tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75575952011-12-19T08:15:28.832-08:00Book Reviews, Original Poetry and Photos. Go to my blog at jackiemarx.wordpress.com for original short stories.Jackienoreply@blogger.comBlogger351100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-29591169871525949742010-08-26T08:40:00.000-07:002010-08-26T08:40:53.746-07:00

Author with epiphanies bold beliefs, a burning need embarks upon a noble mission... can the chronicler succeed? Dipping quill in holy water feelings bleed upon the page strong opinions bubble over leather binds them for the Age Cycle does a turn around joy abandons writer's heart 'progress' races unrelenting tearing status quo apart Desecrating Bill of Rights freedoms

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-27767052884365989252010-06-13T07:48:00.000-07:002010-06-13T08:26:10.173-07:00

Tabula rasa, that's my brain as the deadline looms... eleventh hour panic, frantic for a spark. Pen poised on the naked page...ah yes, I see the light! Story finished right on time, rescued by my muse.

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-12422147531079349012010-04-07T20:55:00.000-07:002010-04-07T21:05:23.894-07:00

This is my first review for Book Sneeze, Thomas Nelson Publishers' way of using social media to encourage unbiased reviews. I chose the book, Hand of Fate, received it at no charge to me with the trade-off being that I would review the book honestly (posting on my blog and a consumer blog like Amazon by a certain date) with a minimum word count of 200. The murder mystery, Hand of Fate, by Lis

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-82526964238226111492010-01-17T05:29:00.000-08:002010-01-17T05:43:00.452-08:00

Sightless tightrope walker, suicidal impetus teeters over shark tank on the slipp'ry wire, free falls into trolling teeth, making scarlet splashes Sifting through the seaweed, hopeful, rediscovered floating in a wonder tub of effervescent tingles bathed in honey bubbles sent from seventh heaven I have been studying Cubism (1907-1919). Objects are broken up, analyzed and reassembled in

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-85336226972968958992010-01-04T21:31:00.000-08:002010-01-04T21:31:08.283-08:00

Will you mourn when I leave this world--smile unhinged, veneer cracking, crashing to the white, Lysol-scented linoleum? Will you miss the sleepless nights, the thrashing turmoil ... that dreaded phone call giving you the final update? Will you conjure me hopeful and blushing, veiled in white, or pained and pale in my pink polka-dotted shroud? Will you thirst for me after I'm gone, your heart

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-84485458567663307862009-12-15T16:27:00.000-08:002009-12-15T16:27:33.866-08:00

Rising Phoenix morning sky found its way to camera eye captured now for all of time subject of my latest rhyme

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-76522339285701701572009-12-03T06:21:00.000-08:002009-12-03T06:23:09.463-08:00

Bumper car careening little time to stop the skid, knuckles white upon the wheel heart thumping in my chest. Escape a distant fantasy, what else can I believe with friction sparks exploding right underneath my seat? In one fantastic motion the car screeches to a stop just before it hits the wall... I

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-86021492480257884842009-11-20T09:05:00.000-08:002009-11-20T09:05:23.869-08:00

Little time to make a move stop my world from spinning upside-down, my hands reach out in one fantastic motion I escape, my heart intact as friction finds me lacking I believe in fantasy and distant, smiling moonbeams

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-52921983389378913422009-11-07T15:11:00.000-08:002009-11-07T15:11:23.437-08:00

You're born alone...you die alone... Heard that somewhere.

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-69893669145299233812009-11-07T05:43:00.000-08:002009-11-07T07:24:52.626-08:00

Wicked, on velvet feet flashes pearly whites welcomed in for scones and tea demolishes the china Naani Poetry Form: Naani means an expression of one and all. It is one of Indian’s most popular Telugu poems, consisting of 4 lines. The lines total must be between 20 and 25 syllables. The poem is not bound to a particular subject.

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-78902137106240176442009-10-10T04:45:00.000-07:002009-10-10T04:50:46.730-07:00

looking down upon what was I see it all every last bit of my life and realize finally that it was good so blindingly glorious that I never saw it never found it so until now on second glance

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-89029556491843622992009-07-14T07:38:00.001-07:002009-07-14T07:44:14.498-07:00

Please watch the youtube version of my poem, Mother Mars (also found at this blog).

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-70911877847550497222009-07-04T21:33:00.000-07:002009-07-04T21:39:00.833-07:00

Happy Independence Day, 2009. Let's keep it that way.

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-7384311954354359802009-06-21T04:58:00.001-07:002009-11-07T15:47:46.587-08:00

Starlet settles in the West, west of where she left her past. Past performance covered up; up 'til now she's pulled it off! . Off and on the cameras flash; flash in pan, kliegs light the truth. Truth? A silent casting call. Call collect. Go home, starlet.

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-81940715211974686372009-06-19T06:03:00.000-07:002009-06-19T06:34:16.578-07:00

Yin and yang entwinein the fabric of my dayaural tapestryunfolding panoramaglimpses of Eternal Life...This poem is an example of the tanka form: 5/7/5/7/7....Aural Tapestry copyright 2009, Jackie MarxPhoto copyright 2008, Jackie MarxAll Rights Reserved

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-26200391175796753892009-06-15T21:41:00.000-07:002009-06-19T06:28:34.337-07:00

Sun baking bathers,sand filling cracks;gallons of Coppertoneslathering backs.From my cabana,timer in hand,I call out, “Roll over!”so both sides get tanned.Summertime! copyright 2009 Jackie MarxAll rights reserved

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-74265891651997956262009-06-10T17:20:00.000-07:002009-06-16T17:24:29.772-07:00

Amazing as it seemsBetween the black and whiteCaught up inside the momentDeliriousElatedFinding middle groundGiving more than takingHolding, not rejectingInside, content within my joyKissableLovableMalleable from now onNever to be lonelyOr wishing for that someonePerhaps that’s finally overQuestions of the unknownRemorse for what never could beSidelined byTranquilUnanimityValuing the center point

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-67111971851140256862009-05-26T06:42:00.000-07:002009-06-16T17:25:05.841-07:00

Johnis homefrom the warbreathing freedom,blowing kisses, waving from the tarmac,running toward me in weathered combat boots,his tortured eyescamouflaged...Is Johnhome?A tetractys (form of poetry)The Homecoming,copyright 2009, Jackie Marx

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-275411921392055002009-05-10T08:26:00.000-07:002009-06-16T17:25:26.048-07:00

So, why are you laughing? There's nothing funny about what happened--or so you said when I finally packed my bags and waved goodbye.I stuck around much longer than I should have, not wanting to hurt you...Now you sit there, laughing as if none of it mattered--we didn't matter. Did we, or did I waste my life trying not to hurt you, when, as I can plainly see,as tears of hilarity stream down your

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-16375699738890215252008-12-13T17:55:00.000-08:002009-06-16T17:25:51.315-07:00

The dawning of my final dayI tarry at the End of Timeson the beach of Armageddonslapped by salty Santa Anas Waiting... For the Lord to pass His judgmentWill He lead me to Salvationon the path to all that's Holycrossing over to His Gloryfrom the toxic water's edgesrocky shores of criminationover monolithic rubbleacross the rainbow passagewayWaiting...Sea swells sting my naked anklesbrimstone fires

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-73860890700522718512008-12-13T17:37:00.001-08:002008-12-13T17:47:48.145-08:00

Mainstream pitchmen in the tankpromoting favored party's plankpromising its hope and changefreedoms will not rearrangeBroadcast buzzes through the Landwith deft deception slight of handblindly hawking grand successionsound bites guiding the electionFair and balanced is at stakewith TV anchors on the takeunfolding right before our eyesin 'apple pie and Mom' disguiseAuthor Notes:I'm venting about

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-92165176035000350602008-11-02T23:02:00.000-08:002009-06-16T17:27:21.182-07:00

They are soldiers His loving force will guide the flock over mighty mountains, through the valley of impending death, combat boots beating down the French clay of Normandy. Feelings overwhelming fingers squeezing triggers, eternal soldiers take their rightful places by His side. Sins forgiven, the sun will shine upon their noble deedsThey are soldiers

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-78397175593753819252008-05-30T19:09:00.000-07:002008-05-31T09:07:31.250-07:00

Springtime brings resurgence of the Lord's bejeweled handiwork; His banishment of dreariness and winter's dark depression sends.Madame into the meadow, heir-apparent close behind her as Monet unfolds his easel in the clearing near the orchard..Empty canvas begs creation: sable brush strokes and impressions. His palette knife upon the board, Monsieur Monet commences. ~The fam'ly captured evermore

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-33500997355350634142008-05-02T10:15:00.000-07:002008-05-31T09:02:43.904-07:00

White Dove proffers Olive Branch in timely intervention;peaceful coexistence on the table once again. Thenjuggernauts and holy hats upon their pale horsesthunder in--asunder--hungry, over-zealous men. Stinging insults decimate the delicate alliance,consequential dialogue in dumbshow disarray;wounded rage runs rampant, exposing cryptic messagesborne of hate and avarice. White Dove flies away.The

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-83877571030183364022008-04-14T19:57:00.000-07:002008-05-31T09:00:40.936-07:00

..............Bedlam breaks the midnight hush Stillness shattered, raucous rush Townsfolk scatter in the street Rumpled bedclothes, naked feetWhat has caused the rapid rout?Something bad has come about. Rape and pillage in the night?Roofs ablaze? What feeds the fright?People pointing toward the seaat the shadows as they flee:hooded henchmen, ghosts or ghouls,mischief makers, April fools?Bloody

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-9288559769644002642008-03-13T19:30:00.000-07:002008-05-31T08:49:53.981-07:00

Paintballs from on high,brilliant blotches blast the dawn.God's morning memo,His panoramic prompting,Don't forget, I'm still in charge... All Rights ReservedGod's Morning Memo copyright 2008 Jackie Marx

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-32449373536217783942008-02-04T22:03:00.000-08:002010-08-14T05:48:30.973-07:00

Shallow breathing, speech a jumble, last appeal for fair-haired son. Deathbed dirges sound the last note, final wishes in the wind ... Rheumy eyes glance toward the doorway, Mother's teardrops flood the void. Broken-hearted, she grows weaker while she waits for him to come. Second-born, unwanted child, starving for his mother's love, dries her tears; his mother smiles! though he's

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-91155550634605922222008-01-26T15:07:00.000-08:002008-01-29T03:00:04.831-08:00

Earthlings, I am Mother Mars. For years I have been watching you spin madly in your deadly dance, with no respect for Mother Earth. I've come to take your precious brood, and keep them safe inside my arms until you change your reckless ways, reversing degradations.A universal mother, I'm taking matters in my hands; my decision springs from caring, with no malice in my heart. On a planet 'dead and

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-24556457874927265952008-01-26T14:49:00.000-08:002008-02-06T11:31:20.577-08:00

standing near the bedstead,as your scent works its magic, you say goodbyeI cannot... .the 'fling' was forever for me cocooned under cover, I hug my knees, .my hands tremble as I watch you leaveAll Rights ReservedStuck on Love, copyright, 2008 Jackie Marx

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-73385960648506013892008-01-22T19:16:00.000-08:002008-01-29T02:58:12.656-08:00

The virgin day dawns icyBlustery winds harangueGlacial bullets find their markAiming piecemeal at the trench lineAs soldiers gone before meI start from sleep’s cocoonHelmet, weapon, Holy BibleCrunchy footfalls o’er my headHail Mary, goodbye MotherTrusty bayonet in placeI find purchase on the icy edgeRushing headlong into HellBullets flying, sabers flashingBombs bursting, blinding lightI fall back

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-20328429778175782892008-01-22T19:07:00.001-08:002008-01-29T02:57:43.755-08:00

The streets weren't always paved in gold. Or where they? I recall muddy ruts like chocolate pudding, the wagon sliding sideways, Daddy cracking the whip while Beauty's hooves made sucking sounds as she labored her way up our mud lake hill, her fine coat glistening from the effort.I take another road.I can see Beauty, a powdery black, as Mother Earth swirls the parched and vulnerable soil into an

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-75933851295585754912008-01-22T17:57:00.000-08:002008-05-31T08:42:39.620-07:00

Are we America? If so, then who shall we blame for all that goes wrong with her? We, the People, form this perfect union; so, when Lady Liberty stands naked in the harbor, who is at fault? Are we? All Rights ReservedAre We America copyright 2006, Jackie Marx

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-79577632284904881852008-01-22T17:32:00.000-08:002008-01-29T02:55:28.434-08:00

"They never found the heads" were the first and only words she uttered in that horrific moment that crystallized the shape of our world, twisting it into its now unrecognizable malignant mass of terror."They never found the heads" became her mantra, as she hugged her legs and rocked in her mind-prison; silent screams shaking her to her soul, while she waited for our epiphany.Her grief-song,

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-83225246837673527342008-01-22T16:40:00.000-08:002008-01-29T02:54:36.205-08:00

my dreamhas always been the same attainable vision, if only I had reached past the fear to take possession,but I never did.I played on the edges of my dream, danced on the razor of the sweet, sticky slope afraid to descend into the indescribable joyuntil now, as I breathe life into my ephemeral self: a glorious unfolding, a butterfly on the precipice, a twenty-foot wingspan of gossamer imaginings

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557595.post-6466532054168503382007-03-09T19:24:00.000-08:002008-01-29T02:53:46.787-08:00

I never thought I would see a time in my life when the collective 'we' would open the nacho bag, kick back with our jalapeno dip and Bud, and let our freedoms be tvo'd from our existence.The downward shift to oblivion has been gradual, I grant you, easily missed in our hectic channel surfing. (After all, we are tired after our long days. Getting involved hurts our brains.) 'We'--collective,

Jackienoreply@blogger.com0