Taming This Tyke's Voice Since 2007

strong grip

Underneath Your Sheltering Canopy

~  

Under your sheltering canopy  

In the safety of your embrace  

Beneath your reassuring grip  

Certainty returns.  

Like the shadow of the clouds  

Passing by on a midday.  

Such fleeting moments  

Of alternating shadow and light:  

Long absence,  

Brief presence,  

And the silent anticipations in between  

Fuel hope, keep the heart pounding  

To reach another waiting shade  

Along the way  

To rest  

Underneath your sheltering canopy.  

"Ethan" is my Bonsai tree I planted when I was 13, he is now 24 years old.

"Portrait of Ethan" Pencil, ink and pen on paper by Jeques B. Jamora, 2010 ("Ethan" is my Bonsai tree I planted when I was 13, he is now 24 years old).

His Name Is Ethan

 His name is Ethan Yes, I gave him a name and his name is Ethan. 

I was called once to priesthood when I was in highschool, but I was expelled from the seminary after a year. Many are called, they said, but only a few are chosen; I was not. It was my first taste of rejection, and it was how my story with Ethan started. 

 His name is ethan I mentioned the seminary because I planted Ethan the summer after I was kicked out. I was 13 years old with wings broken. Nobody really cared to listen to my side of the story especially my father. My mother, as always, was there to console me ~ in silence. I was left alone in the corner to leak my own wound to heal. At that lowest point of my life, for a reason that I’m just beginning to understand now, God sent me Ethan to care. I always had some loner tendencies as a kid. That summer and years after that I became withdrawn, misunderstood. Gone was the child full of life, I fell down so low I never thought I could ever rise again. 

For more about “Ethan,” please click image below >>>

 

His name is Ethan

Hi name is Ethan, 24.

   

   

 

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I Will Circumvent

 

The heart knows another way.

If I should, I will.

 

I will circumvent  the distance,

I will bear the pain of longing.

Let it fuel me to endure

Long, excruciating voyages

Of this rescue operation.

 

Be my precious reward that awaits

In a rapturous morrow

I will build for us

With the muscles of my heart –

Only my heart – for that’s the ransom 

I promise to bring,

To buy your freedom.

 

I will circumnavigate

Desolate terrains.

 

Let your picture in my mind

Be the stars at night

So I would not falter

Even when darkness strips

The coat of my courage.

 

Let the memory of your smile

Melt me when solitude is freezing.

 

Let the songs of your touch

Bring back my equanimity

When I become anhydrous from your absence.

 

Let the echoing sound of your laughter

Be my beaconing light

To safeguard me from the mirage

And its deceitful promises.

 

Let me drink from the cup of your abundance,

Satiate my thirst with the precious

Liquid beads

We weaved together

In the festoon that ties us

In an invisible knot.

 

Before I leave,

Memorize this face,

But anticipate wrinkles when you see it again

For time will paint my empty fecade

With wisdom I will collect from my journey.

 

Hold my hands for the last time

And trace the creases of my palms.

My travel will harden them,

But know that its direction is defined

And points to a definite end.

 

Keep still,

Fear not the metal bars that separate us.

Trust the oil of our will, combined

To desolve this cage.

 

Stay where I leave you,

Hold the promise of my return.

And if distance is the only road

To the altar ~

 I will take the chance, If I should.

 

I will circumvent the earth,

Chase the elusive chance of our union,

To arrive where you are.

 

Be sentient of the genial whisks

When my breathing blows your nape,

And when my hand rests on your shoulder

They will hint my arrival.

 

Hands clasped,

Barriers desolved,

Together we will claim our piece of the skies

To our enraptured flight

 

We are free.

 

—-

In reference to my poem “Caged,” I thought the conflict was unresolved in that poem. “I will Circumvent” is the sequel to the poem.

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


The Autumn Leavings

click audio to play soundtrack

 

I feel for the tree this season

The autumn leavings make me sad.

The tree must be cursing the winds

He doesn’t want his leaves to fall.

Like I sometimes loathe

The changing season

For I don’t want to lose a friend.

I feel sorry for the leaves this season

Their descent makes me sad.

The leaves must be praying

Their would be no rain,

For they’re afraid to fall.

Like I pray the departings

Would be less painful ~

Though I need to set a friend free.

For no matter how the tree keeps its strong grip;

How the leaves keeps on clinging,

And me keeps on holding on ~

I know we need to let go

And accept the changing season.

The tree, the leaves and I

We are sad of the Autumn leavings.

For we don’t want to lose a friend. 


First Love, Lost (Sonnet)

~

A tiny seed is dozing in my heart.
‘Tis strange and fragile to my youthful mind.
But like a cub, ’tis untamed in the start,
And always on the look out for its kind.
Defenses look useful to coat it thick.
I’m scared to face the things my mind not ken.
Disguises mask the pain and love with trick,
Like when you left and I was heart broken.
Though bruised, the seed of hope rises to grow.
Despite the tears you caused it flourish here.
He treads the world alone and shining through.
Your face, your lips and kisses he’ll revere.

~
This frail seed is a would-be seasoned tree.
My sweet first love, the seedling you set free!

~


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.

~