Taming This Tyke's Voice Since 2007

sonnet

Morning Panes(tanka/painting series)

  “Morning Panes”(Tanka and painting) series #1 of 3
   
Dreams sojourn ~
 Whimsy reflections
 On morning panes ~
 
Coquetting the mind
Crooning dormant soul.
 
"morning panes" #1 oil on canvas 30x40, by Jeques B. Jamora “morning panes” #1 oil on canvas 30×40, by Jeques B. Jamora

 

"morning panes" series #1 to 3 “morning panes” series #1 to 3
“Morning Panes” (Tanka and Painting) series #2 of 3 
  
Dormant soul
Hatching, awaiting
Dawn’s misty kiss ~
 
Artist awakens
Broods nestle on trees.
 
"morning panes" #2 oil on canvas 30x40, by Jeques B. Jamora, 2009 “morning panes” #2 oil on canvas 30×40, by Jeques B. Jamora, 2009

 

 
morning panes
 
“Morning Panes” (Tanka and Painting) series #3 of 3
 
  
Courage ingrained
Inside broken soul’s
Callus chest ~
  
Anticipating sunrise
Awaiting to exhale.
"morning panes" #3 oil on canvas 38x48, by Jeques B. Jamora “morning panes” #3 oil on canvas 38×48, by Jeques B. Jamora
.
I have paintings conceived from poems.
 
The images of these paintings initially presented themselves to me in words. Morning Panes, a painting series of 3(at least for now, there is more to it) is one of them. It first came to me in a poem I composed in 2003. The poem visited me in a peculiar dream of a dream within a dream. I believe many of us had experienced that, dreaming in our dream, waking up still asleep. Or is it only me?
 
That dream is a tiny drop of inspiration that created ripples of poetry series. I used to write a lot, I had the freedom of time back home and I can afford to really sit down and study my thougths and dreams in my morning pages. In 2003 I wrote the poem, Images Of You. . . 

 
In my dream
I watch you in your sleep.
My heart feels glad,
My heart leaps.
  
Images of you haunt me ~
  
From the time I wake,
‘Til my sleep.

 

That dream was so vivid I immediately wrote a poem when I awake. The imagery from the dream and the words in the poem lingered in my thoughts which I first expressed visually in a drawing, My Morning Pane, Februay, 2005. It is a self-sketch of myself on bed in my room back home in the Philippines which is the original setting of the dream, the poem, the painting.
"my morning panes" pencil on paper by Jeques, 2005 
“my morning panes” pencil on paper by Jeques, 2005
 
In 2006, I wrote another poem from the same inspiration, Evanescent Romance, this poem fits well in series #2 of the painting. Note the change of the window from the previous, it represents the many rooms we sleep and the multitude of window panes we wake up with in our lifetime yet dreaming the same dreams. Here’s the poem: 
 

We are joined by our hearts’ seeking radars.
 Our souls converge at midnight’s deep blue skies.
 We talk, our words are the infinite stars.
 We feel so intimate with our closed eyes.
 Our unions are chronicled by my pen.
 The winds’ soft whistles signal your presence.
 Your image flickers through my window pane ~
 Silhouette of my dream-lover’s essence.
 In my mind I touch the face of heaven,
 When you croon to me lovesongs of silence.
   Bliss is what my thoughts of you has given.
 You illumined my lonely existence. 
Romance confined in shadows of the night. 
 ‘Tis evanescent with the morning light.

 

These are some of the few poems I wrote that ended up on canvas, in visual form, in paintings.
 
But there are also inspirations that presented themselves to me first in visual arts. They become drawings, or sketches, or paintings instantly. In these instances, my brushstrokes are my words to create imageries that frequent my thoughts.
  
To complete the circle of poems becoming paintings and paintings becoming poems, I used the painting series, “Morning Panes” as subject and inspiration to my poems for this week’s workshop on the ancient poetry form: the Tanka. It dates back to the 7th century. A poem of five lines of 5/7/5/7/7 syllable count respectively. I strictly followed this rules in the previous Tanka’s I composed but in the workshop I attend, I learned the freedom from the Tanka minimalists, and the modern american tanka which is less restricting as to the syllable count and rather focusing on the importance of expressing an emotion or deep thought in a concise manner in the five lines which is the true beauty of writing a Tanka. Shorter syllable count in each line when achieved in 19-24 or even shorter in 15 counts at the very least instead of 31 is preferred in the modern tanka.
  
Using the Tanka structure, I took out pictures of my paintings and from the deepest recesses of my core extract words that would best express the brushstrokes. Series #3 of the painting fully express my sentiments as a dormant artist awaiting to exhale, an egg hatching, a seed awaiting for springtime, a child awaiting to be born.
And when I come to think of it, this circle of paintings becoming poems, and the poems’ metamorphosis becoming paintings, I come to realize that there’s really no single strand or line that separates them. When I paint, the brushstrokes are my words. When I write, the words are my brushstrokes to create imageries. Sketches and drawings are my scribbles, my drafts.
  
It is my commitment to my craft to achieve such seamless fusion of my paintings and poetry for both are conceived and born from my heart.
 
  
 *For more of my paintings, please click image to navigate to my art portfolio >>> 
 
 waif

  


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.

 

~ Jeques

 

 


Lessons From Autumn

~

Lessons From Autumn

BY: Jeques B. Jamora, fall, 2008

The earth calls the leaves to come home

My crying couldn’t stop the changing season.

Like my tears falling on my chest,

The autumn leaves return to the earth’s breast.

The winds of fall sing lonely tunes

The shy smile of dawn turns the day to gloom.

The heavens weep soaking the trees with rain,

As I watch you leave and endure the pain.

Destiny’s taking back my joys of spring,

My crying couldn’t stop you from leaving.

Like the leaves falling to the earth’s bossom,

I’ll await in silence ’til you come home.

The trees and the leaves taught me acceptance;

The earth taught me to wait for second chance.

 

Note: for background music, please click and play this >>> If I could be where you are


A Match Made In Heaven (A Sonnet For Laarnie and Jed)

A Match Made In Heaven

(sonnet)

.

Allow me to limn your soul with my words,

Let me trace your aura with my fingers

So my pure heart’s lyrics could strum your cords.

Come near, let’s create love-poems together.

.

Permit my soul to croon you a lovesong.

Open your core to me so I could hear

The ballads of your soul I’d hum along.

For Our hearts blend well in duets dear.

.

My sweet paired rhymes proclaim our love’s essence

And you’ll be the voice behind my verses

For melodies define our existence

That would soothe every listeners’ senses.

.

Angels usher us to our destiny.

Heavens paired us in perfect harmony.

~

I wrote this sonnet and I thought it is perfect poem for Laarnie and Jed. I watched their guesting in the show Boy and Kris and they have such lovely chemistry with powerful “KILIG” factor. Their voices make a perfect blend one could not help but fall in love just hearing them in perfect harmony together.

please click YouTube video clips below to watch them sing impromptu – with credits to dekloy, owner of the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6eTjhCsKYvg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGN_pgY10Pg

below is a link when they sung The Prayer in full version – with credits to star01, owner of the videio:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2R_vT-DNwc

—-

I’m an Ilonggo, and I have some few personal encounters with Jed when he was just struggling as a singer in Iloilo as the lead singer of “Dye Vest Band,” they used to be very popular in western visayas. Jed used to visit the stores I manage – Penshoppe and Oxygen in Roxas City and Iloilo and I had some brief chat with him as a customer in my stores(I doubt he even remember), but in those brief encounters with him, I can attest he is a good person with a beautiful heart which in my opinion is a perfect match for our princess, Laarnie.

Other than Ronnie Liang, Jed is on the top of my list among the established stars that would make a perfect loveteam for our star – I thought he would compliment Laarnie’s gift with their great voices and our princess would be in good hands with this certified good hearted star. I don’t necessarily expect, and-they-live-happily-ever-after kind of thing, what I’m saying is the match would surely make good and strong impact. If they take their relationship to the next level, it’s really up to them – who are we to teach their hearts?

I look forward to see and hear them sing love songs together. I hope ASAP would put them in a segment where they would sing duets every sunday. 

For their hearts blend well in duets dear.

 


Evanescent Romance (Sonnet)

~

We are joined by our hearts’ seeking radars.

Our souls converge at midnight’s starry skies.

We talk, our words are the infinite stars.

We feel so intimate with our closed eyes.

Our unions are chronicled by my pen.

The winds’ soft whistles signal your presence.

Your image flickers through my window pane ~

Silhouette of my dream-lover’s essence.

In my mind I touch the face of heaven,

When you croon to me lovesongs of silence.

Bliss is what my thoughts of you has given.

You illumined my lonely existence.

                         Romance confined in shadows of the night.

                         ‘Tis evanescent with the morning light.

~ Jeques

 


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!

~


As I Travel On

morning flower

Like the seeds and the flowers, I, too, long for the sun to lit my face and so I follow the direction of the light. I don’t turn my back to its warm glow, I tried it once but I only saw shadows. I crawl, and walk, and run, and slowly tread my path towards the light ~ it is the only way I could get a better view of life, of my destiny slowly revealing itself from the distance as I travel on. It’s like waking up, rising, walking and following a spark of light in the morning haze believing the promise to see my full vision coming to life as I travel on.

As I draw the curtains open ~

Welcoming the light to my room ~ in the morning,

I’m warmly greeted by ethereal scenery,

From the window, of the garden.

Velv’ty petals, captivating;

Ferns’ fronds waving, pruned bonsai trees, green leaves sparkling.

The morning dew trickles on the leaves, like pearls dripping.

My secret treasures, my blessings.

.

Along, a light soundtrack playing,

Of winds whistling, and birds in the background chirping.

Closed eyes, I inhale the eucalyptus essence,

Wafting in the air of morning.

.

A breeze steals me a tender kiss,

In my mind, I draw someone’s face and lips, and wish.

Evanescence, with open eyes, it vanishes.

‘Tis gone like a dream, leave no trace.

.

Fruits mellow as I wake today.

Seeds sprout, birds perched and nestle in the mango tree.

Fishes swim in the pond, contained, yet feeling free.

Tendrils cling, vines rising, like me.

(Rising: Welcoming The Light By: Jeques B. Jamora – October, 2005)

As I continue to move forward, the light defines itself and give my life new meaning. Destinies reached become part of the colorful trails I left, like lamp-posts to mark my glorious travels when I look back and re-live the lights of the memories. I continue to rise from the grounds of home that anchors my heart and where I am deeply rooted. So no matter how far the distances I reach as I continue to chase my destiny, I know where I belong, I know my heart’s home.

lightposts

Bay-bay, Roxas City, Philippines 

In a tropical isle in the southeast,

 

Is a dormant waif seed with lots of dreams.

He is home, but his soul seems not at rest,

For across the seas his destiny beams.

 

 

.

Visions often visit him in his sleep ~

Winds taking him to his frontier west.

In a tedious journey, ardous and steep,

He feels the adventures pound in his chest.

.

 

He drinks the sweet mists oozing to the earth

That nourish the seed’s dreams, feeding his soul.

He feels the world’s warmth while inside his hearth,

And thrives through the earth’s generous heart dole.

.

His homeland gives his dreams a sense of place.

Your encouragements kindle his life’s blaze.

 

 

(Nourished By Jeques B. Jamora – March, 2006. A poem I wrote before I left the Philippines)

This week, the Writers Island prompts us to write on ‘Rising‘ and ‘Destiny.’ These are my thoughts, these are the songs that my soul sings, and I know many in http://writersisland.wordpress.com would love to listen. Please visit the island where many souls are singing.

 

 

 


Cosmic Dust Once, Too.

corner

(A corner in my apartment where some of my paintings are displayed, space for my readings, and home to my lifeless companion click here for my other paintings: http://www.flickr.com/photos/16275015@N04/ )

It was my day off from work yesterday so I cleaned my apartment. Cleaning my space means renewal to me ~ I just don’t rearrange the furnitures, I’m rearranging my life.

Clearing my space from clutters and throwing objects that are not working takes so much of my time when cleaning. It’s just so hard to decide and let go of something that worked well for awhile. So I have this area for objects I can’t let go for now. But once this part of the cleaning is done, everything else are easier to do.

Next, I blow or should I say kiss the cosmic dusts out of my place, and off they go to reunite with the stars. Dusts are once part of our bodies that we scrub off. They unite with other particles to become cosmic dusts and one day find its way to the stars. We all once belong to the stars, we are cosmic dusts and to the stars we will all return. Cleaning my room, cosmic dusts ~ look where it brought me?

Tiny long-legged spiders weave their webs in the ceiling and secluded corners of my apartment. If I don’t clean regularly, I’m afraid they would put up a village in my apartment and they’re my most unwelcomed guests. But somehow, these little creatures serve their purpose of reminding me to clean up.

~

 

Woven insect traps

On window of misty dawn

Catch the slant sunlight.

~

Cleaning makes me find lost objects. It is surprising how things get into some corners and find them when I’m not even looking. I remember my frustrations not finding it when needed, only to discover that it was here all along.

The closet is the most interesting space to clean and arrange, there’s poetry in its every corner like my heart, my closet.

~

I need to clear my closet of my past.

‘Tis muddled like a clumsy poetry.

Emancipation frees my self at last.

A closet cleaned is like a heart that’s free.

While cleaning out my closet’s shelves today,

I found some things too good for me to toss.

I’ll keep them, they might be of use some day.

My reveries veer and back to my muse.

It’s hard for me to let go and forget you,

For I am like a ship, you anchored me.

I know that you are always good as new,

So in my core I place your memory.

                    You are safe here, though I don’t know how long.

                    You are my home, my heart’s where you belong.

~

Rearranging furnitures is what I like best. It makes the significant mark in the cleaning. It is amusing to think that when I finish arranging things, I always thought that everything are in place. But a week later, some objects just seem off and out of place in the total look of my space: could be the color, the shape, the angle. I always find faults in my own making. This explains that nothing really remains constant in life. However perfect we perceived something at one point, time changes things and so is the way we look at them.

Something has changed in me in every passing of time. I move forward, I let go, leave something behind and take something with me everytime. I accept freshness, I’m still me, but renewed. It occurs to me just now, cleaning my apartment could also mean cleaning my self from clutters of unwanted thoughts, clearing my mind from cobwebs of worries, rearranging my life and letting go of obsolute ideas to embrace a fresh and better perspective.

Cleaning my apartment and becoming a cosmic dust ~ I’m with the stars. I’m home.

 

 

 


Love-Poems

A Match Made In Heaven

(sonnet)

.

Allow me to limn your soul with my words,

Let me trace your aura with my fingers

So my pure heart’s lyrics could strum your cords.

Come near, let’s create love-poems together.

.

Permit my soul to croon you a lovesong.

Open your core to me so I could hear

The ballads of your soul I’d hum along.

For Our hearts blend well in duets dear.

.

My sweet paired rhymes proclaim our love’s essence

And you’ll be the voice behind my verses

For melodies define our existence

That would soothe every listeners’ senses.

.

Angels usher us to our destiny.

Heavens paired us in perfect harmony.

~

New Frontier

.

Make me your new frontier

Come with me to the distant forever.

To love’s impulses, let us surrender.

.

Come with me let’s chase forever

Flowers would bloom with our laughter

In a new frontier of endless summer

Rains would bathe our hearts with gentle showers.

.

Come, make my meek abode your shelter.

And together we’ll live happily ever after.

~

The Promise

.

You are my only happy day,

I will hold you in my heart constantly.

I’ll keep you forever fresh in my memory.

You’d be my source of joy till my hair is gray.

.

If you decide to go and leave me,

Please leave your sunshine with me.

Promise, my love would stay radiant as today,

Even if your sun would set in me.

.

You’re the one that made this waif soul happy.

He would thirst for you eternally.

~

 

 

 


Cover Story

I write because I feel that something inside me needs to be said, a voice wanting to be heard, a seed needing to see the light of day. . .

I discovered that when I express myself in writing, I need an ideal shape and form for my thoughts to be fully understood. I allow my heart and my intuition to guide me to pick the right pattern to entwine with the music of my soul that gives rhythm to my poetry. I value clarity and honesty, they are the be-all and end-all of my works.

I write my poems because I feel them, I believe them, they are my truth ~ they are me. I don’t give my pieces limitations as to their form and shape. Some pieces want to be all over the pages like a simple poetic journal entry. . .

“what now? I don’t know. I ride the tides, sail with the wanton winds lossing my anchor. Wherever it will take me, there I am. I just hope one day the tides and the winds will take this vessel back to you to anchor me. . . “

Some wanted to be written in free verse. . .

People

Places

Things

Nature,

Life

Offer abundant inspirations.

Some occur only in my imagination

Silent illusions ~

Writings done initially in the mind:

Dreams in my sleep.

But like seeds seeing the light of day,

They sprout from their coats

Grow leaves

Take roots

And display colorful blooms

When I awake.

They become sketches in words ~

Stories, poems, music of my soul

Written on pages.

Stories not told die.

Dreams remain in the shadows

If we don’t live them.

Random thoughts nag me.

My hands itch to write

My body has to live my thoughts.

I allow them. 

And that’s when Poetry Becomes me.

Other thoughts are expressed better in Haiku. . .

Sublime Ruler(Haiku)

Majestic ridges

                       Enthroned on placid blue sea

                                                              Crowned by fluffy clouds.

Senryu. . .

Hunters live to take

                      Gardeners exist to give

                                                   But both shepherd life.

Tanka. . .

The best of prayers

Are chants from the heart in songs.

I don’t have a gift

A voice to pray in a song.

So I’m praying though my poems.

Others may need to be written in vignette. . .

As the sun sets to the west

I lay, shut-eyed, on its chest.

The eastern breeze pass a gentle whisk on my face.

I listen closely to the songs of the sea

As the waves come home

Like a lover breaking down

To the chest of the waiting shore.

I lay there and wait.

While some require refinements like in sonnet. . .

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.

And still others are better left as prose.

I listen to my heart when chosing a structure because if I follow my mind, free verse just disguises the laziness in my thoughts and execution, and the formal verse just sugar-coats my bloodless triviality. The heart recognizes the difference, and so I write only with my heart.

Most of my earlier works are written in the morning when my job still allow me to wake up at dawn for my morning pages. Now that I work night shift, afternoon becomes my morning ~ so it is safe to say that I write when I rise, whatever the time of day. It is important that I capture my thoughts as soon as it start to reveal itself because when I miss them, they are lost forever. It’s like an entangled thread that I need to find its  loose end and writing helps me untangle my thoughts to clarity.

“Tis great to think with a free mind;

                               ’tis wonderful to love with an unretrained heart.”

These words speak my life’s mantra, and I found my enlightenment by writing.

I hope my written works, the songs of my soul will find home in your hearts. Because when you read them, you’re listening to this tyke’s voice, and I allow you to take a peek to my waif soul.

I wish you well.

~ Jeques