The Marching Band Played John Philip Sousa



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

Urdu For Mother, Poetry for Summer 2016

My renditions of The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám




Pour, into my cup, come in the slumbers of dawn

Cast away the ash and sackcloth, granted life

The pheonix landed to visit awhile

Tomorrow the bird takes flight


When the Morning Dove sings her songs

We who hear her cheerful melodies

Good morning lovely lady!

You know how a birds song embraces

Man to his God

Do come again at least one more day

On Wednesday, remember to pray


A satchel of poetry rests over my shoulder

A silver pen, parchments and paper, and a journal

Laying them next to the wine on the blanket next to you

And you are Mars to me, and I Venus


Desires of fame and wealth beyond needs

And some want the end of the world to come

But he who demands the payout and dismisses the harbingers

Will not hear the tuning of the trumpeters calls


The vigor and youthful spirit bursts

When rooting, by connecting to the dirt

The heat of summer and thirsty blood

Lasts numbered seasons of the young


Tis the man who hungers knowledge

Their roots die under drought and swelters

But, I barely remember

Hah, seems long ago, thoughts of flaming embers


K♣︎©2016 Bonnie Jennings “Urdu For Mother” All Rights Reserved


So You Want to be a Nurse?


A profession upside down

So you want to be a nurse?



You study until you vomit

You pass the exam with a “c.”

Staying up all night preparing

For clinicals, the next day


Scratching your way to the top

For a calling, that’s not you

Envying those, with titles

Drooling, to be through


Perhaps, you pass boards

And perhaps, you don’t

Maybe a wish granted

Don’t be so anxious lass

Your time on the floor will happen ~

So, pause: And take a breath


“Yes! Come in, we’re so happy to have you!”

They lie ~ You’re just a warm body, dear

Don’t be deceived ‘Nurse Green’

You’re there to assume the absurd


No one can tend, to the masses

That are reaching to you for help

You’re one person in a nursing pool

All ~ to be hung out to dry


And when there is a mistake

It’s yours! Own it!

But, in reality, check their ratios

Nurse had fourteen, instead of five

But, no one cares who matters

You’re their scapegoat! Dear one


Calling rude doctors at three am

Being blasted by administrators

Taking blame for being short staffed

Being diplomatic, where families concern


She could be your mother

He could be your father

You cry many tears over the years

However ~

No one came visiting that mattered


They ask you to take special care of “Nana.”

They ask you to watch, “Uncle Jo.”

But, in truth, there are ninety-six

That are special as Nana and Jo


He’s dying of liver cancer

He lays in excrement all day

Not because you didn’t change him

twenty-four times and may ~

Go back one more time

Where he lay at the end of the day.


The phone rang innumerable times

And had to stop care, from Mary

To answer, a question or wrong number

And Mary’s time is now harried


Moving onto the halls of moaning and crying

Pain and utter loneliness

The faces of anguish and torture

Carrying it home ~ thinking ~ awake up! It’s morning!


And again, on Monday,

“Short staffed today,” came report

So once again, I take Sally’s load

She’s sick from depression

Sick from the lonely hearts in bed


And families screaming, “poor care!”

But, they never brought love to share

Their time with Nana or Jo

Nor brought flowers to warm those in dismay


But, when I get home

My feet are swollen

My blood pressure is sky high

My back aches from turning dead weight

And my tears flood my face

From watching the elderly die in disgrace


Many years have passed

Turning three hundred pounds

Raising them up, and cleaning their butts

And watching, that others don’t drown

In their waters.


Wondering one day

Who’ll care for me

Will I be a Nana or Jo

Begging the only loving face I see

Please a hug, a kiss or ~

And perhaps a song


No, I won’t be Nana or Jo

Give me cyanide instead…


And so I ask you once again ~

Do you want to be a nurse?



There are certain WordPress Friends to Acknowledge

Story Tellers and Poets


A @Spiritual Journey who’s blog is always uplifting to my soul… Love to journey there when thirsty for refreshment and water…. Like an oasis, rest and peace is found here.

Thank you.



@Kiwinana is an extremely supportive and kind friend. She always has my back and I so appreciate her constant admirations. I want to thank her for all she does. This is her link below and you can also find her on Twitter…

Kwinana, I’m still trying to figure out Twitter…. It perplexes my mind.

Thank you



@Soul Gifts is also a great place to visit for restoration of the mind. When I visit her blog, it seems that I’m in a place green and healing.

I almost feel like she is a step from my home…

Thank you



And lastly, for the day, is my dear friend @Susan Joyner-Stumpf

I love Susan because she is always supporting others on her blog.

She is a small publisher with extremely reasonable rates.

New Business Card

But, most importantly she has published 26 or 28 of her own poetry books. Her genre is “Poe” like.

Susan contributes the sales of her book to the cause of domestic violence and animal welfare. She has a horse rescue in Colorado. She loves dogs. That makes me smile.

Her link is here…


Thank you dear Susan…





A Deluge of Water

A Deluge


Held by a dungeon of torrential rain
It resounded like a quarrel outside
It was an argle-bargle of earth, rain and wind
It blew patterns of a boustrophedon
Being cantankerous from the brouhaha
I took my bumbershoot to the door
The umbrella became discombobulated
The nonsensical wind blew it inside out
A melee of rain furbellfwed my face
A gardylool hadn’t been announced
Thus a television gonzo weather reporter
A nincompoop on the matters of meteorology
And I a smellfungus, thought no sun would shine
But, somewhere near I heard a turdiform, A Lark?
To my amazement a vomiter shown from above
The Earth smelled dank mud, spores and green grass
It was petrichor to a doubting Thomas
Was I to trust the rays and Lark?
But, the smell of dew from the downpour
Meh, on the other hand, gloom and doom
Have always been my very best friend




©2016 Bonnie Jennings K♣️All Rights Reserved

He Gave Them Power

We are almost fully into The Age of Aquarius
Poem written Crown Couplets


The golden calf of Taurus reigned 8000 years ago
Then Aries entered sacrificing lambs and rams for quid pro quo
Thus secrets inhibited Piscean Age and governments did overthrow
‘Twas then, a savior born, midst those turbulent chiliads years
However, orbiting Suns journey leaves Pisces when Aquarius nears
On the Vernal Equinox 2000 A.D. Is five degrees Pisces, but soon to leave
The cusp of Aquarius patiently awaits the Sun’s visit gallantly to please
And the Sun rest in Aquarius for 2000 years offering peace for humanity
Teaching scientific breakthroughs, lending hands, setting free insanity
We have two thousand years before our Sun exits towards Capricorn Age
Sharing altruism, while in the eleventh house, the humanitarian stage

©K♣️ 2016 All Rights Reserved
Bonnie Jennings soul collage art by Bonnie Jennings167841_1285264668960_5791919_n

A Lullaby to my mother


Ghostly Song

Whisper a name in a song that you hear
Could that name, be mine?
Sing the song, with ghostly wrongs
Sailing the waves and seas

Swelling and clouds, flying or trees
Green of hills and seas
Once were we, once was then
Once upon a time

Whisper a name in a song that you hear
Could that name, be mine?
Sing the song, with ghostly wrongs
Sailing the waves and seas

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

Dropping Jaw Poetry

Half past two: “BANG!” Thunder rolling, post, the lights
Insomnia now, made coffee, drank, to bed again, no frights
Boom! Vibrations of my bed, but still, there's nothing to dread
Just another thunderstorm experienced, from my bed
Three-AM. So quiet now, but wait! There stood a grey man
“Oh, no! Not you again.” Questioning, but he insisted his hand
And, like before, there is no choice, and off and away, we went
Parallel to the earth and up over heaven, so while flying; I repent.
And, as before, so many times, entering the mothership, are my kind
Some sleeping, some playing cards, some in surgery, Oh, my crazy mind!
Surely a dream, so, I ask, and no one answers, but vacantly stares, in fact.
“You, know the answers,” from within my mind, thus seeing, my body, intact
And, there I was, on mother’s ship, for several hours, plus more
Suddenly, my alarm echoes seven, from under covers; wondering, dreaming lore?
Got ready for work, with bags under eyes, disheveled, from astrums' soar 
To somewhere  else ~ that I've traveled, innumerable light years before

©2016 Raining and Thundering Tonight. Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved


Christian Flaws… We judge, we judge, we judge


I love, Jan


My Editorial today…

I am a christian (with a lower case c)
The lower case “c” is used just because ~
Please, let’s not point fingers, accuse, speak evil to or disdain someone because they don’t fit into your christian mold.
What is a christian? We all have our beliefs often within the boundaries of our denomination, and our personal experiences. The best answer, other than believing in The Son of God is Yeshua, the second answer is to imitate his life. That is simple enough, but when we feel we have the right to condemn and send, to hell, others, because our perceptions are different, then we act as a god and have not the mind of a loving God. Remembering that people burned at the stake, for being “witches,” because christians lacked understanding. The unknown is feared. The mind of Christ can’t operate in fear. Fear kills, and destroys that which is incorrectly discerned. As an example, we still kill harmless snakes, out of fear. I might ask, is the killing of such a creature as the snake accomplished because ~ why? What is it about the snake that causes such anxiety that one wants to kill it? The answer is simple ~ fear or fears of the unknown kill snakes, animals and sometimes others. Perhaps, it is not an actual killing or murdering of, a human or animal, but it is a torturing, a name calling, a poking, a prodding, a disgracing of, gossiping of, saying horrible things of, etc etc etc… You see the point, and all because, it is a lack of understanding of that which one feared.
And, what bothers me the most, are the qualities we put on people because of our denominational boundaries and ideals of whom God is (to the perceiver) and are limited, to our thinking. But God is not easily defined, is He? And His ways aren’t ours or limited to someone who uses only 10% of their minds (brains). God forbid! We would be lost and condemned to hell in a hand basket if the Almighty was just a mere man using only 10%, at best…
In the 1970’s and 80’s, I absolutely loved Jan Crouch. She spoke with the most loving christian tone of voice, she cried for the poor, she was beautiful, and she was celebrated onto the TV screen. She was a christian celebrity with her pink puffy hair and her spider eyelashes. I still love the way she was, so bold, and was the epitome of what christian bizarre could be at that time. I love those that push the envelope and make us think beyond our box of God, we formed. Jan did that, and many of us accepted her, the way she presented and admired her. But, why couldn’t she be herself?
I still love Jan Crouch. A more recent picture depicts her real authentic self, as she, is smoking a cigarette and is relaxed and wearing little make-up. Another picture of Jan shows long blond straight hair and she is quite a “looker.” She could turn heads and she looks so much younger than her TV persona. Jan taped into what the TV audience would accept as a leader. Jan was a master deceiver… But, I love her still… She worked the envelope edges to the christian limit and I admired her.
In later years, as a christian, I realized that, if Jan had been her authentic self, than no one, would pay her any attention because she would look “fallen”, and less than godly, and certainly not worthy of the idolization that her TV personality portrayed. We wanted a bigger than life, grander than average, “christian” woman to lead us in how far, we too, could push that envelope.
My point, why do we fellow christians put other christians in a box? Why do we say, if they don’t speak in that overly sweet tone, and say the right phrases and “pat” christian comments, than, “they must not be a christian?” Looking down christian noses and Judging so much. Do they talk the right way? Do they have a soft sweet tone of voice, do they wear clothes that are similar, do they say the same christian lingo, and do they only study what we study?
Furthermore, why do we judge when we have not walked in someone else’s shoes? Is our God not bigger than our perceptions? Does He not see the entire ancestral road? Who do we think we are to wear His shoes. By the way, this is why I use the lower case “c.”
Why am I writing this? Well, I was blasted this morning by well meaning christians with a lower case “c.”
Answer ~ A long continuing story of judgement and why I left “the church” and went to God’s house where He said to me,
“Be authentic” ,,,, “Do not lie about yourself. Take off that horrible dowdy dress, loose the overly sweet phony tone, be who I brought you into the world to be, and any judgement will be between you and ME. Be yourself.”
And, I’m so much happier… <3… Things are between God and I as they are between you and him…

Summer Solstice



Summer Solstice 

Abundance of fruits on summers days
How grateful are we for the sun’s rays
And at Solstice, the height of thanksgiving
Because The Earth we eat sweet melons
The highest northern point on it shines
The zenith point of celebration, god dines
In joy and happiness and praise.
As my ancestors taught about days
Connected to sun, moon and our planet’s life
In bonfires, we observing power and might
Recognizing that all are related to the light
That on June 21st, the longest day
We lift the wine with hands that pray
Honoring our forefathers of covens riches
Druids and Wiccans, warlocks and witches
Tribes of pagans and lonely mystics
Celebrate abundance and births of pagans
Giving thanks where and when god is forgotten

©2016 All Rights Reserved
Written for a contest about Solstice, Druids, witches, etc
Art by me


Lost Girl Angels


Image from photo stock 


Thy child came late May ~ A lovely babe

Always smiled and laughed, until later days

Meanwhile before the days grew dark

Dancing and laughter,  such a spark

She was an angel, that always danced

A perfect child who was advanced

In all her ways, she so enhanced

Our world, of many woes

She perfected life, on her toes

Riding horses without reins

Freedom seen and hurricanes

In perfection, there lies tornadoes

Steamy moods and explosive volcanoes

And ~ that was at thirteen

The perfect child became mean

Angry at so much stuff

The angel child got densely tough

Bulimia, vomiting, anorexia and boys

Our little girl put away her toys

Green hair, blue hair, pink or purple

Piercings, tattoos, drugs in her circle

And she didn’t care what she’d become

She now pranced to her own drum

More drugs, partying, trying girls

My little girls lost her pearls

Left home to move into

A retched boyfriend who

Used her body, used her mind

Put a gun to her head, no longer kind

“Mom, he loves me,” she shouted

However, mom, always doubted

Then, one day, she came home

Angry she was, but he on the rome

Shunned her away, to be alone

But that was alright, doggone

Home until the mood struck

Running off after familiar bad luck

Got in a car accident on wet roads

Someone slipped “Rouffies” before the episodes

Coma, she rested, for about two months

But this was one of her lasts stunts

And God had a different plan

One that halted any other man

From stealing her soul

Angels sent to be on patrol

Guarding the windows and doors and any loopholes

Where angel girls escape God

Hiding because they feel flawed

The wiles of young maidens willy-nilly

He sets them down to the nitty-gritty

Truths that He lends to behold

In beautiful lives he considers gold

Venerable Forest


Looking from a foggy window pane
Onto luscious Sylvan Forests, in the rain
Greens abundantly covered, as they wane
Aromas from earthen cleanliness of terrain

Where behind ancient mountains reign
Meandering for miles, so lazy, as on a slow train
Enjoying our views, daydreaming, so insane
Of how the earth is lovely and must remain

Tranquility came visiting this mountain again
The grand old venerable hills of Spain
Here my heart shall linger and abstain
From wanting to stay, though, I shan’t constrain

How mysterious is that mountain, its a holy domain
Curiously de’jevu visits my cerebral nostalgic brain

BJ @2016

Freeing Butterflies

Photo Stock from Google Wall Paper


Please Don’t Kill The Butterfly


Please, don’t kill the snake

In your phallic development that you hate

Please, don’t kill the sparrow

In your jealousy, you use a bow and arrow

Please, don’t kill a tiger

There lies your destitute fiber

Please, don’t kill the Butterfly

Or jar it on your shelf,

Trapped, their beautiful lives ~ by human waste

Why must humans kill, an innocent life?

Just because they fear

Its innocent, yet significant wildlife ~

Perhaps, there’s a chord of strife?

Putting them on your mantles

Or showing off the magnificence

By taking their gifts, with thundering human knives

Please Don’t Kill The Butterfly




©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

Deception Amongst The Garden



Sweetness and flattery 

Oh, my, I am blushing

Your words sent my heart, excited and flushing

Heat of joy as your delicately chosen words

Has succumbed my ego, for a moment, oh dear.

And, I must admit, I am overcome with your praise

And what may I ask is your intentions, naive ?

Are you mocking me as you steal my songs;

Or are you incredibly disdainful, meandering along?

In life it is clear, you manipulate your foes

Choosing their best for yourself, but not their woes

Woes and foes brought me to this place and fate

And one can’t get around experience and disgrace

But, I’m flattered that you’d steal my poetry, my love

And, I’ll tip my hat to your theft, and bid you, good day…

And, thank you ~ As you’ve made my way ~

Better,  than I deserved… On any given Say (poetry)

An Apology To My Children

This letter is written for a challenge on WordPress and is written to my children..

At times, I can be like this pig

My understanding and definition of an apology:

Thus realizing that an apology gives the apologizer a sense of freedom and perhaps some control, the apology must be written from the humble sense and feeling of sorrow for an act wrongly created over or about a situation, person or animal and Earth.

I say animal because in my past, I wish more often than not, that I had been more attentive and available to the pets feeling. Working often took me away, or my needs to go somewhere or get away from their needs. However, they were always there for me.

Perhaps, I turn my face away from humans that I have rudely shunned or ignored because I held a prejudice towards something about them or their situation. I held a wrong judgement and whom are we to make any kind of decision about anyone, but ourselves?


To my children, and my family,

There, have been times in our lives that I have worried too much, and I have let depression rule my psyche. This feeling and extreme sadness has caused conflicts with your lives and now that you are older, you choose to stay for a while and when you do come, it’s usually a short visit. And then quickly, you must depart. Know that, I don’t blame you. Being around someone who worries all the time and who is depressed often is weighty. The heaviness is something that I have not conquered and no medication has alleviated my dark foggy forest for, very long.

I wish that I could have changed this behavior and if I could have would have taken my magical wand and sprinkled fairy dust over the entire situation and lifetime and would have put smiles on all our faces.

I am sorry for the depression and sadness. I ask you to forgive me and I understand that my apology is not a magic wand that you should change and accept everything ,as new. After all, there is a flood of water under our bridges and it is drained only a bucket at a time…

However, I do want to thank you for reading this letter, and no, it doesn’t make me feel better after writing it, but it does make me know that I have apologized without placing blame on neurotransmitters or my childhood circumstances. Even though, we are products of our past. In trepidation I write, I hope your childhood hasn’t effected your raising of your children and I pray you do not have any sadness or feelings of doom and gloom hanging over you. Your grandmother always told me when I was a child, that I was Chicken Little. Sighing here…

So, right here, I sever with a sword any familiar sadness that could effect you and your futures. I curse it’s roots of despair and feelings of impending doom. In God I trust to send his angels out to make it so…


Know, I love you and are very proud of you.

With much appreciation of you,

Your mother








VOTE NOW! Annual Bloggers Bash Awards NOW OPEN

If you’re interested, as I am… Here The Blogging candidates are to vote on… Enjoy and the best to all the nominees

Sacha Black

VOTE NOWThis is it. The waiting is finally over.

The Bloggers Bash Awards are now open for voting.

We had a HUGE number of nominations, over 350, so thank you to everyone who took the time to nominate.

Voting Closes June 9th at 12pm. The winners will be announced on June 11th at the Bash. If you can’t make it then a winners post will go live at 5:15pm on June 11th.

Choose carefully, you can only vote ONCE per category. There are 10 awards, (so it’s a long post) make sure you vote in them all.

Good luck to all the nominees.

Disclaimer: The committee has done their best to coordinate the nominations and to ensure, where possible, we gave nominees a choice of which category they wanted to be in. Due to time constraints and limited resources this may not have always been possible.

View original post 1,411 more words

Have You Seen God?


Picture from Google Stock Images..


And, who has met God

Who has seen his face?

The only answer that is right

Is witnessing our Moon at night

When the darkness is contained by its light


And, who knows the mechanism of faith?

Who knows what it looks like?

The only answer that is right

Is to say faith’s present in the bleakest plights

When hope is gone, but prayers belief releases might


And, who knows best but God himself

Who’s face is seen in an orphan child

And all creatures great and small

And God’s character is displayed for all

Whose eyes see beyond an image

Of God himself within the living




©2016 Bonnie jennings. All Rights reserved

Peace, We Ask


Warning voices, harbingers do tell

Chiming the world ringing the bells

At this time, we must unitedly pray

And hope that God answer and not delay

Melodies raise from our songs

Telling him our plights and how we long

For our peace, and a world at rest

The lyricist and poets write the praise

And in unison our voices raise

Then, all angels join our choir

In harmonies from all tongues

Spreading peace, to all, among

The brethren hybrids coming from Adam

Only we can stop the mayhem

Lending each other God’s freedom

Laying down selfish, self serving desires

Applauding brothers, least we admire

Offering our hand, helping the orphan

Tossed on mighty waves our ships

And our ores won’t stop the tips

Of this depth of waters high

Bring Adam closer to Thee on neigh

For’ we are scattered lambs staggering by

Our lives bid lost, as you sigh

At us, dear God, as we are a sojourning mess

Help us, heavens, to be our best


Oh the god of our breath

Will you love us, again, yet

Come, Oh Lord, come again

Forgive our ignorance, every man

And bring peace to our land

Please, most merciful, man’s Lord

Who came to love us as a child

Man was God, who became flesh

Who died to teach us, for our best

Oh, come again, to save us,

from ourselves

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights reserved

Greens of God’s Earth





I always look into the greens of summer to find peace

Just last week

I went to see my tree

The moss grows


And looking into the moss, I see

Just a forest

Small and delicate

The fairies meadow


I imagined the fairies live there

Standing looking inside

The delicate leaves

There is magic


But, I shall not disturb

Laying my hands

On the wood

I pray for


Closing my eyes and whispering to God who hears

The old tree

Diseased and crumbling

Mercy, I ask


I move on to the next green place of rest

There’s much to

See under canopies

Of God’s earth


Thanking him for all the beauty of the earth



©2016 Bonnie jennings. All Rights Reserved

Picture fro photo stock photos wall art