Mimsi Flowers and Notions

The Fog
By Bonnie Jennings
Summer 2012


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?
Science answers.
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.

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Cooking With Joel


My happy list:

In the refrigerator or in my kitchen:
leeks, shallots, green onions, chives
and yellow and white
Tomatoes, avocados and pomegranate
celery, bell peppers, and cabbage
endives, fennel, and fresh ginger
a partridge in a pear tree
jalepenos, peppers and pepper jack
white pepper, black pepper, salt and dill
blue cheese, gorgonzola and mozzarella
turkey legs, white fish, filets and natural chicken
crawfish, lobster and salmon
fresh butter, cream and love

a son that’s a master chef, and a great bottle of cabernet

smiles and great joys of family cooking…


The Language of Christians, and I’m one, so, I can say these things…

The restraining of God
The restraining of God

The language of Christians, and though I’m Christian, mock the jargon.

Why do we (christians) think and act as if there are special words like:
Praise the Lord
bless them
bless your heart
glory and other words,
that define the persona of a believer?

Why do Christians assume that anyone who doesn’t use this verbiage isn’t Christian?

Why do we assume that God only recognizes people who say these words and if anyone doesn’t use these words or phrases, then, this person isn’t a believer?

Are these words created by Christians so that we can recognize one another and if these words aren’t used somewhere in someone’s conversation, then understand and know, those beings aren’t Christian? Is there a subliminal identifying signal which says, “hey. I’m a believer, and they are to?”

Do we believe that God sent us a box of jargons, specialized language, slang, cant, idiom, argot, patter; newspeak, informal speech-babble, journalese, bureaucratese, technobabble, psychobabble; double-talk, doublespeak; gibberish, gobbledygook, blather (from apple dictionary), to use?

I’m just curios as to how this emerged and do all languages have their identifyable “Christian” talk.

Trying to Find Home

Trying To Find Home
“Awe,” the radience; so bright.
Then, follow it, with all might.
The road course shall lead by day
Rocks, turns, stickers and curves
Climb anyway…


My prejudiced thoughts;
lofty visions of you.
Fiery images deflect a golden hue.
Imagined you, bronzed, dazzling, and vein.
We danced; then came rain.
Caught too long there.
Idol thoughts; so dear.
Washed away; with my tear.
My arms bound, and mouth sealed.
Woven. Hey! What’s the deal?
OH, My God! I’ve Been Caught!
The coven’s web intendedly taut!
The feast I am. His delight.
Oh, fairy friend! By the firelight!
Here I am!

Now the spiders home virtually unseen,
vaguely tucks into that corner beam.
But, see the dim light, growing so bright?
A fairy severers the silk, so tight.
And, falling from the web of fright.
Still arms tangled by silk threads
Pushing out bracing the fall
The spider and the fairy brawl
wham, bam, to and fro, from the deathly fight they bow
Looking, whom’s, my fairy friend? Noticing it must be Joe.

Underneath the spider
Joe waves thumbs up, You’re alright!
Now run like hell! To the light!
Run away little bate!
For, the fate of the firefly might be too late…


by Bonnie Jennings 1/12/2010

Supernatural Journey (a short story)


While dreaming in the midst of a stormy night, booming lights from the electrical bolts slashed dashing across the walls of my bedroom. I hid my eyes from the frightening waring images made from the shadows.
Miserably, I disdained my life and I, thankfully, welcomed sleep. I hated everything that God gave me and the thunderstorm came to punish me. I was certain that His wrath deliberately chastised me. Surely the grim reaper stood close to my bed. I felt his ominousness cold breath. The rumbling thunder and magnetic energy surrounding my lying body, ushered me into a sleeping journey back into time..

When sound asleep, suddenly, I heard in the distance ~ “the sounds of war?” Bombs and the shaking of the tin shelter where I hid crammed with others, whom I didn’t know. Oddly, they knew me, and there we hid tightly pressed together.
“I must have travelled back in time?” I thought.

They spoke in a foreign language. It was Polish. Everything was gray there, including their battle worn faces. The wrinkles bore sad lines of desperation. Their bodies were almost skeletons. And, I wanted to run, but when I started to leap, they held me.
Then, screaming, “no! Let go of me! Please!” I escaped only to see armed men coming my way! I caught my breath. There, in the dark of the night I saw a sign which hung swaying in the freezing rain and blustering wind. The metal sign creaked “Warszawa, 1943.” I knew where I was… The horrors of death were everywhere. Bleakness and freezing weather, trapped innocent victims.
The enemy soldiers started to grab me, but ~
I prayed that God takes me somewhere else other than WWII, Poland.

So, He granted my wish.

Rolling in the dirt, in fear of The Nazi’s, I was thence transported somewhere else in times past. Here the air was humid and the smell of death and blood permeated everywhere. Flies, fleas and moans came from dying men were everywhere.

I heard, “help me. Please, won’t you help?”
A man lay there in the brush. He was in gray and I was in blue. By his side a rebel flag was standing next to his bloody broken body.

“Where are we?” I asked.
“You don’t know?” He puzzled at my daze. “Mississippi.” He looked at me as if I was mad and he had disdain on his face, even though he was dying.
So, I reached out to lift him away from the fighting as all good men do. It was then, that I noticed my skin was dark. I was a large Negro man. I, aghast, thought, I’m in trouble now. Here I am, “a colored man,” centered on a battlefield in The Civil War. They will kill me. I will die. Now, more panicked than ever, I surrendered to my fear. How then, my old life seemed kind and benign in comparison to Warsaw and Mississippi.

I petitioned God’s help. “Grant me my own life, once again.” Sobbing from the deepest part of my being, concluded that he did not grant my request.

Then He transported me, again. I found myself sitting on a piano bar singing loudly. There was a sign hanging across the wall of the smoke filled bar. It swayed back and forth as the room seemed to move erratically. The sign said, “Welcome Molly Brown.” The crowd applauded and I smiled, warningly. The spotlights were in my eyes. A second passed. I noticed the calendar displayed on the wall said, “4.15.1912.” Gasping. “I’m on the Titanic.The night it sinks.” I whispered with dread. I knew, soon these lives and Molly Browns would be recorded in history. They were unaware and I was petrified. The iceberg floats before us. It will sink this ship and most of the applauders will soon die. Mortified of knowing the fate, I froze.

If I could change the course of history in Warsaw, the battlefield in The South, and on The Titanic, I would. If there wasn’t any goodness within me, then my travels changed me. All three places taught lessons: thankfulness, empathy and compassion. “God, I know, I understand. I’ve been selfish and unappreciative of the mundane circumstances in my “pathetic” life. I’ve been blessed all along and so ignorant.

With the final confession, I awakened in my own skin. It was my room and correct time…
My worldly travels were enlightening and my lesson? i will not murmur, grumble nor whine ever again.

Photo on 1-28-14 at 4.26 PM #3