The Evening Eleanor Arrived By Bonnie Jennings

‘With a radiant warm smile the woman said, “Finally we get to meet. I am Eleanor, Ms. Catherine Dubois. Oh for five-hundred-years, I’ve waited for this moment.”‘

 

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How Eleanor came to visit me one stormy night is a story that succeeded another story of mystery and intrigue. The story thus became Cat Dubois’ Odyssey to Enchantment.

It was early fall and the first chill came that evening as the sheets of rain fell. Cat starred out the back windows simply mesmerized by the shears of wind and rain. She was cold, lonely and worried. The dreaded fears of the future somehow aligned itself with the deluge of water and her life appeared like the rain that ran off into the creek. Her tears could fill that stream that sat next to the eery woods behind her home. She prayed all the prayers that anyone could. Her Hope dimmed like the candles that burned next to her. And then, the electricity turned off. A transformer must have been hit. She threw a log into the fireplace and poured another glass of Cabernet.

Ka-Boom! The bolts were over her home. Flashes of lights were all around. The electric sky put on a show. A limb snapped in the woods. Wrapping a blanket around herself, she watched outside. She took another sip of the red warming wine. As she started to turn away, something caught her attention. Something unusual was going on back there.

“What’s that?” Cat whispered. There were swirling leaves and lights in the middle of her focus. “What the hell?” She intently stared now. The stirring of wind, leaves and sparks twenty feet from where she stood, caused her to stand back. She came forward and looked again.

“There is a woman,” Cat gasped.

Eleanor’s feet touched the ground in the middle of the puddles. Kaboom’s popped. Her hand grasped an umbrella. The woman didn’t seem a bit concerned about the conditions. She simply walked above the water towards the back porch.

There she shook the umbrella out, then sat it by the back door as it opened mysteriously, and said, “Put some tea on dear. We have work to do.”

Cat’s mouth dropped open, she said, Okay. She couldn’t decide if this event was good or evil; although, the woman was eccentric and that character trait, Cat felt compelled to entertain. She was a bit wary of an English woman. Strangely, She didn’t ring the front doorbell, nor knock like regular people do. She just appeared. Oh Lord, I’ve lost my mind.

The plump woman said to Cat in an old English brogue while standing at the backdoor, “Dear, if you’re going to fight devils, you will need help. Supernatural help. Never fight them alone.” She straightened out her clothes, walked inside and looked for the couch. On it, she plopped. “Get your pen and pad of paper. You’re going to write a story and I’m going to help you.”

Cat having few words ~ said, “All right. I will get them and the tea. What type of tea do you prefer?”

“My own,” and from her tote The woman brought out her stash of herbal delights. “Here smell this one. Get a cup for yourself, as well dear.”

Okay. After all, how do you say no to a delusion that manifested? And so, Cat sat two teacups down on the coffee table. She looked at the woman and paused before speaking, then said, “By the way, my name is Cat. Cat Dubois. What’s yours?”

With a radiant warm smile the woman said, “Finally we get to meet. I am Eleanor, Ms. Catherine Dubois. Oh for five-hundred-years, I’ve waited for this moment.”

 

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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! 

Writing Gypsy For Forbes

Good morning and did you know this?
Good morning and did you know this?

Really? Forbes hires gypsy writers? Well, not yet, but they will.

“Did you know the Huffington Post is looking for writers right now?

So is Forbes, Lifehacker, Problogger, and even the Harvard Business Review.

There’s only one tiny problem”

http://guestblogging.com/public/book?inf_field_

This is an interesting article… Must read when there is time…