David Michael Jackson

Come Play With Me Poem by Edy Lou Benjamin

by

Play the song by Artvilla’s mentor Edy Lou Benjamin a.k.a Summer Breeze Guitar by David Michael Jackson

COME PLAY WITH ME
sweetgrass wafting autumn harvest
sighs with love divine, unspoken
candle light observing darkness
holds a world expectantly…

here in dark of dawns prebirth
comes a whooshing whooshing…
angel wings still flutter softly
’round the hearts of mortal man

birthing pains in nut shell open
releasing seeds to fertile Earth
even ice melts in the furnace
of the river rushing forth

time stands still but only shortly
or long if one is standing still
what clings us to a backward motion
releases as we boldly step

into the shoes of our own making
flowers need but once to bloom
in this garden of human faces
is delight of wonder…meant

hoards of angels’ singing voices
praise the passing, evening light
praise the birthing day to be
unclung to old miseries
“here,” — they gently touch my shoulders
first my left and then my right
“wings invisible will fly now
to the love that’s pulling you.”

all love is a pulling, tugging
to what calls a heart to play
see us here all tugging, pulling
one big clam shell open, closing

will you come & play?

Why these windows move mountains Poem by David Michael Jackson

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I am worn weathered wood.
I have seen the storms,
felt the hot sun,
endured the wind until
I am cracked.
My colours have faded into
burnt siennas from red under
the sun’s rays.
I have seen the owl at night and
the hawk in the day for
I am a window in this wood,
this weathered wood.
I am a window or
I am nothing.
I am a window.
Sneek up, take a peek
into my panes.
She will be there, sitting
at the table
having her tea
or holding her cat
quietly

***

gets up every morning and joins the crowd poem

by

he

doesn’t live that life so he
gets up every morning and joins the crowd

Which shore?
He said petals from an appletree
yes petals from an appletree
and leaves falling silently

Which shore?
He said petals from an apple tree
and
summer music
and the summer breeze

and he washes up on the hundredth poem or the thousandth poem or
footsteps on a stair,
washes up on the shores of reason and reaches
washes up with the wordbarrel
empty.

***

David Michael Jackson 2005

Lost Love or Loss of True Love Poem by David Michael Jackson

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Love Lost: The Loss of True Love Poem

Silence does not befit me
The loss of true love
does not the tongue
encourage.
The irises are in bloom
and I have
lost another love.
Sad roses and doves in
the rain
call to explain.
I am an old pine dwarf
clinging to the the rocks of
a minor mountain.
Crying in the wilderness.

Love Lost, The Loss of True Love copyright 2008