writer, author, editor, photographer, maker of neat stuff
Poetry publishes poems and free verse authored by Jenise Cook.
Wildflowers by the side of the road
Soft pink, pale yellow centers,
Fairy kisses soothing my soul,
My broken heart.
Sing to me, oh fairy flowers
Softly whisper words of hope
Of lovers new
Of dreams restored.
Flowers fair, kissed by angels
Who sing at Creator’s throne
Breathe on me His breath of life
And refresh my heart anew.
The Western Skink
He likes to think
Of sunning himself on the rocks.
The Western Skink
He doesn’t stink
Except when he takes off his socks.
Darkness, a dark silence
Inks my eyes as I awake
Before dawn’s light
And then you assault me in my bed
(Sleep paralysis binding me)
With lies that fill my thoughts
Oh, deceiver
False light of day.
You ravage me
In my morning weakness
Accuser of the brethren
Freezing me cold with fell fears
The Father has forsaken me
Leaving me lost, abandoned
Alone with rivers of black thoughts
Flowing with lies down into my soul.
Ruler of this world
Your powerful words
Scream for attention
To weaken my resolve
Or so you wish
Tempter, son of perdition
As I lie in my bed
With dawn’s light
Now competing with
The dark, the darkness
In my room and in my soul.
And yet I fight, I stand.
Like a trapped lamb
Bleating for its shepherd
As the fierce lion creeps closer
I cry out
I say The Name
“Lord Jesus Christ
Son of God
Have Mercy!”
Fallen star you fade away
Frightened at the sound of
My Shepherd’s name.
Once frozen in fear
My body, my mind defrost
In the warmth of eternal love
As Abba’s forever
Cherished child.
“Stand firm, child.”
I fall upon His word
I fill my thoughts
With His truth
I am adored, I am redeemed
More precious than all fine jewels
He rejoices over me with singing
He delights in my presence
His pierced hands embrace my soul
His Spirit empowers me
With His truth.
As the sun’s dawn light
Bursts forth through the window
Glowing bright in my room
The Son’s true light
Shines beams of His truth in my heart
Shattering the dark thoughts
You, oh enemy, left behind.
His peace
Flows like a gentle stream
Of living water
Refreshing my mind
Redeeming my thoughts
As I worship Him
In morning’s light
Putting on the full armor of God
Preparing for the day
For the assaults
You’ll aim at me, still
Oh Tempter, Thief, oh Wicked One.
And yet I fight, I stand.
Armed with Abba’s armor
His salvation, His righteousness
His truth, His peace
As this is my fate
A soldier in His kingdom
Standing firm daily
Like a granite statue
Never yielding
To your wiles
Oh father of lies
Until the day
My Shepherd
My Redeemer
My Abba
Leads me into His glorious home
Singing over me with joy.
I see your suffering, your destiny,
if things remain the same.
I’ll come to you, become one of you
for there’s power in My name.
I whisper hope, eternal love,
I’ll give My life for you.
When days are dark My light will shine,
hang on, My word is true.
Wrestling with the Muse
Wondering why I’m left bereft
Wandering wordless hallways
Wanting what writers wish for
Words to wrest and write upon a
White page or screen
Where, oh where, is my Muse?
The Spirit Room has no spirit,
lost in quiet darkness.
The sad siren call of a lone singer on the stone steps
bounces off the cold façades of shuttered businesses.
Friday night in Jerome, Arizona,
frozen by the virus and chaotic guidelines.
Streets once bustling with laughter, rock and roll, and vehicles
now lay in ghost-town silence,
save for the sad siren call of a lone singer on the stone steps.
Continue for the story behind this poem…
Crickets sing,
Owls hoot,
coyotes yip as I drink in
the desert night.
The Milky Way winds
its ribbon of stars around
the shadows of distant hills
and my wild imagination.
Joshua Tree arms spike the stars,
seeking to hold them fast
while meteorites descend,
sprinkling stardust and wonder.
Ravens’ wings whisk by,
whispering ancient mysteries
known only to the petroglyphs
and pottery shards.
With the stars my only canopy,
I wrap my blankets around me
as my head sinks into my pillow.
A tarantula tickles my cheek good night.
Sometimes the signs lead me into the storm.
You hold me when I lean into You
as You lead me on the right path,
shining Your light in the dark.
Gripping Your shepherd’s staff
Your voice guides me for
You are the way
and the truth;
life and
hope.
Mourning dove
singing softly in dawn’s light
breathes deep for life.
Setting September sun
paints the twilight clouds
in the final colors of summer.
Babbling brook
running down the hillside
has time to talk to stones.
Distant chant of prayers
draws closed earth’s curtain,
opens the gates of heaven.
~~~~~~
Paloma triste
Cantando suave en la luz del amanecer
Respira profundo para la vida.
El sol de septiembre que se acuesta
Pinta las nubes crepúsculares
En los últimos colores del verano.
Arroyo charlatán
Que fluye de la ladera
Tiene tiempo para hablar con las piedras.
Canto lejano de oraciones
Cierra la cortina de la tierra,
Abre las puertas del paraíso.
Continue to read the story behind this verse…
Continue reading “Poems from the Heart | Poemas del corazón”
Peaceful places where my heart
can restfully lie down
among the lacy curtains that
my soul crochets with peace.
The green, soft hill will melt away
when fluffy castles fly,
and welcome me to come along
to leave the world behind.
And now the sun is sinking
into a sleeping sea.
Tomorrow I’ll be softly
dreaming of peaceful things.
