inspiration – Page 2 – Jennifer Brookins

April 15, 2020 by jenniferbrookins_2jj8dq

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.

April 13, 2020 by jenniferbrookins_2jj8dq

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.

April 12, 2020 by jenniferbrookins_2jj8dq

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.

GOOD MORNING WORLD

March 31, 2020 by jenniferbrookins_2jj8dq

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.

GOOD MORNING WORLD

March 26, 2020March 25, 2020 by jenniferbrookins_2jj8dq

Dear Heart,

let us wrap this new day

around our shoulders

let us do that

before morning coffee

March 24, 2020 by jenniferbrookins_2jj8dq

Who is the God of the Thrush?

Who do you turn to little bird ….look up

March 24, 2020March 18, 2020 by jenniferbrookins_2jj8dq

I mourn the loss of winter still amongst us, snow cones still hanging on evergreens like Tibetan monks paying homage in silent meditation; snowflakes falling in love one more time, weightless without regard to where they fall. These cold silvery days make me long for the smell of hay; farmers tilling soil and little birds on the look-out for a better feathering neighborhood. It is a feeling I’ve come through something heavy and survived. Yet, even when spring arrives there is a part of me that can’t let go of chilly moonlit nights and vagrant stars streaking across the galaxy. I’m hopeless. © 2020 Jennifer Brookins

GOOD MORNING INDIA

March 27, 2020March 14, 2020 by jenniferbrookins_2jj8dq

I miss the giant scrubs, the ones who love-swayed in the midnight hour as though our back yard was a ball room for waltzing oaks. In my darkest hour, you gave refuge to my soul while I sat under your merciful bough and wept in my never-ending fruitless search for the me of myself. I felt your laughter when I lamented, “You and I are so alike; both of us look better with clothes on.” Come quickly spring.
© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

GOOD MORNING INDIA

March 7, 2020 by jenniferbrookins_2jj8dq

let us cuddle until dawn
that delicious rhubarb loving mama
showers her hungry grace upon this beautiful land
we will sit like two fat women eating popcorn in a hammock
no need for secrets I already know yours but I will tell you mine with a wink, tarry not daybreak nears
© Jennifer Brookins

March 4, 2020 by jenniferbrookins_2jj8dq

Lowness of high grass bows to earth’s surface in remembrance of better times when the great storm grabbed lightening by the waist, and danced with her the night away before the rising sun made his presence known. How shall I paint this day? Spring lifts her skirt as winter chills act as stewards in my garden.
© Jennifer Brookins