Bonnie Jennings Poet I do not know?

The Whispers

The phantom who hides within my shadows
Speaking on occasion as if we’re brothers
In whispers the ghosts utters futures
Leaving truths and unanswered mysteries
Hence the messages given haunts
Forever traveling in times
Within the masks
Of my lives

In clouds vague, I transend
Through vapors and sparkling dew
Under layers of ancient art
Reading to understand the clues
Turning through the doors in which I knew
And the answers remained within the stones
Foreverthere
In another season
To view

And in a dream I awoke
Seeing humanity without lovers
Mumbling with no purpose
Screaming without sounds
Writing without inspiration
There was no illumination
Just eternal voidness and no love

And I prayed for a thousand cheers
Bringing back the fragrant years
And wiping away all rusted tears
With the hope of a redeemer
He who arose from the damned fires
He who lit the eternal dark shadows
And cast the phantoms
Far from the whispers

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John Fleming May 27, 2016 at 2:08 AM This is rather good, Bonnie. What I like about your poetry is the novel approach and creativity you demonstrate within it. Makes a refreshing change from the average humdrum, run-of-the-mill tripe I see on this site every time I visit it. I swear to the powers above: If I am confronted by many more love poems, sonnets, or odes to a handmaidens sandal I may just chuck my pen in! Kudos to your good self for this splendid effort of trying to express the inexplicable. My very best regards! :) john Bonnie Jennings May 27, 2016 at 3:05 AM John, I was wondering if you read my poem 'Shadow People?' It is kind of dark, but not suicidal dark (lol) ... It reads, as if, it was written about early sexual abuse, and that was not my intention for the poem, but (I thought) that it reads well, so I left it, as it is.... Again, thanks and please come again... Bonnie Jennings May 27, 2016 at 2:54 AM Good morning John! I'm up at 2 AM USA and discovered your wonderful comments. Like you, I'm also kind of tired of the love and erotica poems that read repetitively the same... And on the other hand, I wonder why, I can't write syrupy sonnets and lost love, please come back, poems... So, thank you for your confidence in my poetry.. Thank you....