200 Picks From My Fecund Heart
Jeques’s Web Nook, the corner that opens my heart to the public for reading and viewing is 1 year and a half today. And to celebrate this landmark to my writing life is my 200th post.
I lost count of the number of poetry I posted but it’s over 200.
My favorite remains to be the sonnet poem I wrote: A Walk Around The Oval
Once more I walk the oval track today,
And ponder yet again, “What is my role?”
Am I just making circles every day
In life’s arena, like an errant soul?
I walk around the never ending trail:
A fallen leaf caught in a swirling stream;
Or like an army, ever locked in drill.
I am engrossed and walk in my own dream.
Some strangers share my lane but not my muse.
You’re far, and yet, our thoughts are much the same;
I’m not alone then in the road I choose;
Beyond the oval someone shares my lane.
In you my lonesome soul finds home to stay,
For in my heart you’re near, you’re here with me.
This poem tells so much of myself, the loner that I am, the waif who is at peace with his solitude, forever contemplating his role in this life, ever hopeful finding that one person to share his thoughts, his soul, the other half of his tenacious heart.
I can not be in this life for no reason, there must be something in each moment that I have to take in as I breath, and there must something in me that I could offer as I exhale my soul in anything that I do. Perhaps my poetry, my arts, my thoughts, my memories, the landscape of my mind, the language of my heart, the sweetest juice of my soul is my cotribution that I willingly offer, hoping that somebody would take and breath them into their hearts.
It’s been 200 posts of fresh picks from my fecund heart in many different forms. It is amazing how my web nook became not only a corner for me to display my works, but it had also become my working table to untangle my thoughts, to disect my heart, to trace the map of the alianated corners of my mind, to lay my soul on that table and to try to understand for myself the language that it wanted to speak.
I have told you about the seasons and how they affect me, the country where I came and I call home, about my family, about my dreams.
I shared with you my journeys, my childhood, why I write, the books I read, my artworks, photographs, some produce of my expirements with the lenses.
I laid open my heart writing about love, of fantasied romance, of heartbreaks, of failures and defeats and rejections, of rising, of bouncing back, and of triumphs.
I told you stories about friends, about a singer I admire, about my pets, about my plants and bonsai, about the space I live and its corners.
I wrote about my pen, the paper, the roads, the garden, the pond and it’s inhabitants, I brought you to the places I traveled, about my job, my wishes, and dreams.
I have revealed to you few of my secrets,
I have walked in your presence naked, for in all the 200 posts that I placed here, I wrote them with so much honesty and they are my truth.
After 200 posts, I thought I still have so much to tell, I still have a lot in my notebooks that I have not shared, there are still many thoughts inside my head nugging me to give them life in writing, I still have heap of drafts that need to be finished, my heart streams hasn’t ceased flowing and each drop are stories, and poetry and artworks that is mine to offer.
There are still secrets I keep in my heart, and I know time would make me reveal them.
There are still so much joy and sorrows, and mirths to look forward to.
The seasons will continue their cycles.
I still view life, like a child with his nose pressed up against the window watching the world with wide-eyed wonder of a grown up tyke.
Their are places I still have to travel and see, awaiting like blank canvas beaconing for my brush strokes to give them colors and tangible forms.
Like a clean slate and pristine white pages longing for the ink from my heart that would bring them to life
And give them wings to fly like birds to find their homes to your hearts.
Thank you for reading.
I wish you well.