Ocean Drive

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Ocean Drive

By Shawn R. Jones

 

After hours of walking

by green hedge hidden mansions

 

and collecting seashells

with sun-burnt-brown hands,

 

we fell asleep

twisted in each other’s arms

 

with Hampton-clean sand

on our feet.

 

I woke up first,

admiring the four bedpost steeples

 

as I listened to sprinklers

rattle and spit

 

across an already

dew-damp lawn,

 

reminding me of things I love,

but do not need to live,

 

like our cedar shingle brown home

destroyed by Sandy.

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My Fall

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My Fall

Shawn R. Jones

Fall reminds me of the days

I used to trip over cracked

sidewalks and crinkled brown

leaves on the way back from fourth grade.

In my memory, leaves went from

green to brown.

There was no gold on the way

to Stanley Homes Village

from West Side Complex.

Back then, fall was a return

to a school where boys with

no fathers would chase me

home, and I, too, was

fatherless and fearful.

I was afraid of them and

they were afraid of the world and

the world was afraid of us,

and with all that fear

no one took a moment to understand

that we were just children-

all of us,

me, the boys, and

the world.

Quotes from My Devotional, Pictures in Glass Frames

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“…a blessed life is not necessarily a life of prominence and affluence.”  – S. R. Jones, Pictures in Glass Frames

 

People often say, “I love you,” too soon, too seldom, or too late. – S.R. Jones, Pictures in Glass Frames

 

“I visited him regularly, and we talked on the phone extensively. He shared stories of his tragic past and on-going struggle with a heroin addiction. We talked about God, and he told me how he would hide his Bible from the other inmates as he walked across the open field of the minimum security prison… When he was released, we spent less time together than when he was incarcerated. I began to worry. Then, in the middle of the afternoon, I heard a small knock on my front door…” – S.R. Jones, Pictures in Glass Frames

 

Photos of Barnes & Noble Book Signings:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.313755342024392.70896.220861371313790&amp;type=1&#8243; data-width=”550″><div class=”fb-xfbml-parse-ignore”><a href=”https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.313755342024392.70896.220861371313790&amp;type=1″>Post</a&gt; by <a href=”https://www.facebook.com/srj.writer”>Shawn R. Jones</a>.</div></div>

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.293467594053167.66312.220861371313790&amp;type=1&#8243; data-width=”550″><div class=”fb-xfbml-parse-ignore”><a href=”https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.293467594053167.66312.220861371313790&amp;type=1″>Post</a&gt; by <a href=”https://www.facebook.com/srj.writer”>Shawn R. Jones</a>.</div></div>

Apple Picking Season

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Apple Picking Season

My husband and I took our nephew apple picking. It was a great way to spend Saturday morning.

=”https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10200847339451165&amp;set=a.1391394670278.2057346.1394476669&amp;type=1&#8243; data-width=”550″><div class=”fb-xfbml-parse-ignore”><a href=”https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10200847339451165&amp;set=a.1391394670278.2057346.1394476669&amp;type=1″>Post</a&gt; by <a href=”https://www.facebook.com/shawn.r.jones”>Shawn Regina Jones</a>.</div></div>

Faithful

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Faithful

By Shawn R. Jones

 

Yellow shines

between the blinds

lighting her brown skin

beneath her pale orange gown.

Dark hills stand

to greet the morning man

she spent the night warming

till the blue jay cried outside

the windowpane.

During the day, she

respectfully

sundresses her treasures,

saves his pleasures,

and honors

their name.