Solid Grey

This poem was channeled by me for someone…  These feelings are some mans…Not mine, but I felt that I needed to write them

Solid grey

The clang of scraping metal

A full Moon lit our breathing force

As the still clashed and no remorse

Thirteen degrees and no clouds seen

Working by nights accomplishing a means

Hungary mouths of little children demanding more

What does it take from a man who married a dank whore

Leaving lives hanging without any thoughts of responsibilities

Leaving me, but whats worse, leaving them

Children, four soulless Bastards

No mother:

She left

The sounds of the clanging of scraping steel

Nails on a chalkboard is how I feel

Strangely The Moon watches my every move

It knows how a lost desperate man broods

And I work by night to feed the birds

My ears ringing from hearing dirges

Meshing the frozen gloved fingers tightly

Soon to enter home to kiss the four darlings

And send them to school while sleeping in daytime

And the hour glasses sands move one grain interchanging

Until four pm comes daily as it does regularly

Voices of the hungry enter

Begging their daddy not go into the winter

The hammers won’t wait

For the father’s little break

He hugs them goodbye and puts them to bed

And the grandmother sleeps cuddled next to their heads

Remembering Robert Frost

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Investigating the road noticed

A set of tracks singularly left

Perhaps a motorcycle or a sled

The icy coverage maybe slick

Deciding if the path needed me

To venture the trail leading where

I’d never been but seemed foreboding

Oh but the brush and thickets held

Could be rabbits or deers or who knows what

The road invited me ~ so I pondered 

Remembering Robert Frost, I questioned

Is this the way, or perhaps not

It looked so innocent in the beginning part

Considering the icy surface and a mishap

But the other way held no assurances either

And each would take me to where I belong

Just different routes to meander through life

Standing looked as far as my sight grasped

The other way, was not envisioned 

So, I decided to keep moving through

Neigh the other would be traveled blindly 

Thus I went where I could vaguely see

And perhaps, I ask myself ~

 Did this decision make the difference

Is this the road, I should have travelled

 

 


 

BJ K♣️©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 

Image from Pinterest

Gabriel Watches The Seas

 

A fast river flowed
A mind that perceived and not in overload
All knowing, all seeing, all being ~ to all
An oracle, her majesty, the watcher of walls
She bore the tears of other’s tending waters
Swells of oceans from turbulent troubles
And as she reflected on this chaotic disorder
She considered Earth and all it’s living matter
Embracing the tearful whirlpools ~ seen splattered
The pain and sorrows of all living ~ who’re battered
Scolding Saturn’s returns that rapes the fallen left tattered
Casting the attacker’s troubles down the river of sorrows
Flushing the toilet of madder patterns that’ve saddened
Taking on all flying daggers and smacking all the stabbers
Trying to Free all souls bound on Earth ~ as ordered
Gabriel, the angel who is the watchman mother
Her sword drawn to defend, we common
From demons, lawless lawmen, and loving the forgotten
Defending mankind and animals causing circles of water
Arguing devils, their disdain and silencing their disappointment
Loosing the kingdom once enslaving the living
And Gabriel watches the seas and rivers movements
Sweet bergamot permeates, when all the living are freed
Until then, she executes Gods ordinances on those venomous vipers
And the polluted waters flow, in her mind, back to the prince of darkness
 
 
 
K♣️
 
12/25/2016 © Bonnie Jennings ♎️♐️ All Rights Reserved

Thank you GIF maker… Your name was not included and I wish that I could give an attribution to your art….

Freezing Thoughts

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A frozen thought

Gleaned within the dead of winter

Solemnly stood

Looking for the answers, 

Answers that I’ve known

In the deepest recesses my soul

There is love

There is a mother

And I have poetry

Poetry ~ given me to fight

In words protected and calmed

By the shadows of light

Protected from the night

There ~ it is love and all Earthly delights

It is my shield

A fortress, so strong and mighty

I choose thoughts, the words

And writing is to reveal them

It is my armor; it is my strength

Safety in the womb protecting my truths

It is my own and no one can claim

I am a poetess

I am a writer

I am a book

I am, as you are

And only you ~

Understand

 

BJ

Two glimpses at humanity — A Heapin’ Plate of Conservative Politics & Religion

Reblogged…  The picture says it all…   And you believe we should sell baby tissue and parts, eh?

 

 

via Two glimpses at humanity — A Heapin’ Plate of Conservative Politics & Religion

Poetry: Voices Telling Stories

A frozen night
December grays and ice
A candle burns
Scrying ~ gazing ~ into flickering light 
The mystical visions dance in my sight
The wax drips unwillfully
The night demands attention
The poetry moves in notions
They speak 
Voices telling stories
Whispering ~ hear me
And I choose
I listen
A solid conduit
Of spirits that insist being heard
And in poetry they move
In verse their tales live
In sleep ~ I rest my head
The sun arises
Then, the ghosts go to bed

BJ

I See The Moon’s Shadowy Light

 

 

I see the moon’s shadowy light
As of memories, it tells of a cast
Cold somewhere rain and dew
Tinkering thoughts and distant pasts
And in the comfort of my being
Looking through ancient crystal glass
Seeing the clouds shape silhouettes
The Scottish castles and Highlander’a ride
Closely I examine; so perplexed
This time was a millennium away
Haunting dreams, while I lay awake
Remembering a love, passed that day
The aromas of an era, of a man
So distant and vague the visions dash
Each night I watch the shadowy moon
A story of a distant path I’ve known
I hear a voice that makes me cry
A message of a love gone-by
And ghostly different and far away place
Knocking gently, opening a passageway
BJ
 
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Gloomy Skies and Writing

 

 

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Titter titter titter ping-dink

The pitty-pats of tinkling drops

Gloom and doom clouds touching terra

Just listening from the window ~ they clang

 

The vacuum of the rain’s spirit

Invites me to a journey within

Resisting desires to run and play

Being hypnotized by the droplets array

Its own music, rhythms and time free

 

The droplets and the clouds

Synchronize their own melodic orchestra

Being dazzled by the hypnotic tunes

And noticing the amber clouds at midday 

Take the pen and paper

Writing lyrics to the gloomy day

 

The droplets have a job

A mission of their own

They transport thoughts to another place

Perhaps somewhere back in time.

 

Soup is on the stove

I learned this from my mother

“Always have a chicken handy

For rainy gloomy skies”

 

The poor chickens feed our comforts

During cold and grey days

“Put the tea on, in the kettle ~

And brownies in the stove,

Perhaps you might have company,”

During gloomy afternoons…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Never Argue Your Point, Simply BE Your Point

 

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I was almost drawn into an argument

And it was pointless

Narrow mindedness and tunnel vision

Steal from others the light

That is, if it is allowed that chance

 

The best warfare

Walk away and leave them yelling 

No one can win where ears are hard as stones

No one wins when brains are in-prisoned 

 

Leave and get far away

Trust the Spirit of Truth is always working

Even on yourself

 

There are some battles that belong to timing

Some of those battles belong to the right voice

Lessons learned take lifetimes

 

And we are not God

So ~

Walk away