Taming This Tyke's Voice Since 2007

Rising

Sunrise On The Ridges Of Concrete And Steel

I search for signs of home

In the arched-sky.

What I see are walls of concrete and steel.

I long for the warmth of a humid dawn

What I got is the chillly wind of the city.

I miss the morning laughter of home,

The cries of the iron birds taking off

From their concrete nest is what I hear,

Along the sleepless noise in the streets.

My nostrils take in whatever scent

That would bring me wave of nostalgia

What I have are the fumes of the busy traffic.

I need a single soul to remind me of home,

But he’s fast asleep in his room.

This is my saddest daybreak.

Watching a different horizon away from home.

And then it happened.

The sun slowly crawls behind those walls

And rises on the ridges of concrete and steel.

Its first ray catches the tears in my eyes ~

I see dazzling bright lights magnified.

And then I am enlightened.

Somewhere in southeast asia,

In one of the ‘lil isles of the Philippines,

This sun, in the same sky, in different horizon

Rises every morning at home.

And I carries the memories of those sunbreaks

For they are etched inside my chest.

Today turns out to be my happiest morning.

For I know now that the sun

I watch rising on the ridges of concrete and steel

Is the same sun that will rise tomorrow

In the home of my heart.

Only it will rise

On the mountain ridges.

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Waiting For The Morning

 

 

Under the cotton sheets

Face hiding ~

Beneath soft fabric shadow ~

Body contained

Sleepless mind traveling

Beneath soft fabric dreams.

 

Under the cotton sheets

Soul finds refuge ~

Beneath soft fabric shadow ~

Heart in restraints

Set free in dreams

Beneath soft fabric window.

 

Under the cotton sheets

Lost soul found love ~

Beneath soft fabric memories ~

Tamed Heart awake

Waiting for the morning

Beneath soft fabric dawn.

 

 


Transitions

transitions1

Life is a series of coming and going, of departures and arrivals, of leaving and coming-home, And in between are transitions.

I am fascinated with transitions. Each of life’s passages are spellbinding quiet moments that transform us: the stage of becoming.

Like I love to observe that time of day before sunrise, that passage from darkness to the coming of light and the raptures of colors that come in between ~ the advent of life: the dawning.

Like a child awakening and starting to see beauty, the sun, too, rises in the child’s face, when he smiles and that twinkle in his eyes seeing things for the first time.

We fall to rise. The sun sets, but tomorrow it is sure to rise again ~ and the transitions.

Many times, I stumble and fall and felt like darkness over-shadow me. But the morning makes me like a child again, seeing things in different ways, the dawning of understanding and so I rise again to embrace the promise of a new day.

t2

Goodbye my eventide, the dawn’s now here.

Your clinging shadows are all behind me,

‘Tis time I face the light I used to fear,

And welcome the promises of a new day.

~

I will now fold your comforting blanket,

Which has kept me warm and safe overnight.

‘Tis time I place it back in the casket,

My life’s streams will flow and I should not fight.

~

The morning knocks behind the window pane,

I am enthused to rise from my slumber.

To allow the breezes to ease the pain,

From the yesterdays I still remember.

I will open myself like the window.

My body yearns, my eyes long for the light.

I will miss the silence of your shadow,

But I can no longer stay in the night.

~

Farewell darkness my silent confidant.

You know my secrets and heard all my sighs.

Outdoors, my new grounds are turning verdant.

Hello sunrise, would you now end my cries?

(My Silent Confidant By Jesus B. Jamora, 2006)

t3

And life goes on. We progress to the midday of life.

t4

We learn many new things and many new different ways to reach distances ~

as far as we could go.

Becoming is always enriching than being: the hatching.

The bitter-sweet transitions: 

we love and get hurt,

we create memories and bruises,

get scarred but see the stars, 

And yes, we learn anyway.

t5

What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.

We gain wisdom from our falls.

We reach a point of balance, the hard to earn equanimity: the mellowing.

And then we arrive before a fork road or the edge of the coast, the seemingly end of a journey but we see new horizons. We are to choose to move on or stay. 

Is it the arrival or another departure?

t6

No matter how far the distances we go, we are sure to arrive to a sunset.

The afterwords of our journey: the epilogue of life. 

The calm and quiet transition before we close our eyes.  .  .t7

The moment of bliss as we watch the last light before going to a peaceful slumber. 

t8t8

We arrive to the time of life when we need to sit back and see how life has been ~ 

reminiscing moments, finding joy in viewing snapshots of places, things, and people posted in the corkboard of our hearts.

Watching flashbacks, of our life in rewinds.

Like the spellbinding dusk, we find bliss in revisiting colorful memories.

transitions9

The roads that took us away are the same roads that will take us home.

For life is a series of coming and going.

Transitions10

Are the roads we are treading now take us away, or leading us home?

We dapart to arrive, like the sun sets

to rise again.

For life is a series of falling asleep and awakening.

What have we done in between? 

The Photographs were taken during my recent home-coming, and my visit to the spellbinding Boracay Island, Philippines.

Have you visited the Writers Island recently? Please do. Click link below:

http://writersisland.wordpress.com/

This week we are prompted in the island to write about “Spellbound” and “Awakening”

This is my contribution.


As I Travel On

morning flower

Like the seeds and the flowers, I, too, long for the sun to lit my face and so I follow the direction of the light. I don’t turn my back to its warm glow, I tried it once but I only saw shadows. I crawl, and walk, and run, and slowly tread my path towards the light ~ it is the only way I could get a better view of life, of my destiny slowly revealing itself from the distance as I travel on. It’s like waking up, rising, walking and following a spark of light in the morning haze believing the promise to see my full vision coming to life as I travel on.

As I draw the curtains open ~

Welcoming the light to my room ~ in the morning,

I’m warmly greeted by ethereal scenery,

From the window, of the garden.

Velv’ty petals, captivating;

Ferns’ fronds waving, pruned bonsai trees, green leaves sparkling.

The morning dew trickles on the leaves, like pearls dripping.

My secret treasures, my blessings.

.

Along, a light soundtrack playing,

Of winds whistling, and birds in the background chirping.

Closed eyes, I inhale the eucalyptus essence,

Wafting in the air of morning.

.

A breeze steals me a tender kiss,

In my mind, I draw someone’s face and lips, and wish.

Evanescence, with open eyes, it vanishes.

‘Tis gone like a dream, leave no trace.

.

Fruits mellow as I wake today.

Seeds sprout, birds perched and nestle in the mango tree.

Fishes swim in the pond, contained, yet feeling free.

Tendrils cling, vines rising, like me.

(Rising: Welcoming The Light By: Jeques B. Jamora – October, 2005)

As I continue to move forward, the light defines itself and give my life new meaning. Destinies reached become part of the colorful trails I left, like lamp-posts to mark my glorious travels when I look back and re-live the lights of the memories. I continue to rise from the grounds of home that anchors my heart and where I am deeply rooted. So no matter how far the distances I reach as I continue to chase my destiny, I know where I belong, I know my heart’s home.

lightposts

Bay-bay, Roxas City, Philippines 

In a tropical isle in the southeast,

 

Is a dormant waif seed with lots of dreams.

He is home, but his soul seems not at rest,

For across the seas his destiny beams.

 

 

.

Visions often visit him in his sleep ~

Winds taking him to his frontier west.

In a tedious journey, ardous and steep,

He feels the adventures pound in his chest.

.

 

He drinks the sweet mists oozing to the earth

That nourish the seed’s dreams, feeding his soul.

He feels the world’s warmth while inside his hearth,

And thrives through the earth’s generous heart dole.

.

His homeland gives his dreams a sense of place.

Your encouragements kindle his life’s blaze.

 

 

(Nourished By Jeques B. Jamora – March, 2006. A poem I wrote before I left the Philippines)

This week, the Writers Island prompts us to write on ‘Rising‘ and ‘Destiny.’ These are my thoughts, these are the songs that my soul sings, and I know many in http://writersisland.wordpress.com would love to listen. Please visit the island where many souls are singing.