Taming This Tyke's Voice Since 2007

heart

Caged

 

Briefly

Our hands clasped

Against the grated wire screen

Separating

Keeping

Our worlds closely

Apart.

 

It’s a painful union.

 

We see the flowers,

But we can’t pick them.

A banquet is laid 

On the table,

But we can’t celebrate

The feast

Together.

We both have wings

Watching the unfriendly

Sky

But only one

Of us 

Is free to fly.

 

You pulled me

Closer ~

“Does love hurts

Like when the barbs

Pierce the palms? “

Being close to you

Feels painfully

That good.

 

I draw you

Towards me,

But you hesitate

Acquiesced to the customs

Of your world

That defines

A different you

From what I know.

 

I don’t have a heart

To force you out

To my world,

Even if it would mean

Your freedom ~

 

If the barbs

Pierce your wings.

 

I know how that hurts.

 

I let go

Of our clasped hands

And free you

In your cage ~

Aversely ~

I claim the Sky

To a lonely flight.

 

I am free.

 

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

 

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Where Hearts Converge

Where Hearts Converge 

 

This sad ending would be our beginning ~

Face to face, you and me, aboard the train.

Together, albeit our roads parting:

Mine bounds north, yours south. Then it starts to rain.

Would time and space bring us happy ending?

Would we converge in this station again?

 

 

 

"where hearts converge" pencil, pen and ink on drawing paper by Jeques

"where hearts converge" pencil, pen and ink on drawing paper by Jeques

 

 

 

And just like that, we’re on our own again ~

Watching the blankness of our beginning

Through the panes of an uncertain ending

Like errant souls on board the express train

Listening to the sad notes of the rain

Heaven’s soundtrack to our fateful parting.

 

Time slips our palms like the daylights parting ~

‘Tis dark, and gloom embraces us again.

But our sorrows will be washed by the rain.

This railroads meet to a fresh beginning.

We will get there, let us allow the train.

And then we’ll entomb these woes to ending.

 

We travel through this passage’s ending ~

The railroads fork and we see hearts parting.

Tons of broken souls carried by the train.

But rails would weave them together again.

To debark in frontiers of beginning,

Like seed sprouting, bathed by the springtime rain.

 

As pains’ dusts settle soaked by the rain,

The turmoil alights to a graceful ending.

The heart learns to hum tunes of beginning,

And understands that even the parting

Is part of it all, then we smile again ~

As we weave our stories inside the train.

 

I get off, now enlightened, from the train ~

Mind’s pellucid like skies after the rain.

Heart’s calm awaiting to see you again.

May you look forward to the same ending,

May your thoughts not be hazed by this parting.

‘Til we reach our station of beginning.

 

Last night’s rain crooned our sorrows to ending.

Trains meet again in our point of parting ~

Where hearts converge to a new beginning.

 

(Where Hearts Converge  a Sestina I wrote for the poetry workshop I attend every wednesday. Jeques, 2009)

Have I told you I started attending a weekly poetry workshop last wednesday? I think not. The workshop will run for 6 weeks this summer. I chanced upon the Ad when I got me some books for my painting studies in Evanston, IL public libruary. I missed one session but I was able to submit a poem for the first poetry form : Cento, a poetry made up of lines borrowed from a combination of established authors, usually resulting in a change in meaning. For me, the beauty of composing a Cento is it makes you read poetry and appreciate more the lines. This poetry would be very helpful to beginners, it could be a starting point because to write poetry, a poet needs and should read first the works of other poets and Cento just  help you do that, it makes you appreaciate the work of others, makes you compose from their inspirations and perhaps help you find your voice along the way.

I was cramming when I put this cento poem together. I called tuesday(July 7) afternoon if it was possible for me to catch up since I missed the first week. Joshua, the moderator, said yes and told me about the Cento which was discussed the previous week and that I have to bring a piece the next day if I’m interested to attend. I work night shift, but I brought with me one of my favorite poetry books to work that night, and during dead hours read poems of great authors and line by line composed a Cento. The first line I got from the song, “Eversince the world begun,” the soundtrack of the 1989 movie: Lock up.  Here is the piece I put together and I read during the first session(July 8).

 

This Wanting

 

I never knew what brought me here

You entered my life in a casual way.

The dream we dream together here,

All paths lead to you where e’er I stray.

 

There is nothing that last, not one.

Yet still the story and the meaning stay.

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done.

Yet it well might be that never for me.

 

I need so much the quiet of your love.

A love like this can know no death.

I need your calm all other things above.

Your precious presence is the air I breath.

 

I want you through every changing season

If not, then let me live this life alone.

~

(This Wanting a Cento poem. Here are the poems and the authors I got the lines of this poem from: line #2 TO A FRIEND by Grace Stricker Dawson, #3 IN THE ROSE GARDEN byJohn Bennett, #4 ALL PATHS LEAD TO YOU by Blanch Shoemaker Wagrooff, #5 HER ANSWER by John Bennett, #6 THE RIGHT KIND OF PEOPLE by Edwin Markham, #7 SOMEBODY SAID THAT IT COULDN’T BE DONE by Edgar Guest, #8 OUR OWN by Margaret Sangster, #9 AT NIGHT FALL by Charles Hanson Towne, #10 AD FINEM by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, #11 AT NIGHT FALL by Charles Hanson Towne, #13 I WANT YOU by Arthur L. Gillom. Lines #12 and 14 are my original)

Last wednesday(July 8), we discussed the poetry form: Sestina. I have been always interested to try writing a poem in this form but the structure is too demanding thereby forbidding, so I always end up throwing first drafts. The reason why I’ve always longed to get myself into a workshop is to get the chance to be crafty again with poetry, and this just works that way for me. Since I’m now slowing down with painting nearing the completion of my collection, I find time to write again and the poem included here is my first produce when I finally got myself sitted again to study poetry structures and working the craft. The sentina we compose this week will be read and discussed on our next workshop this coming wednesday(July 15).

Let me share with you sestina’s definition from the Academy of American Poets

The sestina is a complex form that achieves its often spectacular effects through intricate repetition. The thirty-nine-line form is attributed to Arnaut Daniel, the provencal troubador of the 12th century. The name “troubadour” like comes from trobar, which means to invent or compose verse. The troubadours sang their verses accompanied by music and were quite competitive, each trying to top the next in wit, as well as complexity and difficulty of style.

The sestina follows a strict pattern of the repetition of the initial 6 end-words of the first stanza throught the remaining five six-line stanzas, culminating in a three-line envoi. The lines may be of any length, though in its initial incarnation, the sestina followed a syllabic restriction.

Note: I followed a 10-syllabic count in each line respectively in my poem.

The form is as follows, where each numeral indicates the stanza position and the letters represent end-words:

1. ABCDEF

2. FAEBDC

3. CFDABE

4. ECBFAD

5. DEACFB

6. BDFECA

7 (envoi) ECA or ACE ( I used ECA, please note that I also used all the 6 end-words in the last three lines)

The envoi, sometimes known as the tornada, must also include the remaining three-end words, BDF, in the course of the three lines so that all six recurring words appear in the final three lines. In place of a rhyme scheme, the sestina relies on end-word repetition to effect a sort of rhyme.

The poetry idea using the train and the train station as backdrop have been chasing me and been resurfacing my mind for more than a year now. I first got the idea when one time we took the subway here in chicago(hence, the reference to the north and south bound directions of the train), The place just poured me such an overwhelming poetry inspiration, but I did not act on it instantly for many reasons, and one of them is I’m still finding the right structure to give the poetry idea a body that it would need. Last year, I wrote the poem Summer, Gone. The poem contains some of the ideas that are infused in Where Hearts Converge. Here’s the poem Summer gone:

You came to bring me summer sunshine,

You left to leave me autumn gloom.

Like a speeding train,

Summer came

And Gone.

What happened to the vibrant days,

Where have my sunshine gone?

Why do the clouds just suddenly

Hid you?

My smile, don’t fade away

Please no!

Why do you have to give up

Your sunny yellow ~

Have I not brought

Your life some bright lights,

Why do we have to go apart

In blue?

Would the evening light

Sustain us

In this changing season,

Would it ease

The growing yearning

With its subdued

Glow?

I rest my heart

In this lonely season.

But I would keep our paths

Clear

Of grass growths.

May the railroad

That took you away

Would lead you

Back.

And when you’re tired

Chasing the changing seasons,

You could always return

To an endless

Summer ~

Here in my resolute

Heart.

I think it is also important to mention here that the heart of this poem and the sentiment I expressed here was originally conceived in the poem One Heart which I composed in 2003.

 

Two different people

 Living separate lives

Wanting different dreams

Going to opposite directions.

 

  But then they met.

 

And they become one

One heart in two different people

One in their thoughts

Going towards the same direction ~

 

  

Living the same dreams.

 

Where Hearts Converge is one of the poems I’ve written that really went through a very long process. The idea, the sentiments and the heart of the poem came and present itself  to me in fragments, but I believe I was able to gather the elements in a piece which I put together here and give it the perfect body in the sestina structure.

I already have a painting idea in mind for this poem which I conceived some few months back. The title is “Convergence,” a painting series of 4 pieces and I will be using the Kois and the elements of the railroads in the painting which I will post here when I finish the series. Until then, but for now, I included an illustration of the poem in pencil, pen and ink sketches on drawing paper.


My Oasis

There are times when we need to leave the safety of the harbor and answer the beaconing of the future in the horizon where the skies kiss the seas ~

The unfamiliar arched skies and the daunting blue of the ocean may appear uncertain, and there may be no written guarantee accross the seas but we take out our anchors from our sunctuaries, take the chance and sail anyway.

memories-from-home-008

"Our Sunctuary" oil on canvas 20x24 by : Jeques B. Jamora

There are moments in life when we have to leave the roads that are very familiar.

It is our human nature to explore uncharted terrietories.

There’s that part in us that needs and longs for the change of landscapes.

And so we leave the paths that are safe and take a detour, stray away from our every day roads, throw the maps and just go ahead and get thrilled with things new.

We all need to face our fates at a certain point and take that arduous trek in the desert to fulfill the only obligation we have in this life to reach our destinations.

2009-paintings-015

"Our Fate" oil on canvas, 18x18 by : Jeques B. Jamora

Such things happen many times in our lifetime. Sometimes we do it awake and aware, but often it just happens and we wake up one day in the middle of the desert, or in a new road, or sailing in the ocean’s uncertain blues like we are inside a dark hole and that only our presence could fill that void.

I chose to be aware and awake when I take a detour or sail – I don’t want to be thrown in the grounds unguarded. We can all control our destiny. We can all choose the kind of battle and our kind of journey.

Now for those who are wondering where I’ve been?

I’ve gone painting!

I feel like I need to leave the familiar roads, the safety of my harbor in writing and take a plunge into the uncertainty of the blue horizon that’s been beaconing me for the longest time. So I left the safety and the happy company of the language, of the friendly words that coquet my thoughts and the pages to answer another call of traveling alone in my journey with my art. 

It is important that even how far the distances we reach in our travels, we need to be in touch with the isles that once became our harbor, and the trails that would lead us back to the roads that we once took that brought us where we are at the moment.

"our trail" oil on canvas, 24x30 by : Jeques B. Jamora

"Our Trail" oil on canvas 24x30 by : Jeques B. Jamora, 2009

No matter how long we travelled in the deserts of this life, we need to be in touch with things and people that once became our oasis. Poetry and writing are the oasis of my soul. And I will always be back here, now and again, to drink and dine in the bounty of their  inspiration.

~

You are my daily dose of life,

My daily drop of hope.

You are the reason I’m moving on,

And why I need to cope.

~

You are my oasis

In this life’s desert

So I can stand up

And walk.

~

My love,  you are the oasis of my heart, and I will always be back in your sunctuary, in the comfort and warmth of your presence for it is you who makes my journey worthwhile. 

 


Early Fall (Tula – a Pilipino poem)

~

Nalalanta ang mga halaman

Plants are wilting.

Nalalagas ang mga dahon

Leaves

At bulaklak.

and flowers descending

Natitigang ang lupa

The grounds are drying

Sabay ng pagtulog ng mga batis, ilog at lawa

As the springs, and rivers, and lakes fall asleep

Sa pagsapit ng taglamig.

With the coming of winter.

Sa kanilang pagkaidlip,

On their sleep,

Ang mga puno

The trees

Ay nadarapa

Take a bow

At babalik kung saan sila nagsimula ~

Returning where they came  ~

Sa lupa.

To the grounds.

At doon ay hihimplay

And ’tis there that they would sleep

Mag-aabang sa muling pag-agos

To await again for the ebb

Ng Buhay.

Of life.

.

Sa kanyang pangungulila,

On his longing,

Sya ay tahimik na maghihintay.

He will await in silence.

Tulad ko rin,

Like me,

Patuloy na umaasa

Continually hoping

Na muli kang babalik

For your return

Upang sa akin ay muling ialay

To give me back

Ang pag-ibig mo

Your love

Na nagbigay

That gave

Sa akin ng buhay.

Me life.

.

Sa unang pagpatak

On the first drop

Ng ulan

Of rain

Sa pagsapit ng tagsibol,

At springtime,

Muling babangon

The trees

Ang mga puno.

Will rise again.

.

Pipintig nang muli

My heart

Ang aking puso.

Would start to beat again.

Sa iyong pag-babalik,

In your return,

Ako ay mabubuhay ng muli ~

You will breath me life anew ~

.

Uusbong ang mga dahon,

The leaves would sprout,

Mula sa mga lanta na sanga ng puno,

From the wilted twigs of the trees

Ang aking pagmamahal

My love

Tulad din ng mga bulaklak

Like the flowers

Ay mamumukadkad.

Will bloom

At Iibig nang muli

And my heart

Ang aking puso.

Will love again.

~


Klieg Lights(An Open Letter To Laarnie)

Dear Laarnie,

I know this will not anymore come as a surprise to you receiving letters from people you don’t know – from your fans, and I happen to be one of them. I write because I want to tell you something that I also wanted to tell myself, and to your legion of followers, and to ordinary people who would chance upon this message. Perhaps everyone who would read this open letter would somehow connect to my thoughts in one way or the other, and you, I hope you read this before the klieg lights dim your vision and it would be harder for you to see the truth from lies; before it deceive you with its dazzling glitters that are temporary and you’ll never get back to your realities again.

Klieg lights are blinding and they are fleeting. They are temporary – here today, gone tomorrow. They dim your vision so what you see are only traces of the truths and silhouettes of reality, especially when you’re in a stage hearing only the noises of the maddening crowd. You would stand before a throng of faceless people, like a small boat sailing in the ferociuos ocean of strangers and you would feel so alone and cold in the midst of the warm glow of the kleig lights. But do not be afraid, for in that stormy sea of strangers are genuine lifeguards in a close watch ready to throw you life rafts and ropes to bring you back to shores, to anchor you back to your truths when the show is over, to bring you back home to your realities – safe from the lies of the dazzling klieg lights.

You have a good heart and that is your solid ground – you have proven that temporary fame could not shaken your deeply rooted goodness. It manifests in your gift of voice, but it is actually your beautiful heart we are hearing everytime you sing, and that’s the reason we are moved, we are touched, we are driven to uncalled tears the moment you hum a tune whatever the song. Your voice speaks to our hearts because it is actually your heart singing.

Continue singing that way.

In whatever you do from here, continue doing it from your heart. I know you would be doing more in that stage where opportunities abound and possibilities are limitless. You are the rarest gem of a raw talent that could deliver an infinite glitter in the stage. You are the kind of star that would shine for a very very long time. You have a share of people throwing you slime and all kinds of mud to discredit your brilliance but you shine through – there’s no amount of cloud in the sky could ever conceal a bright star that you are. But don’t be blinded by your own light – God gave you that light so you could radiate it to His children living in the shadows of hopelessness.

Continue to be an inspiration. Continue polishing and honing your gift – shine some more until your rays reach the darkest corners of the world where lonely Filipinos and people need a small spark of joy, a little ray of hope in their lonely existence. Always keep in mind that there are children somewhere, dreamy and looking up to a starry-starry night gazing at your Star, and just like you once, wishing their dreams will come true.

Carry on Laarnie. God put you there with a purpose. Anchor your stardom to His purpose and you will not be dazzled, you will not be blinded, you will always have a place to come home for goodness and God is in your heart.

 

 

 

 

When the show is over

And the crowd is gone.

After the applause has faded

And alone you stand.

Remember that I will be backstage ~

Waiting.

After the blinding

Kleig lights

Are gone.

~

I wish you well.

 ~ Jeques a.k.a. nonoisebarred

For more of my works – poetry, prose, paintings, photography – please visit my web nook with link below:

https://jeques.wordpress.com/

Please click link to YouTube video clip to hear Laarnie Lozada sing with credits to LaarnieTV, owner of the video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gj9vtSW2d3w

 

Note: To know how I become a LAARNIAN, please read my previous post: The Fan with link below:

https://jeques.wordpress.com/2008/09/27/the-fan/

 

~

 

 

 

 

 


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!

~


Summer, Gone

You came to bring me summer sunshine,

You left to leave me autumn gloom.

Like a speeding train,

Summer came

And Gone.

What happened to the vibrant days,

Where have my sunshine gone?

Why do the clouds just suddenly

Hid you?

My smile, don’t fade away

Please no!

Why do you have to give up

Your sunny yellow ~

Have I not brought

Your life some bright lights,

Why do we have to go apart

In blue?

Would the evening light

Sustain us

In this changing season,

Would it ease

The growing yearning

With its subdued

Glow?

I rest my heart

In this lonely season.

But I would keep our paths

Clear

Of grass growths.

May the railroad

That took you away

Would lead you

Back.

And when you’re tired

Chasing the changing seasons,

You could always return

To an endless

Summer ~

Here in my resolute

Heart.


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.

 

 


Color Of My Heart

Kleig Lights

.

When the show is over

And the crowds are gone.

After the applause has faded

And alone you stand,

Remember that I would be backstage ~

Waiting.

After the blinding

Kleig lights

Are gone.

—–

 

 

Prayers, Unsaid

.

I pray that you’d never learn to forget,

Even if spaces take away your heart.

I hope tomorrow you would not regret,

When distant places would take us apart.

.

Listen to our melodies, they’re inside your core,

Remember the sweet fragrance of passion.

They will bring back the mirths we shared before,

Like hued photographs in our souls’ vision.

.

I pray that you would always remember,

Even if time erases memories.

I hope tomorrow you’d still keep me dear,

‘Til the time we both conclude our stories.

.

Feel the fine sands in the soles of your feet.

Their tender touch would remind you of me.

Like seawaves to the shores we would soon meet.

To kiss through the salty breeze of the sea.

.

I pray God’s hands would keep us together,

Even if moments pass us by swiftly.

I hope tomorrow would bring forever,

And God’s pure love would bind us endlessly.

—–

Tenacious Heart

.

Tenacity of heart, that’s how I’ve loved you.

Until you are gone, ’til you’re gone. . .

.

Things are sometimes better understood when left

Unwritten, or left undone and remain unspoken.

.

They are immortal not in pages, not in words,

Not in works of my hands . . .

.

They are engraved forever ~

In my heart.

~

“A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and sings it back to you when you have long forgotten how it goes.”

For Writers Island: “Faithful”

http://writersisland.wordpress.com