Mother Wit

These people know plenty
Yet spent little time in school
They were educated by experience
But learned by self-rule

They know each part of a vehicle
What to leave or take out
They taught themselves to read
They know what life's about

They know that ghosts exist
And understand the seasons well
They know when to give advice
And know what not to tell

These people excel at life
And always think on their feet
They know that survival sense
Is more than food to eat

They have mother wit
Taught by mother earth
Never to know how you get it
Only what it's worth!

copyright 2009, Georgette Jones

Rock Bottom

Then, your rope wore to thread
Strained illusions begged to break
Through the chaos inside your head
More than mind or body could take
Just before you hit the ground

When loyal lies could not save you
From the mirror of face to face
When denial no longer gave you
The facade of a safe hiding place
As your real self came unbound

Now the vicious valley you hit
Where your only cushion is a rock
Halts the high you could not quit
And demands that you take stock
Of a miserable life unsafe, unsound

Yes, you could rise and stand
To battle the demon that is you
You could lend a helpful hand
To the angel who walks with you
There even before you were found

Do it now, my friend, begin anew
Let your truth finally break through!

copyright 2009,  Georgette Jones

The Week in Musical Gratitude #1

• This past week I am grateful for these songs that I listened to: 

 "To Be Loved "/ Jackie Wilson / I listened to this on YouTube while searching for OldiesButGoodies.
"Only Sixteen "/ Sam Cooke / Also on YT
"Children, Go Where I Send Thee" / Mary Chapin Carpenter / The most beautiful version yet, given me by a friend.  Thank you, friend.
"I Want to Know What Love Is"/ Foreigner / Best music video ever made. 80's music rocks.
"I Want to Know What Love Is" / Leela James version / Recommended by my dautee.  Thank you, dautee.
 "Everytime You Go Away" / Paul Young / Great 80's tune, really good and good-looking singer.

• I am grateful for feeling better after the holidays.  I was not feeling so cheerful this year due to emotional weights.  Something lifted.
• I am grateful to have found so many long-lost friends on Facebook.  Why didn't I do this sooner?  
• I am grateful for all my ideas for new projects.
• I am grateful for my health, wealth (my definition of it, y'all), wisdom and wit.
• I am grateful to all of you who took the time to read this.  My unknown friends, may you also be blessed with health, wealth, wisdom and wit.   

Poetry Slam

Perhaps too direct, but for the sake of rhyme
Wrote full the poem line for line
Filled each stanza with jelly and jam
Read it back and affirmed, "I am."

Took that poem to a poetry slam.

Won the grand prize for spark and wit
Decorated that poem and framed it
Toted it to each corner of the nation
Every reading was a huge sensation

That poem received much congratulation.

Over the years that came and went
His tongue now silent, his back now bent
His will to entertain not like before
At every engagement, he was a bore

"Only one poem," he cried from his core,
"After all this time, I wish I'd wrote more!


copyright 2009, Georgette Jones

Quickly Captured From a Dream

Through the door of my nether mind marches forms.  Of all persuasions.  Elongated. Stumped.  Portly.

Confident shapes preen to be chosen.  Into the attic of my sleeplife they dance, prance and tumble, soon joined by letters and words.  And then poetry.

Crafty ones with ambitions of design.  Aspiring toward calligraphia, yet more toward painting.  They want to be joined by colors and birthed from a dream.

Forms, color, design, calligraphy, poetry, words and songs comprise these new dreamworks.  Many designs already formed inside.

I know what to do outside.  Thank you, Lord, for the guidance of dreams. 

The above words are from a recent dream where I was able to successfully capture the content upon waking, resulting in the current painting I'm working on.  The following poem was written last year, documenting that no such capture was allowed. 

Lost Inspiration

This morning, dawn, 
as I fluttered from night,
A poem so lovely
grazed me with light

He kissed my lips fully,
and gave me his mind
I returned his kiss,
his soul to imbibe.
But it was not to be
that one so sweet,
Whose rare fullness
I could not meet,
Would visit beyond
the light of day
When I awoke
he had flown away
Vainly, I held the
shattered refrain
Where only traces
of words remained.

copyright,2009, Georgette Jones