the pink rose of perfection

 

There seems a different place

Ever quiet from all despair

A sun that shines immortal

A night that is so fair

Forgetting all razzled minuets

Forgetting all earthly cares

There is a silent spring

Flowing water and fresh air

Brilliant are the florals

The cottage on the way

Where the hare eats tarots

In the beauty of noonday

Hearing a squirrel chatter

The cat just lays in vain

There is a distant place

Come where peace remains

Come friend beholding

A place called kingdom come.

©2016 Bonnie Jennings Easter Poems

Remembering Emily Dickinson

All Rights Reserved

Doves

A dove came to visit me one day

He rested on my ledge

Asking if he could come inside

I shewed him away instead

The dove came to visit me again today

He sat upon the ledge

He watched me cry

And said not a word

I left him with no thoughts

 

A white dove is on my ledge today

He comes when ever there are tears

A handkerchief is found close near round

But, the dove was nowhere to be found

 

Years past and no thoughts of doves

No thoughts of yesterday tears

 

But, with Spring came love

From away up above

The dove came to eat at my table

Gentle were the words it spoke

Tenderly it waited to hear

 

The dove came to sup with me

It came from somewhere dear

When a dove comes to visit you

It will nest to see you through

In patience eternal it longs

To live in the praise of your songs

 

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Talking To God

Do you love me, He asked

I shall tell you how, my lord

My love is erratic, this I admit

But, never assume it isn’t anymore

For that is just a lie or conjured imagination

There’s not a day that I don’t speak to you

And tell you my thoughts or why I might be blue

Before I go yonder or down to a store

I always ask your opinion from cooking to lore

I value you beyond the stars and galaxies so far

I see you in the flower and the tiny baby hare

 

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Waves rolling with the truenouluos clouds

Hiding The Moon’s beams, He glowed

A light surrounding His entire being

Lit the way over the seas

One by one He called us

“Walk on the water, come now.”

The boat on Lake of Gennesaret

Tossed on the mighty waves sinking

Peter cried, Lord, if it is you

I will walk, hold my hand

Walk Peter come, have faith son

Peter steed out of the boat

 

IMG_1904

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 and molecules and me

©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved

 

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Consequent purity and integrity

Moments lived or died

Consequent corruption and lies

Momental choices before time

Every life chooses a path

Some hewn flowers and lights

While others sought chronic death

Reluctant to live the same

Refusing green meadows

Abhorring any goodness

Persecuted instead of bless

Why soul do you want to perish

In soot of flames and torque

Punishment for crimes undeserved

Allowing death of the mind to surpass

For what did you, Eve my daughter?

You see, Adam left your side

And crawled on his belly with snakes

He followed you to bed, dear child

Should he have tamed the serpent instead?

Lost his way through the garden too Eve

Though, he wears his crown, on his head

But you, oh daughter Eve

Persecute your back with whips

Push drugs in your veins of disbarring

Beaten beyond the lights

Set before you, on the path of mercy

Found in the bright of Spring

Dimming the nights of Winter

By Summer, an aria you shall sing

But, you, Oh daughter of Eve

Must follow the path of Spring

Delight in the brights of flowers

Then in Summer you will your song


 

Time

Moments were and time is

Seconds, hours and days

Pictures of memories

Portraits on walls

Of momentary happenings

fifteen minutes for all

 

 


 

Dreams

Celestial traveling transported her spirit being

To places where ravens fly north

Doomed in white a princess bride

Entered the land of Celestial Travels

 



 

The Exorcists

The Hour Glass is finished. It is complete

Beyond time the man travels to seek

He is undisturbed by a watch

He walks the tasks he is to accomplish

Roads and paths leading to places

He journeys far to find the faces

Those who are on his hit list

He is on a supernatural quest

Traveling railroads searching

Stories and tales and often learching

Watching for clues of the common situate

His briefcase carries a crucifix and chrysalis

Lonely roads over many miles

Come rain and hail he never stiles

He’s a man on a mission’

Brought by a vision

He unawares from fear or dread’

He presses forward with little said

He is a man of the cloth

He is a man of God


 

 

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Innocence

About Doing Magic 

 

A man, slender, tall and who wore wire rim glasses asked, “Do you practice magic?

Replying thoughtfully replied, “When you meet someone and have a feeling of dislike, do you turn your disdain to appreciation?”

He seemed to wonder where the conversation was going. Trying to answer honestly, correctly, said, “I meet people everyday that I don’t particularly like.”

Refraining the question to the man, she asked agin, “Do you take the ill feelings about them and turn them into good thoughts?”

“No,” he replied.

“There you have it. You answered your own question. You do black magic everyday,” she iterated.

“I don’t do magic, I’m a Christian,” abruptly he stated.

“Mr. Smith, let me explain. Our feelings are our magic. If you have a witches mantra in front of you and read it, the mantra means nothing. However, if you read it with emotions and feelings than you have performed magic. A witch can’t produce magic without feeling,” she further explained.

He gave her a glare of entrapment.

“See, you’re doing witchcraft now.” She wanted to give him a mirror or show him his facial gestures.

“Furthermore,” she added, “Unless you change your tone and body language and wish well of all men, then you have performed witchcraft. Witchcraft is performed using emotions, not words on paper. It is the thoughts behind the paper that moves a mountain, or the desires behind the thoughts.”

He was angry at this point.

“You see Mr. Smith, dark magic, black magic remains that, until it is turned to light. Dark thoughts can be changed to become a blessing rather than a curse. So, we all do black magic until we turn disdain to pure clear good and loving thoughts. Until then, it all remains dark magic.

Mr. Smith was squirming. He wanted to leave.

She continued,” Even the person who entered your space that you disliked is doing dark magic. Your vibration attitude set a barrier to that person. It started a force that is unseen, but if that person is at all sensitive, they will feel your bad thoughts.

But, Mr. Smith listened as she was getting interesting. He forgot why he came.

“You see Mr. Smith, we all do dark magic every day, until we choose to turn our bad thoughts into good. Bless others with good vibrations instead of darkness. Let them feel your love, not hatred. Choose this day to bless others and when that disdained person comes into sight, place goodness on them, instead of a growling face.” She smiled and got up to leave, but she noticed, Mr. Smiths countenance.

Mr. Smith’s face had changed. He was no longer angered at the woman he swore was a witch.

 

 

 

 

 

Thanking all lovely thoughts today

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