A moment of kindness
overcomes a day of unkindness
any time you encounter it.
A smile and free food
offered unexpectedly one day can
overturn a neighbors
mean look another day
and make the sun shine
and the make the chickens of
idle chatter peck
away at cares and woes
in the barnyard of my life..
A smile is never
corny
is never outdated or out of
style.
david michael jackson june 18, 2012 editors@artvilla.com
The water falls in droplets and
lays in pools before
falling again or flowing down
to the sea
but you already know that.
The water feels like rain on my skin
and the water flows
over you also to the sea.
The mermaids sing to me
from the water
they sing of praise and hopes for
my journey
but you may already know them
sitting on the rocks
combing their hair
calling to me
David
David
David
can you hear us
will you hear us
in the waters the waters the waters of
the sea
david michael jackson june 18, 2012 editors@artvilla.com send money lots of money
Sea Carneys – poem by Daisy Sidewinder
Sea carnivals call to me, carnivals
carried by the wandering carney waves
to land and back
around the globe
trading bits of driftwood
seashells and jellyfish
with each other
glittering sunlight hiding surprises
crashing and splashing
driven by the moon and wind
tossing themselves at the world
with foamy glee
breaking up on the shore
tickling the toes of little children
lapping at the sides of pirate ships
always singing the songs of the waves
They ignore the words of
fearful doldrums
warning words from those
holding tight to every drop
jealously guarding
every grain of salt and sand
warning the waves to come back
warning them to stay away from shores
where they’ll be broken to bits
and have to crawl back into the sea
in pieces becoming
the bagladies and hobos of the deep
scrounging for their lost bits
to recreate themselves.
Stay here in the doldrums, they say,
where you’re safe
imprisoned in safety
so that you may live
to fear again.
But a wave, having crashed against a distant shore
doesn’t mind
recreating itself.
***
my grandfather
i smelled my grandfather
this morning in the
sweat soaked gloves
i use on the dumbbells
i remember him as sad
because the love of his live
died young, in childbirth
i wish he could have
found some happiness
to share with me
but i guess some wounds
just won’t heal…
still i was just a kid
but today is a gift to me
and as long as i draw breath
i’m going to live live live
My Grandfather poem copyright Andy Derryberry
Wake! For the Sun, who scatter’d into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav’n, and strikes
The Sultan’s Turret with a Shaft of Light.
The published poets are passed around and re-posted like popcorn on the internet. I have told myself to present original unpublished material but sometime the need to share true greatness of the past overwhelms me. This is published in the hope you will visit and read, from Persia, Omar Khayyám (18 May 1048 – 4 December 1131) and The Rubaiyat. I was given a copy when I was young. It is a prized possession. If you ever are in that bookstore looking for a book of verse that can make a difference in a life, this book made an difference in mine.
Here is another excerpt:
Said one among them — “Surely not in vain
My substance of the common Earth was ta’en
And to this Figure moulded, to be broke,
Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again”.
Then said a Second — “Ne’er a peevish Boy
Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy,
And He that with his hand the Vessel made
Will surely not in after Wrath destroy”.
After a momentary silence spake
Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make;
“They sneer at me for leaning all awry:
What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?”
Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot —
I think a Sufi pipkin-waxing hot —
“All this of Pot and Potter — Tell me then,
Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?”
“Why,” said another, “Some there are who tell
Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell
The luckless Pots he marr’d in making — Pish!
He’s a Good Fellow, and ’twill all be well”.