jessica-hughes
I am an author of poetry. Currently, developing my work into the inspirational, love, heartache realms of writing. Many of my fellow poets, peers, and friends know me as JHPOETRY. Abbreviated for Jessica Hughes... / / So far, I've written two books of poetry. My first book was strictly experimental online publishing. However, my second book " The Gaping Sky," / contemporary classical poems is nicely done and intended to captivate the reader. It can purchased @ Lulu.com. What now? My hope is that you, the reader, poet, and friend will continue to read my writings as I continue to pursue my career in becoming a well known author. In the near future, I wish to create an E-Book of poems at Hello Poetry! Writing poetry is my passion; a blessing from above and meant to be shared. To read more about me visit my web @ http://simplebutdeep.webs.com. Thank you / / http://acutewonders.blogspot.com
Can we share comforting solitude.
Under my uncle's shed.
I like to go there when it rains.
To hear the drizzle upon a tin roof.
There, I have been in slumber.
But, if you sit with me, I would
have more to offer.
Now , I hold a hat made of woven fabric.
That hovers the chilly days and nights.
But, warmth would reside without
furnace or fireplace heating.
When your skin has brushed my skin
igniting beautiful wildfires into my soul.
Although the day is sunny, birds seem
to fly back home.
In restless solitude I pine beside the pecan tree.
The tree is now bare for season is changing.
Today, flopped among a small patch of grass
I imagine you beside me.
I hear the rustling in the woods where a worn walk
has been made into a muddy pathway.
As I close my eyes, the warmth of your breath
brings me out of boredom. Then I don't feel alone.
I grin, laugh a little each time.
Until the path is clear and your face disappears.
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 12:50 PM UTC
Meaningful is the wayward child that is found,
For he or she finds favor in thus adoring praise.
Replenishing spiritual vines that spread messages
of hope above and beyond.
Therefore, the third eye knoweth all.
Whose breath gives life to the faint hearted.
As barriers are tore down, crossing over...
Anointed one, where, the precious angel entered.
You are the brothers and sisters in faith building.
They do preserver as the battle of Jericho.
In a molding guidance of clay made hands...
For their is hope of feeding the milk as well as the flesh.
Kisses of glory befall unto your good graces.
Thou wisdom quench the hell like rain pour puddles.
His world! His judgment! His wrath!
Bestow thou honor, in hills of perfect talk.
Fatherless child! Fatherless child! Beware of the dragon den.
Slay your enemies with delicate wings:the cup of kindness.
As you are humbled in purple linens, fading all unseemly.
The soldier of bravery, when thou hour come, there is a home.
Cross over into the well enlightened pathways.
Make the rough roads a gateway to the everlasting promise.
Sing in jubilation, for tribulation is done and your vision seen.
May 21, 2011
May 21, 2011 at 10:21 AM UTC
Gentle breaths
dandle under
waves of water
as the spirits
emerge in an
oyster shell
in and out
of sultry tones
between
whispered gargles
that expel saliva
full of love
in each
intoxicating pour
of perfect pearls
lubing the heart
introducing
the underworld
in starfish light
as mammals
in heat
spew deeper
and lower
they sink
amid the corals
in and out
releasing bubbles
of bliss
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 10:02 AM UTC
It has proven its point.
The barrier between you and I.
While the ceramic tile presses
against my feet. In a distance,
there the plastic siding hugs
the brick foundation. As shrubbery
is not yet green nor my pockets.
Inside, the heat sweats the yellow
stained-sheet rock. Into the pit
of my stomach, causing a burning
sensation. This is a four by four.
As my legs walk around in a circle.
I think... Where found, wood chippings
and bread crumbs that hover over
a Persian rug. The pattern of sunflowers.
Like the ones on out-dated place mats.
And I sat, rubbing away the goo from
underneath each one. While the air
thickened, regal like a stiff neck. I wait
for a sign to say when. Most of the cheap
clothing has been packed. They are ready
to move. They are dancing. Across the floor
of sunflower dreams.
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 11:07 AM UTC
Ordinary she said, the plain Jane of feminine.
I'll gladly take up with her.
There should not be a shimmer around my
crown. Nor lashes that drive men to wild.
There is not but one side for a woman of
my caliber to parade. Look at me over here.
Like you did yesterday, before I traded in
heels for flats, short skirts for long ankle dresses.
You will dream of a different woman.
She is the new era. Where the girls love
themselves willing as silverware.
I am passion in a bottle. The mistress naught ******
As mirrors are satiated in secret praise.
My wishes are smoked out by the steam.
They fade deep into you.
Your sparkling compromise in mediocre view.
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 9:51 AM UTC
I shall not sing a May song.
A May song should be gay.
I'll wait until November
And sing a song of gray.
I'll wait until November
That is the time for me.
I'll go out in the frosty dark
And sing most terribly.
And all the little people
Will stare at me and say,
"That is the Crazy Woman
Who would not sing in May."
Anonymous submission.
Gwendolyn Brooks
Mar 26, 2011
Mar 26, 2011 at 11:18 AM UTC
Little Susie was eager to go to the toy store.
Her mother was buying her the newest doll
“Charming Cherry”. She had to have one.
All of her friends had one. She was already
dressed in mixed match clothing. Proudly,
shaking her mother, modeling her new look.
However, mother was tired and scolded
Little Susie for awakening her so early in
the morning. Oh, Susie was so anxious
as she went in and out of the house, irritating
the neighbors with her frequent hellos and goodbyes.
Finally, her mother was ready. Susie was to eager
to eat breakfast. “Let's go mother, someone may
buy them all up.” Hurry... As they arrived at
the toy store, she nicely asked the clerk, “where are
the Charming Cherry dolls?” She raced down aisle
number five. Her mother so tired from working
the graveyard shift could barely keep pace.
Susie big brown eyes, looked fearlessly as a
hunter stalking its prey. She looked and looked until
her eagerness started to fade. “Where are they, she
asked her mother?” Her mother went and got a
stock boy to help look for the doll. It appeared to
be sold out. Susie couldn't believe it. Now what
was she going to show her best friend Barbie.
Her emotions ran along side her flushed red face.
She was very upset , to the point she went into a tantrum.
Susie began knocking other dolls off the shelves.
She reached high as her short legs could to do damage.
Not much considering her fist was about as big as a
golf ball. However, she hit hard enough to cause a
seen in the store. She and her mother were politely
asked to leave. When Susie got home, her mother
threatened to punish her by not allowing any play time.
Susie slammed the room door, kicking the walls, leaving
shoe prints. Screaming, it's all your fault repeatedly.!
All of a sudden , she took the Raggedy Ann doll and
beat it until the seams started to loose. She beat the doll
against her dresser, walls, even stomped on it.
As the poor, innocent Raggedy Ann laid on the bed; the
stuffing coming out from around her head. Susie, screamed
one more time, “ it's all your fault!” When her mother
entered the room, she found Susie in the corner just staring.
“The manager said a new shipment of Charming Cherry
will be in tomorrow.” “You see, never give up my Little Susie.”
(I'm sorry Raggedy Ann)
Mar 26, 2011
Mar 26, 2011 at 10:15 AM UTC
If I close my eyes in sleep, will I come back to me?
And if I do, will things be the same? I hope not...
Time moves on. For everything must change, but
do they really? It is only a recycled life of lost wonder.
That insist on staying in orbit. We are in robotic fashion,
until someone finally zooms into our pattern.
Either through happiness or extreme heartbreak.
Unlikely in mellow encounters. This could make a
world of difference. These visual side effects.
We check our to-do-list in meeting our desired goals.
The ones we have already accomplished in some form or other.
Still, if I close my eyes in sleep, will I come back to me?
And if I do will things be the same? I hope not....
For life always changes. Time moves on, whether we like it or not.
Mar 26, 2011
Mar 26, 2011 at 9:22 AM UTC
When I become rich , I want to buy every
download, paper back book I desire. But my
money is funny. It's empty pockets bunny.
So until I save some more pennies;
I'll relax and read great endings. Tossing
my ebooks into the cart. They are on my
WISH LIST you **** But my money is
funny honey! No Joke :---0
Mar 8, 2011
Mar 8, 2011 at 9:57 AM UTC
The brass trumpet sounds
In the dark, where weeps aloud
And hearts are made of silver
To match her necklace that slithers
As a snake which tangos
When their bracelets dangle
No one seems much surprised
For her dance, the cobra rise
To greet the man on the street
As he is poisoned head to feet
Shake the jeepers, I'm telling you
If not, may your spirit be cool
She is definitely a piece of work
And drunken whispers offer jerks
But, they do not have a clue
This woman moves to voodoo
Wiggle... Jiggle.. Lady Dancer
You eat them like a malice cancer
Wiggle... Jiggle... Lady Dancer
Tomorrow, you will have to answer.
Mar 8, 2011
Mar 8, 2011 at 9:24 AM UTC