On his writing influences and his favorite authors, AB Literature graduate Orlando Sayman has this to say: 

     "My teachers--particularly Shielfa Alojamiento and Don Pagusara--are my influences in my attempt to write.  The former because she introduced me to Literature by women, of which I was not much aware before.  The latter because he sure can write in three languages: English, Filipino and Cebuano. And so are other regional writers who write about things which I am very well familiar. 

      "Whenever I write in the English language and find out my grammatical errors I am reminded of Dr. Macariu Tiu who seems to make a fetish out of grammar.  I hope he won't be able to read my poems. 

      "But the most influential to me is my classmate who, at a young age, is exceptionally  profound.  Some of the poems I wrote are about him and his wife who already died.  One of which is "Leukos Love."  I wish I had half of his maturity. 

      "I read some novels and short stories of John Updike although I find them difficult when he already sounds philosophical.  His descriptive power is incredible. 

        "We read the poems of T.S. Eliot in class. I confess I am, in many ways, like Prufrock.  His fears, indecisiveness, etc. are real to me. 

       "I read "Portrait... Artist" and plan to read it again.  I hope I can read "Ulysses," too. 

       My teacher said we must read Faulkner before we get fourty.  I agree with her definitely." 
 

We were this before: 
The sun beamed brightly for us. 
We ambled, heads down. 

It is unlike now: 
The moon won't even gleam. 
We walk to flounder. 

This was you before: 
Your eyes glinted endless love. 
Your blood was warm red. 

This is you today: 
Your eyes seem to say, "Farewell". 
Your blood is cold white. 

This was I before: 
I was a slave of groin. 
Never did I love. 

This is I today: 
I can love even your soul. 
Because you taught me. 
  

the balloon 

hankered after by the child 
the balloon lighter than air 
cannot freely fly with its 
long string tightened around 
the child's arm but with 
his single carelessness 
the balloon now rejoices 
savoring its momentary 
freedom so eager to finally 
meet the sun when suddenly 
a big burst 
  
 

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