Original Poetry by Jenna Tomlin


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... in no particular order of time written or subject matter is my poetry.  So welcome to to the words and worlds in my mind.






The dancer swirls her hips, heavy with golden disks,

To the rhythm of the flute and zither.


Eyes heavy with kohl, skin perfumed with jasmine and nard,

Her audience sighs with pleasure.




Her body curves around, feet glide across the floor,

Tapping out a beat soft as rain drops.


Bangles jingle upon soft wrists, hair black as night curls around supple shoulders,           

Tresses fall below her waist.




Sheerest of veils cover her face, bright colors and intricate patterns swirl as she moves,

Silk twines around her legs and arms.


The music ends, she must leave the company of the audience now.






What will become of the mockingbird come morning?


Leaves shiver in the slight breeze of night


A lantern shines softly over a small pool of water

            Golden fish leave glinting ripples on the surface


The silver cat winds around the corner


                        Slightly hungry


What will become of the mockingbird come morning?




The Dreaming


See without seeing in a world without dreaming.

Once upon a time, long ago, I was told a tale of a story and a young girl.


Long had this story desired for someone to hear its music;

The story searched the lands over,

From mountain to valley, from ocean to sea

Trying to tell everyone it met the wonders the story longed to share.

But no one ever listened; no one even realized it was there.

Ages passed and the story lamented, growing weaker in despair.


Then one day, by chance, this baby girl was born in a small village in a valley full of gold and green.

She was born in the full of spring, on a bed of new lilies while the sun shone down on the earth below.

She was bathed in the liquid light of warmed spring water and thus the magic of the lands blessed this baby girl.


The years passed and the story happened across this little village.

One night, this young girl had a dream;

Within this dream the story came alive,

All the color and music, passion and adventure unfolded like a soft explosion in her head.


But no one believed her when she told them, no one believed in dreams or stories.

It isnít that they were cold or cruel, they just didnít understand.

The story and the young girl cried,

But every night, the story would come to life within her dreams,

And she would ride on the wind with the hawks at her side.


The story was small, but becoming brighter and a little bigger simply because this young girl believed.

But she wanted others to know of the story as well,

One day as she was gathering fruit with other children of her village she told them of the story.

They listened; they wanted to hear more.


That night, those children dreamed the story,

And the story grew and swelled and loved the children of that village.


A moon passed, and the young girl felt that while she loved her small village, she wanted to live her story dream.

So after many tears, the young girl set off.

Her story guided her along many paths and she had many adventures, and she told her story to anyone who would listen,

But most of what she loved was to tell the story to all the children she met.

Along the way, she discovered the magic of creating new stories, and this she shared as well.


Many years passed, and the young girl decided to return to her small village.

Word of her stories spread and people came from near and far to hear her tell them.

As they listened, so too did they dream,

And the dreaming spread and the world was changed because one young girl had a dream many years before.  

As history becomes myth, so do few remember the day when The Dreaming was not known.


Once upon a time, long ago, I was told a tale of a story and a young girl,

And now I have told you.





 The silhouette before me emerges;     

        the bodyís breath tingles with light, 

        to feel her eyes, though hidden from my sight.


Emerald true with passion surges;

        the depths of my soulís reflection,

        the deep in which I become and in which I know perfection.


Lithe and graceful is that body; sensuous are the curves.

The soft lips breathe their light kisses into the air.


The silhouette moves against the outline of the skyís red gold;

        the bodyís breath tingles with light,

        to feel her eyes, though hidden from my sight.


The wonder and joy those hidden eyes hold;

        the depths of my soulís reflection,

        the deep in which I become and in which I know perfection.






The hot wet tears of my desire pour down upon the open fields


In one moment I would give you all- I would scream it all out to devour you


To make you mine- to fill that part of me that needs to make me yours


So take my desires, my aching need- and make it all disappear


Replace my desire, my aching need with the knowledge that my screams are all we could ever want or need.



Some Impromptu Poetry

Coming back from a walk in the rain, my hand put to paper some impromptu poetry of my feelings and the sights I had experienced, before the images faded from my eyes. 



Out of the soft rain

A water droplet grows

A brilliant crimson leaf falls

I feel complete



With wet rosy cheeks

I stood and watched the waves

Coming into shore



The marigolds and ferns

Damp with the falling rain

Gave me a chance to watch

The dew form



Senses open to the everlasting beauty

                And the impermanence of our life and world,

I stepped outside to feel the wind and taste the rain.

To be reborn for a moment with the wonders and delights

                Of a child,

I walked without caring

Seeing only the beauty of what is naturally so.

And the raindrops fell on the leaves in full color

                To once again repeat the cycle of life and death.




The Lady of the Lake



Come child,

The Moon is full and you are now ready.


Down this path is the Lake,

You have the Gift,

You have the Sight.


Kneel before the water's edge,

Close your eyes

Clear your mind.


The breath from the Goddess

Ripples across the Lake-

Each Ripple to show what once was

Is now forever changed.

The Past and the Future come together in the Present and it is forever changing shape.


Gaze into the water now,

Tell me what you see...



To them out there we are as only a Myth now,

Avalon is no more a part of the outside world.

How close we were so long ago,

We knew each other well.

But now to preserve our world we now infold our sacred Isle deep into the Mists.


Someday the world will know us as so long ago.

The Deer will run free in the Meadows

And the Wisdom of the Dragon will return to the outside world.



Longing of Memory



In my dreams I dream of you.

I know not your name,

But I have memorized your touch.


A distant memory but ever present

I wake with an ache that Iíll never find you outside the dreams.


Maybe in this life we are not to be;

Only in dreams are we allowed


In your arms, comfort have I found,

 my peace.

In that peace I bring you with me

Outside the dreamscape, out of the Immaterial


So that when I go to dream again,

I can share all those delights with you

-My soulís mate

That I may never see in the present day, only in the night.






I hear a gentle melody on the wind

                it seems to surround me

And shimmer in the night.


No earthy voice could produce such a haunting sound

                So sad, yet so strong,

So determined to out sing the pain.


Far away the dark beauty sits,

                the cold of the night is ignored

While she sings under the moon.




Midnight Sky


I wish beyond hope

for a star that isnít there.

I stretch beyond my reach

for a future I canít see.


My silent plea screams through the midnight sky.

I am not here, in a place that never was.  A mystery, enigma, a sigh on the still wind, a passion, a yearning, for that which I care.

The smell of freshly cut grass floats through the midnight air, smelling of sweet watermelon   heavy with honeydew.

And so tonight I will dream of you.





My Love


"My Love,

You know so many things; where are you from?Asks the Southern belle with long black hair.

"From far, far away colleen.I reply. 

"The stars are so bright tonight.  Such a beautiful moon in the sky.She stops to look at the moon.

"Do you think thereís a Heaven?She asks with such a wistful expression.

"Ma Belle, Heaven is where you make it.  Heaven is in your sweet heart and hands." 

"So is there a God?Spoken with large green eyes, so expressive those eyes.

"Ma Belle, I will never say, that is for you to find out."

"You look so young, and yet your eyes tell a different story entirely.  How old are you really?"

"As old as your dreams ma belle."  Say I with a grin

"Then are you a dream?

"Nay, love.  Never a dream, save when you wish me to be.



"Show me your soul", she whispers

"Sweet Colleen, it is even as you wish,

That the stars grow bright in the sky

And shine in your eyes.

And I can not deny my love her wishes."


And so I bow to my lady, and give her my heart and soul.

My Southern Belle and I stay to watch the sun come up before we ascend to the heavens.






Onebreath- and angels laugh in the wind

A sigh- and I'm dancing in a dream

Your kiss- and the world stops moving.


And as the wind blows past,

I see a whirlwind of colors in the sky.

I raise my hand to stop the flood,

But the earth opens up for me to fall.

Clouds rush by and waves draw near,

Water surrounds me and I'm floating on air.


Stingrays glide among the stars,

Mermaids sing in bitter-suite.

Nightingales call from a distant tree,

A babbling brook flows to the sea

And a clash of swords leads into the first waltz.


I pick a lily for you while

The moonlight touches my cheek

And the earth goes round and round.



I feel so cold


Humanity, both a blessing and a curse;

Humanity has found the ability to create, what limits to this maybe only dreams may know.

By that same token, we have created a monster.

A monster within and without.

Increased imagination has discovered the stars and then discovered how to destroy them.


I feel so cold.  The stars are missing tonight.



Riding into Town


I watched them ride into town.

The day was hot, the sun almost to its zenith.

No clouds in the blue sky.

Oh, they where a sight to see, and I felt awe like in the presence of


I knew immediately who they were,

Their stories described them so,

But in flesh they left the fireside tales in the dust.


The golden horse caught my attention first.

I saw the white mane flying in the wind from a distance.

And then Her, her black hair whipping back from her face.



At the tavern they stopped and dismounted

And then I found my eyes staring at the most beautiful woman,

Golden hair, radiant as the sun.  

This was the Bard then,

The Amazon Queen who had chosen to travel with Her,

I could feel their bond.

And I understood then why She loved her so much.


Before, in my dreams,

I would sometimes meet one of them,

And I would help them in some way and we would fall in love.

My dreams shattered then,

But tell the truth, I donít care,

Because I have seen them for real now.

I know I donít have a chance, no one does.


That day I have never forgotten,

And my dreams take me back to that day

When I saw them riding into town under the sun

And I am content.




The Dream


I had a dream last night

With vivid colors and sounds

I was standing on a height

Mountains all around me.


I had a dream that you wanted to leave me

That you felt we would be better apart

So you left me be.

But how could I be better off without my heart?


The dream ended then,

I woke up to find you

Sitting by the fire watching me sleep

Thinking it would be better if you left.


So I will tell you about my dream,

And ask you to stay.




 The night


The moon is overhead- soft light casts shadows.

A shriek in the night air cuts sharply through the stillness.

Wings carry the deadly battle over the velvety water.


The forest rustles ever so slightly, and then there is only the silent glide of wings once more in the night sky.


Only the sweet calm waves can be heard moving now.

The silvery velvet expanse which holds greater mysteries to my eyes then the dark forest behind me.

All the wonders and dangers lying under those silky waves Iíll never know.

But the tide will always call to my soul.




To you who are not,


If I were a bird I would fly away,

            I would look down at the world and be apart from everything but the wind;

            If I were but a bird.

But I am not.


If I were a mountain, large and solid;

            To be so grand and inspire such awe, and be apart from everything but the wind;

            If I were but a mountain.

But I am not.


If I were a wave, what an intoxicating thought!

            To flow and float, to move though the ocean and crash onto the shore, to be apart of everything, even the wind

            If I were but a wave.

But I am not.


I am but a single human person, connected and apart,

With a very active imagination.




The Wind Talks


The wind talks,

It whispers in my ears and shouts to the trees along the riverbank.

And with a wild yell of glee plunges into the fastest currents the river has to offer.

Coming up to take a deep breath of pine-scent,

The wind floats for a bit soaking in the feel of water and sun.

The wind plays idly with a large maple leaf,

Spinning it across the water

Dancing it around little sticks floating beside it.

Then the wind, much to my delight, sent down a wild rose petal to add to the ripples.

The wind laughs and plays with my hair.


The sky is so blue,

And the wind forms little shapes in the fluffy clouds to keep me amused.

Now the wind floats down to the river by my side, and skips along splashing me with sprinkles.

The ferns wave hello and the tall tree branches shake with laughter.


The water, cool and warm all at once.

Silver, green and blue melt in swirls and race downstream

I dip in my toes and watch the fish glide by.






There she lay,

Helpless as the falling snow around her play.

It was in that instant that I knew-

I would fight and lose my Way.


My Way of Peace,

My Quest for Ultimate Love and Truth.

Tell me I was right,

When I know I was so wrong.


Looking at her-

I know it's not my Way.

Peace is fine when there is a choice,

But here and now, there is no choice.


My mind is desperate,

All I see is the sword in my hand,

All I know is the moment drawing near

All I see is her.


But there she lay,

Helpless as the cold December day,

It was in that instant that I knew-

I would fight and I would lose my Way.



The Shady Stream


by the shady stream the blonde women stops

on a stone she lay her bag and scroll atop,

and with her staff, begins her dance.


graceful moments, so well known,

everyday her skill she hones.

A deadly beauty by the river side.



 The Story


The sun has fallen from the sky, and the moon now illuminates the land.


A soft fire crackles among the stones in between the Bard and Warrior.

The firelight sets the bardís hair all golden red like the sun;

Her bright green eyes shine as she moves to weave her glorious tale into the night air. 


The Warrior sits entranced by the words.  Blue eyes smile as the closing words finish the tapestry.

They sit together by the fire, warm against the night,

Knowing that they have each other- for what is the Light without her Dark?



Dear Artemis (Jonquilís prayer) ....It's a character in a story a friend and I wrote together


To the Great Huntress I send this prayer

To give me strength

To give me wisdom


To the Daughter of Leta I offer this prayer

To guide my hand

To guide my heart


To the Goddess Artemis I ask for your favor

In my quest

In my life






Every so often when a soul is born from the Chaos of the Universe and the
Passion of Love,
The primal energy is so great that two souls are born instead of one.
These souls share a creation and are forever joined in the mortal and
immortal world.


In the beginning of time
Even before mankind started to walk the earth in search of food,
Two such souls were born.


Throughout the ages they have been
Warriors, Lovers, Storytellers and Adventures.
War and Peace have brought them together many times in many ways.
Their story is constantly changing,
Yet ever the same.


Mortals and Gods have heard their stories and wept,
For their love is strong and true.
They have many faces,
Yet always the same heart
And are Forever Joined.



ALL POETRY © 2001 Jenna Tomlin



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