Author: jennygracespoetryandcreativewritingtechniques

I am a published poet and short story writer. I have been published in SNHU's the penmen review. https://penmenreview.com/author/jenny-andrews is the link where you can find my poetry and a short story. Currently, I am writing a collection of short stories, and a collection of poetry. I am trying my hand at writing a novel. Well, not a novel, actually. Make that two novels. My passion is writing. My inspiration is Franz Krafka because he managed to see the absurdity of life. Life is all about perspective and who is telling the story. We all see this life through the lens of our experiences. Literature should inspire us to think, to analyze, and to get lost in unfamiliar worlds in which we learn something new about this human existence. It is my hope that my writing challenges the reader to think, and to see a different perspective, as well as be entertained. My faith in Jesus strengthens me and gives me the courage to survive the twists and turns of this life. My faith influences a lot of my writing in that goodness always triumphs over evil, in that love conquers all. I hope you enjoy reading my blog.

Mississippi

delta blues bone deep

mud dauber digs river bed

beneath secrets hide

Haiku: Cats

royalty with claws

misunderstood arrogance

bats child with soft paw

Haiku: Dogs

occupy spaces

lick away hearts broken places

heal wounds with a wag

Dirt

silt sand stone dust clay

ancient roots teeming with life

grass silently sways

At the Cross

I kneel before Him

My Savior ‘s unending love

wipes away my tears

New September

Zinnias dance in swirls of saffron, pale pink, and tangerine; God blesses me with this day.

Coolness of autumn at summer’s scorching finale.

Doorstep of Autumn; God blesses me with refreshing coolness.

Steel gray birds serenade from the canopy of mint green beauty bush leaves laden with deep purple berries.

September morning oak branches brush the pale blue sky; God’s artistry calms my soul.

The heavens heal my brokenness.

Sunshine, breezes, birds, trees, bees, the earth beneath my feet prove that God is holding me.

Dime Store

Nineteen sixty-eight

grandma sits at the counter

world erupts in flames.

Shades of Purple: A Short Story Sketch

Pressed against the lilac sky, rain clouds marched across the dusty, beige hills. Haddie watched the advancing storm from her kitchen window and clicked her chipped cherry red fingernails in rhythm with the song playing on her transistor radio.

Purple rain, purple rain, purple rain.

The man’s voice pleaded as if he were stuck on a thought that was at once sorrowful and unintentionally seductive.

Jazz, Haddie’s scarlet macaw, scratched at the mauve and fuchsia threads of Grandma Heloise’s old afghan. Jazz strutted along the back of the sofa and perched himself smugly on the top of the tiffany lamp, also Grandma Heloise’s.

Purple rain, purple rain, purple rain.

There was that sorrowfulness. That catch in his throat. Rawness of emotion.

She switched the volume louder in an attempt to merge with that voice, in an attempt to absorb the freedom of that voice, the freedom to feel, to expose that raw emotion.

Then the voice stopped.

She drowned in her own sorrow as torrents of rain pelted the tin roof of Grandma Heloise’s bungalow. It had been built by her grandpa Carlton in 1939.

Time had stood still in that little space.

Time had stopped.

But the rain pelted the earth with a cruel, unrelenting voraciousness.

Haddie turned the transistor radio dial in search of that voice that had the capacity to express emotions that she had clamped down deep within herself.

Note: Unless you’ve been living on another planet in a distant galaxy several light years away you should recognize “Purple Rain” is the title of a song sang by the musical artist Prince in 1984.

Winter Reflection: A Poem

Brown-billed bird with ruby throat ignores winter’s threat.

Alights upon icy oak branch and injures itself.

Rush of furious winds topple the weak branches to the frozen earth.

Brown-billed bird with ruby throat darts under splintered limbs.

Sky cries with ice chips splattering and splashing withered brown leaves.

Brown-billed bird with ruby throat camouflages itself within the warmth of withered brown leaves.

Update after a Break

It’s been several months since I wrote on my blog.

Honestly, I haven’t felt much like doing anything since my husband passed from this valley of sorrows last September. I truly believe his soul is at peace on the other side of the veil with God, the angels, and all his loved-ones who have gone before him. I truly believe that he was greeted into the warmth of God’s eternal love. These are truths that have sustained me on a daily basis. These are the truths that get me from moment to moment.

It has been eight months since that rainy September morning.

Eight months later on this sunny spring morning I listen to birds singing high in the oak trees and I consider the future, the years that lie ahead of me. This life is a journey filled with twists and turns, with heartbreak and joy. It is a rollercoaster of emotions. I have run the gamut of emotions these past eight months.

God has sustained me through the darkness. He is my fortress, he is my strength. I turn my soul completely to God and trust that I will move forward on my journey and that I will live my days with purpose, that I will serve him with my life.

I have been working on my writing projects: Two novel ideas, and a poetry book. I plan to put them on Barnes and Noble Press. Oh, also, an art book. Yes, I consider myself an artist of sorts. I love colorful drawings so I have been trying my hand at my own art book.

I am being intentionally happy. Yesterday, I took a river cruise. It was spectacular to see such wilderness on either side of the river’s bank. There were cypresses, oak, and pine, and several crocodiles.

Feeling the cool wind, the warm sun, and just basking in the loveliness of this earth’s beauty revived my soul.

I have to move forward from this grief of the past eight months.

With God’s help I shall. Only God can heal us in this life. Only God. Not religion. Not money. Not acquiring things. But only God.

So, with intentional happiness, each day I will find joy in the beauty around me.

I will set aside time for my writing projects.

Please pray for me; please pray for this world and the hurting souls that dwell in it.

May we all turn our eyes to God who loves us and gives us peace in the storms of this life.

There is light at the end of the darkest night.

God is that light.

Thank you for reading.

Jenny