His Return

I have waited for his return,

Anticipated for his arrival;

To welcome him back

In my waiting arms . . .

Winter is here.

 

My Daily Photo-Blog: December, 2011

“Reflective”

The month before 2011 ended, I was reflective. The year that was, the now and the years to come is the future I dreamed about as a kid. I have arrived to the time that my young mind only used to day dream about . . .

Starting on a new slate.

I wish you well.

~ Jeques

Winter Morning

My Daily Photo-Blog: Month of November, 2011

November is over. Today as December starts, let me share with you the video I created for my Daily Photo-blog posted in FB last month. My poem, “Autumn Dance” inspired this photo-collection last month. Here is the link to the video posted in my YouTube account.

Hope you enjoy watching.

I wish you well.

~ Jeques

Quiescence

Piquance retires to dormancy.

Cold besieged the waning blaze

As days take longer sleep

For now,

And I take shelter in dreaming.

.

My spirit drops

To quiecence

This time.

I travel still, but ~

Only now my journey

Moves inward.

Winter wouldn’t freeze

Life’s pagination.

Snowfalls bring

Frosty slate

Of pristine pages

Ready for my thoughts

To carve icy tracks.

As my mind skids down

To quiescence ~

For now.

.

I wrap myself

To nothingness

From your view,

Retiring to my cocoon

For my travels

This time

Points inward.

.

I chase the wake of change

Where sunrise breaks on ridges ~

The towering ridges

That lies on quiescence

.

Within.

Autumn Dance

The rhythm slowed

The pitch dropped

The beats from the drums of summer

Are halted ~ adrenaline waned ~

To give way to the mild strumming of the cords

Switching the sound mood to acoustics.

.

The dancers changed costume

In colors, but tinged

With earthy tones.

The stage is decorated with melancholy.

The lights subdued,

Shadows more pronounced

From bright to dim.

.

And then the autumn dance begins.

.

The dancers take their grand entrance from above;

Pirouetting in the air

Following the rhythms of the wind ~

The rustling sound ~ their music.

.

The show enraptures

To a colorful dance

As the players in the grandest

Of the show

Take their fleeting turns

On the stage,

Suspended in mid-air,

Before they take a bow

To an inevitable finale ~

.

One by one ~

.

They fall to the grounds

Of happy ending

Leaving such lovely clutter ~

.

One by one ~

.

They take their corners

Creating colorful tapatries

Covering the earth floors

Like quilts where they become

Momentary insulation

To pulsating inhabitants

Against the impending cold ~

One by one ~

.

They take their exit

To a good autumn rest

And winter sleep ~

.

One by one ~

.

The audience leave the outdoors,

Acquiescent and resigned

To the shelter

Of their roofs, the brick walls

Taking refuge in the hearth

Of the once dormant fireplace

Now awake.

.

One by one

The dancers and the audience leave.

The autumn dance ends

To a freeze.

.

My mind figure skates

As I hear the approaching

Crystal-like sound

Of winter.

Fathomed

 

There’s something inside this mind

That needs to be written.

There’s some story in this ground I tread

That needs to be told,

 

In time ~

 

Under every corner of the skies,

Strewn in the places we inhabit,

Are kernel of tales

Awaiting the break of day

To give it light

So we may fathom the mysteries

Ingrained beneath,

 

Take notice ~

 

I paid each speck of details

Parading by my facade

The precious attention it deserves.

I’m not content just passing glances.

For a moment I give myself,

 

Completely ~

 

An spectator engrossed

Taking the precious gifts

Others may have declined,

And failed to see,

 

 The beauty in little things ~

 

I refused to ignore.

Moments pass by swiftly,

But I noticed the colorful confetti

From the autumn canopies above me

and the crisp rustling

Of the autumn leaves carpeting my paths

As I walk on,

 

In brisk ~

 

Romancing the breeze of long ago,

Carrying the same dusts

Of generations that once walked this path.

A piece of me stays here:

A drop of sweat, of tear

A skin peel, a strand of hair

Mixing with the quilts of time

And I move forth, 

Questions answered ~

 

Fathomed ~

 

In time,

Take notice

Completely 

The beauty in little things

In brisk,

 

And find me there.

 

Fathomed.

 

 

 

 

My Daily Photo-Blog, October 2011

October, the month I moved to Chicago from my home country the Philippines. This year, I celebrate my 5th year in America.

Here’s the video of my daily photo-blog I post in my Facebook account. The photographs show my love for the autumn season as I celebrate my coming to America as an immigrant trying a life in the barn during my recent vacation in Door County, Wisconsin.

I hope you enjoy the poetry in photographs I took that reflects my thoughts, my sentiments, my daily state of mind  for the month of October.

 

I wish you well.

~ Jeques

Writings On My Wall

I searched my life and found you,

You left your name written on my wall.

Of all the words in colors,

Of all the writings on my wall,

I singled out a special mark:

 

Your name graffito ~

 

The only thing that’s left

To prove that once you came,

But gone.

 

 

What have you written on my wall,

What memory traces spelled

Out from the markings

Of your name?

 

You once turned this wall

Splashed with colors,

But time turned the colors 

Worn and dry.

 

I found myself  stuck here,

And longing ~ guarding graffiti ~

Afraid the oblivious weathers

Of distance erase your name.

 

How much longer could I keep myself still,

How much longer should I wait?

Come back and write on my wall again,

Re-paint the memories with me.

Once more, turn my life splashed with colors

My wall awaits

Ever anticipating your return.

 

But if fate would not bring you back,

I ask the weather of time, be kind.

Take all the writings on my wall

But leave your name forever inscripted,

Your imprint lives on

And on.

 

Graffiti like memories fade over time,

But not your name~  

It’s embedded with my epitaph ~

Your name graffito forever safe

 

In my unwavering heart.

 

 

 

Autumn

 

Trees let their leaves fall,

 

I let my care in the world drift away with the wind of autum.

 

For a brief moment, I am free.

 

 

Trees grow their leaves back in springtime.

 

The wind of long ago would blow me sweet kisses,

 

Sing me songs, and tell me stories . . .

 

And I would listen

 

And I would listen

 

And I would listen

 

Before I reach my own autumn ~

 

Youth gone ~

 

Until this transient life falls.

 

Jeques, Autumn 2011