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N E W S L E T T E R

His Promise For Me
by Cynthia Jones

There is a promise for me
A sprinkle of rain, the greening
the blooms. It all is magnificant
and with love too.

A promise with love
from the one that is my savior.
From the one who is I am.

He came and he died, but today
he lives. It is Easter!
O' Holy, Holy

On a cross he was raised.
He was mocked, and tortured
for being our lord, our king.

With his blood we are saved.
With his pain we are made
to realize the sacrifice.
With his, we are re-newed.

He came and he died, but today
he lives. It is Easter!
O' Holy, Holy

I can not keep
from bowing my head in shame
so many times I fail...
today I whisper his name.

He came and he died, but today
he lives. It is Easter!
O' Holy, Holy

Thank you my Jesus, thank you
my lord for today, tomorrow
and all the yesterdays....
On some days I lost belief.

You are here and you are now
and now, I'm on bended knee
to praise you, O' Holy, Holy

You came and you died, but today
you live. You, the one who is I am.
It is Easter! O' Holy, Holy



Spring Brilliance
by Cynthia Jones

A breeze of laughter
rushes warmly by
with a holy feeling
of sweet new life

A bud and a flower
reminds us it's spring
and a tree stands tall,
taller than anything

A harsh silence will fall,
with a roar of birth
for all that is beauty
is now here on earth.


This Spring Flower
Cynthia Jones

I never knew spring to be so harsh,
the breeze so full of life
and waves of sadness to,
I guess I never knew

Now the bud on the maple
is simply nothing more
than a start on a tree,
as never before

So holy. So why can I not birth
the feelings of silence, but
instead I roar with anger, so cruel
and new, this spring flower


Nothing To Fear
by Cynthia Jones

There is nothing to fear.
No, not this spring
we will roar in the breeze
as the tree gently sways

So happy, for the flower
that spurts from its bud
a new life exploding,
waiting in silence

The harsh tones are covered
with a holy blanket of green
A birth is exalted for us
to know, the wonder and splendor.

Labels: poetry

:UP:

My Sanctuary
by Cynthia Jones

My heart aches and I crumble
on bended knees, afraid
with little courage mending
plow my fields of sorrow

It is strange the relics
sought after, some destroy
their magic, their spell
our souls forever entwined

Battle a life-time
working to break the ice
a frozen ego manifested
of false teachings, of lies

Copyright 2006

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Unclean.
by Cynthia Jones

Never heard.
Never asked.

Ignored.

Hide the fetish
keep the mouth clean
wouldnt want to hear it
wouldnt want it seen

shame is the lie
be true to thine self-

can not control, get abused
can not relate, get accused

Like a bum on the street
dance for a cup of change

JUST a beggar's plea...
To the world... just strange

I'll drink from his bottle
his wine will keep me warm
I'll sleep in his box house
his shelter from the storm

It aint much but I'll take it
it aint nothing compared to...

like a freaking tax man
with hands already full

-always passing judgment

Copyright 2006

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Perverse.
by Cynthia Jones

scarce, infrequent
abundant within
drifting, yearning
not giving in

ashamed, merciful
no apologizies made
laughter, loving
taken in trade

paradox, puzzle
my soul is perversed
truth, confusion
soul lost, soul cursed

Copyright 2006

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Untold
by Cynthia Jones

When ink is not enough to ease our worried mind
our soul bleeds until the paper is red.

So colored with the anger drenched inside
with feelings of freaking dread.

Disillusioned and conned for all that it's worth,
and not received a dime.

It is fine, the words are there for proof,
and confirm the malice in time.

The words are blurred, emotion is brave,
and all is uncovered for view.

It is the reason that does give way, to
expose the forbidden truth.

Copyright 2006

Labels: poetry

:UP:

And with our love, we are born to the other. Our souls giving, loving, sharing and we will cherish every day, every breath, every touch. You are mine and I am yours. United in our love.

My Love, The words may not find my lips, but they are not lost completely. For the path to my heart is open freely to you. I close my eyes and my vision is of you with my mind re-creating those moments...you know... our moments. Your lips and your kiss are what I taste and ache for, yes that incredible mouth. Your soul calls to mine daily, and takes over my nights. Is there an existance without yours? Will I find my own way without this path to ours? Although we are not perfect....we are. we still are and I love you. When all else fails me in this world, yours is my steadfast anchor, you are my rock. I do not mean to be less of who I am but to be more of what I want to be because of the essence you share and all that we together nuture. Our love does not repress my being but elaborates all that I may be. This is what love should be to the other, something to build -trust, -confidence, -compassion and -understanding while delivering sweet ecstasy, not sorrow nor shame. Your love is all of these things for me, and gives to me more inspiration every day to hope for even more. I will never tire of you my love. Not one day will I ever exist without you. You have taken the path to my heart that is open freely to you and there, you will be with me forever. for your love always, ~Me Through everythings...

Labels: love, poetry, valentine

:UP:

And I Weep

Traces of yesterday still on my mind
while my heart sets to melody

Strings within, they do chime
as I watch your spirit set free

The void, dark and black
a hole is left there of

My days will be different now
accompanied by the mourning dove

A black ribbon, waves to the wind
in beak and in memory

Sadness inflames me
and this pain, burns to my core

Copyright 02.08.07 Cynthia E. Jones

Dad
Charles E. Burns
1944 - 2007

Charles E. Burns, 62, of 8690 Deavertown Road, Crooksville, passed away at 3:18 AM, Sunday, January 28, 2007 at Grant Medical Center after injuries sustained in an automobile accident which occurred on Tuesday, January 23, 2007 at Avondale. Born December 22, 1944 in Morgan County, Ohio, he attended the Deavertown United Methodist Church, was a member of the Doric Lodge #172 F & AM and served on the Board of Portersville Water Co. He was a disabled heavy equipment operator for Sidwell Stone Quarry. He is survived by his wife of 44 years, Sylvia "Toby" L. Hill Burns of the home; a son, Charles "Chuck" (Angela) Burns Jr. of Deavertown; a daughter, Cynthia (Gary) Jones of Zanesville; a brother, Ray Burns of Deavertown and two grandchildren, Ashley Jones and Clayton Burns. He was preceded in death by his parents, Lewis "Doc" and Anna Lengyel Burns. According to his wishes, Charles will be cremated and a memorial service will be held at a later date. Goebel Funeral Home and Cremation Services in Crooksville is in charge of arrangements. You may read the obituary and sign the Online Register Book at www.goebelfuneralhome.com

Labels: poetry

:UP:

When Autumn Fades
by Cynthia E. Jones

The leaves are falling...
on this gloomy day
dark, dreary and hollow.

The trees are bare, smooth and grey
looking thru to the open sky.

Sprinkles in the wind
to tell Autumn has been...
and Winter is soon to follow.

Copyright 2006
All Rights Reserved.

Labels: poetry

:UP:

-WOSIB Literary Garden-

Award won for May Poetry Challenge

The Angels Sang For You
Cynthia E. Jones

Back to Honors

Labels: awards, literary, poetry

:UP:

Use all 10 of the below words in a 8 line poem:

harmony
infant
gravity
messenger
brilliant
soldier
darkness
companion
pompous
enemy

A Soldier's Vision
Copyright 2006 Cynthia Jones

Harmony, no Companion of mine
as the Enemy approaches.
Darkness invades me, a Messenger
with it's Pompous recognition
Nothing more Brilliant than
the Gravity of what is not here,
my Infant boy... and here? A Soldier
with visions I can not see.

Labels: challenge, poetry

:UP:

-WOSIB Literary Garden-

Award won for April Poetry Challenge

The Scoffing Sun
Cynthia E. Jones

Back to Honors

Labels: awards, poetry, WOSIB

:UP:

April 2006 Submission 1

Challenge - Write a poem - 12 lines or less, or short paragraph 200 words or less, evoked from a picture you have chosen: (photo of a woman driving a car on the wrong side of the road facing a semi truck. All the photo shows is the back of her head and the scene from her view in the windshield.)

Always With You
Copyright 2006 Cynthia Jones

It is not new that I am behind you, where you sometimes forget me. Even so, I will watch for you as you drive forward, as you drive your road of -LIFE- with distress and misery, faceless and coward, unable to turn your wheel of direction that may lead elsewhere to safety, less worry, less shame... I will always be here with you waiting for you to acknowledge me and even if you -WILL NOT- my will wins over. You live. A whisper of breath across your ear, and a sigh saying- 'your guardian is here'.

Labels: challenge, poetry

:UP:

April 2006 Submission 2
Poetry Challenge - Using the prompt
'the scoffing sun' (24 lines or less)

The Scoffing Sun
Copyright 2006 Cynthia Jones

Complete madness, all of my days
with no clouds to carry me.
I have only this...
a fable of truth...
the scoffing sun

There is no way to escape
its laughter and mockery.
How can I get away from
mine thine enemy...
the scoffing sun

My midnights bring relief
but even then I can not sleep
as the days are still fresh and
memories clearly of...
the scoffing sun

There, when morning do I rise
and hope for something new
but never is, and all I know
is more of this,
the scoffing sun

Labels: challenge, poetry

:UP:

The phase of the moon plays an important part on our lives.

When the light radiated seems to seep to us the magic that our heart desires for success and for the facets of our everyday lives. We look to the moon and to the stars for answers and in prayer. The heightened glow is a reminder we our not alone to dwell here with nothing to look onward in hope of something better...

OUR MOON
by Cynthia Jones

Once upon a time you set my sky with your stars, and your moon.

Our bodies below them in testiment of our love.

Your Sovereign, and most powerless, on my knees.

No rule, and nothing more than a dream.

I faded into a non-existance, an existance

created for you and me.

Our love, blown out, like a candle's burnt core.

The memory drives toward the center, searching.

the wick is gone that once held the flame.

Go to the water's edge, I am there.

I walk along the sandy tide and I still see you.

You are in the distance reaching, calling.

Your silent cry. Our tears. Ripples along the shore.

The moon lights the waves of hurt, and still commands my soul.

Copyright 2006

Labels: moon, poetry

:UP:

Praying Hands - Copyright 2006 Gary Brett Jones

A Father's Love
by Cynthia E. Jones

His love is not truly measured
by his years nor his number
but given to and sought after
those that wake from slumber.

His Children, he all does love
and shows them support in all.
He wants to see them rise above
any dispute, great and small.

A leading man, both night and day.
Medieval fashion. Dogmatic approach.
Belief of God, goodwill and Fae, all
led by steed in golden coach.

Teacher, Guide, and Instructor
are words we use to describe.
Father is what is felt more,
the lesson comes from inside

His strength and wisdom shelter
his child-like heart, for frail
is not what is seen, but deems
all appropriate, to simply teach.

A Father, a true father -WILL-
listen and be heard with ease.
A true father speaks with passion
but gently, and knows his strength.

The gift of empowerment is not denied
but given encouragment to rise, above
all obsticles and stay on course,
-HIS- emprise. A father's love.

Friend to Father, Father to Friend
One Man with his mission. Inspire.
Teacher to Student, Student to Teacher.
One Man with his goal. Education.

Words come clearly, actions speak.
This man is amazingly heard
With his hands, they do talk...
and he need not utter a word.

Copyright 2006 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Artwork copyright 2006 Ashley Nichole Jones

Leading Light
by Cynthia E. Jones

Here I am
in the middle far,
without a line
alone, with one star.
It shines bright;
it shines for me
so I wont lose...
so I wont lose sight of me.

And in the depth
of a thrashing wave
I see the star light
and it really saves me

from going down;
from crashing too hard.
I won't let it,
take me under so far

that I can't see
the light above
far from earth,
maybe eternity?

I dont know,
but here is now
and the star light
keeping me in bound

to the faith,
there is something more
to existance...
on forever's shore.

I will search
until my last breath
to touch that star light
that hasn't failed me yet.

I'm all alone,
except for one star,
looking to the sky
with hands held high,

and I... fall to my knees
in pleading degree, and
giving praise, I surrender.

The star light
ever so bright,
finding faith
shine on me.

It is there, waiting.

Copyright 2006 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

March 2006 Submission 1 - Poetry
24 lines or less starting line
'bring me the sunset in a cup'

Numb Love
Copyright 2006 Cynthia Jones

bring me the sunset in a cup
don't be selfish, fill it up

that sunset will have to do
and get me on and over you

you say you must leave and I know
but do me this one before you go

bring me the sunset in a cup
and let me drink it deep...

may it make me full drunk
so I don't feel you leave

Labels: challenge, poetry

:UP:

March 2006 Submission 2 - Challenge
12 lines or less using all of the following words:
kite, wind, rain, coffeepot, purple,
mellow, dance, cookie,

First Kiss
Copyright 2006 Cynthia Jones

The rain falls in the wind
Friday night promise to show

Hair-do or not, to the dance I go
Cookie crumbs on my purple dress

Hearts are light as a kite
Chaperones stand by the coffeepot

...two mellow kids getting caught

Labels: challenge, poetry

:UP:

Artwork copyright 2006 Ashley Nichole Jones

My River (revised)
by Cynthia E. Jones

You are my river, of wine...intoxicate me
Let me swim in your essence and drink of you.

You are a sorcerer, conjure and bewitch me
Mesmerize me, my every being, my body, mind and soul.

You are a spell that has been cast, so charm me
Enchant me river... impassion my heart and whisk me away.

You, a river of flames, a fire ignited, burn me
Let me come into your incandesce, inflame my desires.

Now my river, ease and comfort me, washing over me
soothing me and my afflictions. My river, my solace

Let your waters flow over me and wet the fibers of my soul
Wash down and around all of me, I will breathe you.

My soul dances on your waters and my senses awake.
You are my river. Drown me.

Copyright 2005 - 2006 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Febuary 2006 Poetry Challenge

To write a poem 24 lines or less using the line
"where we still laugh and wish".

Untitled
Copyright 2006 Cynthia Jones

Can I have just one more life?
One more chance to get it right
And please make mine a place
Where I can laugh and I can wish

for my soul has become weary
and tired of days of pain and
longing for a speck of truth
a rae of light or shining beam.

My heart like yours, beats in time
as our souls dance with release.
Our melody, this place of mine
Where we still laugh and wish.

Labels: challenge, poetry

:UP:

Christmas Prayer
by Cynthia E. Jones

Candy Canes are the final touch on the tree I see
with gifts covered in paper, ribbon and bow.

Every year is clearly marked with love and memories.
This one no different, and as cherished I know.

To the family I won't see, I am there and you're here with me.
A thought away, a whisper to the wind and we're together again.

I'm excited as always, maybe because I'm a kid at heart.
The first snow, Santa Claus, Cookies, Candy, Greeting Cards!

The radio plays uplifting and heart warming holiday tunes
setting the scene for memory and putting me in a spiritual mood.

It is the birth of a baby boy born to be a King.
A silent night, away in a manger, the greatest gift of all.

I can't help but cry and swear to do more in the coming new year.
I will try for those that are homeless, poor and living in fear.

For war torn Countries, the Children unwell, for those deprived
and any unable to help themselves...I will try for you.

Many reasons to shed tears, as the candle sparks its flame.
Reaching out my hands in prayer, on my knees asking in his name

to fill every heart with love and peace, a little comfort and joy...
so all may carry on good will toward man that he did employ.

It can be a difficult task to lift the chin up high
especially when in need and praying for relief come nigh.

Take a hand, and give one back, that eases some of the distressed.
Listen with a caring ear, and realize just how much you are blessed.

Christmas time, holy time, a time of light warming the heart.
A spiritual time, gifts of love received and returned to show

that the light is inside of us each one, brightening the darkest corners
of this world. Our needs are met and we have heart to share.

Take a candle and light the wick, pass it on to light the next
until the world is all a glow lifted in light, and we will know

peace. Peace will have found us each one, for me and for you
when we carry a Christmas prayer for always, all the year through.

Copyright December 13, 2005 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Art Copyrighted Ashley Nichole Jones

How's Mine?
by Cynthia E. Jones

Mine aint as bad as yours man,
but its still killing me.
So what should I do man?

Maybe I should get up and...
and rearrange those dying flowers
in that crystal vase that Mother sent.
The one I threw up against the wall
you glued it back.

The water leaks and runs along the sides,
spilling droplets that let the light shine,
making rainbows over the back of the chair,
the one you sit in and lay back with ease
not giving a care ...while I yell.

I yell about how screwed up we really are.
I cry until I can not cry anymore
and I still do not know what to do.
Just give up?

Let the glue disintegrate into thin air
and the pieces fall apart
flooding, washing down over us,
all the pain of the past pent up
like a cage with no holes for air...

Stifling, stuffing, can not breath.
My wind pipe is disappearing,
crushing in as my chest tightens,
gasping, reaching for one shred
of evidence that I am real,
that I really exist.

Am I in a living nightmare?
Refusing to wake up?
Let me scream man
even if I can not wake up
the screaming is heard...
aint that something man?

Copyrighted 2005 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Artwork copyright 2006 Ashley Nichole Jones

Life Storms
by Cynthia E. Jones

In a storm of chaos,
comes an unsettled wind
Chimes the fibers
of my soul and mind

The song it does sing
is profound, give to me peace,
soothe me, and comfort

Will a voice to my ear
whispering words of promise
Jasmine scent fills the air
and my eyes are wide open

When rain falls light, sun
will make a rainbow in the
sky, Illuminate.

Violent outburst, thrashing gusts,
everything, contorted in peril
For the sake of nature's best
-life- may seem forgotten

I touch the petal,
my eyes, they cry with sadness,
soft velvet to me

Played, a Chord of hope,
a melody strummed in tune
Lip-sync along with Life
Until the Storms are few.

Copyright 2005 - 2006 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Artwork copyright 2006 Ashley Nichole Jones

Time
by Cynthia E. Jones

It was just yesterday
the now half empty
was completely full
with cookies and candy.
The living room
too is changed,
everything rearranged
and absent the tree
with gifts.
Not one shred
of evidence
that Christmas is
only one single day past.
It seems that time
has won something.
It may be that
I am racing,
not clear on what
the end will be
or what I am trying
to prevent.
A waltz perhaps,
dancing us two,
taking arms to reach
and legs to sweep
everything away.
Time can move
with such ease
and moves us
steadily along
or held tight
within its grip,
but we are moved
rather wanted or not.
It has the lead
and sure to win,
time.

Copyright 2005 - 2006 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Art Copyrighted Ashley Nichole Jones

 

 

Undead Chant
by Cynthia E. Jones

Now that my true self has come alive
the day is not what I longer need.
My chants can be heard for the night;
it is my survival for which I feed.

Down the road, the bells they chime.
A sound of muse for death and dine
calling to the halls and tombs.
A resting place, though not for mine.

Dancing on the edge, a skipping wake;
I walk the earth steady and firm.
For death has found and tries to take
...what is not his. Out of reach I squirm.

Dripping wet colored with blood,
my thirst is undenied; emotions
flood, the dark is warm,
cradling me as if I died.

Copyrighted October 31, 2004 Cynthia E.Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Art Copyrighted Ashley Nichole Jones

She
by Cynthia E. Jones

There is a book on the table, I open it now and again.
It reminds me of many yesterdays, spent with a dear friend.
She loved vanilla ice cream, black coffee and sometimes tea.
She was a grand old woman and a wonderful friend to me.
Lying on her lap, She sat in her easy chair.
My head on one side and my feet over the other.
She sang sweet lullabies to me.
We sat together singing hymns from the choir book.
The one She kept at home.
My bedtime stories came from the bible
and I remember her chewing gum.
Peppermint on her breath when She spoke to me.
She loved Wrigleys.
Her hair was grayer then anything I have ever seen.
It was almost silver and with every bit of sheen.
After all these years I still can not believe... ... She is gone.
So much to tell her...so much I have done.
On Sundays Grandpa would drive us to church.
Never getting out of the car. I think he was already holy;
She and I went though and we sang.
She was already holy!
Some Sundays mine eyes cry.

Copyrighted 2002 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

He Lives
by Cynthia E. Jones

On his back a heavy cross
Figuratively and Literally
he carried his cross;
Bitter and pronounced; to endure.

Struggling along his path;
Wounds of torment reopened
Sweat stings; blood mixes with taste;
Bitter and pronounced; to endure

Exhaustion drips from body and muscle
tearing into bits; salt burns the traces made
of his cross and his torments
Bitter and pronounced; to endure.

Laughter and teasing, ridicule and disbelieving;
A poor man claiming to be a king.
Taunting and daring to see his strength!
It's Bitter and it's pronounced and it's endured!

At the close of his path, high upon a hill
two others in example of his;
He sees... He knows... He cries!
It's Bitter and it's pronounced and it's endured!

Only a moment of relief; Cross touches down;
Quick and Sharp pain returns
CRACK! A nail driven in one hand.
CRACK! A nail driven in the other hand.

He weeps and the crowd hushed
some reluctant; some doubt;
Feet nailed in place and Cross raised high;
It's Bitter and it's pronounced and it's endured.

Pleading for drink and favored with vinegar.
Feeling forsaken; Strength given;
Through it all he forgives;
Bitter, Pronounced, Endured

Copyrighted 2002 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America,
and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God,
indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

I started writing this poem the same night of the attacks of 9/11

Red, White, and Blue (revised)
by Cynthia E. Jones

As I watch in terror and I weep
my tears are shining through,
On a steel and concrete heap
our flag Red, White, and Blue

She is our testament
our freedoms go untouched
She is our comfort and needed so much
with all her glory she stands with honor
not giving way to this unspeakable terror

We gave her life with stitch and staff
she gives us pride and this Country has,
Strength and endurance with total unity
no matter religion or political beliefs
We stand United and forever true

This Country with Our Flag,
Red, White, and Blue

Yesterday we argued not politically correct
today we mourn our losses and yet,
We are at peace with God's love
he is with us giving strength, making us one
When today becomes yesterday and tears still flow

Our strength is tested and our pride will show,
that no man on earth can take away,
The freedoms fought for, and on this day
it is what's needed to carry on
To give honor in the loss of our daughters and sons

No one can justify the terror taken place
no one can make memory a mere erase
as evil has now been given a face
We will find comfort in our Unity
As a Nation standing true

For pride, freedom, justice and our flag
Red, White, and Blue

When we sing of freedom, it is so much more
that we know this great land is hated for
Others are jealous of our balance and unity
with our differences, being proud of our diversity
Others will shudder and call us names

When in fact they wonder how to achieve the same
and attack us, calling it holy and done in his name
And when disillusioned and in dismay,
they strike at us in anger and in hostility
Causing mayhem and pain on me and on you

Freedom reigns while we pledge allegiance to
Our flag...Red, White, and Blue

Copyright 2001 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

:UP:

Soundings January 5, 1994 photo curtesy Harold J. Gerwien.

It was a snowy sendoff on that January day in 1994 when I bid my sailor farewell as his ship the USS Yellowstone left port in Norfolk Virgina for her Mediterranean deployment. This is not a picture of me but I was there with my little girl so that we could wave good-bye to her daddy. If my memory serves me correctly, this was the time when the ship was actually due to leave port late December right after Christmas and crew was on board at that time but the ship could not leave due to mechanic/engine issues. Everyone was made to stay onboard the vessel and I remember how all the spouses gathered at the pier requesting that the Captain 'leave or let 'em leave'.

Military Woman
by Cynthia E. Jones

Her job, she gets no pay
living it out, day after day,

With those, who don't recognize
their privileges, they don't realize,
how men and women from everywhere
give of themselves and how we share
a common denominator, it remains,
we live to be free and freedom claims;

Of men and women wearing uniform,
from their families, and the children born,
to those gone, or out to sea, defending
this land so you can sleep free.

Yeah, I know, not always cut and dry, but
take a listen, and do please try, to know
the hearts of the military folks, after all
its not their choice it's their oath, and
when its done, completed and through, they
answered without question, unlike you.

A Military Woman, so full of pride, for
her husband and his military life, taking
things as they come, and in stride, with
this anything but ordinary, military life.

She gets angry; just like you,
when her government ignores
and they do what they do.
She wants to be honorable,
and not complain;
she knows she is blessed
in many ways.

She's a Military woman so full of pride
for her Country, and her Military life.

What hurts the most,
she would tell you I'm sure
is the coldness of the people
and their reactions to war.
Can you see her, carry a sign,
for her beliefs and by her side,
her man... giving his life, for the very
thing that we all despise?

Injustice! Outrageous! Involuntary truth!
Out numbered! Who's counting? And
what the hell is it to you?

If she is willing
to hold her head high
stand on a pier
and wave goodbye
to the one she loves,
the center of her life.

She is a Military Woman.

Copyright 2001 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

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Art Copyrighted Ashley Nichole Jones

Purple Moon
by Cynthia E. Jones

Lead me to the place
of fairytales and make believe;
Where the ladies make magic
and the men dance.

Where silence is
the weapon of choice
and those who would harm
have no voice.

The winds play on.
The sky shows
shades of gray
turning to lavender.

The magic seeps
into the moon.
A little boy plays a tune
on his flute.

The notes scurry
as if in a hurry
to touch the ear
of any who would listen.

Shah...
And the ladies make magic,
while the men dance.

Copyrighted 2000 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

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Darkness
by Cynthia E. Jones

In the darkness I lay my sword down, my only defense, light.




In the distance a light shines, in the
darkness I run with anticipation, and
cold wrapping itself around my mind.

I rage forward and feel not of the
blackness in my soul, I rage forward
on my quest to be comforted and warmed.

This horrible example, thrashing and lunging,
my soul ripped from my body and no one to
claim; stands before me whispering my name.

Claim yours, that thing that belongs to you,
don't let these whims you call memory
haunt you in fear and break you.

The night sweeps along, my spirit will dance,
I will wait and gently close my eyes until
I have strength to call it back again.

Until then; I will live in the darkness.

Copyrighted 2000 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

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Art Copyrighted Ashley Nichole Jones

Whispers
by Cynthia E. Jones

Listen for the whispers
as they come across our lips,
after the kisses
of dew on the grass,
moist and wet
and yet; not there,
not really there at all.
Soothing to the touch,
as fingertips tickle
the blades of green,
felt but not seen.
Droplets from the sky
as the clouds cry,
to wet the dust of
yesterday; and tomorrow
brings the day light.
All that is left is memory.
She rides the wind of time
in search of a place
to reside.

Copyrighted 2000 Cynthia E. Jones

Labels: poetry

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Personal Poetry
Whispers.. Darkness.. Purple Moon.. Military Woman.. Red, White, and Blue..
He Lives.. She.. Undead Chant.. Time.. Life Storms.. How's Mine?..
My River.. Leading Light.. A Father's Love.. Our Moon.. When Autumn Fades.. And I Weep..
My Love Letter.. Untold.. Perverse... Unclean.. My Sanctuary.. In The Spring..

Writing Tools Defined
:Structual: :Form: :Language: :Rythmic: :Voice: :Prose:

LitKorner Articles
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Other
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