The Artist

Her brush is but a shovel,
Her canvas a patch of dirt,
Her paints consist of the flowers and ferns that God has placed upon this Earth.
Her artwork is ever changing as the seasons come and go,
Her art is always beautiful even when sprinkled with snow
Her daughter is a musician,
her son has a talent for sketch,
Her husband is a jack of all trades and has passed on all of his gifts.
But, she does not realize her talent to create beauty every day,
Her garden is a masterpiece that is always on display.
My mother is an artist
My mother is my friend
My mother is a Survivor,
And I cherish her to no end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Mother’s Day Mom

Bonnie Jean Higgins (Carroll) 2002

lily

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While Scorpio Dreams

~ The tide goes to the shore,
With each breath you take,
Steady, peaceful sleep.
And I wish I could share it with you.
Alas, I am waltzing with my demons this night.
Your face is so peaceful,
Like the serenity of a summer song.
And well, I am
That ocean that toils and churns,
Never sleeping, ever moving.
And I wonder what dreams you are dreaming,
As I sit here in the candlelight
And watch you sleep. ~

B.J.H. 09-19-2014

A Few Simple Words

I write to you
But the words are never right
I start and stop
Scribble, scratch
And throw away page after page
Of frustration
My heart is full of emotions
My mind is a kaleidoscope of pictures
And I, A POET!
Cannot find the words to express them
I will never stop my quest
To capture the perfect words
That express what I feel in my soul
And see when I close my eyes
Until then
I offer you a few simple words
I love you……

B.J.H.
April 2014
Dedicated to certain Scorpio… I adore you P.J.C.

Beamer’s Knob

~ Beamer’s Knob ~

Just past dusk
fireflies sparkling
Against a majestic wood
A little girl
Just about five
Screams in delight
At the moonlit night
Great Uncle and Dad
Talking game
The little girl
Trying to catch night-bugs in vain
Beagle puppies barking
And chasing shoestrings
As she rolls down a steep hill
Giggling
Laughing
A starry eyed girl
Mom and Grandma in the kitchen
Little brother by Daddy’s hand
The little girl laying in the grass
Falls in love with the stars.

B.J.H.
02-13-2003

This poem was wrote about my Great Uncle Ballard’s Beamer place on Beamer’s Knob.  This is dedicated to my Great Uncle Ballard and my Grandmother Higgins who have both passed on to the Summerlands.

Dreaming Through November ~ Virgo’s Gaze

Virgo’s Gaze

I am watching the sun set
Below November trees
So brilliant
They all but eclipse
The sun’s fiery decent.
I have been trying to craft
An ending to an
Uncooperative poem.
And even twilight’s show
Fails to inspire me.
With a frustrated sigh
I look up and find myself
Under the intense gaze
Of the Virgo sitting opposite me.
He tilts his head and says;
“You look fetching when
You are lost in thought”.
Maybe it was the timbre
Of his voice
Or the sunset reflected in
His eyes
But magickally
Inspiration found me
And I thanked him with
An unguarded smile,

B.J.H. November 2013
~~ Thank you M.J.G. for that compliment. ~~