Emmett Eckles Jennings

 

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In Memory of My Father
By Bonnie jennings

Introduction

Emmette Eckles Jennings known as “Jim Jennings,” Sr engineer at Thiokol Chemical Corporation and also known as Morton Thiokol, was my father. He designed part of The Nike Hercules. He also designed bombs used in The Vietnamese War. The sins of the father shall be passed down for seven generations.

We didn’t have a store bought TV in our home because he made or TVs. We were not allowed to listen to regular music unless he wasn’t there, in the house he built, because he only listened to classical music. When we lived in San Francisco, when I was two, he played a French Horn for The Menlo Park Symphony. It later became The San Francisco Symphony.

Mother, Babe, in the last picture below always said, “you know they (daddy’s family) said he had a little autism.” Perhaps he had a little Asperger’s, and that is my assumption based on being a psychiatric nurse of 16 years.

This story is about him, about me and about people who work for our beloved government. My son, Joel, carried on that role and went on to work for AmeriCorps, Homeland Security and The State Department. Daddy worked for The USA Corps of Engineers.

Daddy served in WWII in The Air-Force as a navigator. He was stationed in Italy, and Russia. He was shot down and survived that mission. And, on that flight he was the captain of the aircraft. He gave up piloting. It frightened him. Daddy was not a fretful person. Never scared, accept one other time in his life, and I will tell you about that later.

The two beautiful women in the center are his loving daughters Bonnie and Carol, the third one, Linda, disappeared (1967 or before) to join some other government group. She spoke 5 languages and danced for The Ballet Folk Lorica in Mexico City. And that was the last we heard of her until my mother died 2011. Linda called the attorney, got her inheritance by wire, and disappeared again. I wouldn’t recognize her on the streets if I stood next to her. I was fourteen the last time that I saw her and I’m all but sixty-five now.

This story is about dysfunction, service, dedication, strife and love.
This Is The Beginning

The year I was born was 1952, so the calculations of time and year are based on my earliest recollections using basic adding and subtractions. So here goes to the best of memory of a six year old through later years.

It was 1959, and for Christmas daddy always gave me the most boyish gifts, but I ended up loving all of them. Once he gave me a metal building of The Empire Building with a working elevator. I put all my plastic beloved farm animals in that elevator and had them go to all the floors. I played for hours with that structure.

One year, 1960, perhaps it was he gave me a telescope. We lived in what was the country on a tar road in Longview, TX. He then, worked for Thiokol. If you recall, earlier i said, daddy was a navigator in WWII and at that time the navigation systems were calculated by men. These men were required to know the constellations and the placement the galaxies around the world whether it was summer or winter solstices or equinoxes. Daddy knew the stars and he taught me well while we star gazed many nights. He pointed out The Seven Sisters, also known as “The Pleiades Star Cluster.” He told the Greek Mythology behind the groups of heavenly bodies. He quoted The Bible. “Can you bind the Pleiades?” I listened for hours to his peaceful lectures about the stars and his charts he used to determine where a bomber was during WWII. He often fell silent after he spoke. He had shrapnel in his legs after being shot down.

“Look Daddy, there’s The Big Dipper!” and he said
“Yes, now follow the tail. It will lead you to The Little dipper.”

So, I watched and learned. Daddy always had high hopes for me. I never achieved them.

Daddy also knew some astrology along with mythology and The Holy Bible. His father was a methodist minister in Pleasant Grove MS or “Duck Hill” as daddy referred to the place. As a child, during the depression, he was taken from his home as his father fell ill, and his mother was a piano teacher and had no money. Daddy moved to California at a young age to live with two of his “old maid aunts” who had money. They provided him with the finest education a poor boy can ever have, though the two of them were unloving to him. So, young daddy felt betrayed, as he was the child who was chosen to be sent away. Ralf and Sarah Bess were allowed to stay in Pleasant Grove.

Here is where we understand, happenstances we hate are the things that are good for us in the long run and are intended for the greatest of our possibilities. He became a mechanical engineer after the war.

The starry nights were the best of times with daddy. I loved his wisdom, his patience in finding galaxies, and telling me his government secrets. Oh, but I was merely six or seven and he could tell me. After all, a child would never remember or have any interest in an adult conflict involving Top Security information. So, he thought.

He was at war with The Blue Book Project. He told me these men (forgot their names) were out to “debunk any knowledge or sightings of UFO’s.”
“Daddy, are there aliens?” I knew what he was referring to. He had given enough description in his story telling that even I a child knew what he was referring to.

“It would be foolish, and egotistical to believe we were the only ones in this vast universe of ours.” Pretty must his exact words.

I knew what he meant. This I too understood. “Daddy, why do these men want to stop knowledge of extraterrestrials?”

“To prevent fear and panic. To let people know they are in charge and no one else.” He was quiet again.

He helped me write a book report on Project Blue Book. I was in the third or fourth grade. My teacher said in front of the class,”how do you know this? Where did you get your information?”

“My father told me.” Right after that, I was sent through a battery of tests to determine if I was “retarded,” a slow thinker. Being different gets people in trouble.

Every night, seven days a week, we ate promptly at 5:30 PM CST USA. Daddy walked in from work Monday through Friday at 5:25PM… Like a clock. There was absolutely no talking while eating at the dinner table. He didn’t allow any conversation. Carol got spanked as she was always in perpetual motion and her mouth went before her. My mother intervened on many occasions when he spanked her for anything coming out of her mouth. She had recovered from Polio and was happy to be alive. Carol was a wee bit frail and tiny. That didn’t stop Jim. NO ONE TALKS! After he ate, he got up and retired to the TV room where he controlled the stations. The nightly news always came first.

My mother was not a rug to wipe any feet on. She also was a college graduate and knew business and current affairs as well as world history. She was a force to be reckoned with and had to be to live with Jim.

 

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I was the quiet one. I hated my mother’s political vigor and her verbal wars she had with anyone who visited us. She read five political books a week and biographies. She knew politics and probably should have gone to law school. She and Judge Judy are very much alike.

We didn’t go to church in the early years. Church was The Eighteen Twelve Overture blasting from the stereo that he built. Or maybe Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, or Chopin.

Daddy threw his cards daily to determine if the gods were favorable for him or not. I learned to do the same. He used solitaire to determine the vibrations. I use numbers.

One night, around the time of The Project Blue Book incidence, daddy came home with a stone or piece of iron ore. He gave it to me and I held it in the palm of my seven or so year old hand. It looked like iron ore. It felt like iron ore and it weighed the same. Iron ore is mined in East Texas and it was plentiful. The stone seemed just like all the other matter laying here and there on the firmament.

“Here, look at it,” he said.

So, I did as he said.

“Now watch this.” He took the stone and changed the properties. It was no longer a rock nor a stone, but was a silver/black string about 14” long. He spread his arms apart and the stone unraveled. It looked like any other silver/black string. Then he took his hands and molded back into the stone without any effort. He said, “Now, you do it.”

I did the same with the rock. Daddy gave the stone to me and I played with it for years. My daughter remembers the stone as well. She was about the same age when she played with it. One day the stone disappeared. My father died in 1983 and the rock disappeared. it was no longer in the drawer where the library was and where it remained from 1960 t0 1983. After my mother and father were both deceased, I moved back home to find the rock, the stone. It was of no use. The stone was missing. Something happened to the rock and I have only assumptions to go on. the only witness that I have is my daughter who remembers its strange properties.

Now, when my father gave me the stone it was around 1960- ish. This was just about the time when he was going on and on about the men involved in Project Blue Book. One night while he and I were stargazing, he tells me another story. A story I’ve not forgotten. Why did he tell me? Because he thought a child would never remember. I was a sounding board. I was a person who he could tell with confidence that I was clueless and would never tell nor remember.

He did tell another man. He told his best friend who was silent until I approached him in 2014. He had cancer and could barely speak. We compared stories. They were alike accept for the timing. Number oen, I thought daddy said, the event occurred at 3 Am and Bob said, “No, it was 3 PM.” So the child’s memory who was then sixty-one and his best confident who was close to late seventies and having cancer, had very close identical stories, only Bob told the adult child more than she ever dreamed. Bob is still living and is doing well, by the way. Soon, I want to introduce him to my son, if he will grant us another visit.

Bob was frail at the time of my interview in 2013. I took the recorder on my IPHone 5, that I no longer own, not thinking that it would be traded in one day, I learned to ~ think ahead next time, should I meet Bob again. But, I remember what he said. The cancer had aged him. He didn’t look like the tall handsome man he once was, but the last time I saw Bob was when I was about 16.

He said, “I didn’t like you much. I thought you were a brat.” he paused for my response. Perhaps he was apologizing or maybe he was just being frank and had to get it off his chest.

“Yes. Yes, I was a teenage brat. But you must know there are always two sides to every story? Yes?” I spoke gently and so he would know there was truth to my being a brat. “My parents were harsh and tough, you know. They were waring between themselves. Daddy was not a communicator and mother was being driven crazy and became hostile and angry. They sent me away to school if you recall?”

“Yea, I remember well. So what brings you here?”

“My father. I want to know what you know about the rock, the incident at the launch pad and I need you to validate that I am not making this up nor am I delusional.”

Bob’s eyes lit up as best they could under his frailness as he laid there smoking one cigarette after another just like my daddy.

“Weil, it was the mid sixties,” he said.

In my mind I’m thinking, “no,” it was early sixties or 1959. I clarified with Bob my dates.

“He said, “No it was after you all moved to Louisiana. You were a teenager then.”

Holy cow, thinking to myself. “Bob are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m certain. I know because you were away at school and the government came to your house. They went through the place. I’ve never seen your father so scared. He doesn’t scare easily.”

“Bob, you can’t be right because this happened when I was seven, eight or nine. We were living in Longview. I know because daddy told me about being at the launch pad late at night. He said that he was surrounded by brilliant blinking lights of all different illumines colors. Blinking all around him. They split in many directions and made a dancing pattern around he and another man.” He gave me the stone when I was in grade school in Texas.
“Yes,” he said. “The incident that I’m speaking of came later. You were in boring school. Your father and another man were at the plant in broad daylight. They were working on a platform. Your father had a camera and started taking pictures. He took several and within hours he and the photographer were flown to Washington, DC and debriefed. They threatened him and the other guy. They said if you talk, you will be …. “ Bob didn’t say what the…was… but the look in his eyes said it was ominous. “They came to your home and searched the Louisiana residence. They went through everything. Your poor father who was never scared was speechless to everyone, but me.”

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I realized that daddy never told me this event. Yes he was indeed silent, but the precious even where he gave me the stone, I was his confident. I felt as though I betrayed him. I wasn’t there to listen, but I have a big mouth so maybe it was the best for all of us. Being a natural whistleblower, that would have been hard for me to deal with. Who knows what I would have said or done.

Bob’s voice was getting weaker. He needed to sleep. I left with the message recorded. I had what I needed and I forwarded it to my sister and children. Now, carol and daddy didn’t have these conversations nor did he talk to my mother about them. So, this was after his death, and I started telling them. It was rather shocking.

My mother fell silent. She did not talk about the MIB visiting them in Shreveport Louisiana. She would say to me, “You talk too much.”

The story will continue. It has to continue. I have to give it a rest now…It is hard to write about.

Daddy had a close encounter of the third or fourth kind while on a missle lauch site ..

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Mother and daddy
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Bonnie and Carol early 1970’s
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Some of the pic I’ve taken over the years

 

 

 

some other images that I took over mmy home IMG_0434IMG_0435IMG_0436IMG_0522IMG_0437IMG_0438IMG_0440IMG_0441IMG_0442IMG_0443IMG_0444IMG_0445IMG_0449IMG_0450IMG_0451IMG_0452IMG_0453IMG_0454IMG_0456IMG_0457IMG_0458IMG_0459IMG_0460IMG_0461IMG_0463IMG_0464IMG_0465IMG_0466IMG_0467IMG_0468fullsizeoutput_211cIMG_0471IMG_0472IMG_0473IMG_0474IMG_0475

Warfare Prayes

 

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For XXX

For the Sagittarius angel Avil who sends honesty and perfect perception

Give to XXX that what he needs when they shout destructions

And Ariel, “lion of God” roar the powers of persecution far from his body

Oh Asteraoth, you thwart their evil schemes 

Send them bound by their curing means

Azriel, Angel of destruction, remove their regimes and cause them factual dreams

There stands Balthioul, who calms distress

Send it far away from XXX’s success

Barakiel, please douse him with peace, love and stymy tears and unbelief

Oh Michael set the highway straight

Authenticate their lies and bend into their fate

 

And we thank you all

For fighting of his behalf

Amen in Yeshua’s name I implore

Angel Friends on Their Way

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This is a prayer of protection calling on angels that many don’t know about. The last two mentioned are from The Koran…

Prayers for Warfare
Calling Angels in Time Need

Bowing on knees, face towards the unseen
Place all faith in that belief of God’s genes
Who sends between the Earth and ferment
Above and below the place where standing
Surrounding chaos and drawn swords of men
Cast a prayer of protection from upon evil beings
Archangel Michael sheds courage and strength
On the weakness of men in times of unbelief
With a blade of faith douse the fires that burn
In a heart of man, manifest his purest of dreams
And Raziel, standing by the ready flowing stream
Casting blessing of clarity upon hidden agendas
Inspiring the lost with wisdom he extends us
Like rains he sends divine encouragement
To fallen soldiers in times of waging battles
Revelational secrets hidden in encampments
And Raqib on the right shoulder, truths records
Then Atid on left bare witness to all evil deeds
Together so named Kirama Katibeen
Give account on the day of arraignment
Meanwhile Gadiel, most holiest of all
Shall guide the child in question
To safety, on Earth, as it is in Heaven

BJ

Prayers for Warfare; Calling Angels in Time Need

This is a prayer of protection calling on angels that many don’t know about.

The last two angels mentioned are from The Koran…

Prayers for Warfare

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Calling Angels in Time Need

Bowing on knees, face towards the unseen
Place all faith in that belief of God’s genes
Who sends between the Earth and ferment
Above and below the place where standing
Surrounding chaos and drawn swords of men
Cast a prayer of protection from upon evil beings
Archangel Michael sheds courage and strength
On the weakness of men in times of unbelief
With a blade of faith douse the fires that burn
In a heart of man, manifest his purest of dreams
And Raziel, standing by the ready flowing stream
Casting blessing of clarity upon hidden agendas
Inspiring the lost with wisdom he extends us
Like rains he sends divine encouragement
To fallen soldiers in times of waging battles
Revelational secrets hidden in encampments
And Raqib on the right shoulder, truths records
Then Atid on left bare witness to all evil deeds
Together so named Kirama Katibeen
Give account on the day of arraignment
Meanwhile Gadiel, most holiest of all
Shall guide the child in question
To safety, on Earth, as it is in Heaven

BJ

The photograph is compliments of A Poet’s Haven

“Women’s Poetry; Within and Beyond Shores” By Dr. Shamenaz Bano

“Women’s Poetry; Within and Beyond Shores” 

By Dr. Shamenaz Bano

 

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This book is an anthology featuring women poets from 18 countries and edited by Dr. Shamenaz Bano

The surprise of being included in this powerful anthology came a couple of weeks ago, and thank you Deborah Brooks Langford for including my 3 poems into this collection of women’s poetry. The surprize has utterly taken my breath away.

Barely reading 5 pages and the index that has these women and their bios, I have been brought to tears of great joy. This is such a gift to be included and I’m overwhelmed by these women. Where these women are located, includes 18 countries. You can read their short stories and 3 poems.

How can one say thank you enough. It is impossible for me to express my gratitude. Just being with these sister’s of all faiths, is mesmerizing and spellbinding to say it mildly. Being cliche can’t help but say, WOWed, Humbled, Awed, and express my gratitude that is not in the English language … Just is a great big acronym: “OMG!”

Please, not for the sake of anyone making money, but for the sake of hearing and reading women’s poetry from all over the world, I can’t urge you enough, to buy a copy. I promise you will cry, laugh and realize that whether we are from Tennessee, Colorado, Romania, Saudi Arabia, India, Mexico, Ghana, Bengal, Allahabad, Australia, England or The UK, Canada, Cuttack, Ireland, Poland, Athens, Uzbekistan, Pittsburg, Philippines, Maharashtra, Tulsa OK, Luxembourg, Italy, London, Jerusalem, Iran, Egypt, Gaza, California, Iraq, and other places that I didn’t see while reading, this collection is a must read. And, oh yes, there is my contribution to this poetic anthology, and I’m from The Piney Woods of East Texas.

Absolutely floored in great adoration Dr. Shamenaz Bano and Deborah Brooks Langford (who sent my poetry in to be included)… Thank you! 🌹

Too Many Chads; Dedicated to Molested Boys

 

There Is A Dragon in My Gardwn

“But, he was just a boy ~

For goodness sake”

He played in the fields like others

But he stumbled upon the snake

His eyes brown and fair-headed 

His skin translucent with freckles

And the serpent saw his innocence

It seductively corrupted any blissfulness

Of the eagerly seeking adventurous youth

Twisting him on a path lower than the highway

Specially crafted for the youngster kid

But, he missed it, chasing the horned-toad

Thinking within a single sole-second

Missing the fork on the path

Junctures unforeseen and then

Lost his way in adolescents 

Lingering on benches, joints and hotels

Tricks, gangs, railings and joints

Meeting lost souls of quintessence

Zombies with no promised existence

Walking dead with no mother to turn

Found steel bars and orange stripes

Grey walls, putrid food, constant gripes

Men meaner than Rottweiler dogs

Ready and willing to take part

Another slice of his hardened heart

From a fair-headed innocent lad

Playing in fields with other cheerful boys

However, stumbled upon a poison snake 🐍

Has made all the difference in the world

Of a fair-headed innocent lad

The story of way too many Chads

©2017 BJ

Resting Place

 

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Resting Place

There upon the glenn sits the way of hearts

Beckoning the lost, the faint and the perverse

A strong force, ready in the valley simply waiting

Standing by, coddling the lost in pilgrimage

Her doors wide open, no boundaries, sheer courage

She gently whispers to those who hear

“Enter in and rest my weary hopeless dear”

Squandered fortunes, stolen goods, the forgotten

Straying through the mountains, lost in the oceans on the tides at sea

Breathe and sleep under starry skies

Place the softened pillow under your head and see

How dull are the worries of men

When compared to the acts of God

 

 

©2017 BH

Goals, The Target

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Goals, The Target

Steadying the eyes upon the target

Solidly aim without quivering to get

The prize, ready, there’e no sweat

Aiming the arrow the way of mindset

The heart leading without regrets

No oscillation, just solid concentration

Misses the quarry, tainted speculation

No worries ever, there’s always

Tomorrow

©BJ

A Door

 

 

Seeing the entrance berfore my feet

A door of wood with ingrained designs

Solid and impressive to stop the way

Perhaps it might, some other day

 

Stepping forward one step at a time

Slowly inching the way to grasp

The bronze latch seperating me from that

Mattered not for the doors, t’was the way out

 

It’s grandeur and powerful persuasions daunted

Any passing by for the dawdry unwanted

I couldnt help but want to wander inside

Beyond the veil of human asundries and peer behind

 

Turning the knob this way and that

Met resistence squirming it about

Breathed in and out gainning strenth to pass

Beyond the entrapment called human life

 

There is more behind that door

This was no secret for adventuers, for sure

Turning to the right and then to the left

Almost gave up on the mighty quest

 

Stood back and regained flustered compsure

Tackled the lock with a strong hammer

Though busting the bronzed bolt not so elegantly

Entered the kingdom unannounced you see

 

But, it mattered not the entrance so gained

A fine crystal glass and a taste of chaimpaign

Awaited me where my placecard sat

“We’ve been waiting for you,” and so

That was that…

 

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Trying To Find Home (read by Tulika and Alan)

~Thank you both Alan Johnson and Tulika Dugar. Much love to you both

 

 

 

“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 rain.

~~~

Caught too long there; my 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 then 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…

by Bonnie Jennings ©1/12/2010FS

 

Second version~ Both, I love

 

 

The Changing

The tunnels brush border where mortals grow
The virtue and order of Brussels subtle are
Lavishing shabby living deep in the furrows
Fairies and goblins galore who sing and whale
All so deep down in the levies whimsy dale
And children run through the tree tunnel
Trying to reach the end but rumor has it
Somewhere in the middle or amongst light
Children deepen and become converted
Hair begins to grow oh so much longer
Fingernails sharpen and adding length
Toenails yellow from muddy wet dirt
Switching from boys to men and then
Sometimes switching from boys to women
Fairies come and dust shiny fairy dust
Faces once plump become downright fat
And bodies all girlie become hairy and old
Boys at the end have an odd bulbous nose
Reshaping orientation and finding away
Never thought modifications tweak us
But anything is possible in the tunnel of brush
Leaving the tunnel the pretty are rough
Leaving the tunnel oh so ugly are pretty
The fairies giggle at their high fashion designs
A long runway showing off the humankind

BJ

 

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“Chechnya is rounding up gay people and taking them to torture camps”

https://secure.avaaz.org/campaign/en/close_the_gay_torture_camps_loc/?rc=fb&pv=148

 

“Chechnya is rounding up gay people and taking them to torture camps, and it’s as horrific as it sounds. Men are being electrocuted, tortured until they reveal names of other gay people, and beaten so badly that some have died. “

Tadhg Poetry

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Tadhg

Clashing banging rumbling from skies

Flashes of lights evoke my wary eyes

The window shades slam and bam

Awakening ethereal dreams slam

And there in the shadows of dark

You stand. A strange odd quark

I’v come to trust your stark visits

It doesn’t matter, my setting limits

Entering in you seem inauspicious

However; discovered meretricious

And your eyes mystically dreamy

When you speak your words steamy

You call me using your finger folly

Pointing for me to come and follow

And that I do oh angel Santiago

A desperado fallen from Pablo

Up the stairs into the dusty attic

Handing me pictures and relics

Showing me my life so all alone

What I’ve missed and what treasured

And everything sought ill gathered

I swallowed my ego under my tail

And old Picasso fell of the wall’s nail

Cobwebs hung off The Temple of Apollo

He wiped them away and hung it so

Daringly wiping away the thick soot

Never shaming, but showed the dirt

Then sitting at the table ate avocados

He never said a word, he never had to

Loud bravado is not his demeanor

Just a quiet gentlemen who loves me

unconditionally

And when morning comes and I awaken

Wiping my eyes and capture fleeting images

I smile and wonder who he is

Stretching loving life getting out of bed

All day long, I wonder will I see you soon

I’LL pray for lightning and shadows

All of it

But on a Saturday night

BJ

 

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Catherine saw him on the street

Thought to herself, he’s familiar

Starring she wasn’t able to stop

Rude as she was, she knew~

I know him

He watched as well at her wondering

Their eyes met, she looked away, chilled

Thought he could he the one who visits

Standing in the shadows

She knew, she knew him

She turns quickly up the alley

Only to find him at the end waiting

Their eyes meet and she felt naked

There was a star floating from him

It dissipated

“What do you want? Why do you follow?

He said nothing. He only held out his hand

His eyes told her a curious story

She read intuitively and then followed

He turned her around to face him

Gave her a locket

With that he turned away silently

Into the street and upon the trolley

Catherine witnessed his every step

Before opening the locket she followed

Running down the iron rails

“Come back!” She yells.

Opening the locket is her young picture

On the other side a boy who looked like her

In wonder and pondering the meaning

Looked back towards that train

Standing in the cabooses window

The gentleman waving goodbye

“Perhaps tomorrow?”

 

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The Lovely Cat Dubois

My Poetry April 2017

Birds

To exist in an attitude of utter tranquility

Must establish contentment while here

Adopt and create quiet amazing gentility

Relishing in the Earth’s treasures endear

Basking in sunlit warmth ethereal Sophia

Laughing midst troubles and cacophony

She is a goddess

That birds should nest in her hands

BJ©2017

 

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If you only knew

I am beautiful yes, indeed

A bit disheveled, yes

Perhaps you think, “a mess.”

I’ve seen darkness, true

Think not, I a fool

Young I am, tis right

The war to survive, my plight

And everyday the sun shines

And every night, i lay bound

But, night always goes

And I will escape its woes

Freedom from death and fears I’ve known

But Hell won’t keep me here, oh no

I am strong

I will beat the night

This I know

I will never whine

I don’t have too

I love me

And thats all that counts

 

BJ©2017

 

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Opaline naked luminance amidst amber florals

Sweet orange tendrils and curls hanging lovely

Are you lost my dear among the lusty maples

Au natural barefooted exposed skin red snarls

Madness perhaps psychosis overwhelmed you

Been damned and unsaved fair headed damsel

Bewildered or bewitched, they’ll judge you, ey

Come in to cover your genital suggestiveness

A Scarlett Letter will be placed upon your chest

Come out of the fields of bondage your highness

 

BJ©2016

 

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Stories From The Attic (On FB)

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Enter into the stories from the attic

Never mind the cobwebs and spiders

Enchanting tales resurrected from books

Fables and wizards and anecdotes with spice

Ghostly chills and breaths exhaled seeing dew

Sparkles of magic when she opens the novel

Eyes that twinkle as if she were a fairy

Setting the stage using mystical lyrics

A voice whimsically whispering charms

Tulika Dugar mysteriously sends us afar

To lands and places we’ve not traveled

Only to enter through the door of a chapter

The mistress invites you to snuggle enraptured

Now, wrap a blanket about you among the scattered

It’s now story time up in the attic.

BJ©2017

Tantric Answers

 

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Tantric Answers

Adelaide goes to the fields when lamentable

Melancholic considering all her options

Bemoaning speculating her dilemma

To escape or stay plotting her agenda

The fields glistening in amber lights

Generates truths and mystical responses

Within the field of Elysium are answers

Prudently she must hear the solutions

Is it this or perhaps that way she replies

Discerning the path she must recognize

And the fields of gold whisper the knowledge

She must listen, and she must know well

There is but away that leads her from hell

An Adelaide, she knows, all to well

The wrong decipher continues perdition

“Listen, listen,” she tells herself so transcendental

Unhurried and reverent to the wind in the willows

Collectively deciding to begin a transition

As the breeze told her so

Adelaide knows her answer

 

BJ©2017

Angel Orion

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Angel Orion upon the waters he thwarts

The innocent drowning in seas of assaults

By mighty waring arrows burning with force

Provisions and bounties granting us serenity

Rests comfort~ given a heavenly clemency

Over dark waters, storms and crazed insanity

Mankind will smile once again using charity

A necessity thus calming any raging sea

Orion exterminates the maleficent enemies

Respectfully replacing any unpleasantries

All irreverent thoughts from animal kingdom

Leaving behind humans of divine affinities

Removing peasantry and ape philosophies

Only left are amenities and just fidelity

BJ ©4/2017

 

Image from A Poet’s Haven stock

Poetry Readings by Alan Johnson and Tulika Dugar

 

Simply follow the link…

The amazing spoken word and music by Alan, and Tulika.

 

Amazing site… I promise that you won’t be disappointed.

 

https://www.facebook.com/groups/703789053135376/permalink/726911697489778/

 

 

 

https://www.facebook.com/groups/703789053135376/permalink/726911697489778/

 

 

The Winner’s of The Poetry Contest Are 📢📢📢 A Drum Roll Please 🏆🏆🏆

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First of all~ I want to thank the three judges who graciously accepted this role. It has been tedious and also rewarding for each of us. Also I must mention, at this time, they still remain anonymous. 

As I said before, my role was the organizer, the sorter and the mailman. Blame me for the formatting… It just doesn’t want to do right…  🙂 

So without further delay…

 

 

IN FIRST PLACE …. Ta Da-Da-DAA !!! 



 

 

🏆 🥇 First Place Gold Winner Is …

 

All I Have to Give

By DL Mullan

I listen to the whispers of the wind

in hopes to catch the sound of you

my sorrow is all I have to give

because there is nothing I can do

I am not complete; I am not whole

what I would ask is for solace

to lighten the load of my soul

but I find no peace in this silence

I am breaking now into pieces

a fallen jig saw puzzle reordered into chaos

I fit. I place. I try and try to seize

a memory that will comfort me

All I have to give seems insufficient

to the weight of my terrible grief

maybe if your voice guided my hand

I could put myself back together again

 

 


 

 

 


 

 

 🜛🥈 Silver Place Winner

 

~~~ ABOUT MY MUM ~~~

By, Charlotte Rains

 
 
I want to begin my story with just a simple line
 
To begin again to tell a tale of a different place and time
 
A time when I was just a lass with curls and a pretty dress
 
Bringing smiles and laughter too and a lot of happiness
 
I often sought to please my mum and have her sing a song
 
A happy tune with words I knew so I could sing along
 
I sought her often to tell me tales of back when she was small
 
But often got a fairy tale…but I enjoyed them all
 
She’d tuck me in with kisses and hugs after the tale was read
 
I’d call her back for one more hug before she went to bed
 
Once I asked about my da but it seemed to make her sad
 
I saw a tear fall from her eye and thought that I’d been bad
 
But then she hugged me extra tight and whispered in my ear
 
That everything she could ever want was in her arms right here
 
We smiled and laughed and I fell asleep knowing I was loved
 
And even now my children know she watches from above
 
  
 

 

 

 

There is a tie for The Bronze place.

The next two poems were recognized by two different judges and were their first place winners. 

 

 

 

 And The 𐂚 🥉Bronze Place medal goes to…

TWO POETS and they are…

Drum roll please…. !

 

𐂚 🥉

Written by Jelly Beer 
Books scattered on the sand, pages leafed through and tattered, possibly for research, an antique Smith-Corona left on the table maybe in haste by the author seeking inspiration from his surroundings to pen a longed-for best seller for himself and the masses.Writer’s block had reared its ugly head! Thoughts and ideas were dead inside him. He needed to breathe again and clear out the cobwebs clouding his brain.It’s happened before. He knew there’s one more book inside him. He was instinctive. He’ll find his way back to the table ~ and type!
 
 

And the second Bronze Winner is ….. 

 

 

𐂚 🥉

Catalyst  

by Gina Hirsch

 

I have come too close to the flames to ever want to miss out on the burn.

I’ve lingered so long next to the night, I hate when it is the days turn.

The day comes beckoning underneath  an angry sky. 

Clouds dance marvelously as the moon steps in to eclipse them all.

I miss the blue heat. The wind that slowly tries to snuff it out. 

I loved and longed beyond all hope to tempt it all back to my claim. 

A rushing rapture of love.

A course of venom from a lovers lips; who’s tongue is the only antidote. 

Who’s touch is my religion. Who’s arms and shoulders my only sanctuary.

But the day took over the night.

And passion and kisses and antidotes to hearts gilded wishes have all passed away.

All that is left here is old ghosts and former images that fail to fade.

Phantom shadows of the lover who never comes to stoke the flames. 

 

 

 

 

 

The Honorable Mentions are those poems that were the judges high ranking choices and they are as follows…

 

 

🏆

Morning Jennie,
By Dwayne Leon Rankin

 
The Final Leaf of Autumn
I looked and saw the leaves had left
The trees, now fallen to the ground.
But for one, still hanging on.But then the winds all blew and blew,
Blowing all those leaves around.
That leaf then too was gone.

I looked outside and saw the trees
All empty of their autumn’s coat;
Bare now for winter’s day.

To sleep, to sleep those trees now go
That leaf, the last of autumn’s note.
No more its song to play.

 


 

 

 🏆

 The Loch of Lomond

By Vernon Woods

 

Oh to be by the loch of Lomond on the heather clad banks on a cold misty morning a grounded eagle does mew from her diminished view she will have to wait it out and then the thunder and lightening and then the cloud as is resonates its echoes like a tennis ball against the rocky top mountains now naked from there snowy gowns I hear the distant lowings’ of a herd of Angus down in a fen let out of their barn yet again churning up the mud disturbing a clucking hen who now seeks safety from a tractors exhaust pipe ohhh just to lie here on these beautiful heather clad banks feeling the pitter patter of the angels tears I tell you they are not on there own I weep too my sopping sleeve a victim to my many uncontrollable tears not out off sadness badness but out of sheer utter joy I gaze up at the mountains as the grey cloudy sea wash the tops of the mountain scape the late Robin halls a bleacher lassie of Kelvinhaugh is sung from an echo of the past the bard rabbi burns earns his keep in a time way back where widows clad in black did weep his voice booming through the mist telling a story of the stealing of the stane of clone from the mountain tops steep to the lochs deep your velvety voice is not alone I hear it all to well ahhh the mists do disappear ill take my leave to meet up with a party with a ghilly in charge to go in search for salmon ohh my to behold these fine colored tartans these are the folk who have clan connections but what of my attire with no clan connections to you and I it will be a wearing of the Caledonia ohhh to be by the banks of the loch Lomond


 

 

Also highly mentioned… 

Thank you Linda 💐

 

Epitaph

By Linda Long

“You’re killing me….”

Words I hung in the air,

a prophecy that resonates through sleepless nights

My heart said goodbye to itself

that chilling evening in early August

How sacred the secret treasure of a wife and mother,

how broken the memories,

how haunting the path not taken


 

 

The next poem is by my dear friend Karen Boorman

Walking down a long dark road
I have to decide which way to go
North south east or west
which way will suit me best
I have not much time i fear
for in my life the end draws near
I want to live the fullest I can
but which way to go..must I choose?

 

Thank you Karen this reads like Robert Frost 🌺

 

 

BIRTH

By Soul Gifts on WordPress ❤️

She moved.

She swayed in time to the cadence

and beat of the rhythms

drumming in her heart.

Innocence was hers.

As was beauty.

Timeless, eternal, infinite.

None dared question.

Absorbed as she was, she noticed nothing

but the internal symphony,

the music  that swayed

and moved her eternally.

The swell, the growth, the burgeoning,

bursting and erupting explosions convulsed

shook and shattered the firmaments asunder.

In her splendour she bathed

in the newness of birth.

A new day.

A new dawn.

A new beginning.

She smiled.

It was wondrous.

.

Thank you Soul Gifts 🌹 

 

 

Thank you Soulece

By Soulece 💜

Stroke me my love
Let your nimble
Talented fingers
Play my body
Like a piano
Each caress
Igniting me
The instrument of your passion
Sending arpeggios of desire
Down my spine
Let us complete
This musical masterpiece
And write another tomorrow

 

Thank you Jason…

💎

Keep At It

By: Jason A. Watson 

Throughout life people experience both pain and suffering

Though getting through these things are pretty complicated

First you must learn to love and believe in yourself

Then, and only then, will you be able to numb the pain

This world is full of death and sorrowIt is filled with hate like no tomorrow

There still is hope for things to get better

Things are closer than they seem to appear

There’s really no need for fearGod wouldn’t put us into situations we can’t handle

This is why things always get betterAs long as you can try to remember

There is no reason to surrender

 

I loved this one Jason….❤️

 

 

 

Thank you, Jony 

♦️

With love,

 

By Jony Francissen 

 

“Today”

 
Today you are silent

with harsh unspoken words.

Your skin looks raw

and your eyes show no feelings.
Cold walls echoing promises,

Dust piled up on hope.

You promised me the sky

and turned it into a ceiling.


 

 

Thank you, Susan… Oh how I relate! 

🌺

Memory

By Susan Burns 

I’m still in love with who I thought you were

The memory of that belief
is what’s causing the grief

I’m still in love with the you
I thought I knew
I despise the real you

I thought I’d found something rare
But you were just a player with flair

I will be okay
there will be a day
that false memory fades away

 

 


 

 Now my dear poetry friends these poems were HIGH ranking; however, they went over 22 lines and in the rules it stated no more than 22….  But they must be read by everyone because they too are phenomenal … 

 

 🎖

VOICE IN THE WIND

By Cris Fox (also a dear old friend🌹)

 

When the Wind begins to call you,

You will hear his voice and follow.

Listen and know, it’s  the song of you soul.

Friendship is the bread of angels,

Gifts of life meant to remind you

Which way to go, His love makes you whole.

The Father is calling, 

He’ll kept you from falling

Creation rejoices today.

The song He is singing

New life His bringing

Whispering Jesus the way

Home to His heart of love.

When the Wind begins to call you,

You will hear His voice and follow.

Listen and know, it’s the song of your soul.

Friendship is the bread of angels

Gifts of life meant to remind you

Which way to go, His love makes you whole.

This message descending

Of love never ending,

A river of Life from the Throne.

Grace that is waking,

You’ll Bend without breaking

With Jesus you’re never alone.

Enter His heart of love.

Beautiful Cris 🌹



  

By Anne Stockstill

 

Thinking of Me?

When you touched my hand

And your lips caressed mine,

Were you thinking of me?

When you danced holding me close,

Your breathe on my cheek

Whispering sweet nothings,

Were you thinking of me?

When the lights were low,

Soft, romantic music playing

As you lay close to me,

Where you thinking of me?

When we talked about travel

And made future plans,

Where you thinking of me?

When foreign shores beckoned you,

French wine, fine cuisine served on a terrace,

Overlooking the Eifel Tower and sparkling lights of Paris,

Were you thinking of her?

When you traveled to Rome, Istanbul and St Petersburg,

Changing the look of your face,

Drinking Russian vodka, long white nights,

Were you thinking of her?

Laying on white Dominican beaches,

Playing in the foaming surf,

Where your phone service never worked,

Were you thinking of her?

Did you look into her eyes and repeat unholy vows,

To love and cherish until death,

When the church bells tolled,

Did you really believe the lies you told,

As you married her while you were married to me?

 
 
The judges really loved yours as well….
I do to as I definitely have been in this place too… Married to more than one women at a time….  💜
 

 

 

 


  💛 And MOST Mentioned 💛

However ~ it is over 22 lines…. 

 

I AM SOMETHING MUCH MORE 

By @alostwriter

I am something much more

Than what you have in your mind

I am much more than a body

I am much more than a kiss

I am something much more than the breast and

all the rest

I have a heart ,

A mind,

A soul,

I am not just this body

These lips,

These curves,

I am much more than these

You keep rolling your eyes

Up and down

Seeking to get into

Inch by inch

Into my skin

Making me feel naked even

I have dozen of clothe on my body

still naked i m

I am something much more

Than this

I don’t need you

Your appreciation

You are also one of them

I am much more than

What you think,

Much more than

You can ever imagine

your thinking is limited to this

and I am something beyond this

I am something much more.

 

By- alostwriter(sy)you can find me @alostwriter

Thank you   ✍🏻

 

 


 
 

 

I want to thank all of you for your entries. It takes bravery to lay your heart out for the world to read. Well-done and congrats to all of you and our mystery judges too! 

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺