“Oh, that thing dangling from your nose,”

 

evil-530640_1920

 

 

I’m taking you off my alter 

It was there ~ I placed you ~ so lofty

However ~ there’s something dangling from your nose

And because of that ~

I see you’re just a common man

 


 

 

It’s hard to find the right words to say

Actually ~ I’ve nothing to say

Where once I fumbled like a girl

Uttering silly mindless stuff

Now, you’re off my alter

I’ve nothing to say

 


 

 

No, I can’t praise you as before

It’s not because of the bugger

Really ~ thats not it

It’s simply, you don’t measure up to a god

 

And I’ve taken you from my alter

And put your memories away

 

I can breath again

 

 

BJ

 

 

 

Man being God

universe-746824_1280

Thank you Pixabay for the image

Man being God

Created beautiful; however, she is a machine

Made at nineteen within green collagen amines
Born caesarean within fluid of compound proteins
Merging quickly from the shell of a Pinto Bean hull
Though she acted like a Mexican Jumping Bean birthing
Grey plastic skin and human breath convened in her
Dawning a skirt of crinoline looking as a closet queen
Her weaponry: Nicotine, thiamine, and mescaline
Like a spider she spins a labyrinth of fibrous webs
Her energy is alluring like that of Mary Magdalene
She uses the active matrix screen to capture any prey
There is nothing about her that is serene, just spot keen
She is man’s invention ~ playing God ~ how unforeseen
She is obscene, a beautiful tartarine, smoke screen
And lastly ~ she is impossible to destroy.

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

A Summer’s Eve Poem 2016

IMG_2665

Sweltering warmth, the sweat on her brow, barefeet, summer’s eve

Writing novels, living romances, the aromatic honeysuckle sways

Torrid senses baking, the rays of sun, beaming on damp flesh

On the gentile porch, Southern columns, historic moments

Gentlemen whose ladies dawned petticoats in late May

Brunette curly tendrils fell on rosy cheeks, is dreamy

Imagining a romantic encounter, that hot afternoon

Dashing Captain Henry, caused his way, riding

Offering the lady, his rearing steed, accepted

Riding through tall grass, hidden, no sight

Lying, lusting, allowing warm seduction

Arousing passions, barding novels

Noetic the frivolous few hours

Being adored by captains

Sensual summers days 

My Henry who equals

Guiltless fantasy

Perfected man

No blushing

Initiating 

poetry

and

me

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

Summer Poems 2016

 

 

Connection

Feelings overwhelm my spirit knows that i belong

To sacred sisters dancing under moons lit nights

Holding hands, chanting, worshiping God’s lights

I am a daughter of the spirit who sets captives free

And for this reason, within me, is a hallowed song

This place is my home. From she, i arrived to see

Stone Henge lend its magic, for this, I came to be

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

 

IMG_2205
My Fire Drake

 

Ancient days and nights governed by RA

Galgaliel, Angel of The Sun, who watched

Evolving revolutions and speculations

Walking on sand and baring hot rays

Working under whips, the salivating slaves

Who is man, that you are mindful of him?

True are you? And man, the sin? Hush!

Whisper not of such things! Blaspheme!

To think outside the box. Wrong, to search

Fear that binds. Threats of death. Hell.

Not to know, to think, to believe, to see

Walk blindly, don’t touch. don’t meander

Questions forbade. Intelligence criminal

Believing as a baby, but don’t reach ~

Watching is old Galgaliel,

The Angel of The Sun..

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

 

IMG_2786

I like to play a game with my 5 year old grandson, Jacob, and it’s called:

Once Upon A Time.

Me: Once upon a time there was born a super hero who’s name is ?

Jacob: Bladidadadalala

Me: And where is Bladidadalala from?

Jacob: Bladidadalala is from Worshha.

Me: Oh so, how old is Bladidadalal, who live in Worsha?

Jacob: He’s old like you. He’s almost 100….

That is as far as we created…

K♣️

 

10897745_382182471963616_1970957772271283883_n
Jo Jo who returned to Heaven July 20, 2015

The Glory of One Moment

I hold a ruby in my hand

Placing it nearest my heart

Encapsulated in the prism reds

A flashing moment of you zapped

Your energy penetrated my innards

When gone, I place you near my bed

K ©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 

IMG_3382

Sing a song enticing the strong

Making a heart to cry

The flute playing like butterflies

Creating a summer’s day

And children follow a bright star

Finding a place they may

Believe like the wind

Or faint by the sun

Only souls destiny shall say

 

 

12744119_10206218161358364_9062903795884493051_n.jpg

 

 

Dreaming
Perhaps, I was dreaming. It was lucid and surreal.
A dusty book, from on a shelf, opened there, I stood
As the pages flipped, on their own, a familiar story
Became alive. There sailing on a calm ocean, lost
Page after page, isolated, alone, not worried, but ~
Sailing, sailing sailing, alone. And, three hundred-fifty
Pages turned, amidst a voidness, I’d never known
The Moon, as always, stood full over the night
Never daylight, just passing by ~ page after page.
Then, from page number three-hundred fifty-one
A lighthouse cast a beam, on cliff high, ~ and hopeful
Stood staring, at the tower. “On the next page,” thus ~
I asked, “Are you calling, and leading me home?”
And, there I waited, hoping the page didn’t turn
But, perhaps, page three-hundred fifty-two will ~
Unite me with my kin and take me home

 

 

 

 

 

 

K ©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

What is Man That Thou Art Mindful of Him?

IMG_0339

“When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained, what is man that thou art mindful of him?”

Man’s Origins

Searching for origins, from perhaps stars. (10)
Conclusive evidence, apes? (7)
Chaos, madness encumbers and it jars (10)
Religions poke presumptions (7)
Mythology, astrology, “too far!” (10)
Confounded naysayers, truths (7)
Leading absolutely nowhere, they mar (10)
Yet, faith, belief, knowing truth (7)
Journeying beyond, all seen, avatars (10)
And knowing goes full circle (7)
Around, around until then, God friends (10)

K♣️

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved
Syllabic and Free verse exercise Syllable counts at ends

 

~ The Annunaki
And who is God, who made heaven and Earth? (10)
Is he, a she, or a god (7)
Designed, from them above, that spoke, of love? (10)
To whom man gives revered laud (7)
Universe, accelerating, decants (10)
Physics, calculus, unflawed (7)
The answers to questions, obscure, yet close (10)
Searching for solutions, fraud (7)
Tongues lie, protecting, the godhead of Ra (10)

K♣️
©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

Syllabic and Free verse exercise
example 2

Intuitive Poetry exercise week 2

 

Hello Intuitive Poetry Writers…

How many of you are ‘Outlander’ fans?
I think Diana Gabaldon did a better than tremendous authoring on her Outlander series.

Well, the theme song is haunting and mystical. It is a time traveling story of an English nurse post WWII. She was transported back in time to Scotland 1750’s..

The music and lyrics are perfect for writing intuitively.

The Youtube link is linked below and the lyrics are below the video. The writing assignment is to listen to the music, read the lyrics and then write your own version..

This is inspiring music. Even if,

you’re not an Outlander fanatic, like me…

https://youtu.be/YrusSXEEv1M

The lyrics are as follows:

“Outlander Main Title Theme (Skye Boat Song)”
short version
Written by Bear McCreary Lyrics

Sing me a song of a lass that is gone
Say, could that lass be I?
Merry of soul she sailed on a dais
Over the sea to Skye

Billow and breeze, islands and seas
Mountains of rain and sun
All that was good, all that was fair
All that was me is gone

Sing me a song of a lass that is gone
Say, could that lass be I?
Merry of soul she sailed on a dais
Over the sea to Skye

Sound like fun?  🙂 Happy writing…

Bonnie Jennings's photo.
You may participate on the FB group A Poet’s Haven, hosted by Alan Boles.
The link:

Week 2 of Intuitive poetry exercises…

FullSizeRender.jpg

 

 

Good Tuesday to everyone.

Perhaps intuitively, you know where the people have disappeared in this forest located in Germany?

Happy writing gumshoes

 

This began our second week…..

Monday

Week 2 of Bonnie’s intuitive Poetry Writing Exercises

Wow.. I worked Saturday and Sunday and my body aches and my mind is weary… So, forgive me as my endurance for physical exercise is lacking… Enough of my complaints/of and onto the fun…Writing poetry…

Isn’t poetry writing incredibly rewarding? I want so to share what we do for many reasons and I’m certain that you, too. I want to tell someone about the joys of writing, the fabulous release from doing so, and the feelings of accomplishment when we create anything … The writing is us… It comes from our souls and our spirits. It could possibly follow us past death. Our grandchildren children may read what their ancestors wrote and that ancestor might be you and I…

Poetry and lyrics have told history lessons from many pasts. Folk songs are an example of tunes that will go down in history. I remember listening to Joan Baez sing “I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night, alive as you and me …. etc” Joan told a history lesson about human rights that I didn’t understand at 9, but the song stayed with me and later on in life, I understood her lyrics and the reason that she sand about Joe Hill…

So, we too want to leave our descendants with a part of us that speaks how we felt about life, religions, our views on love and so much more…

The reason that we practiced writing without the sense of hearing of deafness was to stretch our abilities to sense the world. We will begin to think and feel like a deaf or blind person. It is not an easy task.

This week Alan and I will post new intuitive photographs and images. You may continue to feel through the image in a different point of understanding, and not our own… Perhaps you will be blind, or perhaps from the point of view of a family member who is disabled. You will wear their shoes, instead of your own.

The lesson is to take any of your past poems, maybe from last week or another, and make that poem better. It will be necessary for you to use a Thesaurus.. My suggestion is, if you’ve not used the Thesaurus, is to highlight the first and last word of each sentence and choose a more descriptive word.

Consider your poem being read by someone. What tone of voice would it be spoken? Would it be in a dialect other than your own?

Is there another and better way to express your poem?

Rule 1 of editing … BIG RULE… don’t get overly attached to the phrases that you have created. They are subject to change for the best and will be discarded..

Rule 2… It can always be improved.

Rule 3… Try to stay in one tense.. Hard for me…Really hard.

If I were to have and image of a raindrop or rainfall many would write about tears. Why? Because, water is emotion and often rain and water brings out the past and sadness.

If I were to post an image of winning the lottery, then many would become anxious, stop, and halt, thus being unable to write about winning, because it creates anxieties of the future. Think about this. Are we conditioned to believe winning is a sin, or unattainable? Does it create a lack of self worth? Does our writing take on that anxiety and do we stop writing because we feel … ? You fill in the blanks…Anxiety can stop the writing process… Fear of the future…

If I took that raindrop in the previous example, how could you write about it in the here and now? Now, take a blindfold or invasion it on your eyes… See that raindrop now, in the moment, tell me what you see and feel. Do not write about the past using emotion, and don’t write about the future in anxiety, but write about that drop, in the now.

What can you write about that 1 drop of water?

Well, how about the weight, the size, the color, the illumination, the transparency, and what do you see? Look inside it as if it were a glass globe. Can you see the future, can you see your contentment, or dissatisfaction? Can you say, I am … in the present, I feel no sadness, or anxiety, I, like the drop, am one, and we, are in the now for this moment? And, for right now, all is good, and as it should be… Can you become one with the person, place or thing which is the object of your writing? I ask again… Can you become one with it’s vibrations, it’s color, its beauty, its place in our environment and it’s purpose…? Water fills all living things doesn’t it? What can that 1 drop do for 1 moment in the now…?

This is where your breathing exercises from day 1, help with writing in the present tense…

As I said a few paragraphs ago, our exercise is to take 1 or 2 poems this week that you have previously written and improve on them… Share them on the threads. If you post them separately with an image, then make a reference to the fact that you are improving on them and want to share…

Ultimately, at the end of the intuitive lessons, my wish is that we would find a poetry contest that is unfamiliar territory and enter our new revised work.

So, this is week 2… and it will be more reflective. It will be more intuitive as when you edit your work, you are going to sense what needs to change and you will have better clarity…

Once again I thank Alan for allowing me to facilitate this group, and I want to thank all of you for supporting me, and thank you for going on the journey with me… i am learning, as well…

The poem that I will revise is “Manifesting Sophia.” This is the initial poem 2014

 

Standing next to The Rivers of Babylon we prayed.

I told you to whisper, Sophia, and there on the banks edge,

She will breathe.

In your loneliness, you will cry,

In solitude, you shall find her.

Standing, by the fresh spring waters,

Her voice, will arise new,

Believe, child. 

Unless you know, she won’t come.

She cannot sojourn the dead,

Not, without your certain, hope. 

Only, in the voice filled with life,

Shall she manifest.

The lifeless carry no spirit. 

The initiator needs the spark.

Speak, and Sophia will sing.

Listen, and her song, you will hear.

Smile when you know.

She came because you asked. 

The link on WordPress is:

https://wordpress.com/stats/day/bonniegjennings.wordpress.com

FB link

https://www.facebook.com/groups/313544755508623/

I’ve entered it in contest and I had thought that my poem was deep and smoothly enjoyable.

I found out that the majority of people didn’t understand the poem and were way away from the meaning and content.

Sophia is a shared meaning for The Holy Spirit and is also thought of as Wisdom of God… She is feminine and all-knowing. She moves like the wind and is silent…

 

Revised poem: 2016

Manifesting Sophia

Anchored to the sands of The River of Babylon, I implored 

There on the river banks, she whispered her name, Sophia 

“Summon her. She will breathe.”

In your loneliness, when you cry, hear.

In solitude, listen, sense Sophia, you will know her.

Tinkling of fresh spring waters speaks of her

In the golden of butterfly wings her glory is witnessed 

Her voice is an aria of vibrational beautiful moments 

She will arise in your beliefs 

Believe child. 

She visits not the naysayers 

She can not sojourn the dead. 

The lifeless carry no spirit 

A child shall observer her silhouette. 

A waif has hopes.

The sparks of fidelity are ignition.

Speak, Sophia will sing

Laugh, she came because you asked 

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 

And this next group is my collection of writing with this awesome group on FB last week..

A Poet’s Haven hosted by Alan Boles

https://www.facebook.com/groups/313544755508623/

 

Forecast of storms this afternoon

From my porch, the grayness hung

There seemed a voice inside me

Calling me. Yearning. me, to come

Normally, i’d never have ventured

But, the summons, urgent, demanding

Strides mad towards the beach, flying

Watched the sky, absolutely foreboding

Was it the beauty, the urges wanted to see

So, watching from the pier, so silent

But, the air was electric and defiant

Feeling the forces drawing sides

The wind from the South stanced

As the wind from the North danced

And around their winds blew wildly

I watched their war, an atmospheric battle

Until the time came to go

A typhoon swept sand to and fro

Hiding my face, leaving so

The battle of the air

Continues so


 

Purple passions, lustful lilacs and moonbeams

A haunting forest she sings to the Moon dreams

A lyre in hand, her voice like nightingales chants

Enters the forest of you’ll never return to dance

Alone, amongst her fantasies


Of elves and fairies and cats that sneeze

And should a prince enter her woods

A test he’ll endure to prove, he a king

And perhaps she’ll love, if he can sing


A July Afternoon

A cool breeze passes, through the window

The curtain sways, as if, I am visited

The hairs on my arms arise

The are no sounds anywhere, no surprise

A deathly humid heaviness came through

I know, I feel it ~ It’s lingering on my bed

It sat down. the covers slightly move,

In the heat, the chill, made its presence swoon

For what reason, I don’t know, but it’s not living

And, moments later, with a sucking vacuum

The chill left, with the curtain following from room

And that was one hot sultry July afternoon


 

Hell

Hellish wood, previously burned.

The smell of soot and damp mold and clay

The floors of this dungeon of ill dismay

And time passed, no daily knotts etched

Alone in a cell, no roomates, no one to tell

How long has it been? Oh God, forlorn

Have I existed, my life of dread

Laying upon the cold clay floor

Rats, bugs, lice and hell, there’s more

For what reason, do I continue?

God of Heaven, surely you remember

I who had a life, once ago

Was there a lesson, I forgot to know

I can’t remember, my beard is silver

I had a wife and little children

Should you fetch me and slice my head

And serve it to the swine before bed

T’would be better than this lonesome life

The pigs at least would thank my flesh

And God please humbly I ask again

Take me away, I’ve paid for my sins

~ What? What’s that I hear?

Boots or shoes or clanging chains?

It is the hangman, I do think

Shining his light for my soul to take

But, goodbye cell, burned soot and mold.

I’m leaving hell this eve, I won’t be sold…


 

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved..

Ceremony Update: Eve of the Seed/KAN Trecena

I love this blog… 🙂

Jaguar Spirit

Summer Ceremonies: The Doctorings

minisa-gardeningFrom “Spirit Talk – a Book of Days” by Minisa Crumbo Halsey

Since many, or most, of us do not live in close proximity to adepts and holy people that can and do facilitate community ceremonies, that appropriate action is, in the end, essentially personal. So what matters is bringing the fullness of our minds, hearts, bodies, and spirits forward to say yes once more to life. Herein and from this point on, we are offered the opportunity for which we were born, that of recognizing ourselves as our own holy people. Aho!

Take up the staff of authority and don the mantle of leadership, and if you will, emerge and embark upon finding, forging, and designing a Way that is unique to your personal attributes and needs. These are the new Ways coming forward for the new days . . . and we are the…

View original post 348 more words

The Intuitive Poetry Exercise Week 2

 

Revising our poetry

 

Manifesting Sophia is the poem, I will revise, for The Intuitive Poetry Group found on FB at A Poet’s Haven.

My poem was written in 2014 and is called “Manifesting Sophia.” It is a Gnostic Christian poem… It is about manifestation and The Holy Sophia’s movements. She comes through our petitions and in this poem I am summoning her as I’m in need of her presence.

 

Manifesting Sophia 2016 Revision

Anchored to the sands of The River of Babylon, I implored 

There on the river banks, she whispered her name, Sophia 

“Summon her. She will breathe.”

In your loneliness, when you cry, hear.

In solitude, listen, sense Sophia, you will know her.

Tinkling of fresh spring waters speaks of her

In the golden of butterfly wings her glory is witnessed 

Her voice is an aria of vibrational beautiful moments 

She will arise in your beliefs 

Believe child. 

She visits not the naysayers 

She can not sojourn the dead. 

The lifeless carry no spirit 

A child shall observe her silhouette. 

A waif has hopes.

The sparks of fidelity are Sophia’s ignition.

Speak, Sophia will sing

Laugh, she came because you asked 

 

K♣️

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

 

Manifesting Sophia 2014 
Standing next to The Rivers of Babylon we prayed.
I told you to whisper, Sophia, and there on the banks edge,
She will breathe.
In your loneliness, you will cry,
In solitude, you shall find her.
Standing, by the fresh spring waters,
Her voice, will arise new,
Believe, child.
Unless you know, she won’t come.
She cannot sojourn the dead,
Not, without your certain, hope.
Only, in the voice filled with life,
Shall she manifest.
The lifeless carry no spirit.
The initiator needs the spark.
Speak, and Sophia will sing.
Listen, and her song, you will hear.
Smile when you know.
She came because you asked. 

©2014 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

cropped-wpid-img_1-121.jpg


Link on FB: The Poet’s Haven

https://www.facebook.com/groups/313544755508623/

The link on WordPress is:
https://wordpress.com/sta…/day/bonniegjennings.wordpress.com

I’ve entered it in contest and I had thought that my poem was deep and smoothly enjoyable.

I found out that the majority of people didn’t understand the poem and were way away from the meaning and content.

Sophia is a shared meaning for The Holy Spirit and is also thought of as Wisdom of God… She is feminine and all-knowing. She moves like the wind and is silent…


Well, it’s Friday and We’ve been Experimenting With Writing Intuitively Poetry by Using “Deafness.”

 

Unknown
This picture was on Pinterest. There is a WWW. at the bottom. I always try to recognize the artist. It’s important to me. Especially, if someone would like to purchase this photograph

 

 

Well, it’s Friday and we’ve been experimenting with writing intuitive poetry by using “deafness.” I chose a missing sense so that your intuitive see would compensate for your hearing loss. And, actually, for those of us who are deaf, have compensated in different ways. It’s a natural phenomena or occurrence that just has to occur. The body adjusts to the loss of a limb, eyesight, or whatever lacks… It may not be ever “normal” like we judge is normal, but it rearranges the senses.

The Poetry group to submit writing is on FB… I wish you submit to me on WP. but if you are interested, The site is called A Poet’s Haven hosted by Alan Boles who has graciously allowed me to facilitate this lesson. The link is:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/313544755508623/

This weekend, I will be at work both days. So, while I’m at work, please take a look at your poems using the door images. Use your Thesaurus. Try several words that will enhance your poem and take it a level higher.

This is an example:

“The.” Highlight the word then open your Thesaurus on the word. Read other possible choices for your first word “the.”

Mine doesn’t have a Thesaurus interpretation of “The.”

But, it does give other suggestions.

“Old English (Northumbrian and North Mercian dialects) thē; related to Dutch de, dat, and German der, die, das .”

You can enhance your poem by using another language. Use another voice or tone…

For an alluring hook or a description that captures your reading audience from the first sentence. Choose to research the heritage or voice of the poem that you’ve chosen to tell it.

Pretend that it is publicly being read aloud. Who is reading it? What dialect or accent is being spoken? Perhaps it’s Gaelic,  Italian, Persian, or French, or etc …

Find the substitution for the word “the” in the language or voice that you’ve written it in…  If it’s haunting, use Old English, or Romanian. Even if it is written in modern language, find the word that is a substitution in a modern or slang equivalent.

Try not to use the word “the,” but once in your poem.

Are you seeing what I’m explaining? You can step your poem up with the changing of your words… In this exercise, we will just use First and last word… if you’ve learned this before, perhaps, you will help those in this exercise by explaining what you’ve learned…

Take away 1 of the 5 senses and add the 6th sense

Starting with the relaxation found on the first lesson take yourself to a quiet safe place.

The goal is to get your poem at a place that you are now ready to submit it to a contest..Some of the images used, all found on Pinterest are these.

 

Fridays Exercise on Intuitive Poetry Writing.

Unknown
Image found on Pinterest. Truly would love to name the artist. They deserve the recognition…

Fridays Exercise on Intuitive Poetry Writing.

Today, for The Intuitive Poetry Writing lesson, we will use this door…  The exercises are written on a FB page for poets. I wish that i cold link my WP page to my FB pages.

 

The FB page is hosted by Alan Boles. It is called A Poet’s Haven.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/313544755508623/

 

While writing the poem, please use your 6th sense, remember you are deaf, as you come to the door. You perceive the world differently now. The 6th sense compensates for your hearing loss… You now feel, see and explore the world much differently.

You may refer back to lesson 1 for the relaxation exercise…
The link is on WordPress, plus the other lessons if you want to join into the group.

 

 

Thank you all, it’s been a great week one..

Next week we will begin our corrections and also use new avenues to our intuitive world..

Bojenn

K♣️

Intuitive Poetry Exercises…

FullSizeRender
Image from Pinterest

 

 

This is another picture added to several for the Intuitive Poetry exercise on A Poet’s Haven hosted by Alan Boles… Free to join. We welcome you. All positive there, we are supportive to all poets.

 

Please see the first lesson and tap on the link to follow along.

https://bonniegjennings.wordpress.com/2016/06/20/bojenns-excersises-on-writing-intuitive-poetry

 

 

Another Thursday Intuitive Poem Exercise

FullSizeRender.jpg

 

This is another picture added to several for the Intuitive Poetry exercise on A Poet’s Haven hosted by Alan Boles… Free to join. We welcome you. All positive there, we are supportive to all poets.

 

Please see the first lesson and tap on the link to follow along.

https://bonniegjennings.wordpress.com/2016/06/20/bojenns-excersises-on-writing-intuitive-poetry/

 

Captive on their spacecraft

Total silence, left to, what?

It’s an odd place

I’d not witnessed before

Human facilities

For those before?

But what will happen?

Oh God! Are you here?

Can you hear me?

In this place of terror

Abducted, for what?

Am I a bait?

Dear God hear me!

What is my fate?

I haven’t believed

For this I repent

But, I need you now

L’est on a dinner plate

Dear God, I’m forsaken

Somewhere in space

In a cobweb trapped

Help me! For God’s sake!

I will believe, I promise

Please, get me home soon

Let me just awake

Oh, this is a bad dream

Yes, that’s where I’m at

Now, I’ll tell it to take me home

And that will be that

See, I don’t need a God ~

I can do it myself!

Then ~ The door opens

Dear God, I am their steak

 

 

K♣️

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

Intuitive poetry Lesson, Thursday

13532964_603385823176612_2227462695455119303_n
Picture found on Pinterest

 

Good day or evening everyone…

 

There were 3 images loaded onto A Poets Haven on FB hosted by Alan Boles, last night. The three images are being used to write intuitively. That is, writing this weeks poems, as if, you are deaf, and your intuitive sense must compensate. On Monday’s exercise also found on my blog “Day 1 of Writing Poetry Intuitively, I posted a relaxation method and a few YouTube relaxation videos for writers…

I will provide the link below.

 

https://bonniegjennings.wordpress.com/2016/06/20/bojenns-excersises-on-writing-intuitive-poetry/

 

From the link above, the other lessons can be followed by following the arrows at the bottom of each day or exercise…

 

This poem is my ideas on this image… Next week, we will work on all of our poems… Perfecting them by using a Thesaurus and dictionaries…

 

My poem:

Here I stand at the bottom of creepy stairs

A place, I’ve not known, nor cared

I must beware

Utter silence, to that door

The door that is open

I must explore

Not because, I want

But, it’s the dare

The dank moldy hall

With spiders galore

My shoes are covered

With dirt and spores                                                                                         

I go; despite bewares

My right hand grasps

The frame, the entrance

My heart is faint

The door is scary


 

Part 2.

Entering The Room

And ~ so here I go

Anxious, and dreading

What is behind

And, I’m not hearing

Feeling my way

Using my heart

Stirring emotions

Right from the start

But, nevertheless

I proceed

My heart pounding

Shaking knees

The door ~

I slowly open

Wobbling on a hinge

I stepping forward

With eyes closed

My head moves 

Around the frame

And to my surprise

It was nothing; I feared

But an old woman

Sitting under her clock

Rocking gently 

Amber lights

Up; she looked

At my face

She smiled 

“Come in.”

So, I entered

Not the same

Her warm smile

Welcomed, me in

K♣️

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 

Hey thanks for joining us… Have a great week..

 

That you Alan Boles for allowing me to facilities this class…

 

 

Do You Believe The News

 

Your Watchman

 

Do you believe the news, any news?

Do you think they tell the truth?

What do you think, it’s edited?

Who sits in the big room?

 

What about these presidential candidates,

Do you breath in their convoluted bantering?

Do you think perhaps there’s more?

Please, look behind the pandering

 

The swarms of little fish flurry wildly

All uttering fish talk at once

But, trust me there is a whale

Lingering stealthy behind their chants

 

And, I don’t believe their chatter

I don’t believe their slants

I’m searching for the whale

That’s hiding behind their rants

 

 

K♣️

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 

The Seekers
Knowledge ~ Perhaps it is the tree of evil. What if man chose naiveté instead of watching and seeking? Perhaps, both virtues are deadly.

 

 

 

Intuitive Poetry Writing exercises day 2. See day 1 for instructions

 

Intuitive Poetry On The Poet’s Haven in FB, hosted by Alan Boles. by Bonnie Jennings.
Please join us as we continue to learn different forms of Poetry. It is free to join and participate.

 

Please remember, when writing your poetry, imagine that you are deaf. Allow your intuition to compensate.

 

Please visit my link here for instructions and facilitation of the exercise.

https://bonniegjennings.wordpress.com/2016/06/20/bojenns-excersises-on-writing-intuitive-poetry/

13516611_10207079706416452_5176843877497339269_n

 

My poem for the second image:

Oh, so quivering from absolute delight
Here I stand at a turquoise entry sight (or site, remember I’m deaf, so I see)
So quickly opening the doors threshold
Expecting the best and being so bold
I hear no sounds, and no one is there
I look around for clues, all things are rare
Libraries of books, and ancient globes
Lights of candles, And smoke from a stove
Food on the table, and a table set for one
I guess, I’m alone, saddened there are none
But me, behind the turquoise door.
K♣️
©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

Intuitive Poetry Exercise Day 3

This is actually picture or image 4…  You will find this exercise posted on A Poet’s Haven on FB hosted by Alan Boles. It is free to join.

tumblr_ma1m3zK6XG1ro98aao1_400

 

Please visit Intuitive Poetry by Bonnie for instructions on how to write intuitive poetry.

You will find it by going to the archives June 2016 and it will be there and posted a few days ago or you can scroll to the bottom of this page and follow the arrows toward the exercises.

Or the link: The easy way to the instructions…:-)

https://bonniegjennings.wordpress.com/2016/06/20/bojenns-excersises-on-writing-intuitive-poetry/

 

This is my example for today’s exercise… Keep in mind that during the exercises the writer is to imagine that the sense of hearing, or deafness is missing. This is intuition. You must write missing hearing, and use the 6th sense to create.

 

My poem for today:

 

Last night, while dreaming
Was walking on cobblestone
Hurting feet from being bare
I came upon this brown wood door
The faces within the wooden notches
They spoke so boldly and vividly, at me
The number 9 caught my attention
Pondering its essence, there twas a message
Taking a step back, off the dirty stones
Shuttering at the possibly thoughts unknown
Numerically the symbol 9, began shinning
Tis an ominous sign to a begging mortal
Death or rebirth?
I muttered to myself
Perhaps, it won’t be so bad?
To a poor deaf girl, as I
Decidedly, choosing to pass
Through the heavy doors
Took a breath, perhaps my last
Turned the doorknob, and stood aghast
I proceeded to step inside.
K♣️
©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved
(To be continued)
This image was borrowed from Free Stock Images on Google…  It is not mine and if I new the photographer would always give credit where it is due…  Thank you photographer or artist…

 

 

Thank you for reading and participation

 

Pingback to Behind The Door Challenge

/2009/03/26/twitter-widget

My Thoughts on The Orlando Massacre There are many flowers in Gods garden

 

IMG_4044

The world without gay people would be a world where a species of Gods flowers never bloomed. Their glorious array of talents and colors, smiles and tears wouldn’t exist. The world would be dark

 

Why do we kill things we simply don’t understand? Why are we so fearful of the unknown? Just because we are clueless doesn’t give us the God given rights to destroy his creations…

I write a lot about killing snakes. Why? Because you fear the unknown You have associated the snake with evil… And, is it truly evil or is it a misconception? Something misconstrued?

Why do we kill the innocent?

Why do we hate other colors?

Why are we blinded to possibilities of goodness?

Why?

 

What if the roles were reversed?

What if heterosexual males and females were the targets of terror and social hate?

 

I am the mother of a “gay” adult child. You hurt my child, I will hurt yours....

 

Where does hatred end?

 

 

 

MEET MUSICIAN/WRITER BENJAMIN HYATT — rhythmandmuseblog

Author Susan’s recent blog and interview with Benjamin Hyatt. And, without further introduction, here’s Susan and Benjamin….

 

Susan’s personal WordPress link to this interview

https://rhythmandmuseblog.wordpress.com

RHYTHM AND MUSE ARTIST SPOTLIGHT Hi, I’m Author Susan Joyner-Stumpf. Being a Published Author and Certified Graphics Artist myself, I am always curious to uncover the artist BEHIND their work, whether it be a writer, artist who draws, musician and/or singer/songwriter. Here on my site, Rhythm and Muse Artist Spotlight, I interview Artists […]

via MEET MUSICIAN/WRITER BENJAMIN HYATT — rhythmandmuseblog

The Marching Band Played John Philip Sousa

music

 

The marching band played John Philip Sousa

My daddy held my hand

Lining the streets elbows to my head

My daddy put me on his shoulders, where I could stand

~

The marching marines stopped in front of us

And in synchrony stomped boots our way

The men sang in perfect harmony

Daddy crossed his heart that day

~

And over head, as the men sang

Bursting here and there

Colors of red, white and blue

  In patterns, I’d not seen anywhere

~

Some sounded like rockets

Szshoozing overhead

Some were loud like cannonballs

I covered my ears in dread

~

In amazement, I beheld the lights

Were there angels over me?

Exploding in perfect orderly colors

“Daddy, how do they do that? How can this be?”

~

The choir of men sang a special song

And Daddy started to cry

I didn’t understand why

A father with tears in his eyes

~

“From the Halls of Montezuma

To the shores of Tripoli

We fight our country’s battles

In the air, on land, and sea;

First to fight for right and freedom

And to keep our honor clean;

We are proud to claim the title

Of United States Marine.”

~

Then, above the grandest sights

A little girl had seen

Splitting colors like stars and stripes

The happiest, I’d ever been

~

Lights splashing with the music

Bursting colors with the beat

The patters in my little heart

Thrilling for me, a child of three, to have the very best seat

In the parade