Into The Woods
~
I advance onwards
Deeper, deeper into the woods.
A search for, an escape from.
To chase, or to run away.
To seek
Deeper, deeper into the woods
To try to understand. Perhaps.
I leave the familiar landscapes
Of my every day roads ~
The street signs,
The white marks, and yellow.
The lamp posts in the corner of the street,
The structures that lined my way
Like the waving of your hands
That used to beacon me home
In my every day travels,
Now fading in the background
After I let go of your grip
That changed gestures driving me away.
Tears clouded my vision
But I need to move forth
Deeper, deeper into the woods.
No turning back.
I left the compass, and the map behind,
Safe in a chest where I keep the memories.
I brought only, an empty pouch
To stock things I would collect
From places unknown,
And strings to bind together
The twigs, and pieces of woods
I come to gather,
As I journey to the territories untamed
Deeper, deeper into the woods.
I am here to forget,
And also to find a place to re-call the past clearly.
To connect the fragmented pieces
Of the quilt of the story
And to toss away what’s not needed.
To find time to sew the vignettes together.
To find out how the complete picture appears
With new eyes, how the story goes
From a different perspective. Perhaps.
Here I am, a woodsman in a modern world,
A hermit in the jungle of people,
Wandering around the untamed highways;
Lost in the towering reeds of concrete and steel
Finding refuge in the man-made caves
That cost me my savings
To pay an over-night stay ~
Even the kindly service tagged with a price. Sigh.
The discomforts I paid to purchase comfort
In my entry to the lush forest of new discoveries
Where some keys are scattered
That would open me new doors of understanding
Deeper, deeper into the woods.
In the grounds of the forest are small packages
Of seeds that encapsule wisdom.
They are gifts of the towering trees
From their fruits that mellowed with time.
They have seen both
The wider view of the lowlands,
And the best view of the heavens.
I am here to collect the seeds
To fill the pouch I carried for that purpose.
From these seeds I wanted to grow another forest
Where another wanderer from onother time
Would collect and sow them again, on and on
I trod deeper,
Deeper into the woods
Picking remnants of beauty of the past
Blending with the modern aesthetics,
Like an architecture
Built along the shore.
The reflection of its glass structure
Captured by the placid lake
At noon time
Create such a lovely contrast ~
Like a bird perched on a metal pole,
The blooms against the skyline,
A fountain in the middle of a busy street,
Like me, a waif in this streets away from home
Trying to blend in the landscape
Gathering woods in the not so common place
For a woodgatherer,
But I have used up my strings
In the bundles of woods of ideas
I gathered, enough to fuel my creations
From here
For you
It is time to return home.
~
—
Jeques, Milwaukee. July 30 to August 1, 2010. From his “Traveler’s Soliloquies” poetry collection.
Caught in the Moment

"Gift of Home, The White Bell" pen and pencil on paper made some mornings during my recent vacation. Jeques, 2010

"Gift of Home: The White Bell," pen and pencil on paper of the white bell in bloom I wanted to take back to chicago, but I can't, so I drew it cpative on paper to take the gift with me anywhere in the world. Jeques, 2010
—–
Jeques, 2010. From his Traveler’s Soliloquies poetry collection.
“Amistad”(Friendship)

"Amistad" Pen and ink on paper by Jeques(drawing and poem started while waiting for his flight to the Philippines, 02082010 and was completed and polished in his return to Chicago)
I searched your eyes
Amid the souls
That flock the streets
I travel.
Where were you?
Among the lips
That sipped the juice
Of simple joy
I offer
How would I single out
Your smile?
I ride the tides
To ambiguous blue
With hopes
To find you
Where were you?
The isles dissolved,
And lost my hope
To see you
Where would I find
Your waiting arms?
I climb the mountains
But the fogs had seized you;
I reached the summit
And you’re not there
Where were you?
When the rains
Washed away everything
Down the mountains
Would you catch my tears
In the streams?
I left the stars
And slept in the cradle
Of the waning moon
Where were you?
In dark nights
When dreams didn’t visit
My sleep
Would I catch a glimpse
Of you at daybreak?
I search your eyes
Amid the souls
That flock the streets
I travel.
I guess I’d be forever this way
Til the day I catch true friendship
In the eyes
Until the day
When fate lay on my empty hands
The gift of ‘Amistad’
Where were you?
—
Jeques, 2010. From his “Traveler’s Soliloquies” poetry collection.
Highlights
Click images below
to see hightlights
of my recent home-coming
and fun-filled vacation
to my home land:
The Philippines
CLICK IMAGE
CLICK IMAGE
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The Pictures Speak
Before I gain weight
Before wrinkles set in
Before grey hair overtakes my crown
Before aging claims my youthful spirit . . .
Here I am, 37, single and Happy!
Weaving memories from colorful yarns of fun reuniting with old friends and family back home.
Let the pictures speak . . .
New York: What You Mean To Me
The places we visit are like peepholes we take a peek, revealing parts of a bigger picture of the journeys we take. This is what New York showed me. I visited the place for the first time last year, but it felt like I was there forever.
Land of childhood dreams
Hedged in by enormous seas
Damselfly alights
Have you ever had thought so strong it follows you all through life? I have. It is incessant and tarry as the waves to the shore that come, and go, and come back in erratic intensity of currents taking me back, up, down and forth.
Years back, I wrote this haiku piece included in my Filipino Immigration collection and New York, I have to confess, was the place in mind when I wrote it. I had a strong feeling even then, though I didn’t know exactly when, that one day I’m going alight on to its grounds like the damselfly and walk its streets where my dream arrived ahead of me. For somebody who lived in the other side of the world, it was a dream that for years I half-believed, but after January 17, 2009, with all my heart, I now do.
I first saw America in a postcard, in a picture of a snowy Time Square, New York and visited the place countless times in my thoughts. I’m not sure who owned that card, or who sent it to whom and from where, but I think of it now an invitation sent by my fate from the future to come to a place. An enticement I ignored, or perhaps I turned down at some point doubting possibilities, but the invitation ever haunting.
Years after, I arrived in Chicago and saw snow for the first time. I walked the streets in many snowy days, and my thought of the christmas card would return, unreeling in waves and waves of flashback like an old film but the picture always incomplete, not until last year, when fate put me exactly in that old picture of the postcard I once viewed as a child. My dream and I converged in Time Square where all the elements conspired, and felt the snow the way the child thought it should feel melting on my face when I arrive to answer that long time invitation.
I really thought my many years of incessant thoughts of New York ended when I finally answered its invitation. But I fear, No! I left many stones unturned with my brief weekend visit last year that continue to frequent my reveries, courting me with new angles of possibility. This is what New York mean to me now. For many years, it’s something impossible and far away, and when I reached to touch its grounds, it remained mystical and distant. I felt ignored during my visit. I even wonder it noticed my presence. Perhaps it’s my fault for ignoring the invitation too long that fate have forgotten about the christmas card and didn’t recognize me when I finally stepped into the picture to answer its long time invitation.
I love New York
But it didn’t love me back
A love that endured
Years of dreaming
And wake up
To walk its streets
For fleeting moment
And temporary bliss
That dissolves
With its rushing time.
I chased you
In the fast lanes
Of my recurring dreams.
I run after your affection
In the weekend
I spent with you,
Unnoticed.
I love New York
But it didn’t love me back.
I contented myself
With passing glances
A vagabond
A tourist
A spectator
A stranger
A passerby
An audience
Until the curtains dropped
And the show ended
When day light shied away
From your night lights.
But that’s when I start to dream,
Again, where you become real.
Only in dreams
That I belong to you
And when I trully walk your streets
And leave marks
Of my footsteps
In your heart.
Tomorrow,
When you wake up,
I hope you recognize
My footprints
Among the many vagabond
That walked the paths
That meet in the intersection
Where dreams alight
And don’t dissolve
With the fumes
Of your heavy traffic.
Only then that my dream
Would really come alive.
New York is one of the places I visited that intrigued me to fathom its relevance to my journey. It is like a hole in a lock where a key would fit one day awaiting to be turned to reveal me many things behind the shut door. I doubt the possibilities no more when fate put me in that picture and walked the streets of the postcard of long ago that gave me the preview of what was to come and in fleeting moments became a surreal reality that weekend. I know I need to come back to complete the story and when I do, I would not leave a single stone unturned.
Our dreams may reside in many different places. Places that would speak to us in many different languages, giving us messages, revealing to us secret codes that would help decipher the mysteries of our journeys. I wish my pictures would work like the old postcard did to me and reach the eyes and hearts of dreamers to invite, to entice and reassure that dreams still come alive if we believe. And I hope you would answer that invitation soon.
Don’t make your dreams wait too long.
Jeques at Stairway to heaven. Time Square, New York, January 2009
Weekend, Unforgettable!
We travel to open our eyes,
Our minds
Our hearts
To the world
Different from our own . . .
to arrive
in the temporary dwelling place
under a roof where many dwellers took shelter
to innhale the earth’s fresh breath, of whissling winds and singing lake.
to commune with the locals
to be part of her inhabitants
to belong to her community
to reside in her home
to feel safe
to become part of her family
to go back in time following the signals of the earth’s light house
to dock ashore
to anchor in her harbor
to find comfort in her warm embrace
to walk her streets
to taste her produce
to dine on her table
to shop in her market
to buy her products
to met up with young artists
to befriend her vendors
to ride on life’s carriage
to blend with the commuters
take a train ride around town
to be amused by performing artists, jugglers
to be child-like again
to find that quietude in spite of the turmoil
to find internal peace in the midst of the present and ancients wars battling in our heads
to be enriched by the heritage
to feel refreshed and renewed
to be reinvigorated body and soul
to thank the heavens for the graces
to seize the moment
to bless the day
to bathe in the earth’s fountains
to be reassured we are part of the streams of the universe
to be ready for our next trips
to sail forth
to embark in life’s new journey again
on and on.
The destination ever beaconing in the distance
We are part of heavens’ immense plans
each one of us is a special thread
that makes up the universe’s colorful tapestries.
. . . Their part of the world and mine are no different afterall,
We take shelter in the same roof
Under the same arched skies.
(Kenosha and Racine, Wisconsin, July 31 to August 2, 2009)
My Birthday, 2009
Jeques’s Weekend Birthday Getaway, July 31 to August 2, 2009: Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Just the first day, more pictures to come!

@kenosha

@Ramada hotel, Racine WI

@lakeshore kenosha, WI

lighthouse, kenosha

tepee and native american

tepee camp, kenosha

inside tepee camp
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