I Suppose I Do Get Weary

The weather outside may look peachy keen,
but inside my soul has been set aflame
by the lightning of the storm that deals out rain
in waterfalls that flow into the river of my veins.

My weak heart.

Oh my weak heart that’s worn out from constant pain.

I suppose I do get weary.

I get weary of the advice from others thinking they can save me from the ache,
thinking that lectures they read somewhere will guide me in the right direction.

They don’t know.
They don’t know that this is familiar territory and I’ve walked this neighborhood time and time again.
They think they know from text, but I already know from experience,

and man do I get weary.

But I’ll smile that smile, nod that nod and laugh that laugh to keep it all down.

I’ll keep it down until it drowns in that river
Or until it burns out into ashes of black and silver.

 -Deneé J.

Dream of You: In Memory of my Father

We were walking, you and I
down a sidewalk, back and forth
You weren’t speaking, no surprise
looking distant towards the North
Reading thoughts
and counting steps
Feeling lost
expressing regrets
But I knew you’d have to leave
of much, would I complain
From my memory I’ll retrieve
the treasures, the plights, the pain
So on you went, up North
I’ll walk alone, for now, just me
While I go back and forth
waiting for another visit in my dreams.

-Deneé J.


This was entered in a little contest hosted by Half-Price Books blog, in which I did not win. :/ Anyhow, it’s national humor month and poetry month, which is why they wanted a humorous poem. The only thing we had to to was to make sure the word bump was used, and so here it is!


I’ve done it! It’s finished!
It’s all gone as planned!
I’ve built this fine bookcase
with my own two hands!

With mounds of tape
and cardboard and foam
I now have a place
for my books to call home

With books organized
They’re standing with pride
I stand back and smile
and admire all sides

But as I turn to leave
my shoulder, it bumps!
The case twists and turns
then falls to a hump!

“My babies!” I cry,
as they go in a heap
but I suppose that’s what I get
for being so cheap.

-Deneé J.

A Quick Ode to my Surrogate Abode: My Library

 I consider the library so much more than just a destination, it’s an experience and a portal. It has opened up worlds upon worlds of excitement that would have otherwise gone unknown to me. With books, audio books, video games, dvds, cds, and other paraphernalia, it is a cornucopia of information. My library has inspired me to start book blogs, including this one, and has inspired me to write more so as maybe someday I can open my world to others as well. I have sleuthed with Agatha Christie, and have taken trips through George R.R. Martin’s mind; I’ve trekked through the Shire and crossed through the Phantom Tollbooth; I’ve found that the Sun Also Rises and have learned the Importance of Being Earnest! Yes, my library has opened the doors of fascinating places, and will continue to do so for as long as there are stories to share.

-Deneé J.

It’s National Library Week!

Spread some love to your local library!

Spring has come

Spring has come, and the birds they chirp

all throughout the hours

Life erupts as the animals all flirt

and the snakes turn men into cowards.

The sweat, the rain, it has all fallen

and, well, there is that nice breeze

But that irritating, pesky pollen

brings a constant sneeze.

The flies and hornets have come to play

Those gnats that go straight for the eyes

I hate that I wished Winter away

and for that, I apologize.

-Deneé J.

(photo is my property)


Presents left unopened.
December’s left behind.
The world has already started
it’s steady crumbling decline.

Innocence is broken
shattered, turned to ash
Guilt becomes unheard of
the grief has turned to mask

Too often we come together in sadness
misery, anger and tears…
We blame each other’s ignorance
and with this, it fuels our fears.

Stomp out in our frustration
and beg and plead ‘no more’
And go tread on like soldiers
in this never ending war

-Deneé J.

This poem derived from some feelings I was having after the Sandy Hook Elementary School catastrophe. May we keep their families, as well as others involved in these senseless acts, in our prayers.

Caged Bird by Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

Maya Angelou, 1983


Happy Birthday!

and Happy Poetry Month 🙂

Today, it rained

Rain pulls me into reverie
to bring me away from my harsh reality
Thunder shakes beneath my feet
Shaking the core
Jostling my soul
Clashing intervals most complete
Tink, Tap, Tlonk
Sweet small clatter of rain
Drops of random
The subdued pain
Light creates cracks
Bright flashes whitewash the sky
Rain forever
don’t let it die.

-Deneé J.