Taming This Tyke's Voice Since 2007


Faces and Time

Faces and Time

Knowing one self is the greatest discovery one could ever find in this lifetime.



a poem by Jeques, 2009

Notice me.
For once,
Just be with me.
See my heart and soul
And let time
Stand still ~

Look at me.
Show me the spark
behind those eyes
That you would not

Talk to me.
Translate your silence
To words
So I would fathom
The tenderness
In your glances.

Write to me.
Send me letters
Of your heart
So you would fill
My empty page,
This void
In my chamber
That patiently

Visit me.
Anytime of day
While I’m awake
Or even in my dreams
In my hours
Of sleep.

Touch me.
Run your finger tips
On my longing cheeks;
Reach out
For my hands
For your reassuring

Show me.
What’s behind
Those elusive eyes
So afraid
To stay still
Always looking away
From my direction.

Whisper to me.
I want to listen
To your heart
And hear
The language
Of your soul.
Let it speak.
Just for a brief moment,
Please look into my eyes,

Let time stand still ~

And be with me.


a sonnet by Jeques, 2006
I watch the gray twilight through my window
‘Tis dark, and I can’t see the setting sun.
The dusk is darkened by the cloud’s shadow;
The birds that criss-cross the skies are now gone.
My eyes trace the silhouette of a tree;
‘Tis there, but like you, I no longer see.
You’re into places since I set you free;
Oft I wonder if you still think of me.
Tonight, as I rove to the land of dreams,
I hold your thoughts close, afraid to drop you
And lose you in to oblivion’s dark streams.
Oft I doubt if you keep me that way, too.
Tomorrow, when the sun rises again,
I pray there’ll be no clouds, and will not rain.
– – –
I remember this sonnet poem while watching the sunset by my bedroom window yesterday. I wrote this years ago before leaving the Philippines and moved here in Chicago –


a poem by Jeques, 2009


When all the grains
Of smile are drained
Through the lips
Of the time glass,
All the joys gone,
Or so it seems,

What about the morning?

When the refraction of ray
Doesn’t reach you,
Barred by layers
Of doldrums, and soak you
In the dark marshes that drown
Your spirit slowly
Down the quicksand,
Or so it seems,

What about the morning?

When all the fragrance
Has left you
Suffocating in the unsought
Scents of things,
You’re ready to succumb
To obloquies that knock you
Black and blue,
Or so it seems,

What about the morning?

When the sweet tang
Of moments
Tinged your heart
With gawky bitter taste
That numbs you,
And forget their better flavors after,
Or so it seems,

What about the morning?

When icy days
Suddenly embrace you,
Chilled in the midst of strangers;
Unclad even with coats on, and shivering.
Cold in summer sun,
Or so it seems,

What about the morning?

When music halted to a final note,
Lyrics suddenly turn to threnodies
As mirth fades to distance,
And absence.
Duet losing words, and songs,
Or so it seems,

What about the morning?

View everything
From the bottom of the time glass
Ever accepting each speck of grains
Engulfed by its lips,
Collected in the base




Moments ever feed you
With fresh grains again, and again
And again, no end. Once more,
The gifts of the morning
Bring back lost smiles
On the lips of your time glass
To fill your heart,

And think of me.

What about the morning?


a poem by Jeques, 2009
I understand the books on the shelf,
Untouched. Covers gathering dusts
Pages turn yellow, words unread,
Wisdom un-hearkened.
Banquet prepared by writers
Wasted to termites
Leaving disinterested heads unfed,
Hearts failed, voices neglected.
I understand the bud in the wild
That awakens at dawn,
But nobody drops a visit til midday,
Not a single butterfly, not a bee,
And wilts unnoticed at the end of day.

I understand the tree along the river
Bearing fruits all summer;
Releases sweet odor filling the air
Inviting reapers, but nobody came.
Fruits dropping in the stream like tears,
Wasting her gifts again this year.

I understand the green patch of meadow
Hedged by dense forests, bordered by a cliff
Pruned by gazelles and deers
Year after year,
But nobody ever arrives with a mat to picnic;
Not a single soul carrying an easel reaches to paint.
Picturesque view wasted to the wilds.

I understand the sea-shells stranded
In a far-flung coast, unfrequented,
That the surf polish
And washed white by the brines
But no one comes to pick them for souvenir.
encapsulated songs of the ocean
No one hears.

I understand the fate of weeds that grow
In the unwanted crevices
Of the concrete pavements of the city,
Sprouting to embellish her flaws
Cruelly treated, uprooted, tossed.
Seemingly, life undeserved.

I understand the child begging for mercy
Strayed in the maze of life
Without the guidance of a father.
Growing without a map to follow
With promising tomorrow to give,
But dreams wasted on vagabond.

I feel for the logs decaying in the forests;
Treasures lost in the ocean;
Shipwrecks forming rusts in the harbor.

I feel sorry for a bench
That awaits in the park
Comes sunshine or rain;

Pews empty on sundays.

Envelopes not opened,
Letters left unread, unanswered.

I understand the purity of intentions,

I feel for every little things
With so much to offer,
But are never given the chance.

Unanswered beaconing of the church bells.

When are you going to pick up
My heart’s calls?

Jeques, 2009. From his “Traveler’s Soliloquies” poetry collection.


a poem by Jeques, 2008


I select salient picks
From life’s garden
Creating festoon of memories.

I weave them in a tender thread
That binds us ~
The longing serves
As sturdy knots
In between.

I choose
Stunning colors
To embellish the wreath
And hide the sorrows
Now and then.

I collect strands of thoughts
And shared laughter,
And tie them with ribbons
To mark each moment
That I take in.

Those conversations
Would ease the burdens
Of concealed pain,
‘Til we see
Each other again.

I’m weaving a pair of festoon
From colorful memories
Strewn in green:

I will crown your head
Like wreath
Where the memories
Would always remain.

The other,
I’d wear like garland,
Around my neck,
It’s pendant
Rests on my chest

Where love




a poem by Jeques


I flip through the rubbles

Searching for sweet stories

Left from the collapsed
Romance I once built with you.

Memories I don’t want to forget;
Moments I will always remember.

I pick up the fragments,
And like a mosaic,
Paste them on the pages
Of my mind
And bind them with my tenacious heart.

Sweet ruins
Scribbled on crampled papers
Tossed in the heap of rubbles
From our colorful past,




(a poem by Jeques, 2010)


How did you know I’m here?
And you send me the same sunrise
That woke my many childhood mornings.
Only now it greets me every day here
In the other side of the world.

How did you know I went here?
And you secretly filled my luggage with memories
To last me the many years that I’m away.
You equipt me with fuel,
Enough to survive me a lifetime.

How did you know I’m longing?
And you send me short notes that keep me sane
Messages brought here by the winds,
Postcards in the blossoms of flowers,
Your hand written letters in the night skies.

How did you know the things I need?
You read my heart like the open pages
You keep me in the right direction,
And when at times I drift away
You send me signals, I am safe.

How did you know about my dreams?
You give my wishes a sense of place,
All the elements in order at the right time.
You taught me to see the beauty in waiting
And hand me the key to the doors of being.

If you know all these how could I doubt you?
You made the arrangements beforetime.
I throw myself to the morrow in sweet surrender,
For I trust the guarantee of predestined schemes ~
Where the cushion of your will awaits.

If you have leafed through the pages of my soul,
Then there’s no reason for me to fear.
You know exactly this wanting I keep inside me,
Soon a name will fill the space I left blank.
The word I searched to complete my sentences is in your hand.

I welcome the impending sunset,
Knowing you would be there to sit beside me.
For now, I gather the rich harvest of my midday
Getting ready in anticipation
For the sunrise of your arrival.

I trust the will of time this way,
In sweet, sweet surrender.



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