New Ordinance for the Dead by Ron Atilano, Flying Islands Press, 2026

Poems come in all shapes, styles, sizes and languages. I have always believed it is important to read widely, both in translation and, if possible, in the original language itself. This was one of the reasons that I was keen to review Ron’s volume of poetry, which is in English and Filipino. While having no knowledge of Filipino, I loved moving between the Filipino and the English and trying to acclimatize myself to the different languages’ sounds and rhythms. It was a unique pleasure to read them to silently to myself and out aloud and experience the textures and cadences of words that I don’t understand in my ears and mouth.

Some people write poems which are rambling, discontinuous and abstract and are often all the better for that. Some poems are like perfect aeroplane journeys. They take off, go through very little turbulence, and land smoothly. Meanwhile, the plane has quietly and unobtrusively travelled a great distance. I believe Ron’s poems at their best achieve this.

Siesta

After lunch, they would sleep
for half an hour around the factory yard,
lying next to one another on the grass,
hunched and leaning on benches,
slumped against fence, wall,
flagpole, sprawled flat under
the tired camachile tree—
as though they had been shot
one by one, felling them
in these strange positions.
Above, the conveyor belts grind,
dust falling on their hair.
Their ragged clothes,
like wilted roses,
adorn the silvered grass.

I am struck by the beauty of this poem’s rhythm and restraint. It’s deceptive simplicity. But also it’s biblical gravity. Much of Ron’s work has this “carved in granite quality.” Not only because of the strength of its imagery but also its conviction.

First, we are introduced to a group of workers having a post-lunch siesta. But these are not a group of white-collar workers. They have been involved in labour so arduous that it is, “…as though they had been shot, felling them in these strange positions. They are, “…sprawled flat under the tired camachile tree…” In the space of a few lines Atilano paints a vivid word picture of exhausted workers but also introduces us to a tree I had never heard of. At that point my only option was to do some research. This is what I uncovered: “The camachile tree (which has edible fruit) is commonly known as Manila tamarind, Madras thorn or monkeypod tree and is a species of flowering plant in the pea family that is native to the Pacific Coast and adjacent highlands of Mexico, Central America, and northern South America”. It is an introduced species.

I reflect on the word “introduced” and then consider all the things that have been “introduced” to the Philippines. I can’t help making connections between the workers’ exhaustion (“as though they had been shot”) and the effect on the Philippines of over 400 years of invasions and occupations. The exploitation and corruption. And yet Ron dignifies the workers by describing, “Their ragged clothes, like wilted roses.” In a poem of less than 100 words Ron has evoked all of this for me. That, in my opinion. is no mean feat. This next one I will explore is The Art of Hunger.

The Art of Hunger

The Art of Hunger was good discipline,
Hemingway would go on to say,
exiled in Parisian cafes,
writing alone
on an empty stomach.

He would echo this thesis
at the Nobel Prize in 1954,
declaring that every creation
could only spring
from solitude.

The ascetic artist knows
his secret well—
hunger’s refinement
of the soul,
the sleepless street
of despair.

Something of no consequence
to the homeless man
crouched alone by the river
last night, who disappeared staggering
down Rizal Avenue.

Here again Ron shows his range and sensitivity. He starts out quoting or paraphrasing Ernest Hemingway; a future Nobel Prize winner living in Paris and ends with a homeless man living on the street. One could say that at this stage of his development Hemingway and the homeless man had a number of things in common. But poverty and obscurity are relative. And unending, grinding poverty does not, “refine the soul” it destroys it. Through patronage and literary connections Hemingway was eventually able to feed himself well but never sated his hunger for recognition and literary perfection. However, a homeless man’s endless preoccupation with food and a safe place to sleep robs him of the opportunity to ever be recognized or achieve a personal goal.

What I prize in both these poems and many others in the volume is the blending of the universal and the local. In ‘Siesta’ we have the factory worker experience. But we also have the “camachile tree.” In ‘The Art of Hunger’ we have Hemingway but also the homeless man on Rizal Avenue which, I only recently learned, is one of Manila’s main thoroughfares. Ron’s comparing and contrasting of Hemingway and the “homeless man” illustrates the ultimate discrepancy of their experience but equally imbues them with humanity. In this way he achieves what I believe to be one of the primary duties of the poet which is to highlight and elevate the quotidian and in doing so preventing it from sinking into obscurity.

The final poem I will briefly examine is ‘New Ordinance for the Dead’, the title poem of the book which remarkably deals with a similar topic that I covered in a poem several years ago. My poem titled ‘Cinerary Facts’ discussed council rules pertaining to the legal and illegal distribution of a loved one’s ashes after Their cremation.

New Ordinance for the Dead

Council says the dead should not go
in the red bin. They sleep too long
in landfill, exhaling carbon & methane
under mountains of paper cups,
discarded clothes, busted LCD’s.
Incinerated, ashes reach the ionosphere,
haunt the radio waves.

The dead are organic. Put them in the green bin
with the mown grass, dead branches,
spoilt fruit. Memory is best fertilizer
for our community gardens
& orchidariums. Come and visit them
Saturday mornings. Chat with the pink cattleyas.
Touch the pear’s plump cheek.

I appreciate how Ron’s light touch makes wry humour fit with what would ordinarily be a very challenging topic. Moreover, he manages to cover environmental and scientific issues quipping that, “Memory is best fertilizer for our community gardens and orchideriums. There is also the sensual and poignant inclusions of, “…the pears plump cheek” which Ron provokes us to touch. The cheeks of a pear reminding us of nature’s fleeting beauty and the face of a loved one who is no longer among the living.

I am only touching the tip of the tip of the iceberg. Many of the poems I have not touched on deal with myth, family, other historical figures, politics and Art. In fact the cover image of the book is by Ron, and his drawings appear inside it. But what connects the poems and the drawings in this volume is elegance, restraint, beauty, simplicity and empathy. This book has all the hallmarks of work that has been thoroughly thought through, revised and refined. Buy it and read it. I’m sure you will enjoy it as much as I did.

 –  Mark Mahemoff

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Mark Mahemoff’s poetry has been published in one Chapbook, a CD selection, and six full-length volumes. The latest, which was launched at The Newcastle Writer’s Festival, is Beautiful Flames (Flying Islands 2024). Mark works full-time as a psychotherapist.

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New Ordinance for the Dead by Ron Atilano is available from https://flyingislandspocket poets.com.au/product/new-ordinance-for-the-dead/