Taming This Tyke's Voice Since 2007


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The grains that once abound the plains

Were pushed to the edge.

The last kernel of hope

Blown by the wanton winds

Off the cliff, vanishing

In the unfathomed abyss

Of closure.


The creases in the palms

That once fit together mismatched.

The street signs have lost their meaning.

Directions lead to circles of nowhere.

Like the fireplace that lost its flames

Confined in the cold marbled-wall, inutile.

The last kernel of hope

That once send beams of light wanes.

Its fighting chance dissolves

As it slowly descends

To its cold death bed.


The curtain of the night drops.

The howling of the wind

That echoes in the canyon

Cloaked the silence of closure.


Heaven sends its final greeting

In the form of raindrops

Kissing hope



Postscript: Listening to the soundtrack of the musical, Mamma Mia! while driving yesterday strum a poetic cord in me to write the poem.

I wish you well.

~ Jeques


2 responses

  1. this poem reminds me of the film and the book “wuthering heights”. your verses read like segments of the film personifying lost, disillusion, defeat and resignation.

    ” Its fighting chance dissolves

    As it slowly descends

    To its cold death bed.”

    intense feelings of hope waning like the old light beams of the lighthouse in the distance, flickering in faint light. there is no hope for the sailors battling the raging seas and this is a great tragedy.

    ” Heaven sends its final greeting

    In the form of raindrops

    Kissing hope


    what a fitting closure to this poem.

    AM00000080000003330 10, 2007 at 12:00 am06

  2. Marvin,

    The elements that made up the scenes/imagery of the poem came from my collection of recorded vignettes of my daily observations:

    The street signs that lost their meaning for example is a mental note I did when my GPS was giving me wrong directions to a location because of the detour imposed for a road construction – so I was literally going circles and lost. The old and unused fireplace became an interesting piece in the corner of a coffee shop, but doesn’t function anymore its purpose.

    I dropped “Hope” in the cliff, because in life we go through such moments sometimes, when we feel like we totally lost it. I thought of using the falling petals of the tulips blown by the wind at first in place of the “kernel” in referrence to my recent view of the field of tulips in holland, MI, but then it would be harder for me later to resurrect hope which for me should be immortal. I used the kernel/seed for that purpose – I dropped it in the abyss, unfathomed and used some elements of the canyon as a prelude to my highly anticipated Grand Canyon tour next month.

    And by ending it in the goodnight note of raindrops kiss from heaven, it made the poem really very sad in the surface, but if we think about it, the streams of water from the rain would transport the seed somewhere it could grow, even on its death bed. Hope, I believe, is immortal.

    Thanks for taking time reading my piece and dropping me such great feedback as ever.

    I wish you well.

    ~ Jeques

    AM000000100000001130 10, 2007 at 12:00 am06

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