Poets’ Island



In Keeping with the theme of my blog, I chose the title Poets’ Island.  The photo above was taken in Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica.

My hope is that this will be a place of sharing.  Sharing thoughts, ideas, emotions and enlightenment as expressed through the written word.  Anyone is welcome to post a poem, thought or idea of expression here.  Original poetry is welcome, but if you choose to share a favorite non original piece, please include the author’s name.   I hope that you feel free to express many emotions; but this is not a political forum or designed to promote any particular agenda. Oh. And I am not “collecting” poems for any type of publication, so you can feel safe sharing here, remembering of course that others may view your original work.

I thought we might try a theme for ideas and thoughts. I was inspired to write a poem yesterday for the first time in so long I cannot remember. This one came to me regarding Soul Mates. So, maybe we will start there.

What are your thoughts about Soul Mates? Do they exist? Is it romantic fodder or Spiritual Destiny? Does it only refer to romantic love or does it transcend to friendship and familial relationship?

Wikapedia Definition

A soulmate (or soul mate) is a person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity.[1] This may involve similarity, love, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, or compatibility and trust.

Here is my poem.  If there is a theme you would like to see presented in the coming months, leave me a note!

Soul Mates?


Over-trodden trail of romantic faerie dust

See how it scatters beneath the harsh glare of reality?


Attraction  merely the result of overactive pheromones and romantic deprivation

Prodded by Cinderella stories and misty Arthurian dreams.


No appreciable thread of commonality, we move in different circles.

There is no rational explanation.


Desire calls across the gulf of sensibility that separates us.

Create a bridge of possibility along with me!


Safe haven for the fantasies of the hungry

Nothing undone, harm to no one, there in the mists of the ethers


Glances across a room, fingertips touch in passing.

Within the depth of the eyes, truth is recognizable.

Soul Mates

Poetic images of star-crossed love, miraculous journeys that end in passionate embrace

Why not simple friendship for the sake of love long forgotten that lingers across the illusion of

time and space?

Cheryl Pennington

July, 2013


October 16, 2013 The Old and the New


As I was perusing my book  of “ancient” wisdom, ie, the angst-ridden poetry and prose of a sixteen year old, I soon realized that my emotional condition with regard to pain and rejection is not far removed from that self-conscious girl I used to know.  In fact, I can remember distinctly how I felt when writing each one of those poems.  Some say you must forget your past to be able to move forward.  I disagree, at least for myself.

In order for me to heal and move beyond the old pain and wounds, I must not hide them away in some dusty closet of my heart and place a padlock over the door.  Instead, I hold them dear to me as moments of golden perfection; for it was in those moments that I learned exactly what it felt to be in that particular kind of pain.  If I forget those moments and how it felt to know them, how will I be able to empathize with others in a similar place?  I never want to be that smug experienced adult who spins out cliche expressions drawn from the wisdom of my experience.  For one thing I know that being in a place of pain is the least practical or logical place that a person can be, so to try to change that person’s emotional state by giving them your own history as a point of reference not only doesn’t “fix” their problem but can often even intimidate them by pointing out how far you have come while they remain bogged in the quagmire of struggle. It is very important that we all understand our connectedness.  None among us is better or worse, more lovable or loving.

If I can hold the mirror of truth up to even one soul so that they can see the perfect, magnificent being they came here to be, then my life will have been worthwhile.  You are loved always, even when you do not love yourself.  Nothing you feel is ridiculous or unimportant.  We are indeed here to learn and experience so that we will remember the ultimate truth of our existence.

I spent a lot of years struggling to beat down a wall of separation that had but one creator.  Me.  As long as I was locked in the tower of the evil unsympathetic torturers, I could blame everything else for my loneliness.  I have read several wonderful books along this path, but two that stand out for me were The Four Agreements, by Don Miguel Ruiz, and Embracing Ourselves by Hal and Sidra Stone. Mr. Ruiz lists five simple rules to live by that are astoundingly profound in their enormity and they work.  The Stones’ book is about the fact that many of our struggles come from our internal “saviors” who appeared in childhood to help us cope with uncomfortable and even torturous situations.  So many times people end up fragmented as a result of this splitting off of our psyches.  It is something all of us deal with in small ways, leading to “mood swings” and bouts of depression.  Eventually I found a way to see all the parts of myself as they were-the critic, the victim, the hero, the angel, the passionate woman, the helpless child, the artist, the nurturer-and to know that ALL of these beings were truly me.  I didn’t have to choose just one and make it the most powerful.  That only leads to confusion and disappointment when that one part becomes exhausted or faced with a situation it is ill-equipped to handle.   What I chose to do instead was to give each  their place within the circle of my eternal soul.  When  I realized that every part of myself was born of a need to cope, to survive as an empathic being in a very aggressive world, I thanked them for all that they ever did to help, rescue, defend and protect me.  And I asked them to step back and let the real me try it on her own for awhile.

Oh, they are always there, ready to jump up and plant a shield to protect my tender parts, but I need them less often now.  Now I can see the pain when it comes and I know it is only temporary.  We all have ultimate power over our emotions.  No one makes us happy or sad; and no one can ever love me enough to replace the love I must have for myself.  This is the Creator’s gift.  This is the perfect moment.

I want to share one of the poems I wrote at an earlier time, when pain was as fresh as first morning dew, for I realize that I hurt no less nowadays when pain visits my door.  Now I am just not such an accommodating host.  Please do share your thoughts, insights and poetry with me here if you would like.  I would love to know what you feel about pain and growth.  Have the years changed the way your perceive the challenges in your own life?


I wrote this poem when I was 21, and expecting my first child.  My Mother passed away two weeks before his birth. On the day of her funeral it rained as it so often will in Southeast Louisiana.  Once we were back home, the sun came out and there was a perfect rainbow.  She spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals and never liked picked flowers. To this day I don’t bring flowers to the cemetery. In fact, I rarely go because she is not there and the memories are not good ones.  Those live within my heart and soul.


For Mama, Wherever Heaven May Be


Thunder and lightening,

Silver clouds-

God in his heaven, crying aloud.

Torrents of rain, beating

the ground,

Teardrops of Jesus, glistening down.

Splinters of light, gold

strands of sun-

Smiles from the Savior;

sorrow is done.

Low, gentle breezes

whispering sweet.

His breath of kindness

to conquer the heat.

Evening rainbow in

elegant hues.

Showers of scarlet,

oceans of blues.

God’s solemn promise

tomorrow will bring

ease from our heartbreak,

a new song to sing.


Cheryl Pennington

July 16, 1980



8 thoughts on “Poets’ Island

  1. Interesting idea here! I am not much of a poet, but I enjoy reading much it. My mother was quite a children’s poet, actually, and had many published over the years. She taught school for 30 years…really quite a wonderful lady. She just went home to her Lord in February.

    Hope this little “isle” is highly populated in time!



    1. Oh thanks. I actually put this up awhile back and it hasn’t done much. I thought it would be fun but maybe I didn’t promote it correctly. Thanks for taking a look.,i am sorry about your loss. Sounds like she was a wonderful, talented lady

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Well, she was, and thank you for that Cheryl. We all have our time here and need to make the best of it. My mom sure taught us that, dad too!

        Now as for this feature, I wish you the best with it. maybe a more focused approached such as “poetry day” or “best memories day” might help…just saying.

        You are a very cool lady and I wish you the best! Enjoy your day…



      2. Thanks for the suggestions. All I need now is some real time to get myself organized. I still need to get all my book chapters in one place. It will all work out. Hope your week goes well too. I really appreciate your taking time to check out my little world. I miss my Mom but treasure my time with her.


  2. (defparameter *Hello*
    “This is a test for an Island of Poets”))

    ;; (print ((subseq *hello* 0 8)))

    (defparameter *why-am-i-here*
    (concatenate ‘string “this test ” “is” “for”

    (defun cat (&rest strings)
    (apply ‘concatenate ‘string strings))

    (defun why-are-you-here (am i here question)
    (cat am
    ” ?”))

    ;; CL-USER> (why-are-you-here “because” ” I ” “am “)
    ;; ; Evaluation aborted on #.
    ;; CL-USER> (why-are-you-here “because” ” I ” “am ” ” not here.”)
    “because I am ?”
    ;; CL-USER>


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