How do people say sorry
How do they begin, I seek to know
I have gone to hospitals at home and abroad
The doctors have tried their part
The surgeons have checked my tongue
And found it fine
The prophets have looked in books for clues
They checked the demons and found them gone
When they placed a heap of books atop my head
I got a migraine
The magicians have scattered tarots
I focused on Hocus pocus
Alakazam I lost my breath
Jantar Mantar Jadu Mantar, someone chanted
When they all spelled the words on cards
I fainted
I have a health of words, other words
Really…, I see…, I get the point…, Okay…, that’s true…, I understand…
But to say sorry! I sweat, my heart beat hurts, My head aches
Nausea sets in, my vision blurs, I shiver, I gasp
I have tried something
I have tired everything
I also tried nothing
There is nothing
I can do about it
I am sorry!
There goes Pochahontas bent.
Sent with flaming arrows.
All that anger's meant to vent.
Just for faming harrows.
Lost to others who were sent.
Darrring Blaming sparrows.
Cost of all who met their fate
sought for claiming parrows.
All that land was meant to be.
Tribes of mainly darrows.
Lost to others much more fit.
flagrant ignorant farrows.
Brought to wrecken what they did.
Trading Indian Marrow.
Welcomed family to their nest.
Blaten Christian Narrow.
All for honor to the West.
English broken Saroh.
Brought back daughter to the East.
England's married ferro
Host for others who would seek
dangerous paton barrows.
Tsenacommacah Queen to take her crown
to English ratten tarots.
Beloved by all who'd sheikh the name
of English Cotton-Keurro.
Forsaked by all who'd come to claim
her Pochahotas Buenos.
I was asked
To define myself
By the things I knew so well
Who might I be?
Unfit rings?
Lost tarots cards ?
Or
All the things
That are left to be
Abandoned
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.
My Home in The Glenn
Passing the glen walking a curving path
Following the red bird, skipping on strath
Trees bend with the winds beaconing
Their invitations to come into the forest
Tall and thick with shadows moving
With ghost lingering, along the road
An overgrown trail of brush and weeds
Little tiny flowers from meandering seeds
Stones and thickets where the doe sleeps
Their fawn suckles until winters birth
The rabbit and the kids nibbling
Eating forest tarots and sweet leaves
She wanders home despite any threats
Her home rests peacefully in the trees
The lights shine welcoming her home
A time to dance and celebrate
A home tucked privately within the small glen
©2016 Bonnie Jennings All Rights Reserved
Going back in time and change
all the mistakes I made is absurd and impossible;
I look at myself and feel rage...
my vain existence could have been so incredible.
Tarots readers promise us changes with an amulet,
when their false prediction turn out to be a hoax,
we realize we have been spinning in a fast vortex...
not believing that it had caused sobs in our chest.
All the gold in a vault cannot buy youth, some go to extremes
to get it back even briefly, then they try to reach a new altitude,
" All wishes are possible, not this one! " The skeptic believes,
" Know that beauty is hidden inside, visible in deeds of beatitude. "
As my age shows in looks and inability, I feel very helpless
drowning in discontent and bitterness and trying to reason
I declare," We start aging on the exact moment we are born,
and our cry is the prophecy of doom carried out by events. "
While I'm living, I must write this name in stone,
despite the wealth and the happiness I was denied by cruel fate;
I honored friendship, I loved everyone: why should I be so irate...
if life's simple pleasures are lived and never gone?
Upon awakening; I asked myself afore this mirrors red rainwater reflection
Why am I here dancing with these slipknot silhouetted shadows....
Ghost about this acids, crossbones darkened gray grim stage!?
With its masquerade of lost within the midnight ball of nothing at all
Except empty chairs and silent sounds, of round and round these
Torn crimson curtains and blood drenched floors aflame....
Broken chandeliers with rusted chains; wilted roses strewn amid
Tarots paralyzed petrified walls of lifeless corpses rising?!
Reaching from their tombs of trapped in times take another bow
Somehow, atop the balconies ledge as the answer became clear
In ashes before these breathless slivers within, this shattered image....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....“Twas, Hell's Encore!?” ~
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