Where to start,
playing in the red dirt
outside a three room house
covered with fake brick asphalt
under a maple tree,
playing in the red dirt
between the maple roots
with my short haired
brown dog
David Michael Jackson Poems
Cold Rain Poem by David Michael Jackson
Out Into The Cold Rain
out into the cold rain
goes my baby
out into the driving wind
goes my child
out into the cruel world
I send my honey
for
even the bitterest wind
is sweet
even the driving rain
brings the wet street in the morning and
that certainty which permeates
the consciousness in the wet cold,
suffering perseverance
which tastes as sweet
as
the soft forgotten scent of
the rose.
To come out of nothingness
out of the abyss of time and no time,
to come out of that and to taste
the sweet taste of the oxygen in the air for a moment
for a simple brief instant, would you not endure,
would you not say “No problem, Lord”
to the pain and cold
dampness of this day
to the problems and the worries and the fact
that this coat doesn’t quite cover, and
let’s the cold in until it
hurts the limbs when they try to move.
What do you say,
what can you say, but
thank you
thank you for
this day
Copyright © 1998 by David Michael Jackson, All rights reserved
***
The Stewards of The Earth by David Michael Jackson | A Poem
The Stewards of the Earth
Bite the tail in front
shuffle the feet
bite the tail
shuffle the feet
push toward the food
bite the tail
kick the one biting the tail
push to food
bite the tail
The Stewards of the Earth
push buttons
food flows
push to food
the machines whir
A door opens
The light slips in.
The door closes
Out of the Box Poem by David Michael Jackson
Think out of the box
they all say
there are some of us who
yearn for the box
because it’s lonely
out here
for the little boxes all
have nice people
in them
and there are
flowers
and children
playing
as we are playing
and I am playing the poet
and I am serving you tea
in this make believe cup
I say, “It was terribly cold this December.”
and it’s time for
your character to speak
“It was so cold and I felt so boxed in.
but
the winter chill is on the outside of the door and the cat seems content.
The family sends love.”
Cat Confessions Continued, A Poem by David Michael Jackson
When I was 12 my father died.
It took several years before my mother dated.
Our cat population was really out of hand.
Females had females.
My mother was dating a Drill Sargent.
He decided to take care of the problem.
He decided it was time that I was a man.
He decided I should shoot a kitten.
I can still see it.
He succeeded.
For my dear friend, Seymour Shubin who shared a similar confession.
david michael jackson