Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Blackberry Jam & WIne...

In my Father's House" quilt JHM©02 Quilt was destroyed in Katrina 2005

Quilt was created for Dr. Ed Dees Jr after seeing his grandparents' home in Alabama dating back to the 1800's which he had lovingly preserved. Bravo Ed!

And so for our menfolks:

Weep...By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©01

When grown men weep...
It is a sight to see!
When they finally show their humanity.

When they behold...
From their very soul.
In the cradle to unfold...
Of what the soft wetness told.

When grown men weep...
They take such a leap...
Into removing restraints.
Their lamentations beat.

From pretense of being the living dead...
Over hard stone heads.
Bounded on all fours sides...
All lies!

When grown men weep.
It is a sight to see...
When they finally show their humanity.
And complete they shall be...
If they continue to see.
And confess the key...
Is being made over in the image of God!
All rights reservedJHM©9-11-01

Coming Back South

As we are in the last 2 days of National Poetry Month & my very fresh 24 hour decision that I am jumping through a window of opportunity to return home to New Orleans. I wanted to do a repeat of this poem that is an epilouge to one I initially wrote when I made my transition from California back to the South in 1997 after a previous 10 years of pining (from 1987 to 1997). Now in a sense of deja vu here I am again after spending 1st almost 4 years in North Carolina and then 9 months in Oregon which has not be a good fit for me, I am heading home.

On Friday May 1st I will be daily musing over my transistioning out of OR to NOLa and doing this with no money, no prospect, but knowing in my gut something really big is on the horizon. If you have trust issues, I would not recommend it. If you know you are part of something bigger then you and it has to be done, then you will do it.

Coming Back South
By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©03

Now I know...
I came back South, not to pick wildflowers…
I came back not to see butterflies, clovers nor drink mint juleps.
I did not come back South for overly romantic, haunting reminiscing…
The mysteries that continue to tug at my heart.
Or to untangle the 19,228 yesterdays that laid up in the marshy soils.
And under the weeping willows or anchor itself in the marrow of faces…
Of ones who were not mercifully taken away from here.
I came back South to fathom the unbelievable…
The seemingly unreachable Persnickety tumbling on those back roads…
A paradigm on surface appearance seems to have no rhyme or reason.
I came back South to listen to wind sounds intertwined in trees at dusk.
And high moons at noon in June that shouldn’t be there.
Ancient winds of times blowing to unveil shield treasures…
To unfold secrets too many folks try to cover up, cover over
So for once we can all stop pretending

And that is why I came South.

Monday, April 27, 2009

If you have any Imagination left

Red Anemone picture JHM©09

On the Day
By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©01

What would happen on the day...
That artists went away?
How would your universe be altered?
Would it be a dryness?
Or just turn grey?
And would your smile be shrouded in an empty basin?
So utterly estranged?

Can you imagine that day?
When artists went away?
since imagination united with them ...
On a sabbatical cruise?
A sojourn, a hiding place.
On newly shod shoes.
And the vibrant colors...
Of the flamboyant trees that vanished...
Like the Carib did at Bloody River.
Subdued and vanquished they .

And the sounds that mesmerized the moonlight...
Simmering in your ears.
Shall be no more.
My dears...
And multicolored lips in silent speech.
Would be frozen for all times.
There will be no need for word...
To lift, correct or rhyme...
Please teach them!
Or we will be left to mourn...
And so forlorn.

In our stead...
With too many Springers, Survivors and trash TVs.
Claiming to be reality.
How unseemly it will be...
When people will exclaim "I dunno"
To thee.
And cursing since they do not have...
The competent words to give authority..
To the untended need to affirm themselves.
That will sit on dead and dusty shelves.

There will be no PBS...
No Cirque de Soilel.
Keller libraries...
Theater forums
"To be or not to be"
American Universoooul Circus
Oy Vey!

Only displaced souls never having a chance
To be still and see.
Museums, salons and universities.
Or be swept away with Bocelli, Horne, Teena Marie or Patsy Cline.
Or feast upon Goodnight, Scott, Slade Kelly or O'keefe's light divine...
Or muse upon Faulkner, Morrison, Mooney
or even McMillian's word to dine.
Or be moved by Ailey, Nicholas...
One and two...
Brishnokov , Jackson's moonwalk ...
Or second line.
Hear the funeral dirge!

On the day the artists went away...
The air is sucked in a vortex.
And giggles were devastated.
And dreams dispelled.
Joy is squandered.
And peace wears out.
The purpose become passive, benign and pointless.
The humanity less humane.

We will...
We must...
We shall.
Grasp hold in a vise like grip.
Upholding the beatous benefactors.
Please keep vigilant and hold fast...
Your artists old and new.
That are tried and true...
From long earned past due.
And moving into future cues.
Otherwise you will soon discover...
What is now undercover.
What is?
Is now past.

All rights reservedJHM ©01

Pay Attention~What will it take?

As National Poetry Month is coming to a close this week I decided I wanted to post this poem I wrote September 11th, 2001 hours after something we not thought would happen here at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon & Pa. Putting here this morning is because after arising and on page 2 of the local newspaper was in rapid succession was 6 senseless murders in different parts of the country. My first thought was "wow what a thing to start your day with"! And then I thought of how much life has been devalued, dismissed & destroyed because we've reached a point of acting like modern day Nephilims & Philistines.

I even saw an article about the shortened life spans of cigarette smokers "provide a savings to Medicare, Social Security, pensions & other programs". A researcher discovered health care cost for smokers amount to $326,000 in comparison to non smokers at $417,000. And a former Governor puts it:"Most lifetime studies show that lifetime health care of smokers are substantially lower then non-smokers. In any given year, we spend more on health care for smokers because it is a health impairing habit. Yet, from a system standpoint smokers die efficiently" .

Efficiently dying? What has happened to us where we have reduced people to things or numbers or efficiently?

With all the technology available to us today why is it people are feeling more and more disconnected? If you fell and hurt yourself that a stranger will aid you,but today someone will whip out their camera phone & within minutes you are the new laughingstock being mocked and ridicule again & again on You Tube?

So it is again why I thought I wanted to post this poem which now reaches to so much more. How will people get that when one is harmed we are all harmed?

We need to pay attention close attention to our humanity... Or our seriously depleted humanity...

What will it take?
By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©01

What will it take for thee...
To see the reality?

What will it take for you to understand?
That it was not meant for man...
To be in command.

What more do you need to see...
For your life and destiny?
It is not for you to solely control...
Prophecy is on a roll.
You call out to God...
When there is tragedy...
But pay attention, not...
When the wakening call says, Stop!!!

And listen...
And pay attention!
Your trials commence in another dimension.
Our breaths are held in suspension...
For the moment,
The world will be forced to kneel...
With no appeal.
And see the majesty of Jah!

All rights reserved©JHM9-11-01

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Ladies' Sounds in Dress Rehersal

Oh you so have to hear this girl sang her song "Sista"
I Can Explain

Singing with Will Downing:

Dress Rehearsal

By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©03

Ladies’ sounds in dress rehearsal…
Showering the room with spherical tunes.
A bounty coming forth from luscious lips.
Crooning pearl drops, shadow of times yore.
From the ladies’ sounds in dress rehearsal.

Shall the universe be in a repast?
Engorging on this poetic parade? A soul serenade?
Twinkling lights caught up in the moment
The soul timbre swept in from the waves on the oceanic side of the muse.
Bell tones…
Work those bones!
Midnight hands’ serving the backdrop and candlelight’s dressing the ambience.
A staging so grand that even the sun…
And the moons…
And the stars must stand in rapturous wonderment.
For the ladies’ sounds in dress rehearsal.

All rights reservedJHM©03

Lena Horne 1917-2010

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Neighborhood photo©09
See What's Rockin' photo©09

Show Your Face photo©09

In the Neighborhood

Pick up themselves up photo©09

And Pinker Flowers ©09

Pink trees photo©09

Lavender Roks photo©09


In the Neighborhood
By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©09

Walking around the neighborhood
Where lavender roks
Set your eyes upon flourishing pink trees
And pinker flowers with a right to be heard
Picking up themselves to make acquaintance of the sun
Pronouncing Oui, on peut... Yes we can!"
Being just so incredible for the day
And so outstanding that one will want to get nearer
So show your face!
Seek & ye shall unearth
What could be rockin’
Right there in your neighborhood.
All right reservedJHM4-23-09©

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Thunder Roll

Beautiful photograph by O.Ptical Illusions. Please go to their website:

Fascinated with a thunder storm one night in Amite.LA when I wrote this:

Thunder Roll

By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©03

A charcoal-hazed backdrop releases its hoard…

So the impeccably executed arrows can raze the sky.

And the tall trees’ boughs acquiesce to the wind’s bend.
Weighted globules’ lateral bravado pounds the tin roofs.

I see the luminous sparks’ melee adding pizzazz…
But the thunder roll’s memorial executes the power!

Hear the Thunder roll!

A melodramatic bass and baritone!
(And all the other sounds are given no choice, but to cease)...

To allow the sky’s magnificence to have center stage…
While centuries old oaks pay homage to the thunder roll.

As a wee child, I used no fear;
Now this grown woman has no quivers.

No longer afraid, I have any shivers.
I now stand to relinquish what was stored.

And revel in the awesomeness of the thunder roll.

All rights reserved JHM 3-13-03 ©

Nature Call

I wrote this when I lived in a very tiny isolated town of Amite La several years ago. It was a challenge and a major culture shock for me. Despite the challenge,I wrote a serious body of poetry during that isolated time. I was fascinated in how the weather operated and the shifting in the rhythms...

The Dance
Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©03

As the chocolate colored sky strikes the first chord…
And the night creatures emerge for the dance.
I gaze at a calypso of lightning bugs weaving to and fro…
In the silhouettes of the tall trees soften by the foggy scrim.
And while awaiting in the shadows…
The moon takes up its baton.
And the stars lean forward in rapt attention.
In the wings, I waited for the choir of night birds to begin its first selection.
While the night creatures alight for the dance.
All rights reservedJHM Nature Call chapter 3-6-03©

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Be You.. Be Me ~Moving to 60 in 2010

Photo "Sidebar" JHM©09

I wrote the beginning of this late 2008 when it dawned on me at that time in under 2 years I will have entered my 6th decade and what that meant to me & just this week finished it. I am excited and as I am now less then 16 months away from it I want to have "60 things to do before I turn 60" campaign. It is not and will not be fear base as I do not see it as that but more of a celebratory declaration of having made it thus far. I've taken risks albeit at times have fallen smack on my generously endowned fanny, but none the less I did it and I cannot see my 6th decade as being any less & perhaps even being more. What I have noticed is even now I have a growing impatience with some people and somethings who still feel it is imperative to tell me how or what to do that whatever it appears that I am (or not doing) is up to their standards yet I do not see them as living a superior life , an excused life or(egads!) even a life at all. It is true enough that it may be (for them) different then what I am doing or desire, but let them do what they do and so I will do the same

So this is for me and for all of them:

Be You.. Be Me
Moving toward age 60 in 2010
By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney ©09

Charging into
Not very quietly
As one can see into the sixties
With panache & flair…
As in a Cajun 2 step
& a
Zydeco boogie…
Tread not
Steppin out
For all the sixties can glow
& be...
Bigger then 1960
Could ever had imagined
Polished, poised & primed
So I tell you
Be You & I’ll be me...
High stepping with no impunity
Let me say it again
Be You
And I’ll be me
Sixty &
Oh so Free"
All rightsreservedJHM© 09

A Night Sky~ Launching of a Poet

A poet wrote this I will let her own words speak for her:

"I was inspired to write this back on Valentine's Day 2005 when seeing the stars in the skies over rural Marion County, Oregon. I had not shared it with anyone in public readings ... until this year! One on my sister poets and I got into a discussion about lullabies and folk music...and of course I told her of Rick Springfield's CD that I really like so much. I told her I had recorded a CD of lullabies for my grandson using traditional folk songs I sang to my daughter...and the poet said to me, why don't you write an original lullaby for your grandson?I may just do that someday...but it was at that point that I realized that my poem from back then was really more of a "lullaby" than a love/romance poem. So that conversation it emboldened me to read my poem "The Night Sky" publicly on Saturday 4/19/09...and so I'll now share it with you"

The Night Sky

By Sabrina Messenger©05

Did you know that...

ALL of the stars in the Universe

that were and are still forming

in the galaxies

are actually mine, yours & other people's wishes?

Why, several millennia of those

hopes and dreams

are still illuminating the sky!

A few of those stars are composed of pleas and invocationsof the ancient ones, of secret thoughts and desires of the ancestors frommany centuries gone by.

Some stars represent goals set by we who are alive today Other stars denote grandiose plans we make for those who will livein future generations

Sometimes wishing on stars is a free form of therapy, It's a most Romantic wayof coping with uncertaintyand difficult situations

Astrologers are certain

that one's entire fate lies the stars....

Astronomers say


Don't believe folk wisdom

of the ignorant masses"...

Everyone knows

It is a scientific fact

that stars are merely atoms,

Formed by dust, heat & interstellar gasses!

Well, I don't believe either one of them!

For when I gaze heavenward & whisper...

that time honored incantation

"Star light...

Star bright...

First star I see tonight"

I see the hopes of the world...

In all those constellations—

In shooting stars...

I see universal fantasies taking flight!

Despite the confusion and disillusion we feel at times

and the chaos that fills us with fear and anxiety

I believe the Lord hears my prayers

Sent via starlight express

And that He is truly there...

to watch over...


And comfort me.

Next time...

When walking on a lovely rural evening

Far away from noise pollution

And the lights of the city

You might try wishing on stars

So that you may be receiving calmness...

Inner peace and gaining...

that special moment of clarity

All right reserved SM ©2-14-05

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Coming Back South

Coming Back South
By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©03

I came back South, not to pick wildflowers…
I came back not to see butterflies, clovers nor drink mint juleps.
I did not come back South for overly romantic, haunting reminiscing…
The mysteries that continue to tug at my heart.
Or to untangle the 19,228 yesterdays that laid up in the marshy soils.
And under the weeping willows or anchor itself in the marrow of faces…
Of ones who were not mercifully taken away from here.
I came back South to fathom the unbelievable…
The seemingly unreachable Persnickety tumbling on those back roads…
A paradigm on surface appearance seems to have no rhyme or reason.
I came back South to listen to wind sounds intertwined in trees at dusk.
And high moons at noon in June that shouldn’t be there.
Ancient winds of times blowing to unveil shield treasures…
To unfold secrets too many folks try to cover up, cover over
So for once we can all stop pretending

And that is why I came South.
Allrights reservedHJM©03

Can we really be honest here?

Monday, April 13, 2009

On a Somber Note...

For more information, visit

For Jeffrey Cook will be held Tuesday at 6 – 8 pm.

On Wednesday, visitation will begin at 9am with a service at 11. A repast will take place following the burial. Memorial services, visition service, and the repast will take place at Ashe' Cultural Center - 1712 Oretha Castle Haley Blvd. in New Orleans.

Burial will be at Lakelawn Cemetary.

The family of Jeffrey Cook has established the Jeffrey Cook Memorial Artists and Sense of Place Fund at the Ogden Museum of Southern Art to support the Artists and Sense of Place program which Jeffrey was instrumental in establishing and for which he did several residencies.

Above is a photo from Jeffrey's last residency for this program at Kate Middleton Elementary.

Donors may contribute to the fund by making checks payable to The Ogden Museum of Southern Art and noting on the check Jeffrey Cook Memorial Artists and Sense of Place Fund. Cash and credit card donations can be arranged.

For additional information please contact Kate Barron, Education Coordinator Ogden Museum of Southern Art 925 Camp Street New Orleans, La. 70130 Tel: 504 539-9608

Designated by the City of New Orleans as its Official Arts Agency, the Arts Council of New Orleans is an advocate, a convener, and an investor in the arts and culture of Greater New Orleans.

And from he Oher Side of he World

Like Kisses in the Moonlight

By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©01

Like kisses in the moonlight, this newfound time honors my heart replete.
What a treasure it is, to be so complete.
Are there words big enough to include the possibilities?
If I dare dance a tango in the streets?

You must call back your heart to impeach all times past.
So caught up in turbulence, Tossing & turning oh so fast!

Are we set adrift into complex swirls & cascading waterfalls?
Listening for the call set to mind...
To say it is time, it is time.
Is it yet? Nay not yet, not yet for thee.

Those kisses in the moonlight that belong to me.
A yearning mesmerized with privation dances a tango for a fee…
Then transports it away on a sweetened baby's breath…
While I sat having tea by the sea.

Moving cool, moving cool,
I search high and low like a fool…
For the elusive freedom of youth; a sanctuary sugared in honey, money.
That seemed to have sashayed past me by while I slept.

Like kisses in the moonlight, I want to say to thee…
Prepare your heart; to receive golden clouds…
So much like that adoration that wants to revel in me.

Never wavering, nor faltering, not revoking...
For the love you put an order for.
Grow in the saturated fullness of a free woman, a treasured woman…
Absolutely whole and complete, never a bore.

There will be no levy on my heart, only a caress that fetches and finishes...
The solemn prayers of future echoes and relinquished past aches.
Like kisses in the moonlight & skipping pebbles across the lake.
And lets tend to our toes that wiggles in sweet clovers as we recline by the lake.
While lightening bugs dances a tango with me.

All rights reservedJHM ©01

And from the other end of the Continent

I thought this was a beautiful poem. And musing if we can identify with the sentiments from something over 3,000 years ago why is it so hard that we have difficulty relating to each other today?

(1537 BCE)

This poem is anonymous but it was translated by Esra Pound and Noel Stock.

The book is World Poetry
Edited by Kathryn Washburn, John S. Major and Clifton Fadiman.

You mine my love,

My heart strives to reach the heights of your love,

See, sweet, the bird-trap set with my own hand.

See the birds of Punt,

Perfume a-wing

Like a shower of myrrh

Descending into Egypt.

Let us watch my handiwork,

The two of us together in the fields.

The shrill of the wild goose

Unable to resist

The temptation of my bait.

While I, in a tangle of love,

Unable to break free,

Must watch the bird carry away my nets.

And when my mother returns with birds,

And finds me empty-handed,

What shall I say?

That I caught no birds?

That I myself was caught in your net?

Even when the birds rise

Wave mass on wave mass in great flght

I see nothing, I am blind

Caught up as I am and carried away

Two hearts obedient in their beating

My life caught up with yours

Your beayty the binding.

Without your love, my heart would beat no more;

Without your love, sweet cake seems only salt;

Without your love, sweet 'shedeh' turns to bile;

O listen darling, my heart's life needs your love;

For when you breathe, mine is the heart that beats.

With candour I confess my love;

I love you yes, and wish to love you closer;

As mistress of your house,

Your arm placed over mine.

Alas your eyes are loose.

I tell my heart;"My lord

Has moved away. During

The night moved away

And left me. I am like atome'.

And I wonder:Is there no sensation

Left,when you come to me?

Nothing at all?

Alas those eyes which lead you astray,

Forever on the loose.

Yet I confess with candour

That no matter where else they roam

If they roam towards me

I enter into life.

What a Beautiful

Absolutely lovely poem written by a friend in South Africa!

What a Beautiful

By Gail Hayes-Banks©09

What beautiful irises, so diaphonous and luminescent and almost virginal
For new beginnings.
Translucent and alluring the heart on
To what might be in the future.

Peace radiates from them
and hope too
And mysteriously they taunt one to look at them and through their petals
to a beckoning world awaiting beyond what can be seen through.

Like pearls they have an inner radiance and warmth
Defined by that centred yellow
That mellow yet energetic lively primary colour
Like an inner sun that invites one

Come out to play in the lifegiving atmosphere of
Purity and let fragments of life lead you on to
A new path when my radiance and life is gone
As all is impermanence and renewal.

Seasons of life and movement
and decay and renewed spring
From that which we see today but which wil become tomorrow
A different thing.

Blow with the winter wind and the summer breezes
Wherever and for as long as your rhythmic heart pleases
And when you have found that place that prompts you to rest
Lay you down and place a pile of irises on your breast.
All right reservedGHB©09

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Rainbow Maker(for LP)

If Jazz was a Color exhibit Kemper Gallery 06photo

That Rainbow Maker (for Moon)

By Euhal©08

Colors jumble in voices true

Telling stories, fabric books,

Wall oracles singing tales

Talking to our hearts.

Smiling lady...

Purple lady...

Fingers urging fabric text

To grow and sing

Songs for our hearts.

Shaped rainbows beating drums

Of radiant color, speaking color...

Making us listen with our eyes.

Melodies for our hearts.

Rooms growing in melodies dynamic

As walls sing rainbow songs

Operettas stitched in cloth soft

Arias colored for hearts to hear.

Eyes become ears that hear

Messages in vibrant shades

While souls marvel at the

At the fullness of our hearts.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

On my side of the Fence...

Over the last several days I have heard comments from others who do not believe that I am returning home sometime this year because of one single act and that is the act of my putting in my Moon Garden in my tiny courtyard. In some way it is like they cannot grasp why would anyone go through the time and trouble of gardening if they were "really going away".
On my side of the fence, it seems perfectly natural & normal to do such a thing as to bring about a Moon Garden because I am here and present today. And then it happened, a couple of small, but to me significant things happened.
First being I saw a small ad giving away large white irises with yellow throats similar to the ones in the picture. I always thought of irises as the poor gardener's orchid, elegant, distinctive, can thrive under neglect, yet able to show its magnificent beauty, growing in abundance. (kind of like me in some ways)...
And they are white which is what you need for a moon garden. White flowers of any kind under the moonlight looks like they are glowing. Its a lovely sight to behold and I wanted to be able to appreciate their beauty even at night since as the days grow longer and the nights warmer so their beauty can appreciate them right outside my door.
Well happily, a lovely woman ending up giving me over 130 irises, full grown that will bloom within the next month or so with more to come! I plan to mix them with night blooming jasmine, moonflowers & honeysuckles mixing in between them my moonstones, stepping stone with my poetry inscribed on them.
Ironically, I came to discover later this evening, this very same woman who gifved me the flowers, her husband is a native Louisianian who went to school right around the corner from where I lived as a teenager!
And these lovely irises have a yellow throat with yellow being the color of creativity and here I had for over a year had seemed to have lost my creative groove, just now getting it back. So it seemed to me more appropriate to have these irises. And how appropiate as later this evening, I received a call for submission for a new book on my art and solidified for me how timely that was for me to get that!
It made me think of this poem written a few year back but is right on the mark today:

HeArt of the Matter

By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©03

While the water laughed all around me…
And the wind opened its mouth to sing this song to me…
“I was moving backward on a forward highway…
Shall I question
If this is what makes me whole?”
That is...
For me...
the heart of the matter.

This thing, I am tilting toward…
Is it a renaissance?
Can this phoenix bend the river’s current…
To what needs fulfillment?
For me...
It is
the heart of the matter.

Leading a satisfied life is my heart’s dream.
Throughout my soul are songs reaching…
For what beyond what I settled for.
Suppressing no more as the bough breaks
The matters of the heart, is for me.

No longer fine with regurgitated whine.
A sad, sad song spinning its wheel...
All that it kicked up was dirt…
But going nowhere in so much hurry.
Can I do it?
Will you do it?
I have done it
Turned on the light!
And I banished the shadows...
So I can shine...
That is the heart of the matter.

Let me whisper loudly from my heart’s recesses.
I am walking proudly...
Graced with dignity.
And preserved all the beauty that is going
forwardly through the shining waters.
It is I...
the heart that matters.
All rights reservedJHM©03
So on this side of the fence as I read at the end of the email from this very kind lady stayed with me and I hope to to use : "Be a New Orleanian.. where ever you are"...
And to that I say

When I went out to Play

When I went out to Play
(In the Month of May)

By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©03

What I wore today…
When I went out to play…
Wearing the softest finest Egyptian cotton, on this glorious day.
I know what I have always wanted to say.
Shall I go? Or shall I stay?
As I pranced about in the month of May.
In chiffon, organdy and a grand beret!
I sauntered with belles on my slippers in clover & sweet smelling hay.
And was clothed in the sun’s morning rays.
How beautiful I am in what I wore today…
When I decided to go out and play.

All rights reservedJHM©5-20-03

Be Still My Heart

Be Still My Heart
By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney© 98

Be still my heart, lest I will chance
Because romance has entered, took hold
And wants to dance...

Speak to my eyes what my heart cannot say....

Poetry is the promise of dreams,
A hint of what the Heart speaks.
An insight to a grand sweetness...

Just a sweep of your hand across my brow…
Shining eyes that shimmer promises, not yet sung.
I longed for the warmth of your caress.
A glistening tear...
that crystal clear...
Speaks of our romance.

Oh, the kisses that move the heavens...
Sharing memories of times long past.
Speak to my eyes
What my heart cannot say, yet...
Breathlessly embracing sweet & sway...
that we dance to a tuneless melody that...
Only your heart can hear

It speaks to me...
Be still...
Awaiting promises of what to come
And yearned for in .that found crystal glass
That my eyes hear and my heart has yet to say.

Be still my heart, lest I will chance
Because romance has entered took hold
Just wants to dance.

JHM All rights reserved ©98

Thursday, April 9, 2009

And the Stargazer Wait

As National Poetry Month continues and my poem a day from unless otherwise noted,is mine.

I wrote this poem in honor of one of my favorite columnist & authors, Dr. Martha Beck, who wrote the book aming others "Steering by Starlight" and a regular columnist for O magazine and well as a host of other accomplishments. it was something that resonated in me about her metaphor of the stargazer that we all share as humans who know where our desire, ambition, hopes & dreams dwells. it is a matter of trusting that you do indeed have an ability to know what you can and should do and when you are ready, really ready to expand your horizons or move mountains, hills or a mound to do what you are meant to do,you will.

So here's to you, Dr.Beck as I have gotten my creative groove back!

And the Stargazer Waits
By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney ©09

And the stargazer waits/
Holding in a moon laced courtyard /sometimes with/ hilarity/ elation.
Raring to go/ wrapping up a recollection/ not yet/ invented by me
As I bumble & stumble along…
Looking for/ that right spot/ for me/ to come /to my senses
And the stargazer waits/ uncomplaining/ in the not too/ far away time/ for me to draw closer/ to the come hither issue from/

quite some time ago… /
And the stargazer waits /
Even if I paint the wrong key/ she bestow/ upon me/ a microscopic wink.
That it will be there in its entire splendor as methinks
All rights reservedJHM4-8-09©

Wednesday, April 8, 2009


Field of Hyacinth~photograph by Dana Lucas

In Love with the World Again


By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©03

My best and favorite time

Is early morning shine...

I have joy in knowing that all can be well

In those moments of mine..


in this early morning kind

While I fell

In love with the world again.

All rights reserved JHM09 ©

Circles can be good...

"Between the trees" photograph JHM©09 Shot in Eugene, Or

From the Self Esteem Doctor Jewel Diamond Taylor:

"Driving on the 210 freeway in southern California on my way home after a day full of disappointments, one after another, I turned going east bound and saw two rainbows and then ... one more appeared. I was so inspired and renewed.

I felt like a child seeing a rainbow for the first time, but oh my God ... I'm seeing three rainbows.

I wanted to share this rare covenant in the sky. Iimmediately called one of my Goddaughters on my cell phone with my excitement.

My miracle for the day reminded me that when you see a rainbow it is really a circle. You only see the upper half because the horizon hides the rest. You may not see the big picture right now when it comes to solving a problem in your life.

Life offers mysteries, misery, magical moments and miracles. When you see a problem or obstacle in your life, don't be limited by what you see with your physical eye. Optimism increases confidence which expands your power of influence on how things will turn out. Yes, there are real dangers and circumstances that call for you to be careful.

However, constant and unnecessary fear, stress, negative thinking, procrastination, perfectionism and unfounded suspicion depletes you of energy, faith, blessings, success and good health. Fear and negative emotions create a blind spot which blocks your view of hope, possibilities, solutions and victory.

Accepting the reality of your present situation doesn't mean you have to be thrilled about it, but you can see it differently with new eyes. "

"Depression loses its power when fresh vision pierces the darkness." ~ Peter Sinclair Solutions exist.

There is a bigger picture than what you can see right now.Take your eye off fear, limitations and what you see now with your physical eye. Change the way you see yourself. Change the way you see other people. Change the way you see your situation. Change the way you see your possibilities".

"Faith is like radar that sees through the fog -- the reality of things at a distance that the human eye cannot see." ~ Corrie ten Boom

An Anniversary Sonnet

Poem was penned by performance artist for her parents anniversery:

An Anniversary Sonnet
by Dale DuVerny ©00

Your pleasantness is my surprise
endears me...
An apple to my eyes.
The meaning of our love,
From the start,
To the finish.
Sometimes, there may be a blemish..
but yet
the blemish may be too
to be notice.
Is it because your heart
has touch my heart?
So our love can never part...
So may we fill this cup with jubilant wine!
Dazzling sunshine!

Love so sweet!
Wisdom so grand
Power with a fight
In the image of God who made us al
All rights reserved©00 DDV

Extra Stuff

Have you ever had a moment when you have had enough of people dumping things on you unjustly sometimes broadsiding you because of whatever past, present or future issue they are having? All of us have experience a point when we have to tell someone to back off...

Extra Stuff
By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©03

I haven’t left yet, if you noticed.
But you need to cut me some slack…
And don’t put that extra straw on my back.
Don’t lay me as the enemy mine…
I am not the bearer that you should be wary of.
But the one who stayed, when the shadowy locust feasted…
And sped away.
I know you are vulnerable and trying to gain some control…
But you need to cut me some slack…
And don’t put that extra straw on my back

All rights reservedJHM8-4-03©

From Where I Sit…

Coming home late on night after a business trip I was locked out and had to wait for someone to bring me a key. As I sat on the porch I started listening to all the night sounds and this poem came from it:

At half past eleven…I am keeping an eye on…Over-stuffed, alabaster clouds…On a merry chase…Dancing nimbly on a backdrop of inky stained linen sky.A solitary brightening…From a lone-star on this balmy nigh.I enjoy the engagement of spring…Husky, endearing sounds of hope.Could it be possible?From where I sit.That peace-ness can reign supreme?Though off in the miserly distance…Staccato popping shatters the still.Aie! For a few seconds…Peace-ness was denied.Yet, from where I sit.Among the gardenias, oaks and honeysuckle’s.Peace-ness flows again…From rivers to stream.At half past eleven…And from where I sit…It is all I’ll ever need.All rights reserved JHM 3-8-02 ©

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Listening to the Children

Poems belong are snippets written by children at that time who were ages 8-11 who are in their late teens today. I was teaching at a summer art camp for the New Orleans Contemporary Art Center a clss on quilting & poetry and these are some of their prose in honor of National Poetry Month...

Shhhh...Listen! Can you hear it when they saying?
Veronique's poem...

What's wrong...
When will it be done?
Senators and mayors don't pay attention...
They are in another dimension.
When will we see?
It just won't be?
We will never be important...

Because we are forgotten...
We need something new.
Who will it be?
Or you?

Brandon's poem...
There is a man...
Not the man up above.
He glows...
He glows like a light bulb.
This person is funny.
He gives me money.
And makes me laugh like the Easter bunny.
I hope he doesn't bother...
That I call him Father.

Shhh are you hearing...
Keutrall's poem...
When I think of my picture ...
I think of stars.
Rotating in the direction of moving cars.
I think of the solar system
and how it changes each and every day.
I look up in the stars...
And wonder all the time.
And that's how I got this beautiful rhyme.
So if you came to be free...
One lovely night.
Look up at the stars...
You'll see they are alright.

Brian's poem...
I made a flower...
Because I had nothing better to make...
But everyone thinks its great,
though I think it stinks....
Oh well, I'll live!

Shhhhh... Listen! Can you hear it?
Brian's poem...
Who is to say a face is normal?
Who knows what normal anyway?
Is it, so wrong to have different color eyes?
It doesn't matter if your nose is round.
Or your mouth is multicolor.
The only thing that really matters...
Is what in your heart.
If it's love...
You'll know that,
you were normal from the start...

Friday, April 3, 2009


Griot (storyteller) mesmerizing children at Stagville

Footprints Quilt at lecture I was giving at Stagville Plantation 06


Drumming Circle at Stagville Plantation Horton Slave Row,NC JHM©03


I hear the beat of a different drummer…

Whose hands are callused from a continual call that too often falls on deaf ears?
It entreats you to listen, pay attention, and heed the call.

Yet the drummer continues to send out the message.

And sometimes, so faintly caught in the wind are snatches of the word heard.

And reverberates, piercing the marrow of the one whose heart’s ears hear.

And the rhythms’ sounds begin to pound.

Like rain shining down on the river’s water.

And the aching heart responds to the call of the drummer’s relentless pounding.

In the interior of the walls of their heart something long ago stirs up.

And impels them to move, despite the resistance of a world who’s prized jewel…

Is the ability to diminish, to tear down and deny the freeness of the ones to shine beyond all light?

I hear the beat of a different drummer whose hands are callused from a continual call.
But my ears are unstopped and despite it all.

I get up and move toward the sound

All rights reserved JHM 3-11-03©

I Wanna Send to ya…

"Love Dem Arts"©00JHM

By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©02

I wanna send some swing to ya…

My solitude is not a millstone imbibed in a gilded cup behind translucent shades.

Ya see…

I’ve been rocked by the wind and warmed by the sun.

Is my green blued?

As in a finely tuned riff?

Or did the purple immersed samba graced a sienna sky?

I wanna throw some rhythms to ya…

As you incline on the red leather de-vine…





Sharing the sanctuary with my moments .

That will groove and then settles behind my right shoulder waiting for the muse…
To begin.

I wanna hold the be-bop for ya…

Straight ahead to the road…

Where purple moons will come and purpler heavens to meet ya.

Incline your ear toward majestic sharps…

That grabs and pull ya!

Grace the tunes…

Is my green blue?

Or my round up?

Now swang will ya?

So the funk can get to ya!

I wanna groove the soul to ya…

Suspended, I am.

By the crooning in my heart.

The in-between submerged right behind my left ear where all my hopes and dreams…

Begged to begin.

Love-ness in the yearning-flower, seeking the right words to explain itself.

Showering the scope.

And then…

I wanna exude the blues to ya.

I was born by the rivers and the whistle-walks.

Where the wind ran at liberty and there were no enclosures…

For the spot between my eyes where all that I will be dwells.

And the blues continues.

I wanna flow the jazz to ya…

With silvered sculptured treble clefs…

Washing over curried brick clay.

Enchanted with…

Yeah it was…

Mellowed afternoon sun showering over a red leather de-vine.

Toward mellowed days and mellower nights.

And that is what I want to send to ya.

All rights reserved © 3-7-02 JHM

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Stole away Quilt

"Stolen Away" Quilt photo shot at Horton Slave Row, Stagville Plantation, North Carolina. Quilt was actually stolen when on display in Greensboro,NC event. I had purchased from an elderly woman from Mississippi who was being exploited by her "rep" at an exhibition in New Orleans in 2003. I could not stand to see her not being paid well for her labor & paid the asking price but slipped her a few hundred more. it broke my heart when someone decided they wanted it more then I.

It is just now I can speak of it...

Stole Away Quilt
By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©09

When you stole away the quilt with nary a thought
of its grieved away heartbreak/ you took with you/ snatching away/ a something that was not yours to have/ when you stole away that quilt/ of 88 years of living/whose breath/has now been stolen/when the life/was blown away/lost now/ with Katrina winds/in a Mississippi rising/when you stole away that quilt/wrinkled hands/
matching brow/with sounds ‘n symbols/of kidnapped lives/ that were seized/when you
stole away that quilt
All right reserved JHM 4-1-09©

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

In the month of April

April is also National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem a day for my joy and I trust your pleasure...

Just Today

By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney©09

It was virtually nothing except bare walls when I moved in.

And now I have trees to sit under with sweet smelling jasmine and honeysuckle and honey birds…

Any time now my golden shower is going to break out as an absolutely magnificent mural raining…

I am back in my peaceful centre and all is well with the world.

And even be able to conjure up the energy to dance at the edge of dawn in my garden…
If it

was only just today
All rights reservedJHM 3-31-09©

In the Midst

"What you Say?" quilt 06JHM for Ray Charles
April is National Quilt Month. Remove the word "just" a quilt from your vocabulary & read about how the laying of hands to cloth has be a huge contribution to the recording of life for milleniums.