The Final Question?
Can the deep insightful King of Clubs
raise the final victory
over the overachieving
king of Diamonds?
not a final nod.
Eyes glaring steel blue and hazel green
facial lines fixed
not even a twitch.
Slowly woven like the Earth to the Moon
moving like a dance
made a circlular pattern
on the floors of onyx black
The King of Diamonds
so sure of himself
believed no fight
from the Club herself,
But the Club held dear
the truth in her heart
The Lord Almighty
from the start.
Round and round
so slowly they moved.
The Diamond King’s lips
snarled a smirk
as he spit tw’ord ‘er shoes.
And the King of Clubs
shot darts of fire
her eyes told,
The one eyed King
dazzled with diamonds galore
But, The King of Clubs
kept her mind
on the chore.
Over and around
the blades slowly moved
then picked up the pace
without any shoes…
Cling, clang, ding and gwong
the blades met
rangling a song
“All shiny and strong,
the song of a Savior,
That life is a gift
given by Him
and though expect treasure
we don’t always win…”
The Kings welded
their swords in the air
cutting their skins
and toppling their hair.
nor whimpering came from the two
but fierce wellbred bickering
whipped whistled twang pue.
The blades never ceased
the clang of the strikes,
faster and harder
beaten the life
Of one Diamond King
and the other a Club
but The Savior stepped in
to straightened their thuds.
Now, it came to pass
that The Diamond King
tipped his hat,
and gave up his crown,
and that; was that.
And The King of Clubs
Surrendered her heart
at a cross
on a hill~
For the hill is where
all kings will bow
made not of fools…
but of heroes,
Those, i am’s, of Thou art.
The Queen of Spaguettes wrote Spagetti songs
All red slippery syllables so sweet
The scallions savory smells
Saute’d speeking scrumptious swirls
Sultry sounds sung with a beat
Spooning spegetti thickly it seems
Our mistakes of spelling and semi colons, not teamed
And The Queen of Spaguttes continued singing her psalms
in delusions of grandiur resulting all night long
Thinking how clever her rhymes beamed
until reviewers pointed her poerty unclean
So smiling she smiled The Queen of spagueetes bid goodbye
all in a year and a day…
For no spags visited or asked her to play.
Seems she gave that silly spaguette crown away…
Dark clouds hung low that day as the gallows staged his fate. The crowd screams, “kill him! He must die!”
Her whisper arose from the yells as the procession passed. It wilted in her tears and was finally inaudible. But, she did not stop.
She cried, “please king, hear me. For’ I knew him when young. I raised him from a babe. I promise there is goodness in him. I promise. You see, he brought me flowers when he was wee. And, he said mommy these are for you. His sins are indeed treacherous, but as a little boy, he loved. Here, see, the flowers are pressed in my scrapbook.” She holds the brown tinged dingy page up for the king. Her tears tell another tale about the accused. “I beg you king. Please, consider my son’s eternal fate. Please.”
The king did consider. He knew her love proved remarkable and her forgiveness beyond unfathomable mysteries and for this reason alone, the eternal fate was pardoned.
So, mother’s love is deeper, stronger and mightily forceful than any force to be measured against. God blessed her for her courage and fortitude.
The damp cloud came while sleeping last night
Answering no invitation it rests
Vaguely it lingers until it wants
Dissipating in time; we wait…
Questioning, why did it come?
But, why did it come?
In darkness; found romancers.
Loneliness stabs my heart when come
And truths hidden arise like fog.
Here answers are, as I stand.
Now knowing; as planned.
It comes to take like Grim Reaper
Lives unsuspecting; for this I shudder
And on a byway blanketed dew
The unsuspecting meets the cue
After it’s claimed living possessions
Dissipating, evaporating it’s gone
Sun rays shine through the dank cloud
And life continues as before
Until the veils shroud again
The circle rolls once begun
Then, the fog’s web laced
But, until then; the river has embraced.
Author Notes The news came last night. Two dear friends, stand facing terminal illnesses. I’m reposting this poem. One of them died yesterday and it is grievous time for all, and mostly his family. To Dr. David Brown I have dedicated it to you. The world has never known a better psychiatrist than you… We lost a great man and an extremely kind man… RIP
Boarding time is coming soon
The spirits enter to meet the groom
Open the windows, the heaven’s doors
He sits silently in the light
She waits; anticipating.
She gazes at the filled plane
Wishing she could stop the rain
Wanting so to take the steps
But, held deep regrets
She moves back into the shadows.
Predictively, it blocks out
The wheels back expectedly
There stood she, in her misery,
Held her tears that no one sees
Tighter she leans
Then laced within her feathered locket
Braced inside it’s velvet pocket
She holds the vial of arsenic
Tighter in her grip
Some wandered forty years
A tribe of nomads seeking, something unknown.
Wanting desperately the milk and honey
And finding the desert of dried bones.
Hot the sun it burned me
In the summers continuous
Sweltering thirst in this parched land
Thickened tongues will lap
The freshness of the cool waters
And napping in cool grass
Longing greatly for comforts
Seeking what I had not.
Then dreaming came a messenger
Speaking of the land in my heart
And wanting the land I longed for
Lived in the caves from the start.
And as simply as longing for water
Could just prey the designs as smart.
Then no longer wander the desert
But my shoes will follow my part.
Amazed, stand I, looking down
Seeing the sparkly red shoes
And The Land
flowing with Milk and Honey
Right at the end of my toes.
Howling tells all.
THANK YOU BOYS,
Welcome To Winter Faries and Return To The Forest
And ending with
The King’s Duel
By Bonnie Jennings 2009
Just a little note to you, who are hopefully reading my poem. It is long. Sorry, but it had to be as it tells a story about love that’s become volatile. Love that is abusive and perhaps dangerous is Beauties struggle. The last lines beginning with “goody goody for me…” is the best of the poem. So, if you must then, jump down there to read. It is that part I’m most proud of because Fairy Beauty declares her win over the evil sh’man. I love her words to the audience, to herself and to him.
Thank you for stopping by.
Hopefully, C-ing you soon?
Evil Sh’man Speaks.
Hey! Come back here you Elfin Faerie!
Stop giggling, skipping and dancing, right now!
Caught again this time…
Feel the gripping of my grasp?
You Elfin mischief maker.
This time you’ll pay the price.
Last time… You’ve plucked my “C” chord.
Making sure of that…
Ha! You laugh, tease, taunt and twirl,
but now meshed between fingers of steel.
The last laugh; mine.
Little green Faerie neither sex surely known.
Doesn’t matter now
For between my fingers, thou art.
So, wiggly. So smart!
My eyes will not close!
The night approaches. Willing not thou clever plan.
I sleep not!
Sword drawn at my side.
Think Thou smart, do’est though?
Think ye shall wait?
Time your best ally?
Big green eyes look so sad.
Concerned for souls, are you?
Eyelashes ever so sweet and dimples warming pink cheeks.
One big tear begging release?
Ahhh…Turn Away! …
Eternal soul sucking fascination of Beauty’s green eyes.
AYE, Look away!!!
No gaze at she!!!
The promise of your love I shall not see.
The trigger’s trap catches not; me.
I DO NOT SEE!
Then Beauty Takes Her Leave as The Evil SH’man Sleeps.
Black night comes,
alone and cold.
Smart beauty sleeps warmed
By hands that fold.
In quietness the present enemy waits.
Beauty taunts not.
She need not…
For time be her friend.
Coldness aligns her side
And loneliness sang lullabies to her;
“sleep child sleep.”
The fight grows small.
Sleeps on the horizon; it calls.
Hearing distance voices my eyes rest.
The hills and a mountain melody lays sleeps fog.
Can you hear it, as well?
“Gently gently, sleep.”
Beauty crawls from fingers once tight.
Not to awaken the captures soul…
She’s played before..
However it’d grown old.
She plays well.
A champion for sure.
“Awaken not my game.”
“Comes tomorrow a fair shame is he.”
“Foe rest; later your dare…”
“Thought you had me?”
“You foolish sh’man.”
“Look! Who has who.”
“Thought you’d won?”
I’d not get away?”
Ah…Before Daylight shines…
“One last game..It affords me so…”
Whispers stories in midnight sleep.
You’ll think strange, “God’s” voice for certain.
Magical messages, images, songs and words;
“God’s!, not His at all…”
“Goody, goody for me.”
“One more time before nights end
Can bully jab my soul.”
“NOT!” Then; Beauty declares her win…
Her long fairy fingers reach for the harp.
The soul of her game?
To pluck his “F” sharp…
“Bold challenges,” said Beauty,
“HIS love I detest,
but, as He has made it,
I surrender my quest.”