Showing posts with label camiguin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label camiguin. Show all posts

Sunday, April 16, 2017


need to see the Christ pained
on his death,

they need to see
pixilated, blurred scars on TV
turning into flesh cut out by lashes,

they need no guidance from adults,
they need to be left interpreting
a man whispering his moans
to his unseen father,

they need
to smell the blood dried on his nose
on his cheeks & eyelashes,

they need to hear the breath
last on his lungs as a spear soaked
in wine is struck on his rib,

need to look closely on the sun
interspersed on the crucifix
thus making out a silhouette
of a man - healer & teacher as
yearned by weeping bit players
- saving a world of dragged backs
equated with salvific yokes,

need to remind one and themselves
all they have seen on screen
as they throw pebbles on chalk lines
etched on sand, indeciphering yet,
impetuously loving yet.

Poem by: Aloy Polintan
Photo by: Joemill Veloso Flordelis

Image: Sunken Cemetery, Camiguin Island, Philippines

Friday, April 14, 2017

New Baptism

During the sun's scorching gaze
Is baptism renewed most fit
When, hands clasped on each other
(a gesture of obligatory devotion)
I will soak my heels up my nape
Drops almost touching my earlobes
Bubbles will form, burst, regenerate
Ripples rival among themselves
Placid waves caress my ligaments
As the high priest rinses the spirit
As I close my eyes for orange panorama
The gentle rush of water subsides
A stagnant pool quiets the crowd
And now the baptizer is out of sight
Only cobblestones cradle me in their arms
In the void of direction, of ritual

Poetry by: Aloy Polintan
Photo by: Joemill Veloso Flordelis

Image: Camiguin Island, Philippines

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Camiguin: The Island Born of Fire

A magnetic, lonesome, smoking beauty sitting 10 kilometers off the coast of northern Mindanao; a peaceful quiet taking over the sleepy town drugged by crying crickets, chilling breeze, running streams, and lapping of the waves, only disturbed by infrequent motorellas and private cars passing by; and a surprise in itself, for hosting an unbelievable number of natural wonders spread across such a small, volcanic  land. That's how I could recall of lanzones-laden Camiguin, the island born of fire.

Camiguin is truly a destination with an abundance of tourist draws: the intimidating seven volcanoes, where some are visible from Balingoan port; waterfalls spearheaded by thundering, steep descent Katigbawasan; hot and cold springs flocked by families on picnic; the horseshoe-shaped sandbar called White Island, which demands its magnificence to be seen atop slippery Mount Hibok-hibok, an active volcano; the blazing sunset that sets as backdrop of the gigantic cross of sunken cemetery, which is pretty accessible for some daunting snorkeling; the ruins of old Catarman church; and the stations of the cross on towering Mount Vulcan.