Internet Poets Poem by David Michael Jackson

Web Published Poets

I hail to you

sentient ones

keepers of the morning dew

masters of the web so

recently spun

hail to you

who dare submit

who dare feel and tell

hail to you

charmers

singers

jokers

lucky ones who

know the morning dew

for the sunrise comes

and the sunset

goes

so wail

cry

rant

try

each day is not an

entitlement

only the gift of

old

and young

and hope

hope for a stricken child

hope for a grandmother

hope for a prisoner

for we are all prisoners

and hope

that says indeed there is

a new law of God’s physics

all that matters cannot be destroyed

***

The Soldier's Poem by David Michael Jackson

UNTITLED

I reach inside and I twist

my heart out of my chest and I

hold it in my hands.

It is beating for you

rumba rumba baby baby

rumba rumba

can you hear my heart

I can feel it beating for those children of war

who did nothing

to earn

a look at the blood in the street

who did nothing

to learn

of the sound of gunfire in the night.

rumba rumba baby baby

rumba rumba

for the soldiers who said I’ll go

and went

and found not what they were seeking

only the

gunfire in the street

and the children

***

Fires of War Poem by David Michael Jackson

To Heal

I want to say that
I am sorry
but
it is not enough to be sorry
it is not enough to cry
it is not enough to get even
or even to try to turn the other cheek.
The refugees gather at the border
“Their lives matter too”
It is enough to become quiet
in the silence of the crowd
it is enough to honor with silence
the dead and the living
it is enough to love again
and to feed the hungry ones
in silence
we cannot heal wih revenge
we must heal this wound
in our hearts
we bleed in silence
our tears fall into the rubble
but the fires still burn
***

Meaning of Life Poem by David Michael Jackson

SELF

So I said to myself
Self

Where is this leading

this living

this being

where is this leading I asked in a moment

of weakness

in a moment of pure futility

maybe the only pure thing I’ve

ever

known

as pure and as cold as the

mountain stream this futility

and I have made me a home in it

a warm home with a

fire

where I can burn my moments

and watch the smoke rise up from them

to heaven.

***