Pinball & Scrambled Words

My pinball machine brain
is pinging off invisible obstacles
Scoring points that are impossible
And in the chaos
The words that I NEED to write
Are scrambled
Relocating.
Every time the silver ball pings
On invisible obstacles.
How can a writer write
with pinging in the brain
and scrambled words?

B.J.H.
09-22-2013

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Marisol, Chopin, & Bukowski

Chopin came first,
His piano dark, moody
The “Poet” composer,
I slept to his notes.
Bukowski came later,
His words raw and real,
Poetry from the fringe,
Bukowski is inspired
by Alcohol and Chopin,
As am I.

B.J.H.
09-10-2013

Enchanted

Brown eyes mesmerize
Green eyes flutter
Hearts skip a beat
Then pound like thunder
Head tilts forward
Hair brushes her face
Kissing ensues
At a frantic pace
Passion builds
Like an ocean wave
A sigh of release
Leads to a sleepy gaze
His arms are strong
He holds her tight
They embrace the spell
Of this enchanted night

B.J.H.
Ocean City May 2011

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 ~

Moth told me about his dream, I wove it into a poem.

~~ Whispers ~~

A whisper caresses sleeping eyes
A shadow moves away from the bed
Stirring so softly in a bed of white linen
The sleeper raises his head
His drowsy gaze lands on the hooded figure
Standing at his bedchamber door
By instinct he pulls out his dagger intent on slitting the intruder’s throat
The invader steps back, but alas it is to late
He has caught it before it could take flight
With weapon in hand he peers into the depths
of the thin midnight blue frock
He pulls back the hood with the tip of his blade
And stops as he sees a girls face
Before him stands a wide eyed damsel
With an innocent smile on her lips
Green eyes dancing red hair burning
And under her cloak she wears not a stitch
She takes a step forward and gazes into his eyes
And whispers a kiss on his lips
He reaches to take her, but she is much quicker
She is gone leaving nothing but her scent
As he looks around dazed
A voice drifts his way telling him she will return
Some distant night she will take flight
And bring him up to her home
Her tower in dreamland
Her home of enchantment
She promises forever that she will be his
But until that time all he will find
Are whispers on his sleepy lips

Bonnie Jean Higgins

©08.06.04