Month: July 2012

Children of War Poem by David Michael Jackson

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Children of War Poem

We’ll give them all to the
war, these children of
our hearts, we’ll let them march
away, we’ll wait for their return,
we’ll wait beside the spring, we’ll
wait beside the spring
hoping for the best
wishing for the best
praying for the
rest.
Oh will you rest beside me
as the water gently flows.
Oh will you walk beside me
when the water gently flows

I’ll carry you into
the forest
We’ll make it our home
I’ll run among the branches
until I find you
waiting for me
like
an
angel.
Yes
We’ll give them all to the
war, these children of
our hearts, we’ll let them march away,
we’ll wait for their return, we’ll
wait beside the spring.

A Good Person Poem by Duane Locke

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Duane Locke

A GOOD PERSON

Stalked by ancient voices,
Nostalgic for pink sheets in summer cabins.
He hid in the thorns and thickets of lottery tickets.
His face was licked by the tongue
Of a number that wore a black pants suit to Sunday school.
He lived as if a bullet in a coma,
Carried a flashlight through colonnades
So he could read the graffiti
Written by children on the columns.
He copied the words in a spiral bound notebook,
Used as lyrics when turning a Johann Sebastain Bach fugue
Into a popular song about nymphs
Drinking gin under green and black umbrellas.
He kept a skeleton in his closet,
Called the bones, “His wife.”
He put a blonde wig on the skull,
Combed it seven times a day.
He smeared vermilion over the place
On the bones that used to her lips.
One afternoon after an epiphany he changed
The names of the bones to Daughter.

War poem by David Michael Jackson

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I knew nothing of the war
except what they told me,
that it was for freedom.
All I really remember is the boy
lying on a concrete slab.
I remember the dried blood on his cheeks.
I can’t make out the race so well,
he’s a brownish boy
just lying there with his
bullet wounds,
staring that stare.
His arms are at his side in
the photo
and he’s lying on his back
on this grey slab.
That’s all I remember, really,
just the boy.
No soccer matches for him,
Mom won’t take him in the SUV.
He’s lying on his back on that concrete slab
No one called the police.
It won’t be on the news.
They won’t interview the parents and
seek our help to
find
the
killer.
There will be more
at
ten.

***

Firefly Poem by David Michael Jackson

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Fireflies

fireflies
we are
you and I
a sparkle over there
here
now there
how can we hope for more when
the stars
are
fireflies
too
these mighty suns
burning in the eternal night
a night which will be there
when stars are
gone
as gone as the children
of war
these children deserved more
than those majestic
meaningless
stars
the children of war deserve more
than some unknown poet
can give them
I am the same as them
You are the same as them
greater than mere stars,
galaxies
what galaxy can equal one
child
***