09-Francisco Arcellana

Francisco Arcellana (Zacarias Eugene Francisco Quino Arcellana)  was born in akaFrank V. Sta. Cruz, Manila and born on September 6,1916 . He was a Filipino writer, poet, essayist, critic, journalist and teacher. Fourth son of 18 children of Jose Arcellana y Cabaneiro and Epifanio Quino. 

           Arcellana bloomed early in his craft and prospered from his first schooling in Tondo              until he entered the University of the Philippines (UP) as a pre-medical student 

            in 1932. He developed an interest in writing while he was studying at the Manila                       West High School (now Torres High School) as an active staff of the the school                                  organ TheTorres Torch.

           

  Some of his works have been translated into Tagalog, Malaysian, Italian, German and Russian, and many have been anthologized. 

Two major collections of his works are:

 Selected Stories, 1962

 The Francisco Arcellana Sampler, 1990

       Francisco Arcellana other published works are;

 Philippine PEN Anthology of Short Stories,Editor(1962)

Fifteen Stories: Story Masters 5(1973)

    

  Arcellana's Poems:

The Other Woman

I wait for you

To touch you

                                                               

         From 1928 to 1939, 14 of his short stories were included in Jose Garcia Villa's honor               roll. His short story “The Flowers of May” won second prize in 1951

 Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Award for Literature.

"The Flowers of May” 

Francisco Arcellana

Victoria is Father’s first real, and as it turns out, only loss. Josefine who died before her died in early infancy and Concepcion who died after her was stillborn. Victoria died and we buried her and Father has not said her name once or even spoken of her.”

• Another short story, “Wing of Madness,” placed second in the Philippines Free Press literary contest in 1953 

The wing of madness

The  hands went. My berserk hands! As soon as I knew that my hands were gone, then I knew that I was mad. Never before had I lifted my hands in anger. Never before in my life had I struck a blow?neither in violence nor love. Never before had I used my hands to crush or to caress, to create or to destroy.

Now that they have stirred, when finally they have lifted, they are monsters, how they rage: they have turned against me, they have fallen upon me: they hold me and grip me: they shake me and break me: and there is no stopping their frenzy. Oh, the fury of hands that are denied!

Sources;

http://www.poemhunter.com/francisco-arcellana/biography/

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francisco_Arcellana

http://www.nancycudis.com/2012/08/3-stories-francisco-arcellana.html