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

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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. ~~

Friends…… the small things they do.. can last a lifetime

::My Dearest::
 
You’ve heard me laugh
You’ve felt me cry
You’ve watched as my world has crumbled
You’ve seen me dream
You’ve seen me fly
And you have been there when I stumble
Through all the years and hours and words
you have stayed a loyal friend
I know you dream of us forever
But for now we must remain only friends
I know we had a dream of two
And some where we lost our way
Even when our words were angry
Friends we have always stayed
I love you still and I will always be near
If ever you should lose your way
And maybe that dream of two
Might come back to life one day
 
©09.12.04
Bonnie Jean Higgins/All Rights Reserved
~Written for my dear friend Paul D. Aronson and published Author ~

Green Upon Green

Green upon green
Water drenched trees
Under a canopy I write
Comforted by the sounds of twilight

Green turns to gray
As the day starts to fade
The colors go home
When the Moon takes the throne

Still I sit here and write
A poets delight
Under a canopy of trees
Touched by a gentle spring breeze

Gray turns to blue
As the stars come in view
I must go back home
To my fortress of stone

Green upon green
My eyes you have seen
My voice you have heard
My words you now read

Bonnie Jean Higgins
©March 12, 2013
~ Inspired by a Willow Tree after a Rainstorm ~

 

Willow

Willow

The Poet

~ The Poet ~

Sitting on a dock in the middle of the lake
Long hair curling in the mist
Stars falling to Earth
Moonlight in her eyes
In her hand rests a book
Crickets chirp and chime
As she writes her lines
She is in her own make-believe world
Wind dances in her hair
There are Castle’s in her stare
The words she writes
Release her soul

Bonnie Jean Higgins
02-13-2013

This poem is about my poetry spot at Lake Montclair

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