Taming This Tyke's Voice Since 2007

Molting

 

What’s this eerie silence,

Wings just suddenly

Froze to a halt.

 

Without warning

Terrain desolves

To vagueness ~

Certainty, gone?

 

Where does the beacon light hides,

Like some hands

Took it away

From vision,

Promises broken ~

All hopes, done?

 

What Happen

To this Feathers

Made for flying,

Shedding,

Descending,

Head down

Suddenly fearing the skies.

 

Could a winged-soul

Ever acquiesce

To just watching spaces?

 

Touch down

Is never a fate.

 

He belongs

Where possibilities

Are boundless.

 

Take me in your arms

This season,

My moment of molting

When I am most

Vulnerable.

 

Open your palms

To my shed feathers.

Let your embrace

Be my temporary shelter

In moment of molting,

When the wind

Is a provisional foe.

 

Hold me with such gentleness,

Like the hen

Gathers her flock

At twilight,

Yet sets them off

When morning comes.

 

Open your palms

When this wings

Are once more ready

For flying.

 

But Don’t waver,

For ingrained

In every winged-soul

Is a homing pigeon ~

 

And from this day forward, 

Only in your heart

Would I find my roost.

 

(Jeques, August 2009. Traveler’s Soliloquies Poetry Collection)

 

 

 

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5 responses

  1. jeques,

    bravo! such a magnificent poetry and exhiliratedly beautiful piece. you are conquering new grounds for such magnitude of imagery you have placed in this poem. a very hopeful poem, strong and passionate. the choice of words mightily describe a molting, with a promise of becoming, transforming into a better being.

    i enjoy these lines the best “What Happen To this Feathers Made for flying, Shedding, Descending,Head down Suddenly fearing the skies.” a comparison of energetic past and the present personal downturn.

    ” Hold me with such gentleness, Like the hen Gathers her flock At twilight,Yet sets them off
    When morning comes.” it stung me to surprise, about the image of hen imprinted on my mind, i can feel the hen’s feather brushing my skin, imagining myself like a little chick. we used to have a chicken coop in tarlac, i remember myself anticipating for the hen to lay its eggs in a cogon grass filled basket and wait until all eggs hatch. i like what i have seen when i am reading your poem.

    “But Don’t waver, For ingrained In every winged-soul Is a homing pigeon”- i find it hope filled. a promise to be reborn like a pheonix. a comeback worth the wait after hibernation.

    your poem is filled with good images, quite refreshing and makes one’s heart warmer. thanks for sharing your gift.

    best of times,
    marvin

    PM00000070000000931 10, 2007 at 12:00 pm08

    • Marvin,

      I still feel this poem needs some more polishing. This is now part of the new poetry collection I started and would be part of my painting study in words for my next painting collection.

      It is wonderful to get a feedback that the poem make such a good impact. I need to work on powerful imagery because the poem is intended as painting study.

      I wish you well.

      ~ Jeques

      PM000000100000003131 10, 2007 at 12:00 pm08

  2. hi Jeques,

    how is it going? 🙂

    particularly liked the impact brought by the 1st stanza

    congratulations for your online port too. will be visiting them later 🙂

    PM00000070000001631 10, 2007 at 12:00 pm08

    • Totomai,

      It’s nice to hear from you again. I saw your new photography produce and I should say your photography portfolio is becoming glossier in volume and depth.

      I wish you well.

      ~ Jeques

      PM000000100000005031 10, 2007 at 12:00 pm08

  3. Hey good stuff…keep up the good work! I read a lot of blogs on a daily basis and for the most part, people lack substance but, I just wanted to make a quick comment to say I’m glad I found your blog. Thanks,)

    A definite great read…:)

    -Bill-Bartmann

    PM000000120000004830 10, 2007 at 12:00 pm09

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