Taming This Tyke's Voice Since 2007

Sea

Bait

 

You are always ripples away,

The tides ever

Between us.

 

Series of hurdles

As it appears in the surface

That this meek soul

Secretly transcends beneath;

Away from the prying eyes

Of predation.

 

You are designed

For cruel intentions,

That is how the world sees you.

But for the many years

That I followed your lead,

I learned to give your purpose

A different meaning.

 

I am grateful

To the hands that keep my safety

Disguised in undulation ~

Of the sudden swell of  waves between us.

Oftentimes your absence disheartens me,

Scared of losing you to the crest of tides, 

But reassured to see you still there

When the morning after 

Calms the bubbling surfs,

That in many occasions pushed us apart.

 

I praise the hands that hold

The mysterious fishing pole

And for chosing you the bait,

And thank time, too,

For helping me understand.

You are the reason

Why I swim the extra laps;

Take another stroke,

No matter how helpless

My frail attempts ~

Against the raging currents ~

Just to be near you.

 

Reason that I doubt,

The world’s shallow definition

Of predator and prey 

Would ever come to comprehend.

 

Your lead brought me to the deeps,

You are the pivot that draws me to the blue;

A hope that keeps my buoyancy,

And not sink in the ocean,

In the heart of possibilities.

 

When are you going to consume me?

 

~

(Follow the lead of your dream, trust the hands that hold the fishing pole and His design where the bait is going to take you. ~ Jeques)

The dragonfly is always been my metaphor in following the lead of my dreams. I used to chase them in the green fileds when I was a kid, like my dreams that I continue to chase as grown up.

—–

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

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Highlights

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of my recent home-coming

 

and fun-filled vacation

 

to my home land:

 

The Philippines

 

 

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Mind Games and Coloring Books

 

Soar with me to heights unbounded,

Dreams go on and on

Defying concrete fences

Built by customs’

Narrow bounderies.

 

We can fly high and re-arrange stars

Put them to places we want them

Or take them home if we should,

Linger for awhile if we would

We are the law

In the mind games

I would play with you.

 

We’ll assign the stars colors

Give the comets names

Like we did in coloring books as kids

And for a moment we were  the gods

Controlling the the courses of the universe

As we please.

 

I’d like to wake you up

Where the lashes of the forests

Grew unruly,

Where litters are beautiful,

Orderly not good,

And neatness is not known

Under my decorated skies.

"our mirths" oil on canvas 36x36 by Jeques B. Jamora, 2009

I’d swim with you in the ocean

Where nobody drowns

And the raindrops swim with us,

Crown our heads 

Bejeweled with brilliant wreaths

As we emerge in the surface

Sharing mirths.

 

Let me invite you in a repast

From the bounty of my harvest

Where beverages flow no end.

We don’t have to worry

For the banquet replenishes,

And we don’t have to gain weight

For the body regulates itself.

 

Stroll with me in a leisurely walk

Where time freezes to four o’clock

When the sun is friendly,

The wind acquiesce as the crowd consenting,

And the perfumed path we chose

Under the canopy of greens and blooms

Ends in the sea where the sunset

Prepared us a breath-taking show

In the altar of the gods.

 

Let us hold hands

In the silence of the songs

That our hearts sing in unison,

Promising vows of forever

Witnessed by the dances of the dolphins

Recorded  by the ears of the ocean

Encapsulated by the infinite seashells

Strewn in the bed of sands

Of the seashore where our feet

Are planted in the grounds

Of a home we found in each other.

 

If I could have things my way

I would play mind games

And spend coloring books with you,

But if not,

Would you still love me?

 

Jeques, 2010


Message From A Wreck(Prose Poem)

Message From A Wreck , A Prose Poem by Jeques for summer poetry workshop at Evanston, Week 4

message from a wreck for poetry workshop

message from a wreck for poetry workshop

My greatest fear is to lose the photographs I neatly arrange in the pages of my heart, and ultimately drop myself in the dark chasm of oblivion, soaking the memories’ negatives like a wrecked ship watching it’s own decay reflected on the steady waters of some unknown harbor, in some nameless deserted island. But that’s exactly what’s left of me, a wrecked soul, after my head on collision with reality, finding the photographs of memories we keep together stained with lies ~ here I am marooned, watching the grayed horizon, unsure if the sun would ever rise again for us. Frail and  crawling, I pick each grain of precious thoughts strewn in the shore and scribble them in the blank pages of heaven, slowly taken away from my sight by the twilight. Perhaps you will forget, and against my will, perhaps I would, too. but the heaven never will. So I send this letter to the lone witness of what we had, I send these words to heaven for her keeping.

Our story begun in the young hours of our life when the flower has not yet seen the rays of the sun that would pierce the delicate fabric of the pastel skies. We met in the eyes without really seeing each other’s souls in those brief glances, our vision hazed by the sea of strangers criss-crossing the cold space between us ~ together, but we’ve never really been. I look up to watch the flocks of birds criss-crossing the skies and I go back to the days when the closest moments we’ve really been is the touching of our palms in the conversations of whispered soliloquies we never told each other, and that only the heaven heard. For how would you call a rendezvous without even just a single picture to prove it happaned. It is nothing but a fancied romance, a fictional story, a hollowed dream that vanishes at daybreak. Why should I continue to weave a love-tale with someone so afraid to pause for a portrait with me, or to even cherish my company. But don’t feel guilty, my father could not even love me.

The fabrics of our horizon in the past, hand painted by God, were washed empty by the rain and we never really saw the sunrise that morning when our story begun, just like now that the gray clouds dance in the blue void above me threatening a heavy down pour, and just like our sunrise, I’m afraid again that we’ll have to content ending this story not seeing the sunset, not bading goodbye. 

The sound of the soft touch of drizzles in the shore, along the threnody of the winds and the rumbling of breakers are the repertoire of goodbye we never said. The scent of the first few raindrops mixing with the brine permeates in the air, this is the smell of our unnoticed parting. The liquid beads from heaven conceal my shy tears hidden in the corners of my eyes, their union caused a genial trickle of loneliness inside me that I poured down the ocean where the immensity of humanity’s sadness are emptied and purified in the heart of the earth for hopes to be born again out from the ruins, out from the many wrecks stranded in this island of loneliness where I am, where you left me watching the twilight in the grayed horizon devoid of color ~ where our story ends.

I don’t hope you to read this, but the heavens will. Some morning, this scribbling will float ashore, some soul from  some coast would pick this message from a wreck to rescue my memories from the dark chasm of oblivion. The photographs I neatly arrange in the pages of my heart will be safe. I’m ready to embrace the fate of the nightfall, I close my eyes to an ending, or is it the beginning?  

I fear no more my greatest fear.

This week is our 4th in the poetry workshop, and we are doing Prose Poetry. This week, let me bring you to a deserted island and let me whisper words from a wreck heart. The poem is inspired by the classic tale of the message in the bottle. I wrote, prepared and presented my prose poem from the inspiration and yes, it perfectly fits the idea of telling something you wouldn’t want to tell anybody unless you’re stranded, lost, nameless, dying.

message from a wreck 2

 


The Silent Spectator

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I remain a silent spectator, a bystander watching love from the coast. I have not yet placed that last card in the table, I have not yet gambled my heart to anyone. I’m like a boat watching the ocean wanting to sail, but choose to remain in the harbor, in the seashore silently waiting. I’m known to be always in control, I’m independent minded. I maneuver my own life, never afraid to plunge into the ocean of uncertainties but when it comes to love, I chose to stay in the harbor. Love, like anything else, is a game of chance, you gamble and you put your heart at stake. It is not really fear that’s stopping me ~ that could be when I was younger. But now, that’s not really the reason.

This is the time of my life when I already know how to choose my battles  ~ so I don’t rush anymore into something that’s not worth it. That, I think, explains why I remain an observer, still unattached and why I choose to remain a silent spectator at this point of my life. I view a quite different side of love from this angle, not too many would understand me especially in this age when people get hooked to anything “instant.” I’m not coward, or jerk or something, don’t get me wrong. No. I’m a risk taker in other fields but not with love. I place love in the highest esteem, I vow not to play with it. If I find somebody who would share to view love this way from this angle, I would be glad to gamble. It is only then that I would finally place my last card on the table, it is only then that I would gamble my heart and take on sail.

It is for this reason that I haven’t written anything “Torrid.” For how could I write something that I haven’t really done. I have two poems written which used the word “torrid,” in quite unusual manner, I think they express that unconcious yearning inside. I thought these poems are the soft whispers of my heart, the silent spectator.

~

My Story begins in the morning, before sunrise;
Stars are nowhere to be seen in the gray morning skies;
The roads are wet from the rain that bathe the humid night.
A quiet place; shadows fade, giving in to the lights.

I closed my eyes briefly, and smelled the essence of dawn:
The scents from flower buds opening to greet the sun;
Ricefields smoldering with fog of morning after rain;
And the aroma of coffee from someone’s kitchen.

I heard the crickets’ noise behind the bushes fading,
And the frogs in nearby streams praising God for the rain.
My eyes sparkled to the lights of the fleeting moments;
The roasters’ cries awakened me from my reverie.

The sun peeks through the lush trees creeping up slowly;
In awe, I watched the drama unfolding before me.
The wild wanton wind blow my cheeks with torrid kisses;
I wished it came from the lips of a love I longed to have.

The day is bright; the flowers I can now see clearly;
The verdant fields, and azure skies in their hued glory.
I saw birds taking off the skies, soared, chasing the lights;
They streached their wings wider, as they fly higher today.

I feel like the birds embarking to a pristine day;
Like the fishes swimming toward the heart of the sea.
Travelling, I, too, am ready to conquer the day;
I tread the roads, and cross the sea; I am on my way.

(From the poe , “Traveling: Chasing The Lights,” By: Jeques B. Jamora, 2005) 

 ~

Wary of waking the isle that still sleeps,
I dress up sofly for my morning walk.
I sneak out to the hazed dawn in mild steps,
And resumed my mute traveler’s self talk.

I begin my strides keeping myself close
To the shorelines of the insomniac sea.
I savor the briny breeze through my nose,
With consent, the winds kiss me torridly.

I took off my sandals to feel the sand
That longs to touch the bare soles of my feet.
The cool rush of breakers reach where I stand ~
I commune with nature ~ our spirits meet.

My voids are replenished by the sea.
In return, I shed my life’s loads off me.

(From the series poem “A Traveler’s Soliloquy” By: Jeques B. Jamora, 2006)

 silent spectator

For writer’s Island prompts: “Torrid and Gamble


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.


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/


When The Feeling Is Gone

touching the sand 

 Bay-bay, Roxas City, Philippines. January 30, 2008

 

 

I tried to dip my toes in the water,

To try to re-live the past;

To check if the feeling is still there,

But the magic is gone.

The things that used to remind me of you

Has become just ordinary things as they were,

For they are.

Back to the way they used to be.

 

I used to see your face in the flowers

Now I only see petals.

The cotton clouds in the sunny skies

Don’t form to spell your name anymore ~

Not even the stars.

 

kisses in the breeze gone

Bay-bay, Roxas City. Philippines. January 30, 2008

    

 

The arched sky ceased to echo your memories like before,

I don’t feel your kisses in the breeze anymore.

 

I’m sorry,

But I think we lost the magic.

  

 

I didn’t feel the usual thrill

In my return;

I didn’t feel your presence

When the brines caressed my toes,

And stopped to yearn for your embrace.

The sands even failed to tickle the soles of my feet

Like your thoughts

Unable to summon up my fancy.

Archives in my heart

Boracay Island, Philippines. January 26, 2008

So now I gather the sweet ruins

From our past

Becoming just part

Of my valued collections.

They are safe in a folder

In my memory;

You are treasured in a vault

In my heart as ever.

Only now you belong

To the archives.

~