too late and I already did it
too late for the roses
too late
for the show
oh yes too many words for the
joker
and no pointy hat
no multicolored vest for the
clown with his smile painted on
no free will
except for the
interpretation
and you there
you with your dreams of
multicolored flowers leading
up to
leading into
nothing other than
hope,
you there can take the measure of your dreams
in beauty itself
and hold your head
up
high
***
Selfishishness is Essential in Spring Poem by David Michael Jackson
ESSENTIAL IN SPRING
selfishness is essential in spring
as essential as giving
or love
and necessary for both
it is selfish to sit on the deck and
feel the spring air on my face and
do
nothing
what is it that I am doing
what is it that I want
is it the words which will throw themselves
across the horizon like those northern lights and lead you to
me
you too are fragile and
you too will surely break like the ice above the doorway when spring
hits you in the face
hits you with a lily in the yard or
ploughed earth
hits you just when you thought you were dead like the barren winter land
and you find yourself with seeds in your palm
and plans
***
Spring Poem The Spring Blossoms by David Michael Jackson
The spring blossoms
promise everything.
They deny the knowledge of fall,
of winter,
they
are innocent in the soft breezes.
Like a child the spring blossoms sway
and await the nest.
I am glad to see my friends.
I am glad to have made it through another
winter of
drab hungry sadness to
meet with the blossoms, to
breathe again the scent,
of spring
in a world which has no sense to
offer, no wealth of reason
except for my friend, the bumblebee.
We have common friends, he and I.
Together we will visit them
gathering fragrance
and food
***
Rosa Parks Poem by David Michael Jackson
I Wish I Knew Rosa
I wish I knew Rosa, but what would I tell her?
That I stood up in the back of the bus,
or that I sat down n the front with her.
Quietly in my corner, I wonder.
Don’t start a fuss Rosa.
are you crazy?
What you thinkin’?
they won’t hang you?
They’d hang you, dear Rosa.
so run, don’t expect that seat
run for your own good
for your family
run
so we are left with that my dear sweet lady, who,
more than the speeches,
more than the names in
history books, the lady who
sat down in the front
and did not
run
No New Messages Poem by Janet Macon
Tick, click
tick, click
it used to be the
lonely sounds of time
passing that
occupied my mind
but now it is the
incessant clicking
of the mouse
virtual worlds
replacing my real one
click, click
are you there
has anyone dropped by
today just to say
hello?
click, click
the anticipation
of a new friend
stopping by
is whisked away
by three little words
No new messages.
***