
doubters only believe what they see … you know the type dark sunglasses at night for a better view. Oh Weaver, guard my arrested heart
Author of Tharon Ann, Living Under the Weavers Hut, and India with Backpack and a Prayer
Author and poet Jennifer Brookins is a former Broadway and television actress living in Princeton, New Jersey with her husband, musician Doug Brookins. They frequently travel to India, and based upon their experiences, she wrote India with Backpack and a Prayer - the sequel to her first book Tharon Ann. She is also the author of Living Under the Weaver's Hut - an illustrated book of poetry.
A beautiful story of bravery, tragedy, independence
“Tharon Ann, by author Jennifer Brookins is a wonderful read! A young woman begins her journey to chase her dreams from the Deep South to Hollywood, enduring a number of difficulties and overcoming the hardships of single motherhood to a wonderful ending and to the lovely woman known to us today. She teaches us to reach for our dreams, and though life sometimes seems senseless, in the long run good things do come. I highly recommend this book to anyone that loves biographies or for just a delightful read. Check this out!”
-C.C. Cole
Click here to read more reviews of Tharon Ann
“Lyrical and deeply moving. These poems speak of the soul’s journey back to its Source. Love, longing, loneliness, joy. These are things we all share throughout our journeys through this life and beyond.”
–Ginny Byham
Click here to read more reviews of Living Under the Weaver’s Hut
A deeply affecting travelog of a spiritual life
“I loved this book, the intimacy, the sense of the spiritual world close by, the interiority of the poetry, and most of all, the mystery of her four adept friends. Highly recommended.”
-Stanocles
Click here to read more reviews of India with Backpack and a Prayer
‘Molly is a living, breathing spunky little girl and I wouldn’t mind betting there is more than a soupçon of young Jennifer in this story. I can see a movie made of this.’
—Pat Mackay
Click here to read more reviews of Molly’s War
doubters only believe what they see … you know the type dark sunglasses at night for a better view. Oh Weaver, guard my arrested heart
I bow to you winter moon mosaicthat all starsin heavenly darkness lay their heads to restanother rising sunwraps her dreamy arms around our landfrom ho-hum
walk with me this afternoonno particular plan just fresh mountain airwild roses gone wild; nest where mockingbirds had babieswhen breathless we stop and watch clouds
sometimes I face the sunother times the amber glow of dawnseeding earth with prayer in the chill of early dayI wrap your essence around my
I hear winter rain falling as wild mountain roses it’s you hiding behind the moon if you stay away my heart will turn into shards
I got up early this morning when darkness still covered the land; just had a feeling the stars would still be shining. Not good to
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I just had my long white hair washed and set at the beauty parlor but when it started to rain I shoved my hair under a scarf and moved on to the supermarket for a few groceries when suddenly a young (obnoxious) teenage girl comes over to me and says,
"oh you are sooooo cute!" I think to myself "who the hell are you little person?" she continues, "you're adorable like a little Barbie with your white curls peeking out of your scarf." I think to myself,
"shut the hell up, I'd rather have my hooters shot out of a cannon than be called that!" I pull myself together then move on to the produce counter where I can still hear her whiny little voice trailing in the distance: "I hope I'm as cute as you are when I'm almost 100 years old!" I think to myself, " kiss my ....you little bitch now I know what the devil looks like!"
c/jb
Tree tops lean one to the other, barren in their nakedness as winter nears. Autumn wind-dancers rest as curbside pyramids ... their crisp brown leaves unmindful of nature’s foreplay. I see your beautiful face in the moon this night. Do you gaze upon me in the same way?
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