Fables For Jacob; About Control

 

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Once upon a time there was a golden pen

It was sleek and elegant and was its own

One grey foggy day a brown shoe visited

Telling the pen it should sweep as a broom

The golden pen didn’t realize its penmanship

And became a fine natural haired bristled mop

Thus swept the cobwebs from walls and the floors

Cleaned windows and dusted chairs without love

It began to wear its woven tough coated flocks

Singing no songs whilst it was manhandled to death

Sat in a corner collecting no glory just cluttered doom

It began thinking, “What was it doing dusting the room?”

There was a world awaiting tales from twisted off keyed tunes

A smile appeared where the golden paint had disappeared

The pen arose from the wooden stick of woven haired loom

It stepped away from the shadows or the corners where stored

One step, two steps, three and four moving toward the door

Grabbing the handle trying to gain its escape

Jumped higher each time jumping to its fate

Escaping to freedom by inching its slender way

Never again would it listen to a brown shoe’s dismay

Realizing it held power all of its own

Taking advice from something not its clone

Learned a lesson to stay far away 

From things not like us or shiny 

And voices waning to follow ways

Insisting they’re the right

Never seeing truth

Demanding ways

Inconsiderate

Not seeing 

You

From them move
Your’e invisible!
AND geez!

What ever you do
Don’t look behind!

 

 

BJ

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

 

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…

“The Fetus”

The Fetus

“The fetus and/or discarded tissue” is the way, they refer to the child, I never knew.
A fight to protect a grown woman right’s is predominate over the right’s of you.
Big business, clear throat, the governments claims are like talons
They use the media to promote their “caring valors.”
While, in fact, my babies tissue it seems
Was used in cosmetics and that was beyond my wildest dreams
“We’re just experimenting for the good of mankind,”
Their lame excuses sicken me, I suppose, they knew, I was blind.
To the fact that my babies tissues brought monetary and scientific foresight
Is beyond this humans understanding and is societies plight
For what will we be when it comes to mankind?
Throw away babies for the sake of the dying?
Are we so greedy and grab at our demising time left
That we forfeit the right’s of the young, through theft?
There’s no more to say at this moment
Except my heart has broken each Christmas morning
Missing two faces, whose hands are gone
Into someone’s hair treatment and a bottle of pretentious Perignon
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***There is no picture that I found suitable so one was chosen at random.

Skulls at Choeung Ek

Shadow People

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Shadows on my walls are silent
Yet, wield stories; often violent
Because messages must be told
Within my self, my heart does hold
And the stories that were uttered
Hushed intrusive others
Surrounded by the shadowy figures
In silence, I mouthed their nameless brothers
Walking in the past held memories
The dreams of my enemies
Explaining their inner pains
Listening, though I kept their refrain
Then my pneuma knew for certain
The tear of that curtain
From whence the shadows came
Stepped out from him and is to blame
And in the darkness were several lights
Beaming hundreds, of tiny sights
Music heard from here and there
Sounds vibrating ghostly everywhere
And the birth of a tiny star did shape
Within that void
Troubled stories within shadows of souls
Well, laugh at me if you must!
The lost brothers who had no trust
Listen cowards with opened ears
Listen closely they’ll be no cheers
The words will not be enough
silently whispered and then hushed
Forever silenced, within, she wept
There the crowds morned her loss
Though misunderstood dimmed her gloss
There she stood amidst her kin
She glowing from within
She held a sign for all to read
“The shadows are no longer silent, indeed”
And her peace finally came resting
When the ghostly images retreated from molesting
Pluto Knows
Pluto Knows
* Disclaimer and to clear up anyone who might think this is about a personal rape, molestation or abduction, to clarify, this is just fictional writing and jotting down what comes to mind.
 By Bonnie Jennings ©2015 #Bojenn All Right’s Reserved

Sophia, Tera Lord and Spirit

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 Sophia, Tera Lord and Spirit A Poem for Elysia

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In and out, as gentle as a soft rain or summer seashore, is the daughter Spirit                                  

~

Pushing or pulling is not the characters of her mother, Holy Sophia

~     

Her yin and yang possess the softness of clouds

~            

Going the way of peace and pure serenity

~                        

Fear; nor doubt dare try her walls

~                                        

Their power simply dissipates while in her presence

~          

All strength isn’t; as it never has been

~                                

It never will be, in heaven

~                                                    

Threats and violence come from Earth

~                              

The vibrational tones are hellish

~                                          

They only bully the vulnerable

~                                              

Our goal is selective hearing loss

~                                        

And, laughter at Taurus’ black soul

~                                      

Self lies are Tera Lord’s embodiment

~                                  

He is unknowing and faint of Sophia

~                                  

She who walks amongst harps and Lyres

~                            

No battle plan has the stalker

~                                              

Adorned in the finest gauze linens

~                                      

Taurus watches Spirit crouched like a lion

~                          

Her body iridescent in the night’s Moon

~                              

Glaring visions; he ponders as Sophia sees

~                        

Glides, her fingertips touching the child’s temporal mind

~    

Blessing’s whispered; she covers Son of Adam.

~                

From the dark corners, Tera waits.

~                                      

Leo, he is not, yet he acts, as if, he was ~

~

Faith adorns her head with Lilies

~                                      

Hating he despises her, for he can’t conquer, the gods

~      

Mercy rules Spirits heart

~                                                

Tera hopes Spirit shall fall prey

~                                                  

Hope? Raising her eyebrow, She hides her laugh.  

~          

Thinking; he has her and is victorious, at last.      

~              

She lets him believe; as he so boasts.        

~                        

Then, vanishing, Sophia has no time for silliness.

~                

This angered him again; next time.  

~                                    

Spirit decides, if there will ever be, a next time… 

~

Tera are you so ruthless that you would allow the king to sever your child into?

~

Do you not know Sophia loves Spirit?

~

She is her child just as Adam is yours.

~

But, you are selfish.

~

You permit destruction in the name of pride.

~

Spirit is Sophia’s kindred and the golden child, too.

~

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Angels in Disguise

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One day a sad dog came to my door. There, I opened and my heart was torn because I wanted to take it inside, but instead, I closed the door. I shut the angel out. Years went by and I thought about my action. So, I cried. Thinking about how I could have done this to a poor creature and then asked why I did so. Oh, I made my excuses and there were many. Then many years later I came to realize that sometimes angels aren’t people. But they are lives sent by God who loves us and has met us where we are, and we shun His gifts. And, why people don’t respond to heart aches, not only our own, but of little critters is unanswerable. However, now knowing, God never fails when He sends the angels. So, today when the starving animal approaches your door, remember it is a gift and it was sent from Heaven. Maybe it is for the moment and maybe the dog or cat is there to ask you for food or water or for help finding a permanent shelter and a loving home. Perhaps, it is asking you for help to find it’s way home because it is lost. Just maybe … We can open our hearts and our doors to help in some little way.

The Witchcraft of life

Performing our magic when it seems dull and impossible is a concentration of our wills.

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In quiet “boring” times,

When there seems to be nothing, but nothing, to do

It is then that we can create a masterpiece.

We illuminate the darkness that seems to surround us.

We make it our heaven, and if we lack vision we perish.

So, rise your wand,

Make your life, that which you’ve dreamed of..

Cause it to happen.

You can do it.

Believe, because you must.

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Make it as you envisioned and thought of yourself.

Before the world of voices told you, “no, you’re nothing.”

Don’t believe a word of it, the world’s lies, because it’s not truth.

You are exactly what you imagine.

Nothing greater or less.

It is how you think of yourself.

Your beliefs will lead you.

So, change your beliefs for change.

Cause your world if you so want.

You have the power

God gave it to you.

It is in the tiny mustard seed of faith that will move mountains.

Loving The Now, Saluting, Then…

the pink rose of perfection

Happy Valentines Day to self,

It’s in the love that we share with every living being.

In love we stop torture.

In love we set birds free.

In love we reunite baby elephants to their mother’s

Loving hands set the MCCaw free where it belongs with its own kind.

In love we defend the dog or cat.

In love we thank the animal that was slaughtered for meat.

In love we hold a motherless child.

In love we pray for a lonely soldier.

In love we think of someone else’s grandparents who can no longer remember.

In love we hug the abandoned.

In love we grant pardon to our ghosts.

In love we thank our parents.

In love we genuflect towards our mistakes.

In love we embrace our futures.

In love we kiss our lover on the cheek.

In love our eyes twinkle with goodness.

In love we blow a kiss blessing to God.

In love we sleep soundly at night.

Because of our love,

Our angels watch over us.

Those who grant pardon are given the same…

They will lie down in green pastures

Star Children (TEST) By drboylan.com/starkididqstnr.html

http://www.drboylan.com/starkididqstnr.html

Fairy Joe’s Seduction

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Joe’s Seduction

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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!”

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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.”

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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.

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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,

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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.

This poem was written with old friend JR in mind as he represents Faerie Jo

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©2009 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

Images from Pinterest, A Poets Haven and Google free images…