The Little Lives of Clouds

The feathered white pheasant’s tail was broken yet she flew anyway

And on the horizon swooping low was the mouth of the dragon

Yelling and pointing, “Go South!” Pleasant friend rigorously showing the way

Yet smoother than vanilla ice cream drifted the angel fairies just enjoying the day

All is well by the looks of the spectacular blue skies! What humans think 🤔

And the people in the clouds roll their eyes in utter quandary at thoughts of beings

A sigh is heard from the leader. Pausing breathes and pulses from the cloud kingdom

Just waiting for the Moon 🌚 and not being seen to loudly or heard silently, but dreaming realities of Tolkien an TS Eliot

Can’t wait to show Jacob about this world above our heads and inside our hearts that leaves one day when we become mankind.

I love you Jacob… Mimsi Never loose your imagination

Hiroumi Sunagawa, A Lesson From Death

Once again I have the pleasure of introducing you to a friend that I gained after my death in February of this year 2019.

I sought the help of Hiroumi after he was referred to me by another person who had a death experience but unlike mine. He felt Hiroumi would be the one who could help me, and he, my friend, was correct. I am amazed by the knowledge and integrity of this man Hiroumi.

So without another minute of me writing and talking let me introduce to you, Hiroumi Sunagawa.

Hiroumi Sunagawa

Each obtains the intended experience. My youth death experience and return was odd. Most of what happened was far beyond my child-mind’s ability to process. I think that is why the decision to withhold memory of all of it occurred and was only given a partial recall 18 years later.

When given that partial recall, I remembered, and saw the part where the memory withholding decision was made. I asked questions about this and was told I would recall some of the missing gaps as I lived life, and some gaps I would never recall while here on earth.

As gaps were restored, each one only occurred when I was spiritually ready and prepared to accept. Each time of a gap restoration caused me to have to fully review all of what I recalled.

The gap restorations are still occurring. On the average, it’s been around one gap restoration every seven years or so; although there were several restorations within just a few years time, and those were intensely mind-boggling.

I have come to the conclusion that the entire set of events of death and return and all that occurred on that foreign seashore and dunes was carefully preplanned and prepared specifically as a “reservoir” made accessible to me only as I moved forward in wanting to come to deeper comprehension.

There have been times where I read multiple spiritual books and then months later, after accessing additional insight, a gap restoration would happen. None of it was “forced” upon me. Every step has required my will to move forward. This is part of the design specifically for me as an entity, because of the core nature of my inner need.

About ten years ago, during meditation, I was shown how I ended up on earth and why it was necessary for my entity to experience multiple cycles.

I was shown that each soul that chooses their very first non-fully-spiritual realm for material incarnation is provided an utopian cycle that mirrors many of the spiritual characteristics of divine ways. And this “first experience” would create a sense of a “material Home”, an attachment to that world that exists within a chosen universe.

Eons ago, it was determined that there was no suitable world within my “home universe” for the lessons I needed to experience for deeper understanding. What I was shown was being “transferred“ to this universe, and being “temporarily assigned” to earth.

It was then that I was given the nickname of “The Traveler”, a nomadic soul without a permanent home. I was also shown that I held no position or authority in this universe because it was not my original assigned universe. I was, indeed, only visiting for experience.

There is more to the story, but this is sufficient to show that each of us are unique and each of us have experiences presented for our uniqueness’s needs.

Where to find Hiroumi Sunagawa…

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000804985663

For your pleasure another treat added for your relaxation.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=nEbyR6377IY&feature=youtu.be

Thank you sooo very much Hiroumi Sunagawa for allowing me to share your thoughts with others. It is my hope that all of us can understand what happens to we humans post our deaths from this world.

Thank you,

BoJenn

Karma Explained

The “yin” and “yang” flows to and fro throughout lives providing the sewn.

And when it’s all over and taking your bows, karma presents you with a kick in your arse.

It says, “try it again, young soul of earth. Sleep well tonight and think of the dirt.

Supplying the manufacturer with a path to create.

Now onwards laddies into the matrix and plights.

And give it up when reaching the delight.”

Quietly Passing

Chuckled, the muse of delightful eyes glancing

A Pecan orchard had wandering paths before us

Lost in the myriad of thoughts on love and youth

The Moon so full on that eve long ago

The gentile light beams led to where a few longings be

Whilst Jasmine capture the memories of fingers with pencil in hand?

Tumbling at night under the trees and our stars flickering whimsically

Tangled wavy auburn hair and yours’ black sleek waves of onyx

Grasping for one more moment as tenderly complex, as this

The horned owl watched in questioning shock and utter voyaging

Embracing as one within a book of tender follies

The aroma of peaches tossed to and fro; smiling

Walked quietly, my bare feet met strath and yours in boots

The Jasmine asked, would we come back?

“Oh… I don’t know,” I replied. And that was that.

The Pecan branches blew so soft, as I pondered

The Moon lit the meandering path, in my mind

I wondered then what life could have brought

Would I, could I, find your way again?

Saying goodbye to the sweet orchard at eighteen

Have not traveled his path joined with any other hand

But, aromatic memories, so fond, still permeate the memories

Smiling of our youthful passionate quests… back in time, that lingers fondly remembering my exposed apple breasts.

©️BoJenn 2016

My after life perception

My drawing of my death experience on the edge of the universes. At the top I labeled “phagocytosis” as for humans to leave our universes came a warning ⚠️

The Fibonacci grew all over the edges and it created electromagnetic energies that communicates with the entire universes and supplies energies needed.

It seems to me that our universes make up the upper lobe of a lung or perhaps I misinterpreted the idea. It seems right.

Over my house (east Texas USA cst 2018) In Bullard TX

There seemed to be several points on this ufo. Maybe 5-6 and I was bare eyed without glasses on.

The image disappeared at the end around 2025 cst USA

6.5.18. I got the original date wrong because I’ve been working nights and my internal calendar is screwy

BoJenn 2018

Ambling

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Ambling

Ambling thoughtfully; analyzing this habitation
Arrived at an entrance of burnished timbers
It challenged me to set my feet onto its foundation
Staying put, contemplating the door of imagination.

Cautiously without making reckless steps 
Patiently progressed one step at a time
Over the doorsill, though I, perplexed
What seemed lovely, perhaps a trap hexed

Once on the other side, standing to my surprise 
The burnished timbers passed into oblivion
There stood I gazing at amazing huge butterflies
Overhead flying birds singing into their sunrise

Solely hoping for a friendly companion 
Felt unaided and quite isolated
Sauntering slowly, exploring saw a canyon
There fairies frolicking, twinkling, I glanced in

Sprites, pixies, brownies and a fay
Caught my attention, and they looked my way
Surrounding me with their warily gazing and swords raised
There I bowed low, clinging to convey

No danger from me, as I meant no harm
Imparting my terrors of being alone
Unable to find, any of my kind, may you lend me a charm?
You see, the portal closed, and I must transform

Back to the place where I belong

K🃞

©October 2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

Image from FB shared photos

The Path

 

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The Path

Whistling with the birds at sunrise

Walking a wooden path on a hillside

The rays of sunlight came to greet me

And the birds twitted amongst the trees

The squirrels frolicked across the planks

And I meandered the painting of God’s picture

Expecting only brilliance at the end

A country fairground in the meadow

A carousel of horses going round

And pink cotton-candy to eat

And music from a pipe organ

Skaters dancing to the beat

And then I return at evening

The sun reflects similarly

And I follow the path homeward

And thank God for the diversity

Of imagination

 

 

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

Teaching Alchemy, Legends and Angels to Children through poetry

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GATHERING with Barbiel ~

And she was venturing in the forest

Going to fetch the fungi and moss

The girl searched the strathy floor

In the mystic Highlands of Scotland

Alone searching, seeking for notions

Prayerfully seeking wise advise

And there she sought wise Barbiel

The Angel of October, and asked ~

Where do the toadstools grow here?

Amid the dankness of the leaves?

“It is in October they prosper on trees”

Then Barbiel took his dousing rod to lead

“Come this way girl, and don’t meander

I’ll teach you of autumn’s alchemy

And some other things,” he spoke kindly

Barbiel pointed to the medicinal fungi

Found under the wet decayed log

He held up a yellow October leaf

Inspected and said he, “just wait until it turns orange.”

And on their path of only mystics travel

Who wander questing of the dark forest

Finding a Fagus Beech Tree standing alone

He cracked the triangular nut offering

She ate the sweet fruits he gave her

Filling her basket with the kernels

Slowly continuing onward,‘old Barbiel taught as they passed forward

This the child maiden spent a day learning

From the tall burly angelic wisdoms

“When will I see you again?” She questioned

“I’m afraid, not until next October.” Said he.

“I’ll be here on the first next year!” She promised.

Then saying goodbyes ~ He departed.

She watched the sparkling winds dissipate

And long-suffered October’s date ~now fated

 

*** Notes***

Barbiel – angel of October

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights are reserved

Thank you artists at Pixabay for your image

 

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THE MAGIC TUNNEL

 

In the togths of the Grenberby

Hidden from sights of The Ogmims

A land of wonder, minuscule pleasures 

Lives the Loras and the Bimblebergs

Green moss gangles from Birth Barsh

And the twithers feed off the valgus

Tis a plattif of seraphs and bees

In the togths of Grenberby

 

 

©2016 BJ All Rights Reserved

 

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THE SPRITES

 

Royal blue, turquoise, yellow and brown

Pink florals, green ivy, and Dandelions

Pages with cursive filled with swiggly-swags

Sheer magic, delightful wonder, and words

Butterflies, crickets, shells, clouds and sky

And poetry inscribed charmingly so glace’

Keep The Sprites forevermore, never dies

Within the pages kept by butterflies

 

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 

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HOFNIEL

 

Standing over Gethsemane, right hand bearing my sword

It was then, I called upon Hofniel, The mighty Fighter of the children of God

Asking, Hofniel will you defend him, the child in query? I asked.

And old Hofniel asked, “Which way ~ to the glory of battle fare friend?”

Bowing at the warring angel, whose strength ferociously tame

He thus tapped me on my shoulders saying, “Arise my faithful partner.

Do not falter in fear of dragons, but rather trust in childish faith.

And, yes, I will come to your battle, and lead you into the light.”

 

 

***Hofniel – The ruling angel of the bene Elohim; name means “fighter of God.”***

©2016. Bonnie Jennings. All Right’s Reserved

Thank you for visiting
Just remember the copyright    🙂 Pretty Please… ©2017 Bojenn All Rights Reserved
 

*Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Bonnie (Gay) Jennings, or Bojenn or Bonnie Jennings with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

More Summer Poetry 2016

Writing on FB @ The Poets Haven with Alan Boles

 

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In 1745, the apothecary

Time stands still, peering at the past

The chemists lived making potions 

Between dust and rats

Gadgets like compasses hung

Amidst glass vials and bronze knobs

Keys to hidden compartments

Silver ladles and candelabras

Joseph Black isolates CO2 

An odd phenomena of “fixed air.”

The healers of the early ages

The fearful labelled witches 

And, often then burned

 

 

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The Bird

Perching on a window seal 

With quill and paper imaging

Distracted by a thought

Exploring the unique meanderings

Of an early morning creation

Just sitting at the window

A bird catches my sight

Staring the feathered sparrow

Seems to ask, a crumb, I eat

And my writing takes another path

Because a little bird entered my notion

Thinking about Emily Dickinson

 

 

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History

Ions pass and people die 

But books left behind time and death

The future remembers our ghost that linger

Some will cry reading the pasts recorded

In romance, in texts, in diaries and Bibles

 

 

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Each life is a story written within a story.

A book with moving pictures 

A book who’s ending, we write

 

 

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Lavender and blue berries in a wooden bowl

Chocolate and cinnamon and aromas galore

Visual images, aromatic delusions, a memory

Perhaps scenery, placed within our energy

Recording the goodness of bounties

Mixed with human kindness

A life desired so simple

So fragrant 

synergies 

 

 

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A word arises, “Do!”

Sending norepinephrine whirling

Straightway to be

In utter confabulations

A mind unrestful 

Held captive by a demon whispering suggestions

 

 

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Reverence
 

 

A mountain stands, so climb

Exhilaration, reaching the summit 

Peace, before the descent

Pray, few rocks and cliffs present

The valley has green fresh grass

A clean stream of faith abounds

And God lets an eagle soar

But, the eagle too, will rest in the valley

 

 

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Life Force
I meant to have the purest spirit
As to look angelic, and holy
Thus in my life, affording this
And death be eluded by this raven

This raven stands collecting my life
It’s ears hear not my prayers
But that fowl governs life or death
Then, grace may it be aware

Humbly petitioning noble men
Mantaloo, I seek with supplications
Request that this bird flee
Graciously give me rest, I seek

That a Raven refutes Elohim’s designs
On this shall I trust my existence
Sucking the elements of force home
In turn, the Raven returns my life
And exits south thus taking flight

 


*** Mantaloo my creation for the name of a demigod***


 

 

Thank you for taking your precious time to read my poems. May you walk in God’s grace and light….

 

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K♣️©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

Imaginative Children, Are They Future Authors? Does your child change Medusa?

 

From Pinterest Images

Imaginative Children, Are They Future Authors?

So, it’s been said, regarding the odds of becoming a famous writer that, “4 out of 5 people, want to write a New York Times best seller, book.” Clearly, the odds of becoming a famous author are stacked against every writer. It maybe easier to win the many lotteries, which have a winner every day, somewhere.

Looking at the traits of many writers when younger, we will find a child who had/has/have an incredible imagination.

To watch for a potential child writer, one should notice and observe traits.  The traits vary, and these traits, I’ve listed, are certainly not (all) the characteristics of (all) young writers. But, these are a sampling or examples of some observations a parent may see in their youngster or youngsters.

Does the child change the story/stories that a parent reads them? Do they have another ending? And to add about this trait, it may occur at very young age. Perhaps, even before, age 2 or 3 and on up. It depends on how early the child was exposed to books and stories.

Does your child love stories? Do they open a book (often) without prompting by a parent? “Here, please, read this to me.” And, “No, that’s not how it ends, mommy/daddy!” They clearly change the setting, plot and characters…

Does your 7, 8 or 9 year old love to write poems and do they keep a diary or journal?

Has anyone accused your child of “not telling the truth?” Or, have they been accused of “lying?” Many times a young writer will suffer punishment for being creative. The parent may not understand, nor their teacher. Perhaps, the person who will/or has recognized this gift, in a child is someone who is also gifted… After all, as it’s said, “It takes one to know one.” Non creative people often become frustrated with the creative child. The parent or teacher is unable to understand the trait, they simply don’t resonate with a child who is unlike their self or themselves … They can’t.

On to the characteristics: Does your child make up better endings of stories, or more violent scenes, or change any part of their world that is unsatisfactory, as well as stories? Does your child perhaps change Medusa? I laugh at this statement, because this is what I did when I was a child. I made my mother change the snakes to dragons or horses, and my mother, always obliged me… She was a creator, as well.

Does your child pretend a lot? Do they have imaginary friends? Do they talk to themselves? Can they entertain themselves with fantasy for long periods of time? Are they as happy to be with themselves, rather than, being with friends?

Do they want to know historical facts? Are they obsessed with hearing other stories over and over again? Do they have foresight? Are they intuitive?

Do they live in a dream world? Do they daydream? Has the teacher at school gotten on your child for, “Not paying attention?” Perhaps, your child is partially listening, but is making the explanation better or more interesting… ?

Has your child been treated for a psychiatric disorder? Did they put your child on medications to clear up delusions, hallucinations or mental illness? Does your child have nightmares? Do they see things at night or day? Do they think the boogie-man is truly under their beds?

Now, please understand, there are mental disorders that do need to be treated. However, a consideration for imagination vs psychiatric diagnosis, must be clarified. Asking and verifying, are these behaviors an active imagination or symptoms of a psychiatric illness? (is absolutely necessary)

If your child is surely not suffering from psychosis or a mental illness, then it maybe a good idea to have your child placed in a group of young writers, poets, lyricists and artists. Often artists do suffer from some sadness like other non creative people do, but creativity plus sadness often is interpreted as mental illness. (Very sad face). The equation is not 1 + 1 = 2 …  It is merely 1, you have a creative child and 2, the child is depressed (like many uncreative humans). Too often, the 1 + 1 = 2 means a psych diagnosis, medications and a label that follows a child the rest of their lives. (very sad face, again).

Children will need to have this gift of imagination developed by the right person. It is a parental responsibility to help cultivate an imaginative child and to teach the child when to turn the fantasy off and when to create… After all, an imaginative child will create ALL THE TIME… that’s their gift, just like a vocalist or an artist of pictures …  Writers create worlds, kingdoms, magical places and wonderful stories if we nurture them, understand them, and assist them. For an example, if you forbade a writer or creator from mentally creating, they would not/could not stop imagining. It is as natural as a natural born vocalist. Writers are intuitive manifest-ors. They will need positive instruction and direction from someone who is also creative. They will need direction from a positive influence.

I don’t know about becoming a famous author, screenwriter, lyricists or poet, but I do know, from being a creative child, they will thrive in a protective, supportive environment and who knows what anyones future might be… Except the little author… Oh, they can create their world… It’s as far as their imaginations can venture…

Happy writing little ones…

 

Please feel free to write your experiences or your child’s character traits of being a writer… I would love to know yours…

Winter Fairies and Return To The Forest

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Welcome To Winter Fairies and Return To The Forest

My poetry is dedicated to my family respectively:  Jim, Babe, Carol, Elysia and Joel.

Also, I want to thank all of my poetry friends that I’ve made on FB. The list is so long of my FB friends and I just want to let them know that they are so appreciated…

Now, just a little note to you the readers. This is a long poetry story. It has to be lenghty as it tells a story about love that’s become volatile. Love ,that is abusive and perhaps dangerous, is Beauties struggle and “Beauty ” is a metaphor regarding the lives of domestic violence victims.

I’m most proud of Fairy Beauty who declares her win over The Evil Sh’man. I love her words to the audience, to herself and to him. She comes through as the ultimate victor in the case of domestic warfare.

Thank you for stopping by and reading the allegorical poems of Winter Fairies.

Oh and by the way, the word fairy or faerie have two different spellings and meanings. A fairy is good and kind and represents innocence while faeries are mischievous at times and are practical jokers and create havoc in their environment.
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WINTER FAIRES

Evil Sh’man Speaks:

Part 1

Hey! Come back here you Elfin Faerie!

Stop giggling, skipping and dancing, right now!

Caught again this time…

Feel the gripping of my grasp?

Delight, fright?

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.

Escape not.

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!

Fighting sleep.

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.

What’s this?

One big tear begging release?

Ahhh…Turn Away! …

Beguiling charm!

Eternal soul sucking fascination of Beauty’s green eyes.

Devilish harm…

AYE, Look away!!!

No gaze at she!!!

The promise of your love I shall not see.

Turn away!

The trigger’s trap catches not; me.

I DO NOT SEE!

 

Then Beauty Takes Her Leave as The Evil SH’man Sleeps:

Part 2

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.”

SSH…Shh…

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.

I answer…

Can you hear it, as well?

He snores…

“Gently gently, sleep.”

Beauty crawls from fingers once tight.

Careful, careful…

Not to awaken the captures soul…

She’s played before..

However it’d grown old.

She plays well.

A champion for sure.

Quietly quietly,

“SSH”…says She….

“Awaken not my game.”

“Comes tomorrow a fair shame is he.”

“Foe rest; later your dare…”

“Truth? Ha!”

“Thought you had me?”

“You foolish sh’man.”

“Look! Who has who.”

“Thought you’d won?”

“Ha!!!”

“Surely thought?

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…”

Ah Hah!!

“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.”


 

Beauty, The King of Clubs, enter’s another battle with The King of Diamonds or The Evil Sh’man. One more round taking place in the courtroom of divorce.

 

Poem 2

The King’s Duel

 

The Final Question?

Can the deep insightful King of Clubs
raise the final victory
over the overachieving
game playing
often clever
king of Diamonds?

Swords raised
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
was there
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,
“He’za liar!”

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…”

And so,
The Kings welded
their swords in the air
cutting their skins
and toppling their hair.

No whining
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~
decidedly smart.

For the hill is where
all kings will bow
made not of fools…
but of heroes,
Those, i am’s, of Thou art.

 

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Poem 3

Fairy Beauty was captured because she was on a quest to find the perfect person to love her. And, because of her innocence, kindness and inability to defend herself, she is captured by a man, who is not for her ultimate good well-being. On the road of searching for a god-like man, she was captured by a sociopathic man….

 

In the poem, the man in the forest she meets, is a god-like man whom she created in her mind. It was a man similar to what she felt her father was and perhaps he is her biological father on her god-like quest for a great man to love and marry her.

So now, for poem 3:

The Forest Man

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Like a drug; I’m compelled.
An index finger points the way.
The path covered in vagueness.
Only trust leads my day.

The forest is my storybook.
Few paths I’ve known.
Some are smooth and uneventful.
Some are treacherously bare.

Once a lesson completes.
And a short respite occurs.
The forest fairies find me.
And, another adventure is assured.

My feet are weary from twists and stones.
Tripping along the way.
But nonetheless, the spirits find me.
And again, I’ve nothing to say,

Excuses are lame.
Whining creates more.
So, quietly I proceed.
Wandering, the magic roads of lore.

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Passing through the brush.
Carrying my satchel of prayers.
Perhaps I’ll pass a man.
A man who relinquishes terrors.

And I’ll look for him in the forest.
There, pray he shall find me.
Illuminate, our eyes will sparkle.
Then, my spirit shall be set free.

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Beauty does escape the evil sh’man; however, the road home is often filled with in trepidation as she is always looking over her shoulder watching and waiting for the reappearance of her captor. Her fears are at times delusional as she struggles with being tormented and falling back into his hands or similar hands. She knows that she is vulnerable because of her naivety.

 

Poem 4:

Escaping and Returning to The Forest

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Cold, cold, cold the morning; cold.
Coffee warms my hands.
Unraveling memories; seeming dull
Still night dreams, do unfold.

Whispering…
Low clouds covered the forest
Eyes that see not before us.

But, follow the pale path
Neath the weary feet.
See it! There! Underneath!

SHH!..silence!

Wet leaves covered the way.
Then look closely if you may.

Sprinkled sparkling faerie dust
Shimmers neath the leaves.
And, if you follow the shining lights
Those sights shall take the lead.

Following the strath of twigs and weeds …
Growing near the path
The wetness of the leafy stuff
Still bares the night time mask…

Here, there, turns and twists
Mark a path which won’t resist.
All night long seeking an end.
Running, skipping and stumbling on shin.

Searched, knocked, and sought
Only not to find
Any faerie myths…
Oh, how my heart…
Does pine.

I tired of your game,
Oh, Faerie
Running your path night long.
Then decided I,
Best to wander home.

And, vaguely remembering sanity
Since safety departed me,
Calling from the woods
It growled ferociously.

Sad and disturbed
Missed you again!
And, lowering my face,
Bares a fools return.

Hey, Look yonder!!!
There! My Mims!
To be greeted by their love!

The open arms of my kin.

My family who loves me dearly,

And they who prayed me  home

That night.

Even despite myself. ,
Yes…

Even despite myself.

image

Special thanks to my Late mother, Babe, my Skipper B, my Dear sister Carol, my daughter Elysia and my son Joel. They “who safely, yea, safely prayed me home that night.”


 

Beauty is still on her journey with the help of her family to find sanity so she continues to seek refuge at home once again. She is still running from the shadows, the bumps and bangs in the middle of the night or day. She shakes from fear whether real or imagined.

 

Poem 5:

Trying to Find Home

 

“Awe,” the radiance; 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 the 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 intently 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 severs 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 bait!
For, the fate of the firefly might be too late…

 

image

By Bonnie Jennings 1/12/2010

 


 

 

While on the road to recovery of being a doormat personality, Beauty finds a new friend who comes to stay with her during the getting home and settled sate. And, it was then that Faerie Jo (JR’s) entered her life. It is true that Faerie Jo made Beauty laugh again; however, Faerie Jo had some deviant behaviors the Beauty was amused by. He made her laugh though she never experimented with his mischievous suggestions. But, Beauty does thank Faerie Jo for the recovery of smiles, amusement in life and deep hearted laughter she had lost while in the deep woods of fears.

 

Poem 6:

Joe’s Seduction and Return to The Forest

 

 

 

 

 

Joe’s Seduction

 

Innocently spoken

lips of faerie red.

Failure to answer

deliberately unsaid

~

“Come On!

You want to play!

I see in your eyes

And OH,

By the way”

“At the end of the day

You’ve nothing to say?

We’ll see.

Yea?”

~

“Come now

Sing and dance with me.

By the time night comes

We’ll use the key.”

~

“The window thought closed

We’ll not use tonight

For as the sun sets

The door will shine bright.”

~

“And, just as before

When the Moon was full

You danced by the light of the fire.

And your life…not dull.”

~

“So come on Old Foe

I challenge you today

to come to the Forest

But, don’t forget to pray.”

~

Now Joe’s eyes

faerie green-blue

Her hair of red waves fell

Her waist little too.

~

Charming alluring daring

Joe seduced the weakening victim

O so sweet her voice

before Joe actually kicked-em.

~

“I can’t, I won’t !

Now, GO JOE!

far from me!

Out! You Elphin mischief-maker!

There! The window!

Now, LET Me BE !”

~

Pouty lips and bats of faerie lashes

A wink of Joe’s eyes

She extends her hand

“Come now, come nigh,

And do not say, good-bye.”

“My human friend

Please don’t cry.”

~

Joe’s fingers crossed

After her word

“You know you want to come.”

Joe’s clever tenderness heard.

~

Then their eyes met

Joes soul stronger by far

It reached out to point the way

To the forest

By declare.

~

Weeping, sobbing and uttering,

“NO!,

For with you faerie

I SHALL NOT GO!.”

“You LIE, you CHEAT, You’ve NEVER TOLD the truth!

Away from me little demon!

For I a clever sleuth !”

“I found out your tricks

All slippery twists and turns.

You’ll not lead me to the forest

The fires there

Will not burn!”

image

Blink blink. Smile smile.

Joe’s gestures summoned otherwise

Lies, cheats, twists and turns?

“You know how you loved it?

O, compromise!”

“Hey, for now,

Why don’t we play?

Remember the time

Remember the day?”

“You chased me,

And I chased you

Around and about

And away we flew.”

“And, I gave you wings

So you could fly.

You wore them one day

And flew sky-high.”

~

Up and away

or top of the trees!

O, how you flew.

Then, crashed down on your knees.

You cried a little

Afraid to smash

But, I caught you.

Do you remember that?

~

By day we flew

through tops of trees.

At night we danced,

Howled while burned the fire

With the breeze.

~

The snow fell

white branches below

cold air on our faces

you didn’t say, no.

~

Confessing your fears,

Don’t make me fly!

Saying, Damn you fairies!

But, we took you so high.

But, once on top of forest trees,

cold air blew

threw majestic hair.

Then, smiles over took you.

You’d no more cares.

~

Remember Foe

The human flew

Above The Earth,

And, safely returned

To the fires hue.

Tasting faerie brew

Though freezing; made warm.

Tasting our food,

image

 

Now, whats the harm?”

~

So, come now,

God of the sky.

Let us dance, cheer and sing

And, please, don’t lie.

~

For flying, your game fare

The faerie sort

A dare!

~

So, stay if you must…

But, winter is coming

and near the first frost.

Kindling our fires

Don’t get lost.

~

The invite is yours.

Extends the Faerie hand

In Spring depart

From kindred land.

~

Think it over,

I’ll return once.

To ask you to play

to ask you to dance.

~

Well,

Quiet are you

Not so sure?

Your soul inside

Embarrassingly pure.

~

Judge others,

And they judge you.

But, in Faerie land

All tiny feet

Wear the same tiny shoe.

~

“So, I’ll leave you this morning

To think for yourself.

I’ll return ONCE more.

~~~

When The Moon shall wane

Then, you should thin,

Follow the elf.

~

But, one more time

I ask you to follow

Before The Moon’s full light is gone.

Then, don’t dilly-dallow.

~

Joe moves to the window

Her faerie finger points up.

Then, her faerie wings take to flight.

But, before leaving from captives sight

~

Joe turns to wink

And salutes goodbye.

 

 

 

image

 

 


 

 

In the year 2011, Beauties mother dies and it is in her memory, that this poem was written. “Babe,” Beauties mother was life’s weaver of magic and good dreams. This poem is about Babe, who helped Beauty so many times. This poem is a thank you to Babe for her constant help in real life and beyond….

 

Poem  7:

Autumn Weaving with Babe,

my weaver of dreams and magic 2011

 

 

 

IMG_2665

 

Weave in and out skip two colors of dreams

Raise the level of forest green

now circle around the lights magic stream.

 

Yellows and oranges

Parfet and red

perfect strands of marbled threads

~

Dashing there yonder

up over Mars

bringing back a handful Stars

~

Wild horses charge

Black stallions at night

Taming the dragon with beacons of light

~

Casting them into fortune and fame

Causing the wind

Making it bend.


 

Lastly, there are many more in The Winter Fairy series of Poetry, but these are the most significant to the experiences of abuse. This poem is about the road of recovery. Victims have a tendency to repeat damaging relationships. So, in the recovery process, Beauty separates herself from any possibilities of dysfunctional relationships until she can learn to say, “No,” and she can recognize  the “red flags” that charismatic abusers often present. Until that time comes, and maybe it won’t, Beauty rests, heals, and discovers her own needs for self love.

 

Poem 8:

Leaving Adam

 
 
IMG_3957
 
 
~

Leaving Adam

 
~
 
 
Eons advance and passed away.
Thought, theory, speculation and opinions, die.
Glancing through lenses, and squinting, at the sky,
Adam, pointing, at the twinkling specs, named the brilliant ballet.
 ~
 
So, following mankind, up the mountain,
And ascending a rocky path; we embarked.
My feet followed his, upward, to where the sky was arched.
His staff pointed, and the heavens, then filled me, as a refreshing fountain.
 ~
 
An advocate of The Father of Man, I desired what he sought,
Thus’ left the home of my family and upheld his zealous quest
Confidently, I abided and affirmed his every request.
Even, wore his belief’s; did just as he taught.
~
 
One day, dared I asked, Adam, the man of science,
How is Eve today?
And, if looks could kill, then Eve is dead, thus’ left us only, to pray.
Deceased, she is. He answered, with a chill of neglectful defiance.
 ~
 
Man of Science, I spoke so boldly.
At the mountain top; we stand
The stars, you named, and held, in your hand,
However, love you murdered, so coldly.
~
 
This day, I choose the mother
Her love, which first found me
Within the warm and welcoming spirit, in there, dwells she.
 And, today, I accept non-other.
~
 
So, progressing and moving towards her;
 Over, the cliff of doubt, rapidly grabbing her hem, I aim.
Because, after carefully, considering your treacherous, pains,
There, in her grace ~ I seek her, safe harbor
~
 
I choose faith, that which, I cannot see. 
 
IMG_0381
 
 
 

 

 


 

 

©2010 by Bojenn or Bonnie Gay Jennings or Bonnie Jennings
@Bonnie Gay Jennings, or Bonnie Jennings or Boondoggling with Bojenn

*Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Bonnie (Gay) Jennings, or Bojenn or Bonnie Jennings with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. All artwork is also the production and creation of Bonnie Jennings.

 

My email: Bonniegjennings@gmail.com

Thank you for reading. I pray you found insight.

God bless you.

Bonnie Jennings or Bojenn

 

 

 

Quarks and Atoms

 

Similar to a galaxy spinning in time
Measures and degrees relations to physics
Worlds and molecules and atoms be
Thicker, heavier, denser or sparse
Spinning in their community on a coarse
United by their gravity and specific force
Ignoring mankind as it flows in unison
Though truly mankind rarely notices
Tiny quarks and black space not hidden
Just so small, but significantly living
Wildly busy and holding prayers
The littlest places, but no one cares
But in the tunnels black between quarks
The energy moves vibrating this heaven
The space between iron and chemical seven
Make a place that causen weights to levin
Billions and trillions of atoms maybe
Your eyes, so that you can see
A world of beauty beyond this place
A world of atoms of molecules and me

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

Doodles by me

Inspiration of the Weird Kind

 

Inspiring places…

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Some people must go to a cabin in the woods to be inspired to write

There are some who like mountain tops or large, loud, bustling cities

Places where the foods are exotic inspire Andrew Zimmern

But oddly, the best way to inspire me is to make me clean grout.

 

It’s called. “Let Me Escape! This floor is cold, dirty, filthy, disgusting and I’m sitting on it! 

 

Escapism 🙂 by writing … Stories are a terrible thing to waste.

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Sometimes God Whispers

Sometimes God Whispers, and sometimes He is silent. 

Silence is golden it’s been said.

When God talks to you, the body and mind come into one unit of sheer joy during the synchronization of the two separate parts of a person. Some have called this meshing of energies, “Goose bumps.” Anyway we see or experience God’s communication, it is an awe inspiring moment and during that moment life seems to stop. Life matters no more because the coming together or the meeting of our minds to God’s is beyond words, expressions or explanation. When it occurs, time dissipates and what is or remains, is a moment of pure clarity with The Mind and thoughts of Gods.

Hendrick ter Brugghen, Esau Selling His Birthright, c. 1627

So weirdly, at age 62, I dreamed, last night that I was pregnant. I felt terrified because, I knew, after experiencing child labor two times in my earlier years, I wasn’t physically able to birth this child that I was carrying. I looked down at my belly. It was huge! The skin around my umbilicus was tight and round. It was a 9 month pregnancy round. I looked up at God who said nothing, but He continued to work like a grand old surgeon does. And then, my first birth pang began. Horrified and vulnerable to His plans, I had no choice, but to surrender. God let them start. The thoughts of not only did I realize that I couldn’t physically give birth at 62, but the mental and emotional aspect for parenthood and raising another child was beyond my capabilities. The energy needed was greater than my reserves. I whispered back to God and said, “Please, no, I can’t do this.”

It, the birthing process, began anyway. God did not stop this birth. He didn’t speak to me, nor have eye contact. His internal presence and His will was understood by a fearce impression of I know that I know and there are or were no if this, and that, nor any whining persuasions using the words, but God.The horror of it all was before me and I knew what I had to endure His plan no matter what. I said, then, Knock me out! And the next thing I saw was an epidural needle. They placed it in my back after they rolled me to the side. I fell deeply asleep.

I awakened this morning at 0400, as I usually do, and remembered nothing, but that I felt happy. By the time 0600 came the memories of this dream began to creep back. I noticed my abdomen is unusual feeling. It is at this time, I realized that God whispered something to me in the night hours. Something occurred. I must wait, listen and heed as His whispers are revealed.

I suspect He has told me, that no matter how big the circumstance appears, I will go through it and even if I do not understand all things, it must happen. For our ways are not His. Trusting Him is the only way. There is no negotiation, no complaining, no pouting, no refusal at this stage of the game of life.

Earning the wings that I wear

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Earning the wings that I wear, 

Dutiful battles and wars not disbarring, 

The sight of suffering and smell of stench, 

The roads we’ve traveled often forgotten, 

The hunger for home, not resenting, 

The survival fought for mankind, 

My wings though grey with dirt, 

The fight has passed my thirst, 

But we continue forward, 

As soldiers do, 

Commanded by the Lord, 

Until we’re through.

 

Don’t think you shall slip from me,

The Watchers
The Watchers

Don’t think you shall slip from me, 

My mind won’t permit

The waters try to separate us, 

From the sweat and the dust of Earth, 

But I won’t let them take you away,

Though the clock hands unwind to suggest so, 

BUT, I SHALL STOP THEM, from taking you, 

My night dreams and visions will carry us through, 

Until I enter the door of everlasting bliss ~

And perhaps leave you here, 

Half forgotten, “Oh, my dear.” 

I’ll let you go if I must

So, here’s to your peace

In me you can forever trust.

Farewell, my love, goodbye.

Writing Gypsy For Forbes

Good morning and did you know this?
Good morning and did you know this?

Really? Forbes hires gypsy writers? Well, not yet, but they will.

“Did you know the Huffington Post is looking for writers right now?

So is Forbes, Lifehacker, Problogger, and even the Harvard Business Review.

There’s only one tiny problem”

http://guestblogging.com/public/book?inf_field_

This is an interesting article… Must read when there is time…

Day 30 The Trinity

This will be one of my last posts on 30 – 31 Days Walking Through The Bible… (my way). This one is a little lengthy and I do apologize; however, the number 3 has so much within it and are entirely different from each other characters within the 3. Perhaps 3 character types are more prone to mental illness. And, unless it is balanced, may slip off and be one-sided making the 3 out of sorts with itself. It is the most artistic, and most genius of all the numbers, and I will try to explain why.

So, here we go…. The number, 3

Day 30 and 3 + 0 = 3 The Trinity of all numbers. The number 3 has 3 parts or 3 components of one and is demonstrated in The Holy Trinity” which is inclusive of The Father, The Son, and the force and connection that binds and guides them into the union of 1. Without The 3rd force, The Holy Spirit, the number 3 would be a split personality or split personalities. After all, how can 1 person have 3 different entities living within itself? This would be impossible. To remain stable and be of a sound mind, would be a challenge for the best of us, do you agree? So, we break down each part of a 3. Number 1, The Father; number 2, The Son; number 3, The Holy Spirit according to traditional Christian teaching. Each part is unique of itself and can not stand alone and be a 3 personality. The 3 must have all the parts of The Trinity in order to be a true 3 and it must have all the to balance itself.

This is a picture that I took in 2010. This is controlling an energy perfectly with mastery.
This is a picture of JR that I took in 2010. This is controlling an energy perfectly with mastery.

Number 1) The Father is a being that embodies all creation. This father called all life forms into the world. He/she is the chief engineer, the chief lawyer, the chief doctor, the conductor of the grandest orchestra that one could imagine, and is a disciplinarian of all that he chooses. This creator is a wizard and simply creates by thinking something into existence. Within the 3, as I’ve written before, is a tremendous artist type. The 3 can produce masterpieces as their mind is in constant rolling factory (but never the same) master designer and producer. The godhead of creation of these pieces of art  is found in The Father. It is truthfully difficult for a human to understand God, The Father because this entity is like the number 8, infinity, and is not bound by any pictures, spheres, aromas, plants, mountains, animals, sky, universe, heavens, people, life, death, quasars, black holes, engineering, medicine, mathematics of all kinds, television, theories, food, oceans, waters, atmospheres, continents, stratospheres, microbes, atoms, nuclei, health, disease or you name anything and God has already made it years ago, passed it and has gone so far forward in creating more and more every moment, second, or infinite time or quantum this or that… Nothing contains or controls The Father, the master creator. Except ~ number 2 and 3 make the creation easier to comprehend. It brings creation down to something mankind can perceive and except. So, The Father, the creator is part of the ego or personality of the 3 person. The 3 is a true artist whether the 3 person creates cakes, photography, understands all mathematics, music, pictures, novels, writing, landscaping, architecture, or any type of artistry that I am leaving out. The artist says something in their designs that will more than likely not be spoken with speech (usually); however, let me say that some motivational speakers are clearly creative energies and have the 3 characteristics.  Artistry will come through in their display of whatever it maybe. A personality without creativity is questionable about being an actual 3. There is a certain kind of madness or mania within The Father. Many 3’s have manias or depressive states. Does The Father have depression or mania? Heaven’s no! However, a 3 person who has a taste or a fraction of the creative power found within The Father will have a (different than normal) flare or perception thus making a way for creative genius to be displayed. The portal of creations rolls of the three or it just manifests without trying. It is constantly exuding from this person. Creativity is not mustered up or conjured. It just occurs naturally and can’t be stopped. Now, let’s look at the next apart of the 3 personality.

Number 2) The Son is the part of The Father that is civil, kind, just, pure, enlightened, beautiful, humane and it is because of all the goodness within the godhead is embodied within the character named, The Son. This 2nd being/entity within the 3 characters is the one who renders grace and mercy. He is the one that tames The Father and makes this world and universe have a since or loving order that a man/woman can and will perceive. It was a small part of The Father’s design that doused mankind with a void or hunger for love and beauty. The Father had to give to humankind a personification of himself that would be known to him and by him as His Son. The Son is the curator of this gallery of The Father’s artistry and history and is the goldsmith of this earths and The Father established The Son over this masterful accomplishment. The Son presents the masterpiece in away that humankind can understand and He also presents mankind back to The Father for final inspection. The Son is presentable in human form and looks like a man and talks in the languages of humans. The Son thinks like a human and suffers the human losses the same. He feels the grandeur of gains such as in a marriage celebration. The son smiles at the birth of a child. The Son marvels at the flowers in the fields and The Son cries at the misfortune of others and feels the loss and deaths, the same or more than, the human. The Son takes notice of animal life and The Earth’s agricultural produce. This planet became the home of The Sons’ and he loved it as much as anyone else. He marveled at the beauty and wonders the same as the next person. He also beheld the glory of the sky from a man’s perspective. The Son was able to control the waters and miracles because of the next personality held within the 3 number. He is the healer of the earth. And, I must say here at this point that a 3 character without the 3rd force would be entirely at odds within itself. And, without The Holy Spirit, the 3rd unit within the godhead, the 2 opposing personalities wouldn’t be united. The Holy Spirit brings both The Father and The Son into a peaceful union which makes operation of the other 2 characters, smooth and without flaws or roughness. My question is probably the same as yours. It is the age old question that wants to know, which came first? Did The Father create The Son and The Holy Spirit or are they separate of themselves? And, the answer is, your guess is just as good as mine; however, we can speculate together. My thought is they were all part of The Father’s who created the others because he knew he needed them for perfect balance. My guess and what is yours?

Number 3) The Holy Spirit is the magic. It is what goes and does the supernatural maneuvers over all the creations that God spun into action. It is the oil for a squeaking wheel and is the force that makes everything happen. When either The Father speaks or The Son and orders a process to occur The Holy Spirit moves. So my question is what if The Father and The Son are in opposition to each other? What does The Holy Spirit do then? My answer is when The Father created or found The Holy Spirit, he brought it into the godhead knowing the nature of healing, and the divine covering that The Holy Spirit always does, so, The Father chose or created it for this purpose. The Father knows all things require balance so the 3 entities balance each other perfectly and from out of that perfection all smile and find the joy of perfect harmony in perfected expression. The Holy Spirit is the cursive in beautiful hand script and it is (or she as The Holy Spirit has been identified as being a female) the flowers and green grass in the meadow. The Holy Spirit makes all that is wrong, horrific, painful and unappealing into the opposite of peace, comfort and great understanding. She makes life worth living and is the enlightenment of the universe. She brings hope and peace. She is a good nurse and not so much a teacher as that would be more of The Son’s role. She takes no credit. She is the rainbow after the storm. She is able to work in the dark spaces of time and space and there is no place, not even at the bottom of the oceans, that she can’t permeate or be present. She is found everywhere, even in the heavens and galaxies. War zones, birthing rooms, hospice rooms, tearful places, happy places, mountain tops and on The Moon, in the minds of mathematicians,  The Holy Spirit moves, travels and holds his being, healing, enlightenment, joys, and peace and so much more. The Holy Spirit brings The Father and The Son into perfect union. The creator, The Father, and disciplinarian and the other the great lover and humanitarian, The Son, she makes perfect within the spherical number 3 as she smooths all rough ends and brings an absolute balance similar to a ball that rolls together with synchronicity and harmony. The Father and The Son understand and appreciate one another as with the help of The Holy Spirit, they are all united and perfect. They are the yin and yang of life, Earth, water, fire and air. They are rolling together as one and see and understand all things in heaven and on earth.

In the number 3 we now can experience the light and the darkness, the cold versus hot, the morning and the evening, birth and death, and so forth. The 3 number holds all opposing knowledge and has The Holy Spirit to make all rough places straight. The number 3 is a difficult character to be or live with; however, the 3 is the most gifted with opportunity to be a 3. After all, God The Father and The Son entrusted the creative knowledge to the 3 person and gave The Holy Spirit to tame the drastic opposing views and gave the 3 the tools to create music, mathematics, literature, art works, cakes, wall art, writing of all kinds and so forth. To much is given; much is expected and with that responsibility can come moments of madness that must be tamed. Being a 3 human, that person will need help and great support in order to do all that God and The Son intends.

I will be adding or perhaps taking away from this article at times as it’s not written in stone, but is only my perception of the number 3 characters.

*Also, a note here that I will do the number 31 as I do want to wrap up the complete qualities of the 4 character and then I shall be complete explaining numerical basic related to creation, God and the grand design of mankind. This numerical walk through the Bible is intended for fun and it not intended to replace the need for psychotherapy or God as you experience him. So should you need psycho-social help, please see your doctor, or go to the nearest emergency room.