You sweeten me like ripe melon on a hot day, my eyes burn …can’t think straight from mid-day sun, working in the field without a hat. Don’t blush. I’m merely a pond reed through which you play music to feed my soul.
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Brookins
If meadows shamelessly blooms out of season and lavender anxiously press their seed against a blanket of wintry snow, why be embarrassed if no one hears the music that makes you dance.
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Brookins
why make friends with heartache …that old blowhard. Living in the past is a witch riding her broomstick over a memory heap. Laughter is contagious like eating a chocolate fudge sundae in the bathtub.
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Brookins
there is a moment before dawn when regret gives way to purpose, darkness to light, and heaven so close I could reach up and touch it. Can’t think of another place I would rather be than here, right now, recycling myself for a new day. I’ve made friends with struggle; wise old Shaman taught me the journey was far more important than the destination. Ask the eagle who flies overhead.
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Brookins
I’m invigorated sitting here in my old robe and timeless wooly socks, the type old men wear when they go fishing. The intoxicant of morning air shakes off the monotony of sleep. Good to let vagrant trickles of laughter escape that part of me who wants to burst out laughing for no reason at all even if it is 4 am.
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Brookins
Oh friends, let us wrap dawn around our weary shoulders like two old elephants on their way to the nearest skating pond. We’ll guzzle a box of chocolates, and greet this new day with a joyful heart.
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Brookins
this odd poetry of my soul
more madness of heart than verse.
perhaps my thoughts of you should be reigned in
meet me in the boathouse for tea, lemony with ginger
afterwards I will lay my head on the soft down of your belly
dragonfly flutters on winters lake
buddha bird sits high in trees watching the moon shed tears
om shanti om
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Brookins
Heartache, you rapacious, marauding haunter nipping at the heels; you make every attempt to jackboot my day. Have you forgotten we no longer share the same bed – so anxious am I to meet the one who laughs within my soul. What happened to my old friend Raggedy Ann…my diary filled with poetry written walking along river’s edge when life seemed too hopeless to go on. But on this wondrous autumn day her leaves – the color of ripe pimento, fall breathlessly in every corner of my garden; yesterday’s heartaches replaced with sonnets…I am humbled by their presence.
© 2020 Jennifer Brookins
colors of peach sorbet cover the ocean while albatross sits on masthead. Dearest heart, what compass leads him safely to shore?
© 2020 Jennifer Brookins
Who is the God of the Thrush?
Who do you turn to little bird ….look up
© 2020 Jennifer Brookins