Biography of Connetta Jean
I've written poetry since my first memories as a child. my Parents and Grandparents always said i rhymed words before i could read or write...they encouraged me throughout my life to keep writing new poems. I Believe poetry found me, and has always followed me around. It's who I am, something i can't change about myself. Poet will be written on my tombstone. A lot of the work posted here, is from my early years..before my computor and blog days.
Some of the poems i've listed was written to pictures I've taken. (the picture came 1st) , i recommend anyone who enjoys my work to go to my wordpress blog and view the poems with their pictures. It's not a blog that sells anything or wants anything. actually i don't even talk there, it's Simply poems with pictures...
My romance with a Camera began as a child and I must say I'm a photo-holic...if you have time please check the flickr site out. I have loads of old abandoned houses and sunsets...with 7,000 pictutes i have something for everyone..
Most (not all) of my poems & lyrics are fiction, simply stories i created...Folk tales i think their called..
if you want to find a direct link to my blog..'Picture A Poem' on wordpress...copy and paste this link...
my flickr site is
to find my artistic side..sculptures past and present..copy and paste this link
If you found me a stranger, please return as a friend. all poems i post on my site are by me - if you wish to copy or use them please ask...
thank you for all your support on this site.I love meeting new people to share my writing with. I don't know about you, but i find friends and family tend to run when i say 'listen to this poem'..My reason for being here is to inspire others as well as find inspiration.
Connetta Jean's Works:
Some of My work has been published in Newspapers, Magazines and books over the years...
I consider my poetry to be child friendly, and i do not give anyone permission to use my poems for ANYTHING unless they have my permission to do so. They are all copywritten, and most have been published years ago..If you want to use my work in any way, please ask me first.
Connetta Jean Poems
A Farmers Poem
'I don't like Poetry' Said the husband to the wife.. 'I've no time for such things I live a Farmers life'
(lyric) Budget Cut Blues...
I can't afford the price of gas can't eat and pay my rent spend every day workin' just to cover what's been spent.
(lyric) Full Moon Friday Night
Last i saw her she was drivin' with the top down on her car Headed east on Hampton road Lookin' like a movie star.
(lyric) Unemployment Time
The foreman down at the factory just laid off Jake he was hired after me Lord, i'm moving right down that senority line I ain't good at doing unemployment time
A Sunflower Smile
i started a seed planted in early spring Now July has ended and she's a beautiful thing..
(lyric) Who's Gonna Feed The People?
Jeb Martin lived on a family farm just out side of Old Jack town. when a man named Rosco started nosin his nose around..
(lyric) Back On My Feet Again
Back On my feet again..... Unemployments running out I'm so tired of interviews
(lyric) The Call
Met up with a old friend at the corner of fifth and main i was waiting for a light to turn he was standing in the pourin' rain.
(lyric) Cat Tail Road..
There's a place up on the hill top on a road with cat tails growing in water colored rust.. No houses for miles, just catales that we was leaving in a cloud of dust..
(lyric) Casualty Of War..
You could hear the back door slam all the way across town the night you slamed that old screen door and the words that you was a saying
(lyric) Thank God For Working Women..
THANK GOD FOR WORKIN' WOMEN....
(lyric) Stacey Hall
(lyric) Cut All To Hell
The cost of living's rising every day when there ain't no work a man can't pay when there's farmers not farming and white collars blue in jail you know the working man just got Cut all to Helll.
(ballad) If I Could..
If I could..... If i could
Feeling Buggy? ? ?
Every year when spring gets near
It's the same old, same old thing.
Bugs come out and craw about
they lay in wait for spring.
They squirm they craw (they've bit us all)
their tiny mighty thugs
They make us shout and jump about
I hate the thought of bugs.
they hide in walls and window sills