Tomorrows My Birthday: To My Unborn

To My Unborn

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An empty swing

Tomorrows my birthday and sadly I don’t know yours
I often wondered what happened to my little dears
Those two who were called, “fetal tissues,” not lives
And in ignorance succumbed to the abortionist knife
Were you placed in a burial ground or burned?
Were you put in the evening trash? Or could you
Have gone to a tissue bank, sold for big bucks
Without my knowing much. And that was 
Forty years ago, and the excitement of 
Women’s rights were celebrated, but you
My darlings, how sad I’ve become reflecting
Thinking of who you were and where you are
And I named you and gave you thoughts and gifts
One a poet songwriter coming from my genes
The other a pilot like his fathers dreams
And at Christmas, I set a place for you
In my heart, you’ll always be
And one is John and the other David
Oh perhaps you were Lillie or Sarah
But, I’ll never know you in this life
Please forgive my careless insights
For I followed the news of freedom for women
But regretfully never thought for myself nor
Thought of your lives at all, until forty years
Past your deaths and my mistake…
May God bless you in heaven
And please forgive my ignorance

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Perhaps one day, until then, I’ll always wonder

*** My poem was prompted because Bill Maher said callous jokes on TV last night about fetal tissues. I haven’t stopped crying. If I could hate or curse him I would, but instead, will stand up for the unborn. My poem:

©2016 October Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved. But please share as the lives of the unborn are sold for their fetal tissues and it’s a huge monetary gain for the abortionists.

Please meet: Brianna Marie Wells, A Fellow Poetess

 

Good Morning from CST USA! This morning it is my pleasure to present to my readers another poetess. I’ve had the wonderful opportunity to read her poetry and to write on poetry challenges with her on FB at ‘The Poet’s Haven’ hosted by Alan Boles. 

Please meet and read about Brianna Marie Wells who has written a little bio about herself and has included a poem that she wrote called: ‘Was It Worth It?’

Brianna has included her email address should anyone want to contact her about her poetry. 

Thank you Brianna for allowing me to present you and your poem today and without any more interruption, ladies and gentlemen here’s Brianna!

 

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Brianna Marie Wells




Hello, my name is Brianna Marie Wells.
I am the youngest child in my small family. I live in Santa Clara, CA, where I have lived for the majority of my life. I studied Culinary Arts and Management in high school and I am now a full-time Kitchen Manager at a bakery in Cupertino, CA. Right now I divide my time between poetry, sleep, and work. 

The reasons I started writing poetry, well…. I’ve always felt stifled. That if I didn’t go along and agree with someone, then I was a failure for some reason. I began writing so that I could express myself more freely, where my thoughts didn’t have to be so organized and that was okay. I didn’t have a lot of friends to share my thoughts with, or at least none that i felt confident enough in that I could share with them. I needed a place for some darker thoughts as well, and to work through things on my own. I started writing poetry so that I could hide the real me, but still say what I needed to say. Not a lot of people can handle me. But maybe, just maybe, I did it so I could handle myself, so that I could see what makes up my mind, so I leave some sort of mark. In a world where everything tries to steal who you are and make you downtrodden, I can express myself freely in my poetry. I feel the call to write the most when I feel very strongly about something. Anything. It could be anything from something in the news to something in my more personal life. When i put that pen to paper the words just begin to flow….


Was It Worth It?
Was it worth it,
When you dashed my heart bit by bit
Was it worth anything,
When you played me and stole my dreams
Was it worth your time,
To stab me in the back and pretend its fine
Was it worth my pride,
To make me feel unworthy by your side
Was it worth my soul,
As I try to bring back the pieces to a whole
Was it worth the day
When you took advantage of me anyway
Was it worth the fuss,
Of ever managing to earn my trust
Was it worth the score,
Of letting me know that I’ve been burned once more
Was it worth my hate,
To make me suffer and deteriorate.
 
-Brianna Marie Wells 
©2016 Brianna Marie Wells. All Rights Reserved


Thank you for visiting and reading Brianna’s poem and bio. I hope that you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read.
Again Brianna’s email address is


A Poet’s Haven can be found at this link below with Brianna’s poems as well as many other great poets. 

Poetess Synda Payne Burton: Recognizing Synda’s Artistry

Good morning!

Today, I want to introduce to you a fellow poetess by the name of Synda Payne Burton. It was on a FB poetry writing group A Poet’s Haven that I became familiar with Synda and her poetry. We kind of played the poetry game of writing off each other a couple of times. 

Synda, I must tell you and others this little tidbit, and I didn’t know this until I read your bio, that you are a registered nurse and so am I. Perhaps that is our connection? Synda is a tender, intuitive poetic writer. 

So, now I give to all of you, Synda…. Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of having you as my guest this morning. 

 

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Synda
 
 

Hi! My name is Synda (pronounced Sin-duh…not a nick name) Payne Burton..

How does one introduce themselves, in a paragraph…I have in the past, as a child writing a letter in a classroom, but that was only to become someone’s pen pal. I have thence become an adult and have written resumes for job opportunities. In short, I am a retired registered nurse/certified nurse midwife. I have been married for 44 years. I have three grown daughters and 8 grandchildren. I have live in Fishers, Indiana  for the past 14 years. My husband and I are originally from Kansas, where we worked most of our adult life. 

 

 
 

While I was going to school and even into my adult life…poetry or writing it, was never my thing…I loved other forms of creative art. Perhaps it was because I really never understood it. We read poetry in literature class and often I wondered what the poet was saying…I now, believe I know. I started writing poetry or little jingles for my morning posts on Facebook in 2009…it was what I called passing time while I drank my coffee and waited for my granddaughter to arrive. It eventually grew into verses of ABAB poetry. My inspiration at times comes from photos…what I see and feel…or if something strikes a nerve…a word…an incident. Many of my photos come from a dear friend that is a photographer, her name is Ruby Karmann. Poetry, now has become a morning routine…I drink my coffee…listen to the morning news and write at least one…sometimes as many as three poems. Then, there are days, I don’t write anything. And that is how I came to write….

 
 


 
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Photograph by Ruby Karnann

Synda’s Poem:

Just…

One…picture can paint a thousand words…
But words describe… what one cannot see…
Which at times are not captured…left unheard…
Untold…to those that are blind or are absentee…

A…photo at times does not captivate…feelings…
Those innermost thoughts that are within one’s mind…
Nor can a writer describe your physical image, in being…
One has to see a person…to be well defined…

A snapshot can only grasp a mere moment…in time…
To enamor…or accomplish what was intended to enchant…
As a second or two later may be too late in the next frame…to chime,
That perfect pitch…tone in color…to clinch the beauty for it to chant…

While a picture can paint a thousand words for a writer to write…one has to be there to get the total picture…to witness the true beauty that is often just visualized only in a painting…

~Synda Payne Burton

With Ruby Tuesday Creations/Photography

 ©2016 Synda Payne Burton. All Rights Reserved. 

 


 

 

I hope you have enjoyed reading Synda’s bio, her poetry, and have experienced her artistry, as well. To find Synda on FB you might visit her at Alan Boles’ poetry page called: A Poet’s Haven

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



Thank you Synda for sharing with us, yourself. 

 

 

Thank all of you for visiting this blog today and may you create poetry or art or whatever your creative outlet is today and forever…Happy blogging! 

The Path

 

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The Path

Whistling with the birds at sunrise

Walking a wooden path on a hillside

The rays of sunlight came to greet me

And the birds twitted amongst the trees

The squirrels frolicked across the planks

And I meandered the painting of God’s picture

Expecting only brilliance at the end

A country fairground in the meadow

A carousel of horses going round

And pink cotton-candy to eat

And music from a pipe organ

Skaters dancing to the beat

And then I return at evening

The sun reflects similarly

And I follow the path homeward

And thank God for the diversity

Of imagination

 

 

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

She’s a Spy

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She is a spy

Wearing pearls that speak of innocence 

And extremely educated diligent citizen

Wearing cocktail black and a hat to hide 

A face diversified, she’s been worldwide

Her eyes that watch and see, matched with 

Her keen sense of intuitive deductions and myths

How polished and demure she appears

A graduate of the finest finishing school of cavaliers

And she sips like a lady from the china tea cup

However, underneath is a stealth spy dressed up

To play he game of cat and mouse and await

The counter spy who articulates secrets of misappropriate

Coming from her home ~ The Department of State 

 

 

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

Teaching Alchemy, Legends and Angels to Children through poetry

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GATHERING with Barbiel ~

And she was venturing in the forest

Going to fetch the fungi and moss

The girl searched the strathy floor

In the mystic Highlands of Scotland

Alone searching, seeking for notions

Prayerfully seeking wise advise

And there she sought wise Barbiel

The Angel of October, and asked ~

Where do the toadstools grow here?

Amid the dankness of the leaves?

“It is in October they prosper on trees”

Then Barbiel took his dousing rod to lead

“Come this way girl, and don’t meander

I’ll teach you of autumn’s alchemy

And some other things,” he spoke kindly

Barbiel pointed to the medicinal fungi

Found under the wet decayed log

He held up a yellow October leaf

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

And on their path of only mystics travel

Who wander questing of the dark forest

Finding a Fagus Beech Tree standing alone

He cracked the triangular nut offering

She ate the sweet fruits he gave her

Filling her basket with the kernels

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

This the child maiden spent a day learning

From the tall burly angelic wisdoms

“When will I see you again?” She questioned

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

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

Then saying goodbyes ~ He departed.

She watched the sparkling winds dissipate

And long-suffered October’s date ~now fated

 

*** Notes***

Barbiel – angel of October

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights are reserved

Thank you artists at Pixabay for your image

 

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THE MAGIC TUNNEL

 

In the togths of the Grenberby

Hidden from sights of The Ogmims

A land of wonder, minuscule pleasures 

Lives the Loras and the Bimblebergs

Green moss gangles from Birth Barsh

And the twithers feed off the valgus

Tis a plattif of seraphs and bees

In the togths of Grenberby

 

 

©2016 BJ All Rights Reserved

 

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THE SPRITES

 

Royal blue, turquoise, yellow and brown

Pink florals, green ivy, and Dandelions

Pages with cursive filled with swiggly-swags

Sheer magic, delightful wonder, and words

Butterflies, crickets, shells, clouds and sky

And poetry inscribed charmingly so glace’

Keep The Sprites forevermore, never dies

Within the pages kept by butterflies

 

 

©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

 

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HOFNIEL

 

Standing over Gethsemane, right hand bearing my sword

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

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

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

Bowing at the warring angel, whose strength ferociously tame

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

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

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

 

 

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

©2016. Bonnie Jennings. All Right’s Reserved

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

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

More Summer Poetry 2016

Writing on FB @ The Poets Haven with Alan Boles

 

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In 1745, the apothecary

Time stands still, peering at the past

The chemists lived making potions 

Between dust and rats

Gadgets like compasses hung

Amidst glass vials and bronze knobs

Keys to hidden compartments

Silver ladles and candelabras

Joseph Black isolates CO2 

An odd phenomena of “fixed air.”

The healers of the early ages

The fearful labelled witches 

And, often then burned

 

 

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The Bird

Perching on a window seal 

With quill and paper imaging

Distracted by a thought

Exploring the unique meanderings

Of an early morning creation

Just sitting at the window

A bird catches my sight

Staring the feathered sparrow

Seems to ask, a crumb, I eat

And my writing takes another path

Because a little bird entered my notion

Thinking about Emily Dickinson

 

 

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History

Ions pass and people die 

But books left behind time and death

The future remembers our ghost that linger

Some will cry reading the pasts recorded

In romance, in texts, in diaries and Bibles

 

 

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Each life is a story written within a story.

A book with moving pictures 

A book who’s ending, we write

 

 

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Lavender and blue berries in a wooden bowl

Chocolate and cinnamon and aromas galore

Visual images, aromatic delusions, a memory

Perhaps scenery, placed within our energy

Recording the goodness of bounties

Mixed with human kindness

A life desired so simple

So fragrant 

synergies 

 

 

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A word arises, “Do!”

Sending norepinephrine whirling

Straightway to be

In utter confabulations

A mind unrestful 

Held captive by a demon whispering suggestions

 

 

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Reverence

 

A mountain stands, so climb

Exhilaration, reaching the summit 

Peace, before the descent

Pray, few rocks and cliffs present

The valley has green fresh grass

A clean stream of faith abounds

And God lets an eagle soar

But, the eagle too, will rest in the valley

 

 

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

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

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

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

 


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


 

 

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

 

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K♣️©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Rights Reserved

Deception Amongst The Garden

 

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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)

Winter Fairies and Return To The Forest

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Welcome To Winter Fairies and Return To The Forest

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

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

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

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

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

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

Evil Sh’man Speaks:

Part 1

Hey! Come back here you Elfin Faerie!

Stop giggling, skipping and dancing, right now!

Caught again this time…

Feel the gripping of my grasp?

Delight, fright?

You Elfin mischief maker.

This time you’ll pay the price.

Last time… You’ve plucked my “C” chord.

Making sure of that…

Ha! You laugh, tease, taunt and twirl,

but now meshed between fingers of steel.

Escape not.

The last laugh; mine.

Little green Faerie neither sex surely known.

Doesn’t matter now

For between my fingers, thou art.

So, wiggly. So smart!

My eyes will not close!

The night approaches. Willing not thou clever plan.

I sleep not!

Fighting sleep.

Sword drawn at my side.

Think Thou smart, do’est though?

Think ye shall wait?

Time your best ally?

Big green eyes look so sad.

Concerned for souls, are you?

Eyelashes ever so sweet and dimples warming pink cheeks.

What’s this?

One big tear begging release?

Ahhh…Turn Away! …

Beguiling charm!

Eternal soul sucking fascination of Beauty’s green eyes.

Devilish harm…

AYE, Look away!!!

No gaze at she!!!

The promise of your love I shall not see.

Turn away!

The trigger’s trap catches not; me.

I DO NOT SEE!

 

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

Part 2

Black night comes,

alone and cold.

Smart beauty sleeps warmed

By hands that fold.

In quietness the present enemy waits.

Beauty taunts not.

She need not…

For time be her friend.

Coldness aligns her side

And loneliness sang lullabies to her;

“sleep child sleep.”

SSH…Shh…

The fight grows small.

Sleeps on the horizon; it calls.

Hearing distance voices my eyes rest.

The hills and a mountain melody lays sleeps fog.

I answer…

Can you hear it, as well?

He snores…

“Gently gently, sleep.”

Beauty crawls from fingers once tight.

Careful, careful…

Not to awaken the captures soul…

She’s played before..

However it’d grown old.

She plays well.

A champion for sure.

Quietly quietly,

“SSH”…says She….

“Awaken not my game.”

“Comes tomorrow a fair shame is he.”

“Foe rest; later your dare…”

“Truth? Ha!”

“Thought you had me?”

“You foolish sh’man.”

“Look! Who has who.”

“Thought you’d won?”

“Ha!!!”

“Surely thought?

I’d not get away?”

Ah…Before Daylight shines…

“One last game..It affords me so…”

Whispers stories in midnight sleep.

You’ll think strange, “God’s” voice for certain.

Magical messages, images, songs and words;

“God’s!, not His at all…”

Ah Hah!!

“Goody, goody for me.”

“One more time before nights end

Can bully jab my soul.”

“NOT!” Then; Beauty declares her win…

Her long fairy fingers reach for the harp.

The soul of her game?

To pluck his “F” sharp…

“Bold challenges,” said Beauty,

“HIS love I detest,

but, as He has made it,

I surrender my quest.”


 

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

 

Poem 2

The King’s Duel

 

The Final Question?

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

Swords raised
not a final nod.
Eyes glaring steel blue and hazel green
facial lines fixed
not even a twitch.

Slowly woven like the Earth to the Moon
moving like a dance
made a circlular pattern
on the floors of onyx black

The King of Diamonds
so sure of himself
believed no fight
from the Club herself,

But the Club held dear
the truth in her heart
The Lord Almighty
was there
from the start.

Round and round
so slowly they moved.
The Diamond King’s lips
snarled a smirk
as he spit tw’ord ‘er shoes.

And the King of Clubs
shot darts of fire
her eyes told,
“He’za liar!”

The one eyed King
dazzled with diamonds galore

But, The King of Clubs
kept her mind
on the chore.

Over and around
the blades slowly moved
then picked up the pace
without any shoes…

Cling, clang, ding and gwong
the blades met
rangling a song

“All shiny and strong,
the song of a Savior,
That life is a gift
given by Him
and though expect treasure
we don’t always win…”

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

No whining
nor whimpering came from the two
but fierce wellbred bickering
whipped whistled twang pue.

The blades never ceased
the clang of the strikes,
faster and harder
beaten the life

Of one Diamond King
and the other a Club
but The Savior stepped in
to straightened their thuds.

Now, it came to pass
that The Diamond King
tipped his hat,
and gave up his crown,
and that; was that.

And The King of Clubs
Surrendered her heart
at a cross
on a hill~
decidedly smart.

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

 

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Poem 3

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

 

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

So now, for poem 3:

The Forest Man

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Poem 4:

Escaping and Returning to The Forest

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

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

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

SHH!..silence!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The open arms of my kin.

My family who loves me dearly,

And they who prayed me  home

That night.

Even despite myself. ,
Yes…

Even despite myself.

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


 

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

 

Poem 5:

Trying to Find Home

 

“Awe,” the radiance; so bright.
Then, follow it, with all might.
The road course shall lead by day
Rocks, turns, stickers and curves
Climb anyway…

~~~

My prejudiced thoughts;
Lofty visions of you.
Fiery images deflect a golden hue.
Imagined you, bronzed, dazzling, and vein.
We danced; then came the rain.

~~~

Caught too long there.
Idol thoughts; so dear.
Washed away; with my tear.
My arms bound, and mouth sealed.
Woven. Hey! What’s the deal?

~~~

OH, My God! I’ve Been Caught!
The coven’s web intently taut!
The feast I am. His delight.
Oh, fairy friend! By the firelight!
Here I am!

~~~

Now the spiders home virtually unseen,
Vaguely tucks into that corner beam.
But, see the dim light, growing so bright?
A fairy severs the silk, so tight.
And, falling from the web of fright.

~~~

Still arms tangled by silk threads
Pushing out bracing the fall
The spider and the fairy brawl
Wham, Bam, to and fro, from the deathly fight they bow
Looking, whom’s, my fairy friend? Noticing it must be Joe.

~~~~

Underneath the spider
Joe waves thumbs up, You’re alright!
Now run like hell! To the light!
Run away little bait!
For, the fate of the firefly might be too late…

 

image

By Bonnie Jennings 1/12/2010

 


 

 

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

 

Poem 6:

Joe’s Seduction and Return to The Forest

 

 

 

 

 

Joe’s Seduction

 

Innocently spoken

lips of faerie red.

Failure to answer

deliberately unsaid

~

“Come On!

You want to play!

I see in your eyes

And OH,

By the way”

“At the end of the day

You’ve nothing to say?

We’ll see.

Yea?”

~

“Come now

Sing and dance with me.

By the time night comes

We’ll use the key.”

~

“The window thought closed

We’ll not use tonight

For as the sun sets

The door will shine bright.”

~

“And, just as before

When the Moon was full

You danced by the light of the fire.

And your life…not dull.”

~

“So come on Old Foe

I challenge you today

to come to the Forest

But, don’t forget to pray.”

~

Now Joe’s eyes

faerie green-blue

Her hair of red waves fell

Her waist little too.

~

Charming alluring daring

Joe seduced the weakening victim

O so sweet her voice

before Joe actually kicked-em.

~

“I can’t, I won’t !

Now, GO JOE!

far from me!

Out! You Elphin mischief-maker!

There! The window!

Now, LET Me BE !”

~

Pouty lips and bats of faerie lashes

A wink of Joe’s eyes

She extends her hand

“Come now, come nigh,

And do not say, good-bye.”

“My human friend

Please don’t cry.”

~

Joe’s fingers crossed

After her word

“You know you want to come.”

Joe’s clever tenderness heard.

~

Then their eyes met

Joes soul stronger by far

It reached out to point the way

To the forest

By declare.

~

Weeping, sobbing and uttering,

“NO!,

For with you faerie

I SHALL NOT GO!.”

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

Away from me little demon!

For I a clever sleuth !”

“I found out your tricks

All slippery twists and turns.

You’ll not lead me to the forest

The fires there

Will not burn!”

image

Blink blink. Smile smile.

Joe’s gestures summoned otherwise

Lies, cheats, twists and turns?

“You know how you loved it?

O, compromise!”

“Hey, for now,

Why don’t we play?

Remember the time

Remember the day?”

“You chased me,

And I chased you

Around and about

And away we flew.”

“And, I gave you wings

So you could fly.

You wore them one day

And flew sky-high.”

~

Up and away

or top of the trees!

O, how you flew.

Then, crashed down on your knees.

You cried a little

Afraid to smash

But, I caught you.

Do you remember that?

~

By day we flew

through tops of trees.

At night we danced,

Howled while burned the fire

With the breeze.

~

The snow fell

white branches below

cold air on our faces

you didn’t say, no.

~

Confessing your fears,

Don’t make me fly!

Saying, Damn you fairies!

But, we took you so high.

But, once on top of forest trees,

cold air blew

threw majestic hair.

Then, smiles over took you.

You’d no more cares.

~

Remember Foe

The human flew

Above The Earth,

And, safely returned

To the fires hue.

Tasting faerie brew

Though freezing; made warm.

Tasting our food,

image

 

Now, whats the harm?”

~

So, come now,

God of the sky.

Let us dance, cheer and sing

And, please, don’t lie.

~

For flying, your game fare

The faerie sort

A dare!

~

So, stay if you must…

But, winter is coming

and near the first frost.

Kindling our fires

Don’t get lost.

~

The invite is yours.

Extends the Faerie hand

In Spring depart

From kindred land.

~

Think it over,

I’ll return once.

To ask you to play

to ask you to dance.

~

Well,

Quiet are you

Not so sure?

Your soul inside

Embarrassingly pure.

~

Judge others,

And they judge you.

But, in Faerie land

All tiny feet

Wear the same tiny shoe.

~

“So, I’ll leave you this morning

To think for yourself.

I’ll return ONCE more.

~~~

When The Moon shall wane

Then, you should thin,

Follow the elf.

~

But, one more time

I ask you to follow

Before The Moon’s full light is gone.

Then, don’t dilly-dallow.

~

Joe moves to the window

Her faerie finger points up.

Then, her faerie wings take to flight.

But, before leaving from captives sight

~

Joe turns to wink

And salutes goodbye.

 

 

 

image

 

 


 

 

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

 

Poem  7:

Autumn Weaving with Babe,

my weaver of dreams and magic 2011

 

 

 

IMG_2665

 

Weave in and out skip two colors of dreams

Raise the level of forest green

now circle around the lights magic stream.

 

Yellows and oranges

Parfet and red

perfect strands of marbled threads

~

Dashing there yonder

up over Mars

bringing back a handful Stars

~

Wild horses charge

Black stallions at night

Taming the dragon with beacons of light

~

Casting them into fortune and fame

Causing the wind

Making it bend.


 

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

 

Poem 8:

Leaving Adam

 
 
IMG_3957
 
 
~

Leaving Adam

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

 

 


 

 

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

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

 

My email: Bonniegjennings@gmail.com

Thank you for reading. I pray you found insight.

God bless you.

Bonnie Jennings or Bojenn

 

 

 

Quarks and Atoms

 

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

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

Doodles by me

Poetry about Disassociation

wpid-Screenshot_2013-06-05-05-39-021.jpg

Left alone, isolated in a closet

Though tears stopped one day, later

She hated her, and she knew it

Resentment she felt it deep

Having another child, God help her

But her friends merely laughed

That’s life, buck up!

Hush secrets, please, lock and keep

Loneliness bequeathed the child with friendship

And, she still hides in the closet

Come out little girl!

The angel wiped her tears

She was three or four

Angel lends gifts graciously handing                                                                                                        

Paper and pen the tools she needed

Love them, hold them, use them

Everyday while in that dark room

With Isolation her master

It taught mind escaping from that dungeon 

It showed her how to

Travel to Egypt, Israel and Istanbul

Transportation provided by Isolation and Despair

Appropriate names for them

And disassociation is wrong, so say they

They who’ve not felt walls collapse on psyches

The mind is a magnificent creator

God incarnate gave provisions

To those wayfaring life within a closet

And, may I add, mind adventures are not so bad

Learn the lesson and teach one another

On Islands, inside caverns she sits waiting

Departing the darkness of a closet

Propelling the down trotted 

And imagination transports her

She flies somewhere else and is on her away

 

 

K♣️

Copyright

@Bonnie Gay Jennings, or Bonnie Jennings or Boondoggling with Bojenn @Wordpress 2009 to present 2016 ~

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

Thank you

Winter Poetry 2016 and included on the bottom half Valentines’ Poems to Self

Time
This bench in spring holds our laughter
This bench in summer scorches with our embraces
Though in fall we agreed to say good bye
That frozen winter alone, I often cried
Once, I was filled with your love
However, seasons come and pass by and by
And time does march on
This bench is a vague memory of that time A ghost. You were there.
And now, your gone

IMG_0288

Winter Poetry 2016 By Bonnie Jennings

A vision, there, a fairy bright

She bends to touch flowers of lights
Am I dreaming or is this real?
The most beautiful place, is so surreal.
May I stay here, but for awhile?
No, not now, but may visit, my child
How may I come, If there’s no road?
At nighttime, while sleeping, from your abode
We’ll come and escort you when dreaming assured
And let you play amongst Elysium’s flowers and stars

wpid-Screenshot_2013-10-14-18-05-57_20131014181126374.jpg


Amidst the lush green of the forest one day
Appeared strange images of invisible spirits moving
I dare say
Hiding from those creatures in a thicket, there pray
Holding a sneeze, as tight as I could
Whilst sitting  in hay
Moving and looking towards me it scanned!
Eyes of lights and a devilish grin
Exploding the sneezed covered the land
And the beings of invisible molecules of lights
Took my arms and we disappeared from this sight

Queen Alluilla of Star Magnus Astra

Gave blessings of lights and flowers
She stands aside seeing the subjects
Magical blessings that never, ever cowers

Darkness was illuminated
by the white drops
of water and flakes
I sat perched
unclothed in my window
For heavens sakes
Just watching
the amber light shine
through the flurried night
Waiting for something
so spectacular
to appear
Within my sight

Running towards the lit portal
I can’t be left! Out of breath she yells as she runs
Don’t leave me! Don’t close the door!
Plump plump plump her shoes are catching in mud
The shadows were closing in on her
She could hear The Langoliers behind her
Eating time like Pac-Man does
Oh she whist fully meanders

Lucifer
Here you are surrounding
As you always do, waiting
For the moments of surrender
Screaming, crying, all alone, you anticipating
The whirlwind of panic circl
Down the funnel like a toilet
Watery feelings, faithless fears
Washing down with mercury tears
And you and Saturn call “it a day”
Before you, back away
Looking at the victims fallen
You leave behind some often crawlin’
No mercy have you?
Promising you’ll return, to do
All the work on wounded soldiers
Slashed by whips of hatred motions
The pitiful grasp a whispered free breath
Crawling face down hidden from death
Those who survive your camp
Steel-toed boots used to “make us champs.”
For Who? May I ask irreverently, dear
Who are you that cause the tear?
Why do you linger like a bully?
A god? Forbid! You are irreverent, truly.
Casting you far away, only moments before
You come to stay, worse and more bizarre
A prisoner caught in your web of terror
Surrendering to the deity of less herald
Waiting for my savior again
Who always comes way past when
The clock struct eleven fifty-nine and thirty secs’
Before he shows up and whips their unholy asses.

The Agent

Once again, she was the bate

Alone in the coal dark dressed for a snake
The candle light cast a soft Amber glow
On her delicate shoulders
bringing the target low
Shaking from her nerves she said, I can’t get use to this
But someone must be the bate and perhaps they’ll miss
Backup is in the shadows of the dark
I must bring the killer into
the timing arch
One attempt I have to allure
Lest my destiny is obscure

The Carousel 

Da Da Da Da Da Ta Ta 

Da Da Da Da Da Ta TA
Slowly around we began
I choose the white horse
And Barry the bear with the band
Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta ta ta ta Ta ta ta T ta tata
Up and down the carousal went
Moving faster with each left turn
The snow was falling and freshly sent
The winter cold, and our hands didn’t burn
On our faces catching the wind and snow
We just enjoyed the beautiful lights
And music from the organ bands brilliant show

Winter’s Waltz played with his strings
Father times sits amid the trees
Playing for nature a beautiful tune
Resting in weather preparing for spring

Take a good look, never will
You see this moment ever again
Time like seasons, come to go
To sisters walking, in summer haze
Holding hands, a long time ago

Our Setting Sun
  ~ The setting of the sun
in the late days of winter
A shadow of warmth appears
On the grey and cold murky ground
Here we are sitting so apart
Wine glasses different as we are
Like Mars is to Venus
Silence prevails from day to day
And nodding in agreemnet
Or stares when so apart
The conversation has no fabric
There is quietude within our presence
And the setting of the sun
Is different on Venus as on Mars

And, Speaking of Mars
She stood on Mars so desolate and cold
The ground parched from no atmosphere at all
And frozen by night from lack of warmth
She released from her left hand a metallic heart
She blessed the land from further dismay or neglect
Clouds formed dark, dismal and grey in due respect
Releasing love upon a dry land
Releasing dominion in future hands
The black angel of magic came as cupids dam

wpid-20130314_184431.jpg

Valentines Day

A day of love, not for me
It’s a day to mourn
So, I came to the sea
Drops of rain cause ripples to form
Because I was raped under a tree
And now I wish I had never been born
This red rose represents love lost
Starring at it’s crimson petals do cry
The white gown my purity is frost
My father, had he known, that man would die
My emotions like the waves surely tossed
My mother pushes me to marry that swine
“Marry that man, he has money, darling dear.”
She has no idea what she says, she’s so utterly blind
And, daddy looks away, seeming to shed a tear
Sometimes I think I’ve lost my mind.

Take a good look, never will
you see this moment ever again
Time like seasons, come to go
Two sisters walking, in summer haze

The bills, the taxes, the threats from bankers
The swallowing of her pride, the last of herself
She hangs onto why he’s gone
Why did he leave me drowning in this
As surely as the end of my life comes
I will learn and know how to pay my taxes alone.

February 15th Love
Did you say, “I love you?”
Is that what you said?
Please, understand
I’m anxious and dread
Any vows that promise to love me
Or cherish me forevermore
So, forgive my harsh inquisition
My wounds are not yet healed
And, though I’m so flattered
And in total delight that you should care
For right now, I’m trembling
And must renege your promised vow
But, please ask me on Feb 15th
When the whistles and bells silence
Bring me chocolates and flowers
And teach me how you dance
But, on the 14th of February
No whispering of love in my ears
But, come on May the 2nd
When there are no commercials cheers
Just love in mid autumn
When the cold comes to play
Then you will give me your heart
And promise that you’ll stay
©2016 WP

Our Setting Sun 
~ The setting of the sun
in the late days of winter
A shadow of warmth appears
On the grey and cold murky ground
Here we are sitting so apart
One pare of wings flew from our heart
Now our wine is as different, as we are
Like Mars is to Venus
Silence prevails from day to day
And nodding in agreemnet
Or stares when so apart
The conversation has no fabric
There is quietude within our presence
And the setting of the sun
Is different on Venus as on Mars
And one pair of angel’s wings flew to a distant star

image
Dreaming and entering life because we choose to fight our human battles… Now fight with faith Believe
The White Feature
It’s an antique brass urn
Now the coldest day at noon
And the crystals snowflakes gather
There is a prism in my room
A chill passed, when picking up the urn
And a feather so white floated across a sun ray
Dangling freely it seemed to loom
In my mind, you’re here on this icy cold day
In the silence, there seems a tune
The one you so loved to pray
The feather rested upon my pillow
Is this your sign which came to lay
Are you near me, that’s all that matters?

To leave you forever is unimaginable

The summers spent barefoot and slumbering
Walking over the Lovers Bridge holding hands
The memories forever etched in amber lights
And I shall never leave you
In winter, spring, summer nor fall
Eons of time come and go
But our names echo if you call
And our dream and legacy continues for always and a day

About Cursing
when you feel like saying a curse word
it’s best then to say a good word
when you think the world has ended
it’s only just begun
Your changes are meant for better
Even when the sky seems dark
But it’s always best to speak good words
even when your mind feels a fark
Cause your heart changes the bad things
From the fark and dark side of life
and makes your world healthier
and wired on a positive spark

UFO overhead
Dreaming and entering life because we choose to fight our human battles… Now fight with faith Believe

From A Personal Point of View

Pink is the sky from my front porch

When the sun sets late winter on this eve

Shadows from trees cast upon the wet ground

And the evening shade appears a dull brown scene

Sitting from the deck alone amazingly thankful

Listening to Baroque and lighting a fire for the warmth

Writing verses so inspired by God’s handiwork

Wishing only to share the scene with someone else

And the prayer to the Almighty is respectfully glad

And, I imagine that He stands beside me, as I hum

The verses flow with love given from above

Staying awhile writing is short lived though, I relish

However, moments filled with graceful imaginations

And the ending is met satisfyingly with a sigh

The verse seems freely exaggerated

The words don’t tell the truths

The accents are not even

The poetry lost the youth

Albeit the rhymes are for lovers

In romanticized time

And the pink sky for watchers

For those who see the night

K
©2016 From A Personal Point of View
By Bonnie Jennings
All Rights ReservePhotograph by MOI


I awoke dreaming the words. A voice said, get up and write them down. It was 0430.

Awaken from slumber, you sleeping ones

Arise before the morning Sun
Brush the veiled smokescreen before you
Trust not your deceiving sight or ears to understand
Believe from within truths set before you
Look at the eyes of the cat
See the slightest movements of the surroundings
Watch for clues that bare studying
The Moon is staged and not so far
Awaken child from sleeping slumber
Perceive the time before the rooster crows
The hour is a liar, and minutes are left to behold
And you see behind the curtain
Frightening from so many lies
Truth was never perceived correctly
Mankind is far from the thrown
And we are slaves made from a conjure
We came from a bet that fell cast
The child is a way of safety
A bread filled path to the Tree of Life
Take the loaf’s trail and proceed with might
Finding the way, not using your sight
Faith guides your heart
Belief takes you all the way home

1954

Midge, thoroughly disgusted with her “daddy.”

He made her stay home on a Friday night
Pouting like ‘A Cat On A Hot Tin Roof’
Placing curses as he passed by
The antenna helped carry her signal
Pop died the next Saturday night
Midge, thoroughly disgusted with her “daddy.”
He made her stay home on a Friday night
Pouting like ‘A Cat On A Hot Tin Roof’
Placing curses as he passed by
The antenna helped carry her mad signals
Pop’s died Saturday evening
And Midge ate the caramel delights
And, “Father Knows Best.”
Midge, thoroughly disgusted with her “daddy.”
He made her stay home on a Friday night
Pouting like ‘A Cat On A Hot Tin Roof’
Placing curses as Pops made her cry
The antenna helped carry her mad signals
So, Pop’s then died choking,
As Midge drank Turkish Delights
And, “Father Knows Best,” on Friday nights
Where The Boys Are, honking when they drive by
A message to the past

STOP
Stop. Please, listen, I’m watching from so near
Just stop talking and listen to me me dears
Life is too short to argue as you do
Now listen to me children
Your mother still cares immensely for you
A veil that is so thin separates us now
But there is a place you can reach me, by bow
If you’ll only take this time to listen dear child
You can her me whisper
but your soul must be mild
Come a little closer, I will tell you more
Please stop, don’t run out that door
Listen so sensitively to my silent voice
Feel me as I brush the winds
It is entirely your choice
But, please hear me
Listen my children and see
I’m still here

wpid-1361033856906.jpg

The soft warmth of a summer breeze passes

A North wind gently blows against my hair
Amber golden memories cover hazy visions
You walking amidst the silky stalks barefooted
Smiling, playing hide and seek, in the recesses of my mind
And if we could love again there playing games as lovers do
Laughing as if no cares exist in the caverns of time
Feeling your flesh and touching your lips
Watching the North wind bend the amber lens behind
Yielding flesh, thus meshing souls in one dimensional bind
Promise eternal flames tightly conjoined
And never meant to be broken
Vowing love for you, forevermore
As our love takes flight invisible, as before.

Oh, how she loved The Grey Dappled Stallion
He so proud and adorned with his lovely companion
Both coming alive in romancing novels
A fair maid in red and a Stallion “Aristotle”
Dramatically engaged in erotic sagas

Insightful was the maiden girl
Who watched beyond a surreal world
Looking for answers seemed well hidden
By private eyes and demon legends
Until one day, while barefooted in the forest
Alone there she did ponder
Noticing a break in the lining
Stretching forth to touch the crystal chamber
Pounding her palm on the weakness of veils
Shattering the mysteries of the others tales
And, the forest trees and skies disappeared
To a place lest lovely and no cares
But, the truth was bare for her to see
And, she covered it from you and me
Walking the forest floor about the shattered glass
Watching the others and their plans for us
Wondering why from whilst we came
She spoke no truths and simply sighed
When the forest population questioned the sky
She kept the secrets as others passed by

Remembering Summer and That Old Swing
Memories of childhood under a tree
A swing left vacated by me
The warm wind blows across goldenrod
In a distant voice children laugh
Playing together there under the tree


About Aliens 
In green foliage of the spring woods
I happened upon men as they stood
Seeing through their bodies frightened me
What the devil that I can see
Amidst the lush green of the forest one day
Appeared strange images of invisible spirits moving
I dare say
Hiding from those creatures in a thicket, there pray
Holding a sneeze, as tight as I could
Whilst sitting  in hay
Moving and looking towards me it scanned!
Eyes of lights and a devilish grin
Exploding the sneezed covered the land
And the beings of invisible molecules of lights
Took my arms and we disappeared from this sight

Elysium dedicated to my daughter Elysia

wpid-t-6951189-345645.jpeg

A vision, there, a fairy bright

She bends to touch flowers of lights
Am I dreaming or is this real?
The most beautiful place, is so surreal.
May I stay here, but for awhile?
No, not now, but may visit, my child
How may I come, If there’s no road?
At nighttime, while sleeping, from your abode
We’ll come and escort you when dreaming assured
And let you play amongst Elysium’s flowers and stars

Yours Forever

Forever is unmeasured
Maybe forever plus a day
Forever could be a moment
in just one single rainbow’s ray
Time has many dimensions
Where dreams do seem to whirl
Forever is a promise
That is defined by the surreal
When you say “forever”
My eyes are clever sleuths
Forever is in a conjured imagination
That rarely holds the truth

They say I’m insane but you say, “I’m not.”

Little bird, how fearless are your thoughts
Friends have I none
But, you are are my song
Little bird, love you have sung to my heart

Her Finishing School spawned her madness

Failing etiquette, Victoria challenged tea time
Failing etiquette, Victoria challenge
Practice walking Victoria, teapot on head!
Now get up! One two three!

 

Isabella Isabella! There is work to do!
There you dream looking out a subway window
Dreams and visions are not limited to the walls of brick
Open your eyes, girl, see beyond the thick
Prison of the cities eternal cement walls
There is greenery and life beyond the city malls
Now dream your way out! 
Pursuit it with your shout!
Now, shut your eyes and believe it o come about

Abortion

A blue veil encompassed me when I erased you away
Forever gone from me, I gladly bid you adieu 
But, your haunting memories plagued mi amore 
There! Creeping through the blue veil by day
And tantalizing my night visions I see your face
Certain of your death under the blue veil
This can’t be happening, you’re dead, I do tell!
 
And, here she drifts freely
On cold icy nights in only her gown
A blood stained hand spattered the shroud 
Her baby that lived despite the murderers hands
But, took the mother whose seen drifting down
The road during icy cold winter’s
Towards the assailants’ home of three brothers


Where I’ve walked has left a trail

The path I’ve traveled, I came afar
Left behind a cold desolate life
But where I’m headed only I can tell
In a life are numbered days
Given to man to find a way
Making the trails from the clay
Walking our steps as we may
At the end man hopes his God
Sends angels to greet him with welcoming nods
And the trails walked that look dismal and grey
Are men’s accomplishments rather than ill dismay

To My Children

Have I told you that I love you

Do you know this fact my loves
And if time slipped away from our shores
And the Sun’s rays came no more
Would you still know I loved you
Far greater then time barriers ever knew
Passing that of the speed of light
How great is my love for you two

The violence in the water challenged the gift of music in my strings

I stood firmly on that peer ready to play the vibrations of my heart
In my right hand, my fiddle, and in my left, my bow
The waters dared me, and my violin was prepared for the show

And what was she thinking
One could not know
She stood on the peer
Looking away from the shore
The mausoleum seems frozen; ghosts reside
The frozen mausoleum; there ghosts reside
 
Haunting, cold, lonely the monastery life

He surveyed the horizon for hope
The long unyielding day ended with the cold wind
And the man and his dog were truly best of friends
The night’s arrival brought dark clouds with perhaps a storm
But together they’d make it and be unharmed


Watching so quietly hiding from you
Within the foliage masked from view
My eyes fall at the light, my face disguised
Seeing you there, my soul hypnotized
Wanting, but shan’t go through
Fore you’re away, way out of my queue

There is a red bird that has come to visit me
It rests upon the warm Earth singing of love of Thee
In it’s song a voice that says
Time for rest from all your cares


Within the cold air that night the breaths of father Joseph and his infant child Jesus were lingering in the chill. Wrapped in swaddling clothes the infant is also held tight by the arms of his arms wrapped in lambs wool.

The cattle and goats laid near and the manger became toasty warm. The Stars light shown threw the cracks in thatch ceiling
And love permeated the air when God was born.

“The sleek cold turquoise forest of ice cycles simply welcomed the tired into it’s beauty. Crawl into the cradle, so cozy and warm, and the wind will sing lullabies to beckon sleep. The babies felt comforted by the hues and the limbs of branches that rocked the infants to the lands of the deepest slumbers. And there they schlafen until the fairy lights sent by the Sun awakened the babes and then another adventure soon promised to begin…” Goodnight World


Time it was

Caught in glance
And a glance was caught
Though in innocence
She saw
Secrets of long ago
It does seem
I know this place, before
She dreamed

Cinderella and Karma

Soot on her nose and on her clothes
A princess under the gloom
Sweeping by day and sleeping with a broom
Occupied her, several years and a day
Then one eve after chores completed
Cindy’s thoughts were always fleeting
Except on Sunday when snow fell sleeting
She lingered looking in a mirror scrying
Amazing stood an image of her abiding
Dressed in clothing so fair
With hair done up with care
Her face trimmed with shimmering flair
Her broom became a handsome princess’ groom
And the hearth beheld foods that filled the room
And she danced until the moon’s lights diminished
And Karma knew Cindy was quite unfinished
And the shoes belonged to the princess in soot
And not another minute was spent feeling unloved and unkept
Because Cindy saw the crown Karma promised


The Needle and The Thread
One birth

One thread

One eyelet
Two ways
One person
Many chances
Many challenges
Many mendings
One block
One time
One death

8PM

The fog rolled down into the valley where the train station sat
Three crosses on the hill rested above where holes in the fog Bared their solitude and dignity of where lives were once present
And no one was around. The track was empty of humans or ghosts
Yet the lights within a cabin expected a passenger for certain
I smoked my last cigarette. I watched the station for movement.
There was none, not even a stray cat or dog. Them the box car door slid open. The stairs came down towards me, like and invitation, just for me. After taking my last drag, I through the butt on the ground and walked to the car. My suitcase rolled behind me. I had no idea where I was going. I trusted for a stupid reason that really doesn’t matter. Simply, I wanted change and the railroad wants to take me. I’m tired of fighting for all the things I want, they want and my employer wants. Damn weary. Anything is better than one more day of exhaustion so I step on the first step. The conductor ghosts yells, “Last call, All aboard!” I get into the car and suddenly my life changes, forever.

Lifting her hands releasing the power

Behind a window for all to see
Come out from behind your shield daughter
Sending the gift and setting it free

The Love of Grandmothers and such

Looking on the bad side the cup was empty, old and tried
The petals of roses dried colorfully whilst resting on its side
An antique china tea saucer and it’s fragile cup lay
Dropped among the wet leaves one cold autumn day
And, there it lain for four seasons, or perhaps even more
Amongst the slimy worms and upon the chilled damp floor
Hidden for a reason, until time had chosen to share
When Molly was a teenager, she discovered the delicate ware
Up she picked it, from the foliage, thus lifting, ever so gently
Dusting off the muddy earth and lifting the leaves intently
From its inner depth fell a key hidden before
And Molly held it to the sunlight examining the signs of yore
“Something is about this,” she thought to herself
Seeking any mysteries about grannies sudden fate
The china cup and saucer soon sparkled with love
And the key she found opened a treasure box with a picture of a dove
And Mollies life changed that day beyond all measure
Her grandmother gave her secrets found within the earthen treasures


Figure me out!

“Yes, I’m pissed.”

Just read between my lines
I’m a woman you understand who ~
Speaks beyond words and uses an expressive brow
Now listen very carefully
No excuses for not comprehending
Now read me very carefully
Your test is in my aching
Figure it out!
The message within my pout
Look at my arms crossed
And my stance so warningly rigid
Figure me out!
I’m a woman in the making.
Read my grey areas
And thanks for your caring

Prostitution of The Soul 

Christmas Day and it is warm in San Juan.

Sitting on the stones wishing that I was home.
I moved here away from my family
Partying, booze and hanging out with clientele
I miss my mom, i miss my dad
I want to go home and sleep in my bed.
I’m twenty two now and lived harder than one should
Pretty once, was more then, than, I am, now
Gave up school to experience life
The road I’ve traveled has been rocky and cold
Even on the Caribbean streets of gold.
Getting home my deepest desire
These streets of pleasure are demons of hell
And there is no Christmas down here on the street
But, I followed a man who made a sale
And, I bought Hades believing it was a treat
That any girl would want to play with a male
And, getting home may cost my tail.
But it’s worth getting home again.
It’s just a trick and pocket change
Soon I’ll fly far away from this place
The streets of San Juan aren’t for country girls
Mom I’ll be coming home after Christmas
I promise somehow, mom, I will.

When Fairy Princess opened her books

The magic awakened from inside the pages
Butterflies flit about the nooks
An amber light glowed when out stepped sages
Whirling lights dancing to and fro
Golden hair and pink cheeks of youth
The fairy princess caused them to glow
Her dimples, pink lips and missing a tooth
Made the wonder beam even more
Orbs of lights shown so bright
Her mother gave her the gift of lore
The love of Christmas became a glorious sight
From a child of wondrous creation
From a God given for delight
To the parents of all nations
A gift of magic in children so bright

February Poems a Valentine to Self

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~

Embracing me; smothering me.

Your insecurities extinguished my flame

You said, “I love you,” way too many times

But, I’m not sure,

Because, I don’t think you love yourself

~

Venus didn’t bless our love

Tried so hard to force you

Stood upside down on my head

Flipped for you to wed

Became what you wanted, yes?

Though, Jupiter was un-expansive

Because, Saturn ruled instead

Had to walk away

No energies to play

For’ Saturn ruined our day

~

Eros love is lust

If there is phileo love

It will arise

There is no need to force the feeling

In time, if love is missing

Then, we’re dismissed

Hey, let’s not forget to smile

Being free

No condemnation

Agape’s love is

~

I bought myself chocolate today

And a message

In the red floral bouquet

I sent these

To me

The message said,

“I LOVE YOU!”

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~

There is one goal that’s unfinished

To conquer fear of loneliness

The fear of incompatibility

The fear of lightening storms

The fear of powerlessness

To conquer my fears

~

Loving someone because of fears

or powerlessness

or for lightening storms

blizzards

hurricanes

apocalypses

Is not loving them

~

I love to see you laugh

When you cry

I cry

I know you are genuine

As you know me too

~

Traveling to a mountain top with you is unimaginable

An ecstasy that I hope for

Because as sure as The Moon appears

I will travel to the dark side

With you

When dying

~

And love is

that I loved me

Sacrificed me

Just for you

Because I loved you as my equal

And raised you a little higher than myself

Because you did the same

For me

~

“Fools Rush In”

Where angels fear to go

Attempting love again

Is beyond any scope that I know;

However,

A life void of tenderness

Is an ocean without a ship

But to be a fool, once more

They’ll be no rushing of this wind

And, this I know, for sure

~

 


Copyright
@Bonnie Gay Jennings, or Bonnie Jennings or Boondoggling with Bojenn @Wordpress 2013 to present 2016 ~ 
*Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Bonnie (Gay) Jennings, or Bojenn with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. The artwork is also Bonnie Jennings.

Thank you

K♣️

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The Invisible World of Wars

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Holding protectively L’infant
From the surrounding Angel of abducting darkness
In mercy and vengeance Gabriel secures the child
Whether from life or death with resurrection
From within the invisible world the battle is fought

 


By Bonnie Jennings ©2016 All Rights Reserved
Photograph from A Poet’s Haven stock
Poem submitted for poetry challenge at A Poet’s Haven on FB and is under the direction of Alan Boles

Father Time and Sophia

 

 

 

 

 

Stopping time for what seems a moment

Studying a parallel significant omen
God carries Sophia to enlighten each path
Discovering the secrets by illuminating the empath
She knows where it’s going
She knows how it’s flowing
And Father Time gives Sophia full reign
Wisdom of The Universe she doesn’t just entertain
And together the two in parallel caves
Keep track of life and all of the slaves
Hiding from full light
Yet revealing their might
Through prayer of heathens, pagans and demons
Father Time and Sophia read many books of reasons
And for us who live above
The Father and Sophia sent a dove
That man and beast not sojourn lost and forlorn
But, Man and beast find peace in a baby born
From within the cave of Father Times own son
There, Sophia taught him everything, for everyone
Engineered salvation from mankind decision
Keeping the lost from forever choosing oblivion

The Circle of Life

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The fog of dull moist clouds cloistered Earths hills

rolling slowly quietly assured with December’s presence

uncovering the steal bleakness of chills

the grey fox sought the superlative time stalking

hunting, one catch, the hare eating thorns, is captured

~

All rests except the fox, and the hawk that swoops prey

and beautiful it seems to carolers that dream

pictured on Christmas Cards sleighing coupled in hay

but the hunted sigh as the singers pass by

ignoring the innocent life in the forest by night

really wintery rest is not what it seems

~

The white witch cursed the greens for three months

laughing, she pointed t’wards the fox and the hare

the hawk she invites on her evening animal hunts

while the fox, hiding and embarrassingly shares,

“dear rabbit if only there was another way to convey

my condolences and my fondness, for you, today.”

~

The fawn born in grey thicket that night

a hunter was on track for a meal, of the carnivores type

deep in silence, bitter coldness, that eve less bright

their faces showed meanness, sickeningly alarming

hungry for killing the innocent and without any lament

the damp floors lined with twigs and leaves sent

~

Warning there are trespassers who entered our forest

and without invitation, the hawk soared forewarning

the dove in turn echoes cooing which entered space

of ears of the fox alarming, the furry rabbit crosses into the thicket

noosing the doe and the fawn warmed coddling

“stay within this eve the thicket safe from guns”

~

The hunter’s love winter’s and the innocent blood

And the white witch carries on until spring

stay here little doe while your mother brings the cud

the sleet drizzling rains seem never to bring

peace within the forest it seems

and life circles around the fox and the hare

and the buzzards that hunt the carcass from the air

~

©2015 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

First attempt

The fog of dull moist clouds cloistered Earths hills

rolling slowly quietly assured with December’s presence 

uncovering the steal bleakness of chills

the grey fox sought the superlative time stalking

hunting, one catch, the hare eating thorns, is captured

~

All rests except the fox, and the hawk that swoops prey

and beautiful it seems to carolers that dream

pictured on Christmas Cards sleighing coupled in hay

but the hunted sigh as the singers pass by

ignoring the innocent life in the forest by night

really wintery rest is not what it seems

The white witch cursed the greens for 3 months

laughing, she pointed t’wards the fox and the hare

the hawk she invites on her evening animal hunts

while the fox, hiding and embarrassingly shares

dear rabbit if only there was another way to convey

my condolences and my fondness, for you, today

The fawn born in grey thicket that night

a hunter was on track for a meal, of the carnivores type

deep in silence, bitter coldness, that eve less bright

their faces showed meanness,  sickeningly alarming

hungry for killing the innocent and without any lament

the damp floors lined with twigs and leaves sent

warning there are trespassers entered our forest

and without invitation, the hawk soared forewarning

the dove in turn echoes cooing which entered space

of ears the fox alarming, the furry rabbit crosses into the thicket

noosing the doe and the fawn warmed coddling

stay within this eve the thicket safe from guns

the hunter’s love winter’s and the innocent blood

And the white witch carries on until spring

stay here little doe while your mother brings the cud

the sleet drizzling rains seem never to bring

peace within the forest it seems

and life circles around the fox and the hare

and the buzzards that hunt the carcass from the air

 

~

 

©2015 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

Earning the wings that I wear

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Earning the wings that I wear, 

Dutiful battles and wars not disbarring, 

The sight of suffering and smell of stench, 

The roads we’ve traveled often forgotten, 

The hunger for home, not resenting, 

The survival fought for mankind, 

My wings though grey with dirt, 

The fight has passed my thirst, 

But we continue forward, 

As soldiers do, 

Commanded by the Lord, 

Until we’re through.

 

Dear John

IMG_0074

I was leaving then, on a day such as this, with my suitcase in my hand.

But a tsunami came and took me away thus leaving my portmanteau behind.

If you find it dear, please, know you were near to my heart break at that time.

Treasures of gold and diamonds of blue are not fond memories, I held of you.

Old Dear John letters within the luggage were left on the shores, in lieu ~

WP©04/30/2015

A Poem for Jacob; The Cat, The Mouse and The Squirrel

Mimsi and Jacob Christmas 2014
Mimsi and Jacob Christmas 2014

A Poem for Jacob; Friends and Pets

By Bonnie Jennings ©2015

~

The Cat and the mouse played hide and seek

In the home of a squirrel and bugs

They sang a song while running along

To the tune of tweedy in love

The squirrel took the broom and cleaned the room

While the cat watched the mouse who danced

They serenaded each other between the butter

With a fork and a pence dab-loon

The squirrel declared, “Enough!” while coughing from the dust

And, cast them, so far away

It was a terrible dismay, on a superior fine day,

In the fresh clean month of May.

And as it’s been told, speaking so bold,

The squirrel rarely comes out to play

For’ his friends did depart, thus speaking from his heart

Admits his decisions were not to smart; and that diplomacy is an art

And, that squirrels could pine forevermore at the moon…

Celtic For The Day. Grasping The Hem of His Garment

Grasping God. To know him is to love him…

 

St. Patrick’s prayer in Gaelic 

http://www.irishpage.com/patrick/deercry.htm

My Covering

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* Note: Tornados were close by my home and together we snuggled sat, my 5 animals and I,  in a dark closet we waited until the storms passed, so later I wrote this… 

My Covering 

By Bonnie Jennings

The storm threw bolts of illuminated swirling wind

 On the horizons of East and of West 

The rolling vibrations shook my heart of fainting

Amidst the closet of our hiding of fears and trembling

The weather fell calm and out of the thunder

On the place where I do slumber

Oh, the desire for comfort and embrace

Of the tender human like Christ

Of His mercies and His grace

To touch him for’ He coddled me 

While in anguish and in longing distress.

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