Taming This Tyke's Voice Since 2007

reminiscing

My Genesis

~

I delight watching things from their outset,

I am soothe to see the genesis of things.

They remind me of the child, the curious eyes

Ever sparkling within.

 

I see beauty in simpleness of anything even at their lowly outset,

For they possess the genuine truth of precious purity.

They remind me of my beginnings

Like the water glorybinds(kangkong) growing wild in the marshes,

They bring back memories of the backyards

Of some houses I lived as a child.

Water glorybind, river spinach,swamp cabbage, whatever name you call it, for me its "Tangkong" Pencil, pen and ink on paper by Jeques B. Jamora, 2010

In some quiet afternoons during my untamed moments,

I would sit motionless in a corner facing the swamp in our backyard

Listening to the soothing sounds, the slightest of movements

In the still water at one o’clock

When the world in my young mind

Takes a nap with my mother on her siesta.

I would sneak out of the house through the backdoor

To celebrate the joy of my earliest  found solitude

In the company of nature ~

 

Befriending the dragonflies hovering over my head,

The birds nestling in the reeds,

The snails petiently taking thier journeys from one rock to the next,

While my mind quietly travels to the unknown future

Interrupted by occasional sightings of the gourami

That stir the still water creating tiny ripples on the surface.

 

But the highlight of the afternoon is the rare sighting of the mudfish(dalag)

Making that splash and swashing sound and wild movements

In the dense growth of the water glorybinds as it swims back to the bushes of reeds,

Where the water of the marshes is knee deep and the herons(tagak) nest.

That magical moment of brief beautiful chaos tickles purest joy of childhood madness.

 

Cherished memories from my genesis ~

My earliest form of entertainment: my humble version of television,

Or a theatre; watching a movie or a concert ~ my idea of a grand show

Happening in our backyard in an atypic stage, in a silverscreen of water glorybinds

Where the dragonflies, the frogs, the birds, the gourami, the snails, the herons, the mudfish

Are the stars, and I, their sole audience.

 

The show ends with the voice of my mother calling my name at four o’clock.

That’s when the curtains drop,

The world wakes up,

As I walk back home to the door of my genesis.

"The Dragonfly and I"

 

 —

Jeques, 2010. From his “Traveler’s Soliloquies poetry collection.

 

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Morning Panes(tanka/painting series)

  “Morning Panes”(Tanka and painting) series #1 of 3
   
Dreams sojourn ~
 Whimsy reflections
 On morning panes ~
 
Coquetting the mind
Crooning dormant soul.
 
"morning panes" #1 oil on canvas 30x40, by Jeques B. Jamora “morning panes” #1 oil on canvas 30×40, by Jeques B. Jamora

 

"morning panes" series #1 to 3 “morning panes” series #1 to 3
“Morning Panes” (Tanka and Painting) series #2 of 3 
  
Dormant soul
Hatching, awaiting
Dawn’s misty kiss ~
 
Artist awakens
Broods nestle on trees.
 
"morning panes" #2 oil on canvas 30x40, by Jeques B. Jamora, 2009 “morning panes” #2 oil on canvas 30×40, by Jeques B. Jamora, 2009

 

 
morning panes
 
“Morning Panes” (Tanka and Painting) series #3 of 3
 
  
Courage ingrained
Inside broken soul’s
Callus chest ~
  
Anticipating sunrise
Awaiting to exhale.
"morning panes" #3 oil on canvas 38x48, by Jeques B. Jamora “morning panes” #3 oil on canvas 38×48, by Jeques B. Jamora
.
I have paintings conceived from poems.
 
The images of these paintings initially presented themselves to me in words. Morning Panes, a painting series of 3(at least for now, there is more to it) is one of them. It first came to me in a poem I composed in 2003. The poem visited me in a peculiar dream of a dream within a dream. I believe many of us had experienced that, dreaming in our dream, waking up still asleep. Or is it only me?
 
That dream is a tiny drop of inspiration that created ripples of poetry series. I used to write a lot, I had the freedom of time back home and I can afford to really sit down and study my thougths and dreams in my morning pages. In 2003 I wrote the poem, Images Of You. . . 

 
In my dream
I watch you in your sleep.
My heart feels glad,
My heart leaps.
  
Images of you haunt me ~
  
From the time I wake,
‘Til my sleep.

 

That dream was so vivid I immediately wrote a poem when I awake. The imagery from the dream and the words in the poem lingered in my thoughts which I first expressed visually in a drawing, My Morning Pane, Februay, 2005. It is a self-sketch of myself on bed in my room back home in the Philippines which is the original setting of the dream, the poem, the painting.
"my morning panes" pencil on paper by Jeques, 2005 
“my morning panes” pencil on paper by Jeques, 2005
 
In 2006, I wrote another poem from the same inspiration, Evanescent Romance, this poem fits well in series #2 of the painting. Note the change of the window from the previous, it represents the many rooms we sleep and the multitude of window panes we wake up with in our lifetime yet dreaming the same dreams. Here’s the poem: 
 

We are joined by our hearts’ seeking radars.
 Our souls converge at midnight’s deep blue skies.
 We talk, our words are the infinite stars.
 We feel so intimate with our closed eyes.
 Our unions are chronicled by my pen.
 The winds’ soft whistles signal your presence.
 Your image flickers through my window pane ~
 Silhouette of my dream-lover’s essence.
 In my mind I touch the face of heaven,
 When you croon to me lovesongs of silence.
   Bliss is what my thoughts of you has given.
 You illumined my lonely existence. 
Romance confined in shadows of the night. 
 ‘Tis evanescent with the morning light.

 

These are some of the few poems I wrote that ended up on canvas, in visual form, in paintings.
 
But there are also inspirations that presented themselves to me first in visual arts. They become drawings, or sketches, or paintings instantly. In these instances, my brushstrokes are my words to create imageries that frequent my thoughts.
  
To complete the circle of poems becoming paintings and paintings becoming poems, I used the painting series, “Morning Panes” as subject and inspiration to my poems for this week’s workshop on the ancient poetry form: the Tanka. It dates back to the 7th century. A poem of five lines of 5/7/5/7/7 syllable count respectively. I strictly followed this rules in the previous Tanka’s I composed but in the workshop I attend, I learned the freedom from the Tanka minimalists, and the modern american tanka which is less restricting as to the syllable count and rather focusing on the importance of expressing an emotion or deep thought in a concise manner in the five lines which is the true beauty of writing a Tanka. Shorter syllable count in each line when achieved in 19-24 or even shorter in 15 counts at the very least instead of 31 is preferred in the modern tanka.
  
Using the Tanka structure, I took out pictures of my paintings and from the deepest recesses of my core extract words that would best express the brushstrokes. Series #3 of the painting fully express my sentiments as a dormant artist awaiting to exhale, an egg hatching, a seed awaiting for springtime, a child awaiting to be born.
And when I come to think of it, this circle of paintings becoming poems, and the poems’ metamorphosis becoming paintings, I come to realize that there’s really no single strand or line that separates them. When I paint, the brushstrokes are my words. When I write, the words are my brushstrokes to create imageries. Sketches and drawings are my scribbles, my drafts.
  
It is my commitment to my craft to achieve such seamless fusion of my paintings and poetry for both are conceived and born from my heart.
 
  
 *For more of my paintings, please click image to navigate to my art portfolio >>> 
 
 waif

  


While I Was Waiting

Waiting, I sit on the city’s park-bench

And observe the busy pedestrian

Like a parade, as time moves in a cinch.

.

Some images conjure up memories

Bringing pain back that feels like heart pinch.

Reminding me of sad journal entries.

.

Some happy thoughts, too, unreel in my mind

As strangers traverse the concrete walk ways.

Evoking flashbacks like films in rewind.

.

People swarm the makeshift stalls of flowers

Picking colorful blooms in varied kinds.

Their petal droppings are lovely litters.

But I doubt it would be conspicuous

To the eyes of a city street sweeper

Whose life a routine and contenuous.

.

A grain of sweat trickles on my forehead.

My body reaction is congruous

To summer heat ~ it shines like precious bead.

.

The sounds of busy traffic in the street

Subdue the past’s bells ringing in my head.

Years go on, but things hasn’t changed a bit.

.

And then, I feel light pats on my shoulder.

I see your face, my waiting is over.

When was the last time you paid attention to the details of life? ~ Jeques


April Rain

My senses tell me it’s about to rain,

I run and take refuge in a cavern.

Paying attention, I sooth all the pain,

And allow the rain to heal  me again.

Cavern

I smell the earth’s intoxicating scents

Brought by the swift pouring of april rain.

I seize the boon after the solemn lent,

The earth exults, now my re-birth will reign.

~

Brilliant drizzles of crystal clear raindrops

Quench the the thirst of the fruit trees of summer.

The rain showers refill the plants’ sweet saps

That would make season’s harvest juicier.

~

A damselfly alight on the reed’s blade.

Pellucid mist caught on its net-veined wings.

Raindrops form pools in the forest’s glade

The earth’s bosom bears the heaven’s blessings.

~

The rain stops and winds blow the clouds away

To bathe other grounds with april shower.

I’m enriched by my silent reverie.

‘Tis time I bequeath the cavern’s shelter.

I wish when april rain reaches your place,

You would pay attention and seize its grace.

~

 

 

 


Nostalgia(For Writers Island)

nostalgia1

“Nostalgia” oil on canvas, 30×38. By: Jesus Jeques B. Jamora, November 2007

I was born and I grew up in one of my homeland’s scattered islands, in the heart of the Philippine Archipelago. Our country is embraced by the sea; if God is the ocean, then He must have loved the Filipinos so much. We are constantly caressed by the sea waves come high tide or low tide,  the ocean enfolds us. We are generously showered by God’s salty kisses.

nostalgia6

 

Rare pearls of south sea

Strewn on far off  shores

Conspicuous gems.

(From my Filipino Immigration, Haiku Series #5)

The beach is one thing I miss about home ~ my walks in the sea shores, the brine touching my skin, the sand tickling the soles of my feet, the view of the open sea’s apparent horizon nourishing my dreams. I am now here ”beyond that horizon,” which I just used to watch in my walks in the strands.

Sometimes, you will never really know and understand a thing until you stay away from it. I now undertand better what I love about my country, and what I miss about home. The sea is one of them.

My earliest memory of the sea are the mangroves. These dense thickest along the rivers and the tidal shores was my first view of the sea. We live in the inland, so before I saw the endless emerald green seas under the azure skies, my young eyes was already captured by this mystical greens that lined the coasts and the river banks. There is something in their verdancy that transport me back in time.

Mangroves are time machines of my nostalgia for simplier, uncomplicated life of childhood. It brings me back to the summer of my youth, of my first boat ride, of  fishing, of hunting, of swimming in the pristine river brine. My happy thoughts and bitter-sweet longing for my first sunburn.

nostalgia5nostalgia2

Photographs from my recent home-coming to the Philippines.

— 

The Sea, You and Me

I’ve seen how everything are connected

That somehow we are one ~ interrelated.

As I tread the sands stretching to the sea,

And my size is engulfed by its infinity,

I watch in great wonder how God links things.

And How God connected you to me~

.

The seawaves gently kissing the seashores.

The shore that’s bed to the infinite sands.

The sand that reaches the roads, that lead me home.

The home inside my heart where you belong.

.

You are safe in my heart you are home now.

Today, as you open the doors, streets you will see.

.

Walk the streets, it will lead you to me.

The many winding roads take you somewhere,

To the beach, maybe.

The beach where the sands are gathered

Forming the fine strands kissed by the sea.

The sea that stretches reaching me here.

The enormous sea that links you to me.

nostalgia3

Thinking of the sea, painting the mangroves, feeding my nostalgia. When shall the salty sea-breeze of home ever kiss me again?

~ Jeques

nostalgia

 

 


Valentines Seen In A Different Light

valentines 3

Dawn: The moon and the sleepless sea. Boracay Island, Philippines

I never had somebody to call mine,

Nobody ever called me their Valentine.

.

A Certified single since birth,

I share to no one my life’s mirths.

.

I understand, and have few compaints.

I remain not jaded, am free of taints.

.

There’s no space for bitterness in my heart,

Ardor overflows in its every part.

valentines 2

 Midday: Taking Sails. Boracay Island, Philippines

 —

But no matter how strong or smart I am,

There’s no guarantee that pain wouldn’t come.

.

I welcome pain with open mind,

I wait for love for me to find.

.

I loved and was hurt, too, once.

Though ’twas an unconsumated romance.

.

We took on sail, but not moored our feelings.

So we soared and fell like birds with broken wings.

.

There are no more emblems left of our love,

But the sad poems chanted by a waif dove.

valentines

Dusk: Waif dove. Boracay Island, Philippines 

 —

Pages turn yellow, and the mind forgets,

But the soul recalls the songs of our heartbeats.

.

And now, for a broken heart like mine,

How would I greet you, Happy Valentines?

.

I’ve nothing to share, I could only comment:

Anchor your love, celebrate each moment.

.

You’ll never know how special the love you’ve done,

Til the person you’ve shared it with is gone.

~


My 8 Days Series Poem: Changes

day-1

 Changes (Day – 1)

You help me embrace life completely,

All these years I live but did not see;

All the wonderful things around me.

I always revere the morning, alright!

But not as intense the way ’tis today.

I see every ‘lil gifts somehow,

That each morning unfolds to me now.

My eyes are astute with colors, I know.

But not keen as my eyes now do.

I now see the silver lines in blue.

‘Tis not color blindness,

Dont get me wrong, please no!

I just see the brighter side of life now,

And these are all because of you.

So many more stories to tell you,

But I will just save ‘em for tomorrow.

I have written a list, it is long though.

But I would like to share ‘em all with you ~

day-2

 Changes (Day – 2)

The sun now peeks through the mountain ridges.

In hand is my pen,

And you’re in my mind again.

.

I’ve got to go on with changes.

You’ve got to know what exactly are these.

.

As I open my eyes to start the day,

I find things at the right places

As if they were all prepared for me.

I’m not sure of this exactly.

Have I look at them now differently?

Well then, I must really be so lucky.

.

Before, I would just drag myself out of bed.

Rise from my slamber with an aching head.

I’m up, but I would rather stay in bed.

There was no reason to wake up anyway,

Or move on and live.

.

But now, rising is easier for me.

Having you in mind changed everything ~

My thoughts, my life, my morning ~

.

You’re the reason I wake up every day.

Isn’t that wonderful?

‘Tis great, you see.

.

So many more stories to tell you,

But I will just save ‘em for tomorrow.

I have written a list, ’tis long though.

But I would like to share ‘em all with you.

day-3

Cahnges (Day – 3)

Good Day!

You must have waited for me

To listen to the story, I cut short yesterday.

.

I’ve disclosed to you how I wake up.

Today, I’ll reveal how I’ve almost stopped,

In the verge of giving up.

.

The agony is intense

The hurting is within.

I am sweating so cold that I almost give in.

I saw the light slowly dying.

My heartbeats are slowing.

My soul is dying.

.

This is not the first,

But the worst for some time.

I feel numbed, and I don’t seem to care.

In one brief instance,

I was almost there.

But something has changed within me.

I’m surprised I thrived today.

I heared my inner voice begging me to stay.

.

I gather my strength and just breath.

Darkness is behind me, the lights are ahead.

‘Tis your love that saved me from death.

You are my spring time.

Enough said.

.

So many more stories to tell you,

But I will just save ‘em for tomorrow.

I have written a list, it is long though.

But I would like to share ‘em all with you.

day-4

Changes (Day – 4)

I know you’re there waiting for this.

You want to know, what else is there,

What’s more with changes.

Well then, let me now end your weariness.

.

I was given a second lease of life, another chance.

I will not stop, I will go the distance.

I will chase my destiny,

My sails are ready.

I will reap sweet victories,

For you are with me.

.

In moments of uncertainties

Someone is ahead to pave my way.

He clears the narrow arteries,

He builds bridges for me.

.

He is my life raft in the rough seas;

My compass when terrains are hazy.

I fear no more my journey’s dark alleys,

For God lights a candle inside me.

.

So many more stories to tell you,

But I will just save ‘em for tomorrow.

I have written a list, ’tis long though.

But I would like to share ‘em all with you.

day-5

Changes (Day – 5)

My thoughts of you

Wake me up today.

You’d think, there’s nothing new

It happens everyday.

But listen, there are more changes in me.

.

You made me smile, ’tis more than that

You’re the source of my laughter.

You ease my sorrows, ’tis more than that

You made my days and moods brighter.

.

We become closer each day, ’tis more than that

We get along so well.

You’re my friend, ’tis more than that

We’re like secret lovers.

.

The morning turns exciting, ’tis more than that

Each moment is exhilarating.

I have good night rests, ’tis more than that

I’m at peace with God, you made my heart sing.

.

You’re more than everything I asked for

You’re more than anything I need.

And still, you’re more than all that.

.

So many more stories to tell you,

But I will just save ‘em for tomorrow.

I have written a list, ’tis long though.

But I would like to share ‘em all with you.

day-6

Changes (Day – 6)

‘Tis the 6th day, I’ve gone a long way

Changes brought me this far

I am immersed completely.

.

I’ve lived my life for no reason;

That’s how it used to be.

But now each moment leaves a lesson

You changed me all the way.

.

You’re in every speck of me ~

In my art, in my dreams ~

You’re in every details I see.

.

I see your face painted in the flowers,

I feel your essence in the air I breath.

I see your eyes sparkle in rain showers,

You’re a gemstone in the sands of myth.

.

So many more stories to tell you,

But I will just save ‘em for tomorrow.

I have written a list, ’tis long though

But I would like to share ‘em all with you.

day-7

Changes (Day – 7)

You pulled me up from a muck,

You released me when I was stuck ~

The better side of me were unlocked.

Looking back from where I started,

You enriched me completely, indeed.

For one, you’ve made me said

All the things I’ve ever wanted.

.

My mind in bondage has been freed.

The restraints in my heart ~ I once consented ~

Have been emancipated.

.

‘Tis great to think with a free mind;

‘Tis wonderful to love with an unrestrained heart.

.

A new beginning has dawned today.

You are God’s precious gift for me.

.

There’s a finale to every story

In changes, ours will end differently.

Our love-tale will evolve incessantly.

Till death it will grow in you and me.

.

There is one more thing I want to tell you,

But I will just save that for tomorrow.

My written list is now down to zero.

But I’d like to share one last thing with you.

day 8

 Changes ( Day  8 )

I started this journey blind.

There is no map for me to guide.

I only have you in my mind,

And my faith in God to ride.

~

The circle is now complete

Changes have reached day eight.

The winding roads are now straight ~

Changes unreeled our love’s fate.

~

What remain constant in this world are changes.

I can’t contend with life’s realities.

Love alone can defy all these.

I have seized forever in eight days.

~

You helped me embrace life completely.

A brighter tomorrow with you, I see.

You can be certain of this with me.

I feel stillness of heart with you today.

~

And now, what’s left for us to do

Is to make eternity come true.

~

Changes are the series of poems I wrote April 9 to April 16, 2003. It’s through this series that I coined my life’s Mantra: 

‘Tis Great to think with a free mind; ‘Tis wonderful to love with an unrestrained heart.” 

The images attached are the series of photographs of Bay-bay, Roxas City’s Sunrise, which I took during my recent home-coming to the Philippines. This is the beach where I used to do my morning walks, where I got the inspiration and where this series of poems was conceived.

https://jeques.wordpress.com/2008/02/05/when-the-feeling-is-gone/ is the recent sequel to the series.

 

Changes is my contribution for the Writers Island prompt this week: Changed.

Please click link below to navigate to the writers island:

http://writersisland.wordpress.com/


Beneath Your Firm Grip

— 

2003, Philippines 

~ 

I am forever tracing in my mind

The creases in your palms,

When you pressed it close to mine ~

Your last strong grip,

Our last hand shake ~

Then we bade goodbye.

— 

2008, Chicago

We met again,

We said hello.

I anticiapated a hand shake

That never happened.

I waited.

And then,

In an unexpected moment

Your reach out your hand

For a hand shake.

I accepted.

In that brief moment

Beneath your usual firm grip

I trace the creases

In your palms I missed,

But they’re not there ~

.

We were wearing gloves.

‘Tis winter.

~


On Overcoming Fears

I wrote this piece years back after I watch the film Gattaca for a friend I was beginning to open up my defenses. But it was fleeting and gone before I even realized that I have uncovered so much of myself already. That brief instant, made me reveal myself but more important, it made me examine my life and eventually gave me the courage to come to terms with my fears.

~~

 

I am tough, I’m strong. You think I am? You’re wrong.

For there are fears I never confronted

In my life’s circles I just tag along ~

Dare me say it ~ I just compensated.

.

I fear rejections, so I am alone.

My first taste of it when I was young,

Pierced me deep to my bone.

The scar ever fresh from the rejection’s fang.

.

I’m scared of goodbye’s, so I fear saying hello.

Why start a conversation that would end?

Friends like pages untouched turn yellow.

If only I have one, but trusted friend.

.

I fear mistakes, so I keep on learning.

I hunger for things that feed my mind.

But they never satiate this empty feeling.

They simply fill the time of my kind.

.

I fear failures, so I’m over working.

Thinking that work makes me happy.

Failures are lost when I’m absorbed on something.

But I was wrong, my job just enslave me.

.

I fear falling in love, so I forsake love.

The sting of rejection hits me this far.

‘Tis my shield, the only ghetto I have.

Hard to decipher like a mystic star.

.

I fear death, so I go on living.

This compensation did me more good.

Life moves me to face what I’m fearing.

Fate brought me standing before a forked road.

.

Should I walk back, move forth, or run away?

And just do the things that are expected of me.

I step forward and tread the road to a new day.

This path will determine my destiny.

.

My life from this point is how I choose it.

New beginnings prod me, and I don’t fear a bit.

~

Years later, as I write this, I re-examine my life. Where did that road took me? My choice made me go the distance, but it’s sad that the same road split my path from my friend who knows so much about me. And I’m not sure if somewhere, along the highways we tread, we’ll reach a station where our life’s paths would cross again.

 

 

 


My First Snow(Re-posted for Writers Island)

Merry Christmas everyone!

The writing prompt this week at http://writersisland.wordpress.com/ is “This Season.” Thoughts battled in my mind on what to write and share to the islanders this week. I’m celebrating the holiday season this year in silence, work as usual and I’m intentionally ignoring the season being alone away from home, with my father in the hospital battling with cancer back in the Philippines ~ it’s quite depressing. But I don’t want to drag everyone to my own worries. I have so much to be grateful than to complain about. So I decided to re-post my entry about my first snow last year. “This season” is for kids, my first snow is the season that the child within me patiently waited. 

1st snow.

 My first snow, December, 2006.

Year 2006 

I feel restless unable to stay focused on my review class, there is that unsettling force of a child in me that could not wait. I tried to keep my eyes and ears to the lecture reminding myself that I need this review and I need to pass the NCLEX. But the longer I stay seated the more I become uncomfortable unable to absorb the lessons. My mind is somewhere outside. 

I excused myself out, taking the heat for a reason ~ it was turned high because of the anticipated snow storm tonight. I need a fresh air to breath. I went out of the building with only my sweater on to find out what makes this child-like unsettling force in me.

My eyes sparkle, I shiver from the mix cold and excitiement. I raise my head to the heavens, I opened my palms and my arms in acceptance ~ and for the first time, the snow touched my brown skin.

That is how I’m going to remember my first snow. You just don’t understand how that feels. I was 34 when I first saw and felt my first snow touching my brown skin. The child inside me waited for that moment. It was bliss.100_00631.JPG

My first snow, December, 2006 

~

The morning after.

I draw the curtain open and from the window I saw the world around me had turned white overnight. I view it wide-eyed like a child. The images of the lovely tracks of vehicles and shoes in the snow-covered grounds was captured in mind and printed in my heart forever.  

~

Today, already an RN, I walk fast the concrete side walk, cotton soft to my steps with 5 inches of snow that carpet my path. The icy winds brush my my face with frozen kisses carrying my thoughts to distant past. I watch a child viewing a christmas card of snow dreaming of white christmas.

The child has arrived.