, bubbling waves—dark shrouds, Wrap around silent thoughts in cold caress Drawing mem’ries of my love’s lost embrace.   The twilight waves move slow through silver mist, Each mournful tide by moonlit sorrow kissed. They call me back to where your presence lay, And sing the ache of love that slipped away.   The restless deep resounds with hollow cries, Its haunting song repeats our last goodbyes. Yet every tide still speaks of your caress,                                                                  A gentle ache my soul cannot repress

Cries of Yesterday Mark John Dave Payod        Caped with lonesome, smoky, gray-blue clouds Its musky-scented, bubbling waves—dark shrouds, Wrap around silent thoughts in cold caress Drawing mem’ries of my love’s lost embrace.   Their shadows linger where evening stays, Recalling laughter from our younger days. The touch I crave lies far from my embrace, A wound that time will never fully trace.   The autumn wind resounds with mournful cries, sings of partings under empty skies. Yet in my heart their love secures its place, A beacon bright through sorrow I must face.   Soft echoes rise within the night’s abyss, They wander through my dreams in shades of bliss. Though death has claimed the warmth I can’t replace, Their spirit holds me in its embrace.

Whispers in the Gray  By: Mark Francis Tegio   Caped with lonesome smoky, gray-blue clouds,  Its musky-scented, bubbling waves— dark shrouds,  Wrap around silent thoughts in cold caress,  Drawing mem’ries of my love’s lost embrace.  Shadows whisper truths I hide in fear,  Echoes of what my heart holds ever dear.  Though silence binds my chest in somber thread,  My soul still seeks where hope can be outspread.  A winding trail ascends beyond the night,  A beckoning dream, a radiant, guiding light.  Though tempests rage and shadows block the way,  My spirit stands, unbroken by dismay.