FIAT

 

FIAT

In the fullness of the appointed time

The virgin became a mother

But the mother remained a virgin

Whose womb became the new ark

Pure, immaculate and undefiled

Holding not the tablets but the Word.

As she gave flesh to divinity

She gave birth to her Creator

Who created her to be his mother

Then God became a human pilgrim

That the new humanity may be born

Through the fertile womb of Mary.

Commentary:

During the first day of the new year, the Church honors Mary as the Mother of God: the mother of Jesus, mother of the New Humanity, Mother of the church and our own mother.

  

The poem is a little compendium on Mariology, although barely exposing the grandeur and beauty of the mystery that is Mary. 

The picture is the very artistic bronze door of the church of Maria della Angelli in Rome, Italy. 

BIRTH OF THE KING

 

  

BIRTH OF THE KING

I look up and the heavens open like a black womb

Bursting blood like wild fireworks dancing in the sky

Breaking the waters with a cry from a shackled symphony

Breathing the first air of freedom and sweet victory

The universe welcomes her beloved King from on high

Yet when He is born, time brings Him closer to His tomb...

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!!!

 

LULLABY

                 LULLABY

Let me lay down in your cradle once more

Because I am exhausted and so very tired

From my useless wanderings all my life

Adoring the sheer madness of idolatry

Swallowed up by the emptiness of egotism

I come back naked with blackened soul

Mourning the death of my innocence.

Let me listen again to your sweet lullaby

And let your song caress my deafness

May your voice bring back the beating

Of my drained heart shattered by shame

Draw me back to your bosom one more time

To feel  again the love I scorned and ignored

Before I sleep, before I go, before I say goodbye...

COMMENTARY:

The prophet Isaiah was sent by God to comfort the Israelites who were in exiled in Babylon (587-538 BC).   The prophet announced the return from exile: “Comfort my people!" (Is 40:1).  Israel was weary and spent and the prophet sung to them a beautiful lullaby, a song of liberation, a hymn of freedom.

         Such was true to John the Baptist who as God’s voice announced a new beginning to the people during the time of Jesus: "Prepare the Lord is coming!" (Mark 1:3).

        These are the readings of the Second Sunday of Advent – B.

        The photograph is an experiment of some sort, a photographic style I want to keep secret.

THE BANQUET

THE BANQUET

The door swings open and I behold a majestic hall

Crystals with most precious stones adorn the wall

Transparent as glass are the flowers in pure gold,

Ground covered with sand made of pearls untold

Around the table are twelve chairs of agate, jasper,

Emerald, onyx, carnelian, yellow quartz, sapphire,

Beryl, topaz, turquoise, amethyst and chalcedony

The light in the inner chamber shining so brightly

Where all my friends are gathered clothed in white

Greeting me a hero’s welcome beyond all delight

To my amazement, the banquet is prepared for me

It is my wedding to my Beloved Lamb in eternity.

Commentary:

I once con-celebrated a wedding that was held in the very famous Manly Chapel in Sydney.  The bride was a little bit late so all of us had to wait for sometime.  Then suddenly the door of the chapel swung open and out of the dark room, came in a silhouette of the bride which looked like a very lovely creature as floating in mid-air.  There was a hush in the chapel until the quartet started to play the Opening Hymn while the bride walked through the long aisle.  When she reached the altar, the groom cried.  It was a heavenly sight for me.  Later on I composed a poem to immortalize that experience.

I took the photo from the War Memorial in Canberra, Australia.  When I looked up at the big dome, as I saw heaven opened up.  I took my camera and shot the dome.

That wedding experience and the dome made possible this poetograph.

THE STEWARD

         

THE STEWARD

What will I do with my borrowed time?

When the exuberance of youth vanishes

And the skin deep beauty turns to ashes

When ideas are lost and words don’t rhyme.

What will I do with my borrowed treasures?

When my gold and gems lose their luster

And collected fashions I can no longer wear

When I lose my form and bodily structures.

What will I do with my borrowed talents?

When the stage stops its praise and adulation

And the limelight is gone and denies adoration

When songs are taken away by life’s torrents.

The poem is a poetic commentary to the gospel this 33rd Sunday on the parable of the talents.  What talents and treasures do I have?  What will I do with them?  How much time have I got?  How do I spend it?

WAITING

WAITING


I stand here so eagerly waiting for your coming

Like a tree that yearns for the passing pilgrim

Let my roots embrace your weary and dirty feet

And my branches soothes your crushed spirit

Let my fruits satiate the hunger of your longings

And my leaves clothe the nakedness of your soul

Let me cradle your shattered body in my shadows

But tarry not much in the solace of my comfort

The pilgrimage is long and beckons you to go on

Take with you my flower which is my heart

And know that I shall walk with you all the way

At the end of the road, I will be there waiting for you…

The photo was taken by my sister Ate Rose in Misibis Resort; it has been edited, thanks to Dr. Shervin Sison.

I was assigned in the Sacred Heart Mission in Cagararay Island in 1996 and stayed there for a year.  Misibis which  used to be part of that mission was very beautiful although the people were very poor.  Their white sand beach was stunning and I used to swim there together with the choir whenever I would celebrate my monthly mass with the people.  Now Misibis has been transformed into a world-class resort which caters for the rich and the famous: local and international movie stars, wealthy businessmen and jetsetters who can pay the very expensive amenities offered by the resort.  The one piece of a paradise by our poor people now belongs and being enjoyed by the wealthy.   It is nostalgic… well, that’s the price of development. 

The poem is about God who speaks in an anthropomorphic way to the reader-pilgrim through a tree.  God is the tree!  It has the tone of my favorite author, Kahlil Gibran.  God walks with us through and yet awaits at the end of the journey…

CROSSROADS

Hanging between heaven and earth

Left alone in the abyss of darkness

I bow my head in absolute humility

Nothing to hold on to in my emptiness

Save the boundless love that binds me

To my beloved who brought me here.

My troubled heart profusely bleeds

For affections I have to surrender

My weak spirit is utterly crushed

For friendships I have to break

My tongue is frozen and numbed

From lamentations I have to wail.

 Don’t comfort me with words of wisdom

To find meaning in my folly

I do not need you to sing me dirges

As soothing balm for  my pain

Nor a cloth to cover my nakedness

To spare me from excruciating shame.

Until I have still something to give

My offering is never complete

When everything  is emptied out

And my last precious drops of blood

Fall into the sacred fire of divine love

Then my life will at last begin….

Commentary:

The photograph is the famous The Cross of St. John of the Cross by the surrealist Salvador Dali.  The inspiration was taken from an original drawing of St. John of the Cross.

The poem is a re-telling of the seven last words of Jesus on the Cross.  When I composed it, I had to go back to the many crossroads in my life as well as I remembered the untold pains of my friends which are only to known to God.

When I posted this poetograph in Facebook, many identified their pains with the pain of Jesus. The words in the poem become our own when we are hanging on our own personal crosses....

VIDEOS ON THE OPENING OF THE ONE-MAN EXHIBITION

THIS IS THE VIDEO SHOWN AT THE GALA OPENING OF THE ONE-MAN EXHIBITION AND BOOK LAUNCH IN SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA ON 11 DECEMBER, 2010

THIS IS THE VIDEO FEATURED BY ABS-CBN ON MY PRELIMINARY ONE-MAN EXHIBITION IN  MY HOMETOWN LEGAZPI CITY, PHILIPPINES (THE REPORT WAS DONE IN OUR BICOL DIALECT).

                                SLEEPING CAPTAIN

                 When the sea is rough and the sky is dark

                 As I sail from this life to the other side

                 Come with me, my Lord, and be my guide

                 As the waves  attempt to engulf my pride

                And when my weakness shackles the oar

                Forbid me to sink into the abyss of  my sins

                In front of you, my sleeping Captain, I beg:

                Wake me up before the sea-monsters devour me

             For your presence is enough to silence the beasts

                Bid me come to your stern and sleep beside you

                Let me rest in your bosom and be at peace

              In shame the storm will calm down at your Word

              Then in the morning I shall find myself docked

              When the sea is lost and my boat is forever gone

         I shall find my Captain waiting for me on the shore

           Home at last where the sailing never ever ends….

This poetograph is my first ever venture in poetography.  I composed the poem when I was doing my studies in Rome.  It was during my yahoo messenger chat with a high school classmate of mine, Ms. Melodie Bachiller-Ocampo (who was at Okinawa , Japan that time), that this poem was written.  I was preparing a homily at that moment about the gospel on Jesus asleep while they were in the middle of a storm and his disciples were terrified.  What came out of the chat was this lovely poem.

Then I shared the poem to another friend, Ms. Eva Ruth Ombao who sent it back to me, now embossed in a photograph.  When I first saw it, I knew my poetography was born.  The rest is history…..