I Need a Word to Last Throughout the Years

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Who saves a summer saint too often burned

When sermons yellow like the leaves of fall?

My mind dismisses everything I learned;

When winter comes my faith forgets it all.

I need a word to last throughout the years;

Three months are not enough to savor spring,

And blossoming flowers are sure to wane.

My plummeting desires are now fears;

Like falling suns they mange white doves’ wings

And char the angels’ mouths so they don’t sing.

There is no word to loiter in my veins.

Shawn R. Jones

(Womb Rain, Finishing Line Press, 2008)

Your Life has Significant Value

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 Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me. –Psalm 51:5

I wasn’t born into the best circumstances. My mother was seventeen-years-old, on her way to college on a full scholarship.  When she became pregnant, my grandmother was devastated.  Too poor to pay the doctor to perform an illegal abortion, they experimented with pills, Tanqueray Gin, turpentine, and boiling water.  When the popular home remedy failed, my mother was sent to live with her Uncle and Aunt in Hartford, Connecticut.  She was supposed to put me up for adoption, return home to Atlantic City, and prepare to leave for Howard University in the fall. However, when she was eight months pregnant, she changed her mind and refused to sign the adoption papers.

My great uncle and aunt sympathized with their niece, but they still felt she was too young to handle the responsibilities of motherhood. They offered to adopt me, hoping my mother would feel more comfortable knowing her baby would be reared by someone in the family. To their surprise, my mother refused their offer, and much to my grandmother’s dismay, her college bound daughter returned home with a baby.

My grandmother had a right to be concerned. My mother was poor, unmarried, and knew very little about parenting, but when I came into her life, she gave me the best that she had.  My mother also wanted the best for herself.  When I was in Head Start, she went back to school.  Four years later, she graduated from Rutgers-Camden with honors, and used her education to educate me.  She also sent me to dancing school, read the Bible to me daily, and kissed me every night before bed.  Not once in my childhood did I feel unwanted or unloved, so when she told me about the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy and my birth, I was shocked, but not angry.

You may wonder why I know this story and why I’m sharing it with you.  First, I know this story because my mother understood that sharing her darkest moments with me would strengthen our bond, and I, in turn, would not be afraid to come to her with my own transgressions. Second, it is important for you to know that over four decades ago, God decided that I should live. He had a plan for me even though I was “unplanned,” and he definitely has a plan for you.   God can work anything out for you, and his plan will come to fruition regardless of your circumstances.

Dear Lord, please teach me to cherish my life.  Remind me that you have a wonderful plan for me even though I was born in sin, and thank you for your divine virtue that is more powerful than my worst transgressions. Amen.

Reprinted from Pictures in Glass Frames (Ambassador International 2011)

  By Shawn R. Jones

 website: www.shawnrjones.com

Author of the devotional book, Pictures in Glass Frames   http://t.co/BxiNwWRG

and the poetry chapbook, Womb Rain, 

http://www.amazon.com/Womb-Rain-New-Womens-Voices/dp/1599242699/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1337717218&sr=8-1  

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 Pictures in Glass Frames is also available on the Nook, kindle, and itunes.

I Will Not Write About You Anymore

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I’ve decided not to

write about

how you were

and were not there,

how you cared,

but did not care.

I refuse to write about

how you were

a was

and a was not,

a sometimes,

an if, and a maybe

and a never

not ever father

who always is

but is not

a part of me.

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Shawn R. Jones

Reprinted from “Womb Rain”

(Finishing Line Press, 2008)

Blacker the Berry

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Blacker the Berry

Candy coated complexions

stand in milky way fibers

stronger than maple trunks.

Their pronounced veins cross

beneath dark skin

coiled like vines

up the bark of a tree.

Shades of every spice

mix in the salted rain

as sun slides thick

honey down their spines.

Grains of hair

rough like aged brown sugar

melt down a lifted brow

to land on nostrils that

flare proof of the crown.

Shawn R. Jones

Light up Your Life

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http://www.technologytell.com/gadgets/106396/philips-hue-led-bulbs-are-cool-but-expensive/

I have never been a technology geek.  As a matter of fact I have figured out how to use most of my gadgets by trial and error.  My iphone still has me baffled.  To be completely honest, I am still learning how to use this blog, but I am thoroughly enjoying the experience.  Well, recently I have gotten a bit more interested in technology because my son is a blogger for Tech Tell.  Yes, I am the proud mother of a professional writer, and since I am a writer, I have been looking forward to the day one or both of my children would write professionally.  And this day has come much sooner than I expected, since it has taken me decades to become a professional writer.  Dec…ades, do you here me?  Well, that can be a subject of another post another day.  Back to my son. Well, yesterday he put up a post about these cool new light bulbs and I figured I would share that post with you.  And once my son sees that I have shared his posts…here and on my pinterest page, he may consider buying those bulbs for me for Christmas ; )

This Fall

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This Fall

I want to see God

in the dividing light

of shadowed branches

that drop twisted leaves

in swirling blue currents

of green and black earth

and watch His smile multiply

in ripples that ride

cool autumn downstream.

Shawn R. Jones

Doundounba

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Often times I combine my love of poetry with my love of dance.

I wrote this poem for my former African-Dance teacher, Melanie Kelly.

Doundounba

Unbind blood of new creations

Let your body go.
Beat drums of liberation.
Feed the overflow
of rhythms under condemnation-
movements they call sin.
Swagger hips in your frustration.
Let you body win.
Jerk your neck out of oppression
till each braid whips loose.
Wipe sweat from pent up affections.
Feel tensions reduce.
Swing your arms in opposition
to everything you know.
Batter bones of your temptation.
Bang your body low.

Shawn R. Jones