"jennings" poems
Oh, the sensation, the media frenzy,
The spotlight, the fame, the hullabaloo,
When anti-evolution laws
Were challenged by the ACLU!
The year: 1925.
The place: Dayton, Tennessee.
To say it was an extravaganza
Wouldn't be hyperbole.
For many people it was hard
To find a way to reconcile
Biblical accounts with science,
So science found itself on trial.
A young teacher, John T. Scopes,
Was willing to face prosecution
For breaking a Tennessee law for having
Given a lesson on evolution.
The "Monkey Trial" it was called.
The challenge meant swimming upstream
For the feisty lawyer Clarence Darrow,
Who helped to lead the defense team.
A prosecutor was William Jennings
Bryan, who with no apology
Loved to stir up outrage against
Evolutionary biology.
Defendant Scopes quickly found
It wouldn't take long for him to know
What it was like to have a part
In a multimedia reality show.
The courthouse received a make-over:
Platforms for newsreel cameras were built;
Extra spectator seats were added.
They were playing the trial to the hilt.
Concession stands sold food and drinks;
Toy monkeys were on display;
A chimp was dressed in a suit and fedora;
The clergy also joined the fray.
The media and the public loved it!
The country watched the trial progress.
What would win: science or scripture?
The answer was probably easy to guess.
After an eight-day trial, the jury
Deliberated. Nine minutes later
They had their verdict: guilty! How
Could someone question THEIR creator?
Scopes had actually never given
The lesson. That's what he later said.
Strangely, five days after the trial,
Williams Jennings Bryan dropped dead.
Laws later changed, but even during
Current times, some people feel
That stories from the Bible should be
In science textbooks. Now THAT'S surreal!
-by Bob B (11-6-18)
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC
"To Lionel Engers-Kennedy: to the memory of Hargrave Jennings: and
to A. C. W. G. and H. E. H."
Beneath the vine tree and the fig
Where mortal cares may not intrude,
On melon and on ******* pig
Although their brains are bright and big
Banquet the Great White Brotherhood.
Among the fountains and the trees
That fringed his garden's glowing border,
At sunset walked, and, in the breeze
With his disciples, took his ease
An Adept of the Holy Order.
"My children," Said the holy man,
"Once more I'm willing to unmask me.
This is my birthday; and my plan
Is to bestow on you (I can)
Whatever favour you may ask me."
Nor curiosity nor greed
Brought these disciples to disaster;
For, being very wise indeed,
The adolescents all agreed
To ask His Secret of the Master.
With the "aplomb" and "savoir faire"
Peculiar to Eastern races,
He took the secret then and there
(What, is not lawful to declare),
And ****** it rudely in their faces.
"A filthy insult!" screamed the first;
The second smiled, "Ingenious blind!"
The youngest neither blessed nor cursed,
Contented to believe the worst -
That He had spoken all his mind!
The second earned the name of ****
The first the epithet of *****
The third, as merry as a grig,
On melon and on ******* pig
Feasts with the Great White Brotherhood.
2.9k
You know they had to do it
I mean, you could see it from the start
You could see it wouldn't last long
They set the apple 'fore the cart
He was redneck country
Driving trucks and wearing jeans
She was old school classical
Jane Eyre type, a girl of means
Her family were descendants
His was only kin
He liked country fiddle
While she liked violin
She liked Bach and Handel
Vivaldi and Corelli
He liked Jones and Jennings
and thought Corelli was spaghetti
She spokes in terms of red and white
Meaning wine...and which to choose
To him one word was missing
And that word was the blues
Polar opposites at best
There was no other way to say
We couldn't see them ever lasting
One hour...'nor a day
She would listen to her Mozart
He...to Ronnie Dunn
They couldn't see it till it ended
We saw it from day one
Two divergent kinds of style
It was wrong right from the start
And in the end, when it was over
She had a truly, Baroque - n heart
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
Mr McParland;
our Primary 4 teacher lived in Newry,
Northern Ireland.
Not a City in those days,
but a dangerous border town.
He had wiry hair like a blonde Afro.
Pat Jennings;
world class goalkeeper for his country,
was also born in Newry.
Our man claimed to know him,
and went to school with the green giant.
We believed without reproach.
Yours truly;
age 6 & 7, in the years of the Hunger Strikes,
born in Belfast.
I was enthralled because Pat was of another
world to kids reared in our divided times.
A symbol of hope on an island of doubt.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
.
these are things that make me Sad:..
imagining how sad that Powder must be...
...after Labor day.
imagining how sad rabecca Black must be...
...on Wednesday.
imagining how sad quasiModo would be...
...in Gattaca.
imagining how sad rosie oDonnel would be...
...in Ethiopia.
imagining how sad benjamin Button woulda been..
...in Neverland.
imagining how sad sleeping Beauty would be...
...finally waking Up........n seeing meDusa.
imagining how scared free ***** must be...
...of sunshine aQuarium.
imagining how scared jimmy Neutron would be...
...in sleepy Hollow.
imagining how scared that Pingping musta been...
...of Sultan.
imagining how scared that Avatars woulda been...
...of ******
imagining how scared that Petrified wood would be...
...of paul Bunyan. (Dumb xD)
imagining how scared
six jodie Fosters would be
in a Panic room with seven Hannibals.
imaging how bad trig Palin would be...
...at Trigonometry. (too Much..)
imagining how bad epiLeptic children are...
...at Laser tag.
imagining how bad steven Hawking would be...
...at Roller derby.
imagining how bad that Rainman woulda been...
...at Rain dancing.
imaginging how bad helen Keller woulda been...
...at Karaoke.
imagining how bad desiree Jennings musta been...
...at Hopscotch.
imaginging how effortlessly,
robin willams was Acting...
...in will Hunting.
too Soon?...
...Oh........Sorry.
"Thats okay...
...its not your Fault."
Thanks babe.
.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
Yellow suits. He wore yellow suits. To work, to mourn. He wore yellow suits and his teeth were yellow too. But only if you could see them. Those silly dancing teeth poking through his tiny lips. He licked him, curling his lip, and I watched the wrinkles come and go like passing waves on his yellow face.
He plucked five dandelions from the garden I found him in from their plastic root that sat next to a yellow balloon. I was on a sidewalk first. Then stepped in. I saw his yellow suit. His yellow suits. Yellow suits.
I stepped in through the black ribcage that held this garden away from Irving Park rd. Well it wasn’t much of a park. The stones had names on them. And years on them too. The trees were big and I fell in love with a single ant. I dipped my finger into the maple of the tree and brought it to that man. And his yellow suit. He sat on a stone with the word “Emma Jennings --- 1953-1989”
Well this rock was young. And really didn’t look like much of a rock at all. Mr. Yellow Suits wasn’t looking at that or the dandelions he was stepping on now. He was staring into the green grass. I walked up to his shoulder and smelt his ear who had three stray brown hairs and placed that juicy ant on his shoulder.
“Yellow suits” he said, pushing the cuff up on his left arm. I smiled and placed my fingernail at the bottom of his prickly grey chin. I pushed his face up, “of all the yellow things to love”
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 8:13 PM UTC
*Cossack Cowboys
Riding Llamas
That they dress
In pink pajamas
Teeny boppers
Blowing bubbles
Biker chicks
Causing trouble
Nuns in Habits
Punks in chains
One or two
Of the deranged
Rubbing Buddha belly
Cravers
And the band
Harvey Danger
David Bowie
Elton John
Both of them
With Spacesuits on
Vegetarians
Eating chicken
Love it fried
Finger licking
In a line to
Meet and greet Obama
Now I wish
I'd brought my Mama
On the T.V.
Slicing, Dicing
Infomercials
Are enlightening
Lindsey Lohan
There's more trouble
Send the Police
On the double
Michael Jackson
With his monkey
Chandelier
Swinging junkies
Bottle Rocket
Ridding crickets
Dolly Parton
Doing dishes
Tubs of Crisco
Set for wrestling
Bee Gees do be
Disco dancing
With Bruce Jenner
Wearing makeup
Dolly's kitchen
Filled with soap suds
Rubber band
Bumper babies
Call me odd
Don't call me crazy
Shooting stars
Carry Uzis
Washed up stars
Drink beer in Koozies
Donnie Osmond
Singing show tunes
As Marie blows
Animal balloons
Circus Barkers
And their Minions
Waylon left us
Shooter Jennings
Heidi Klum
Without makeup
To say the least
She looks a bit rough
American flags
As rainbow banners
Peal, scratch, and sniff
Talking bananas
Hookha smoking
Manatees
Oh yea...
and then there's me
These are just a few of the things that lean
On the lamp post of my dreams*
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
(10/25/12)
The black days of history that many do not know
And many refuse to accept - of how the black man
Helped AMERICA to be the greatest country yet.
They was brought here as slaves because the
Color of their skin !
But their minds was never searched to see
What lied within.
Every ethnic group that came to the states
Had many a hardship that they had to face.
Every race that came was given a derogatory name
Which they had to accept and had felt the shame.
But they all contributed to this great nation of ours
Which is now known as the greatest power.
These are just a few facts of what the blacks
Had given to this nation, and many of these
Became part of our salvation.
FACTS: )1) john love- invented the pencil sharpener in 1897
2) Joseph lee -invented a bread making machine that mixed
The ingredients and kneaded the dough in 1895
3) Thomas l Jennings was the first African American to receive
A patent in 1821 which was for a dry cleaning process.
He used the money earned from his patent to purchase
Relatives out of slavery and support abolitionist causes.
4) madam c.j. walker (1867-1919) daughter of a former slave
Who suffered hair loss in her twenties and created hair care
Products , and allowed her to open a factory and school to
Train hundreds of black women to be economically self sufficient
And become one of the first female millionaires in U.S. history.
There is still something that burns in my heart
And when I think of it -it tears me apart
Of all the people in this great nation
That have been put to the ground
There lies one race that still lives
Way below the poverty line and
The government says there doing fine.
The “AMERICAN INDIAN” who had
Most all treaties broken and of this the
Government hasn’t spoken.
Many families of five and more
Living in a shack without a door
Just a blanket to stop the wind
To me this is a crying sin.
The Indian charities having to buy
fifty five gallon drums for water
And many of them on “back order”.
I know that I started writing this poem for the blacks
But on the Indian nations - I can’t turn my back.
We have to help one another, for we’re all
Sister and brother.
GOD BLESS US ALL
© L . RAMS
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Oak trees aligned all dressed in green with
an occasional site of a Bald Cypress tree.
Homes decked out in painted shades of fall
as birds fly overhead singing so openly free.
As narrow streets pave the way throughout
the neighborhood.
There's a peacefulness surrounding that makes
all seem well and good.
The horizon gives way to a painted masterpiece
of faded white, blue and sunshine gold.
Leaving one to wonder about the many wonderful
amounts of feelings that such sites may hold.
There's a sense of pride that one must have to
possess this God given gift.
It's good to know that the owners of this place
have smiles that give others much needed lifts.
The silence proves to be much welcomed and
proves the many good stories told.
That good small town living and life is a good
thing for every man's God given soul.
God allows for things to change for a many good
reasons, on time and never ever too late.
Allowing for a chance to share, see and visit such
magnificent dream come true labeled as 10188.
By: Willie Jennings
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
I wasn't home that day
When Old Sam came a knockin'
But I got to give 'em credit
For the boldness of his drop in
Cause Oh Ginger she's a cookie
She don't rely on men
And Old Sam he ran off with Sookie
When Junior was 'bout Ten
The Jennings were my neighbors
But the cops they came one night
Ginger she cut young Sammy
With her daddy's switchblade knife
Ya them were the good old days
When lovin' was an art
Livin' in that 1970's
Flint trailer park
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
In stark liquid darkness I drown
Only the voices in my head to convince me
I'm still among the land of the living
One sounds like me
The other sounds like my dad
After his voice turned weak
Only two days into a hospital stay
When a blood clot killed him in the middle of the night
I was not there
I ask if he was asleep when it happened
He avoids the question
I ask if he died in pain and confusion, alone in the darkness
He wants to talk about George Jones
So I talk to him about George Jones
And Waylon Jennings and Merle Haggard
All the country singers I love in part
Because he loved them so
I stand outside and listen to the conversation
He never asks me why I wasn't there
I never tell him
I let him talk and talk and talk some more
Until his voice sounds even more sore
Leukemia had it's prize stolen from right before it's eyes
They'd only had time to shave his head
He didn't look much like my dad
I ask him how he made it seem easier than it was
He seemed to take my mother's leaving harder
But that was a long time ago, those years
Probably taught him some tricks
He said it was easier
Because I wasn't there
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
Sam Jennings:
“What’s coming must be new — must be strange and fitful, awkward and passionate. A lover rediscovering the world, confused by its tactless kisses, yet charmed, endlessly but
*its dents and imperfections, its sadness and its religion,
the dimples where its ancient smile*
~~~~~~~
Oh, how I unabashedly covet his words,
Oh, how I wish all lovers here,
the would be lovers,
the never~me-woulda~coulda~crying when & why,
dinged and damaged by
first or failed prior attempts,
the oft heard discouraging words,
or worse the chilled silence of ghosting
The new romanticism,
colored by technology, damaged by the quiet disappearance of
dropouts hiding behind untrue names,
hid behind blackened screens,
and loss of shame & embarrassment at and of
the sadness that pervades the religion of these days of
lesser actual romantic love
Embrace the dents and the imperfections,
avoid those who present measuring cups of their attractives listed in priority order qualifications,
indeed
realize that it is within the dimples and smiles,
most genuine.
lies the yellow brick road
to the red rubies,
adorning the crown we seek,
of good love, true love,
with all of its accompanying
imperfections
unhid inside the dings, dents,
even inside the dimples and smiles.
and your own starry scars,
for who among can free admit,
it's imperfections that are
the most inviting
to only love poets
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 2:33 PM UTC
i didn't understand half
the words he said
and i don't understand half
the words you write
michael jackson
and waylon jennings
wrapped in a paper towel
"papa would be proud of you"
scratched in the back of
a children's book
it's the oddest thing
to no longer miss
someone who's been
gone so long
an odder thing to sit
in silence on your bed
with the fitted sheet all pulled
off the side next to the wall
feeling your best friend's
little sister's scratchy blue
nylon mattress rub
up against your sore feet
and open card
after card
after card
filled with glittering
words of praise and
monetary gifts
and then read about all
the things about you
that people think are
worthy of mentioning
and you start to
see a pattern
"thank you for serving"
"humor"
"creativity"
"imagination"
"let God lead you"
"keep rapping"
(thank you
and by the way
i don't rap only
occasionally slam)
it starts to feel like a
bulletpoint hallmark eulogy
like you've left your body
and are reading about someone else
reviewing all the better
more visible parts of yourself
the parts deemed loud
enough to be acknowledged.
and you start to see
what's lurking off
the edge of the card
and the words they didn't write
the places that you
went wrong
the question marks
behind their eyes
wondering why they
haven't seen you for two months
why your hair is a different color
why someone else is in your seat
and the semicolons in
your stomach
when you realize that
you've made a mistake
and even with all the hurts caused
you've still got a family out there.
i'll say this
when it comes to
graduations and funerals
you find out who your friends are
the people who matter
will show up in the end.
am i mislead in thinking
that sometimes people
don't say everything they
think or feel until it's too
late because it takes a
loss to make them realize?
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
Mnyamata
I can't honestly tell you this has been the happiest year of my life, because I've no idea. I can't remember a lot of my life, so there's no way to be sure. But what I can tell you, is I could relive this year over and over again forever, because it has been so astoundingly happy. Every second of it, from today, a year ago when we told each other how we felt, to our first date at the Streetlight Manifesto concert at the Neptune, to our first kiss in Jennings Park, and the poem you wrote me, to all those drives home from your house, where we could do nothing but hold each other's faces and stare at each other in the dark because we were so in love, we didn't know what else to do. I'd relive it all, forever. I love you, Ryan. Happy Anniversary.
ndimakukonda
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
but right as it ends
iran goes
i think they gonna crack
its goes one
two bombs
three bombs
four
everybody listen
and frankly
mitt romney
that cats a ******
a ****** in his mind
he may be slightly
slightly insane
but i guess he's what some call the best
and i disagree
*** this mans just a modern form of a ****
he has no chivarly
he's got the dollar on his back
some sort of corporate greg jennings
enough about romney
we all know he's a just a piece ****
enough about about the bomb
we all know the worlds going to ****
and as were standing in the sun burning a doobie
and as were standing in the sun basking in the beauty
revelations on the mind
its never withstanding
staring at the world from high above
look and see what you've made me do
standing in the shadows
giving my love
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 11:09 AM UTC
All things considered
I'm not too big a fan
Of the state I'm in.
Considering I always skip over
The denial part.
I've been at bat for too long
To not know when to take a pitch
Outside
And when to take one in the ribs.
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 1:16 AM UTC
There's an old house up on Jennings Street
In a yard so overgrown, you can't see your feet
A vine grows up the side and a shed near the back
With a door that doesn't meet the frame and track.
A hole in the roof, houses a family of Bluejays
Who chirp and play as the world passes by
Babies jumping off that same roof, learning to fly
Untaxed by the society seen in people eyes.
Some say it's haunted, others say just condemned
But inside those cryptic walls is a place few have been
Once you've entered, time stands very still
Every creak tells a story and the air is thinner with a chill.
Musk and dust cover where a family thrived,
Before this technology that made us so unalive.
I wouldn't dare to move a single thing
I bring only what my eyes recall.
This place was not my place, not even my time
In a body I only borrow, who am I to call anything mine?
Others blinded by greed, believe they are owed this history
So as I left this house I locked the door, to save the mystery.
There's an old house on Jennings Street
Leave it be, it's perfect.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
That was before all the decisions.
Before the car was packed and
you drove with such a pain in your
knee.
That was the last time I was
thin and my hair was not yet
pink.
Before I knew you were around
the corner. You were not yet
the last to set my mind reeling.
Tomorrow will see you wrapped
In the linen of your generation,
the symbol of a freed man.
Wallace Steven's predicted
you but I was not listening.
To be freed was not the point.
All that was before I saw the
exhaustion on my face.
Waylon Jennings here.
Full stop
Yet all my life foretold you.
The brave of you and the
blindness of my ever
singing anthem.
I leave you with s soft
flower
To
Wear
in your hair.
Caroline Shank
April of my discontent
4.20.2024
Apr 20, 2024
Apr 20, 2024 at 12:49 PM UTC
Imagine the steps you take with
the sand under your feet.
The wind blowing at your back,
the sunlight's a treat.
Imagine ships sailing carelessly
out in the open sea.
You're resided to your cabin
sipping a cup of warm tea.
Imagine the wings of the seagulls
spreading effortlessly.
Racing after breadcrumbs that's
thrown in the air so unselfishly.
Imagine watching the sunset over
into the western skies.
These are the perfect images for
days when tears fill your eyes.
by: Willie J. Jennings
4/25/14
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
*for Courtney S. Jennings' "upon the surface of the deep"--
(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXCVI)
Depression's clammy fingers slip fr'intents
'Non twixt her empty ones cuz in betrayl:
She is a woman. Like some ghost t'avail,
That mist creeps through her veins til ah, from thence
We feel it in our bones, as if good sense
Bows low the head to yield to that detail
Which eats small joys erst wont to be more hale,
And she melts through the floor, a puddle hence.
Thus I embrace November's ghastly tour
Of Death and call grey hours MINE likeas due.
Find solace in these naked boughs that stir
But dimly to winds' chilly breath, as't woo;
Yearn thus to wander through the firs, in poor
'Scuse? Nah, cuz Thy voice seems there, or is't who?
07Mar18b
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 12:12 AM UTC
Waylon Jennings is twanging over the airwaves,
Asking me if I bore witness to the events unfolding between him and the Apple of his eye.
I can hear it though,
He's got a load of chew in,
And I'm jealous.
Quitting *****
Doesn't matter if it is good for you or not,
It just *****
Memories come rushing back in when I smell that minty tobacco.
A "graduation gift" from our Drill Sergeants,
Just offering us some if we wanted it,
Seeing as we were no longer recruits,
But honest to god infantryman,
The jolt of nicotine directly to the mouth after 4 months of nothing,
The head buzz hit me like a sledgehammer,
But thankfully enough I'm not alone.
Another memory,
I'm trying to get the taste of bile out of my mouth, as we're dumping our gear after a long ruck,
The blood seeping through the heels of my boots,
A familiar blue tin is offered to me by my team leader,
I nod to him in thanks,
As I wipe the sweat from my forehead.
A more painful one,
The lingering taste of midrange bourbon,
Mixing in with the harsh bite of *****
Toasting to friends lost.
The present time gently brings me back to my chair as the song fades out.
Yes Mr. Jennings, I can see what she's doing to you,
I'm where you're at right now.
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC