David Jackson

Fireflies Poem

by

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

fireflies poem david michael jackson 1999

We Must Meet Poem by David Michael Jackson

by

here you shall find me
must find me
we must meet
having met, we must
meet again in the shadows of
truth
beauty shines through the window and
dances with the dust in the air
the cat sits by the window
watching the birds
I sit by the window with your memory
watching for you
in the birds
in the trees
we must meet across the river
in the shade of that tree
that tree we cling to
so the raging waters of the flood
may not drown us in our own
innocence

Good Old Days Poem by Joan Pond

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The Good Old Days
by Joan Pond

The good old days expired
when I sat on the bed
and he said he didn’t love me
as much as I loved him.
Irrecoverable
obsolete,
I was past perfect;
incomplete without him
Once upon a time
I’d found my prince
but he turned me into something
less.
Weighed
and found wanting
I packed beggardly boxes
and left,
not wanting to lose more
than I could
afford.
Good Old Days Copyright © 1998 by Joan Pond, All rights reserved

I Turned and You Were Gone by Joan Pond

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NEEDLES OF PINE

I turned
and you were gone.

Clusters of blue hydrangea
and the scent of sweet privet,
were all that remained.
The cobblestones I’d traversed
for so many years,
seemed threatening.

A police officer asked,
‘are you okay?’

Suddenly,
a whiff of pine reminded me,
of a pillow I’d had in Vermont.
It was filled with prickly needles,
offering a certain scent
of solace.

I turned
but you were gone.

Lovers Poem

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The Lovers
by Marilyn McIntyre
the lovers circle the wagons
stoke the fire
ignore all outrageous slings and arrows
their’s is a brave new frontier
the lovers swim in a pool of light
drowning in the depths of each others eyes
no need to be on guard
the lovers – spotlighted, dazed
applauding their own performance
no need for bad reviews
the lovers, their own sun
waltzing in the spring
encircled in their slow, slow, dance.