David Michael Jackson Poems

Rarely did we ever come back

to say thank you,

almost never.

We were busy.

Oh they made speeches to you,

mostly other teachers or administrators.

They told you of the difference you made.

The difference you made?

Miss Mabel,

Mrs. Shumaker,

Mr. McDaniel.

The difference you say?

You noticed me.

You told me I was special.

You sat me in the highest chair,

quietly without fanfare

without anyone ever knowing,

except for me

too many years later.

You picked me up and

set me on my feet.

And so I say to some teacher who may

wander into this poem,

some other child’s teacher.

 

I cannot say thank you to

Miss Mabel,

Mrs. Shumaker,

Mr. McDaniel,

so I will thank you.

 

You may not see

but flowers are blooming

at your feet.

 

Thank You Teacher.

 

Thank You Teacher Poem Copyright 2012 David Michael Jackson

El Fuego
por David Michael Jackson
Traducido por Jodey Bateman

No se apaga el fuego
Arde como fuego, como pena, sabes, como pena
Mozo, trae agua, agua para mi fuego, agua fresca, dulce y clara
Las pablabras no sirven. No sirven ni palabras ni labores
La espada clava adentro, sí, en la panza, en el abismo
Y las palabras no obtienen favor
Come el durazno, hombre, come el durazno, sí
atrévelo entonces, enconces, entonces
¨Queda más tiempo?
Tiempo entre crecer y envejecer
Tiempo entre el río y el mar
Come el durazno, hombre
es bueno
es dulce

Once when the lager were carrying their coats
in the sultry swemult of laggon’s presence,
in the swarthy simult
of essence itself.
Let us just say,
condense it to primulfigance,
leave it homing,
as the harrial is cresting to the himult
and the sweevers are weaving,
lasoming, hanging helpless in
swammance itself.
Oh swammance!
Oh swammance!

You there,

you with your folder in your hands,

you

with your toolbox.

You there,

you who think you don’t matter.

You are the butterfly whose wings flutter and

cause winds to blow and rain to fall.

You are the sunshine to someone.

You are the apple falling on Newton’s head my friend.

The wind that flows from you

blows

harder than you could ever

imagine.

You are not

just one domino that knocks over another in a long endless chain.

You are

a voice in the wilderness,

a ripple in the stream,

a wave in the ocean my friend.

You are a single purple flower growing

alone in a forest,

a ray of sunlight.

You are a poem,

A poem that matters to someone,

a factor in someone’s life.

You

matter.