Treasure
Long ago treasure
hidden inside cedar chest
grandma’s wedding ring.
Daddy
Cedar tree hides him
midnight he stands alone
lost in a dark world.
Sister
Painful beauty screams
sees the world in shades of gray
robs herself of joy.
My Lord
Does not condemn me
sees all my sins and mistakes
loves me anyway.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2023
Delicate petals
White like snow in late winter
Eternal beauty.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2023 (includes photography and poem).
I’ve been organizing my poetry all week, so I decided to take a break and enjoy my rose garden. The photo I’ve included here is a cluster of my lavender roses. They are so beautiful in their simplicity.
It’s my opinion that we can find peace and joy in the simple things that this life has to offer us. Far too many times, people are in a continuous state of angst and worry, always striving for the next thing to do, the next item to purchase, et cetera and so on.
So, in the past few years, I’ve learned to slow down and take the time to walk in my garden and enjoy the simply beauty of sunlight on rose petals and the simple joy of listening to birds singing in the trees. Also, I can’t forget the family of squirrels that scurry around first thing in the morning and leap around my privacy fence. They entertain me with their antics when they chase each other across the fence and up into the leafy oak tree branches.
Silence brings rest and peace. Early morning before the birds awaken and sing, I like to just simply listen to the earth’s silence.
There is joy, peace and rest in nature. That’s the reason I love to capture a snapshot of my garden.
I hope you enjoy the photo.
And I hope you take the time to find joy in the silence.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2023
As you know, this week I am going through old notebooks to find poems that I’ve written over the years. Perhaps I will compile a self-published poetry book. In the past I did self-publish with Amazon, but I removed my self-published books from Amazon for a variety of reasons. If you have any suggestions for self-publishing avenues please leave me a comment. Thanks.
Here are a few of my poems.
From 2019, “Vows.”
“Vows”
Endured. Distant, dark hills aflame with summer’s wrath.
More sickness than health; health turned into sickness.
Cherish morphed into tolerate.
How could we have just walked away with those broken promises and resentments real and imagined that we bore like a bagful of rocks on our backs that finally toppled us to our descent into our nothingness?
From 2020, “Memory Stalker.”
“Memory Stalker”
Your memory has followed me
down all the roads
I have taken to escape.
From 2020, “Passage.”
“Passage”
Letting go.
Of him.
Darkened day, clouded over by time’s cruel passing; my powerlessness at its slipping away.
Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2023
As I’ve said in my last post, I am going through old notebooks and journals to review my past writing. I’ve always thought of myself as a poet (regardless of what writer’s group critics might say). I simply love the freedom of expression that captures emotion and imagery in poetry. Everyone has an opinion and that is fine.
Here are a few of my favorite poems over the years:
From 2019, “Just Being.”
“Just Being”
Little lavender flowers wet with early morning dew drop their petals into the green grass; dragonfly flitters past.
God glances between ancient oak branches; birds rustle in their nests.
Breezes swirl around brown and gold leaves.
God lifts his fingers to touch the sky; clouds drift by.
I turn my face skyward for the benediction; God blesses me with the gift of just being.
From 2019, also, “Options.”
“Options”
Cold rain in early May.
God has left it up to me to decide which way to go.
Live or die?
Laugh or cry?
Cold rain in a present year I decide.
Sunlight breaks through the clouds; the warmth refuses to hide.
I lift my hands towards God who loves me; I accept the laughter and the pain.
I rejoice in the sunshine and the rain.
From 2021, “Squirrel: A Snapshot
Squirrel: A Snapshot
Chilly morning, a squirrel sits atop the wooden privacy fence and munches on an acorn.
His fat, little cheeks vibrate with joy.
He drops the acorn and scurries along the length of the privacy fence.
Thanks for reading. Please comment and let me know what you think.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2023
It’s Memorial Day and it’s cloudy, unseasonably cool, but the birds are chirping in the oak branches so all is not lost.
I’ve been writing on my draft for a novel. Yes, I am back to writing. It’s apart of me and I will always write.
I’ve also been looking over some old notebooks in which I have a lot of poetry. I am trying to make another compilation of my poetry of which I plan to self-publish at another date.
Here are a few poems I’ve found from the past in my notebooks.
From 2018, entitled “Buddy.” It’s about my dog Buddy who was cocker spaniel and poodle. He lived for sixteen years and absolutely loved buttered toast.
“Buddy”
Little white dog barks.
Scavenges for buttered toast.
Leaps into my heart.
Also from 2018, entitled “River.” I live a few miles from a river that during that time has been absolutely breathtaking because it was wild with lots of massive oak trees. Now, greedy real estate developers have swooped into this area and cut down the trees and built hideously drab gray and brown high rise condos on the riverfront blocking access to the citizens in this area. Of course, if you have a yacht you can utilize the private yacht dock, but if you’re a regular working class person forget if. The river is evidently now meant for the obscenely wealthy. (Sorry, didn’t mean to rant).
“River”
Lapping waves sing song.
Birds dive into cool waters.
World washed in sunlight.
Also, from 2018, entitled “Anxiety.” I think it speaks for itself.
“Anxiety”
Fear ate up my life.
Imaginary monsters.
Took root in my head.
Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2023
It’s a rainy, cool afternoon. I see large raindrops pelt the coffee shop window; cars are a blur in the watery world. The past few weeks have been difficult because someone I love dearly has a major mental health issue that no amount of love can rescue this person from. I’ve tried; I’ve failed. But, in my previous post I’ve already gone over that. So, I won’t repeat myself.
Below are a few random thoughts that have occurred to me over the past few weeks; please, do not judge me for these thoughts. These thoughts have bubbled up from a place of hurt and disillusionment. Some are rather humorous, however. Feel free to leave a comment and share some of your random thoughts.
Here goes:
Love isn’t a game, although some people treat it as if it were.
Pretending something is okay doesn’t make it okay.
Pretending isn’t living; it’s lying.
Sharing kinship with someone can be poisonous.
Forgiving sets you up for further abuse. Hard. Stop.
Just because it is the truth doesn’t mean it should be said.
Lies can be the kindest mercy of all.
Dogs are healers.
Cats really get you when you say you want to be alone.
Broken relationships can’t be fixed; broken is broken. Period.
Family is not, is not everything.
Mental health is everything.
Mental health is everything.
You are not obligated to rescue everybody.
Caring for yourself is not selfish; it is necessary.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2023
Ok.
It’s a cloudy cool afternoon in late spring. Sweet scent of jasmine is wafting through my window. Rain is approaching; clouds the color of steel mass in the darkening distance.
It has been a long week. Someone I love dearly is struggling with mental health issues. After decades of trauma and abuse, this person’s life has finally boiled over into that dark abyss from which it is doubtful this person will ever recover. I am an optimist usually; but, I am also a realist when the brutal truth sucker punches me.
I honestly tried to save this person by standing with them, by never retaliating no matter how abusive their words and actions were to me. I thought that I could somehow lead them out of the dark abyss of mental illness. I prayed for them; I gave them a prayer card; I listened to their endless tirades and angry accusations. I attempted to have a servant’s heart; I attempted to be God’s hands. I attempted to lift this person out of the darkness of mental illness. Alas, I know that it was hubris to even entertain the notion that I have the power to achieve such a thing. Truth is mental health issues are often about brain chemistry coupled with environment, nature, nurture, et cetera.
I am exhausted.
I am exhausted by the storm that is this person’s life. I have had to walk away to stop myself from being pulled under along with them. I cannot bear the brunt of this person’s rage. I cannot, simply put. I have to put the life jacket on myself to keep myself from drowning.
Growing up I remember seeing signs that said “Jesus Saves.” I truly believe that he does. However, there are those situations and circumstances in which we have to step back and let Jesus save those whom we love. Sometimes, in our deep love for others, we get it twisted and think that we can save someone whom we love.
We can’t.
I can’t save this person whom I love dearly. I tried, and I failed.
I commend this person into God’s hands and pray that angels surround them and give them the peace that surpasses all understanding.
I have used the pronouns they and them to protect the identity of this person.
Please pray for those who suffer from mental illness. And, for those of us who loved them dearly.
My heart is broken.
Prayers.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2023
So, it’s April Fool’s Day. In researching the origins of this day in history it appears that once upon a time around 1582 Pope Gregory XIII decided to shift the first day of the new year from April 1st to January 1st.
He had his reasons.
Previously, the Julian Calendar considered the Spring Equinox (April 1st) to be the beginning of the new year.
Which makes sense to me since flowers begin to bloom, animals come out of hibernation, people fall in love. . . it’s the season of rebirth, renewal, sunshine, flowers, and longer days.
So, if I had lived back in the day when Pope Gregory XIII was regaling the known world with his opinions and ideas, I would have been considered a fool because I would have continued celebrating the new year on April 1st.
(I might have done it just to be contrary).
Well, that brings me to my garden and my love for spring and all things spring: Colorful flowers newly blooming, birds soaring across the blue sky, squirrels skittering along my fence, and that warm sunshine and long days that lift my soul and make me smile and make me remember God’s promise of newness.
Yep, I’ve decided to celebrate the new year on April 1st from now on. . .
So, Happy New Year 2023!
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2023
Forgetting.
This is an interesting word: Forgetting.
Often times, we associate forgetting with a negative. Sure, we don’t want to forget our car keys or forget to pick our kids up at school, or forget the faces of our loved ones.
But.
Forgetting has a liberating aspect to it, too. There is emotional and spiritual freedom in forgetting. Of course, we never truly “forget” those wounds that this life can inflict on our souls.
But.
How can we move on if we set up housekeeping in a past that we can never, ever change? How can we make room for the joys of the present moment if we continuously ruminate about the traumas of the past?
The past will always loom in those quiet, shadowy corners of our existence. Once done, actions can never be undone. Once said, words can never be unspoken. Once written, those words can never truly be unwritten.
Memories can be triggered by what is seemingly inconsequential events: the squeal of tires on asphalt, a frighteningly familiar face in an airport terminal that turns out to be mistaken identity, the scent of Old Spice cologne in a crowded store, raindrops pelting a tin roof in the middle of the night. Yes, there are a multitude of triggers that dredge up memories that aren’t always comforting.
What to do with memories that aren’t always comforting, memories that can be triggered, that lay dormant beneath the surface of our lives until resurrected by something we hadn’t really noticed? Until, we did. And, those memories hurl us into a dark abyss and dump us into that darkness once again.
Isaiah 43:18 says: “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.”
Isaiah 43:19 says: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now, it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in a wasteland.”
God promises us that He is making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.
Isn’t this life like a wilderness? We wander lost and we suffer from thirst deep down in our souls.
But.
God promises us, His children, that He is making a way for us. He promises us that He will make streams in the wasteland.
God always keeps His promises.
He tells us not to dwell on the past.
He promises us that He is doing a new thing.
So, how do we move on from the past? How do we not dwell there in those dark spaces?
Joshua 1:9 says: “Have I not commanded you?” ‘Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go’.”
Trust that God will be with you even when you are in those dark spaces, trust that God is always with you.
God is greater than any fear that we have. God is greater than any anxiety or depression that we might have. God is greater than any past trauma that burdens us and attempts to spoil the joy that we have in this beautiful moment called the present.
To forget is not an easy action, but with God’s perfect love and His absolute protection, we can move on from the past.
After all, Our God has promised us.
Trust in God with all your heart, mind and soul.
And, that is the way to forget the past.
Because He is making a way in the wilderness for each of us.
God’s peace to each of you.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2023
Jenny Grace's Poetry and Creative Writing Techniques 