James Murdock
James Murdock Poems
If I have any advice it is to think
think think dear daughter
of actions as cannonballs laying waste
of words as timbers crashing down
...
If I had not seen
the golden sap, sapping gold;
if I had not seen a fire
illuminate your face;
...
It's a hard life
no matter what age you're living in
it's a hard life
whether you're pushing a plow
...
When the last breath of night
has been exhaled
and when its sigh has been heard
through these wooden windows.
...
The rolling sage at dusk, and the rolling dusk
did slide the brown-tinned house, face-onward,
did pull all the soft fields unto speckled star-light
and all the chinaberry trees sideways wisped by
...
Today we bow our piggy faces down toward
thermoplastic tables to give
thanks for mother Massasoit.
Barely minutes we have for rituals.
...
If you find me sometimes
walking away to quiet places
know that it is only because
I can no longer hear myself
...
The gleam upon your bluely eyes
it dances like the universe,
speaking to me of the seriousness
of not one single thing,
...
green little footsteps
all through the browngreen garden
and little holes little holes
all where her green little thumbs
...
There is no luxury
which can wrap you
with the feeling of a
homeplace. Soft
...
Calling all weirdos
to see the world
in different ways
and to live on
...
I have known some of the mad wild humans.
Though they will always be, I have known
the last great freaks of my time.
those who crossed deserts, never quenched.
...
Don't you want to leave all this behind
and ride wild-haired on horseback through
the mesas of Monument Valley?
Don't you want to be the great rucksack
...
Living on the transrealist day
just floating. But perhaps
re-approaching some crypticism.
There's a dwarf-red, proxima centauri
...
I wish to speak to the world like
Diogenes spoke to Alexander.
You move here and there like a bee collecting nectar
so you may later sit. I
...
When the corners of the wild earth were gathered
and put into a box for the broken hearted
I did not hear your rivers crying there.
I saw you huddled like an olive mountain
...
Unlike other forms of writing,
poetry is not
simply finding the time
to do the work.
...
Paper napkin, plastic fork, head hung in a
barley bin—
pepper packets
silver like razors
...
James Murdock Biography
James Murdock is a poet, writer, naturalist and teacher from Monticello, Georgia. His first poetry collection, Think, Dear Daughter, was published in 2019.)
The Best Poem Of James Murdock
Think, Dear Daughter
If I have any advice it is to think
think think dear daughter
of actions as cannonballs laying waste
of words as timbers crashing down
splintering skulls so silent as snowfall.
Think of the world as a canvas not square
but everywhere free, your intentions the paint.
Think of cars as strange machines
that houses could be better, such dull old things.
Think of plants as people still good and
people as sad plants someone stopped watering.
Think forever on that interior space
given to us upon our fall from grace. Think
for those of us who cannot walk around
without considering our footsteps
ineludibly vehement and ever-precarious.
People sing forever only songs of death.
Think forever of their insanity and
sing the song of eternity in your low-lying breath.
Think of bluebirds as angels watching
who have transcended all this ground-dwelling,
living above wishing for better ways below.
But you can do more than dream.
As if dreaming were merely a thinking thing.
You may think and therefore grow
an idea which few will know,
that to be simple is to be free. That
nature is given anarchy. That thought
though burdensome can be filled with love.
That life like a spring is rising up.
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4/24/2024 10:57:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
i like your poems a lot. you are very special. plse post more poems. prathibha nandakumar