Jim Creston is a contemporary poet residing in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Some of his recent works have been published in the online magazines CUIB-NEST-NIDO; In Your Face Radio and The Commonline Journal. Jim has released his first book of collected poems titled Don't Swallow The Toothpaste. more »
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Jim Creston Poems
It's time to pick a new people. I've seen yours, who fence their neighbor hens, and pick feathers from the rooster.
Inside This Bar
He sits at the small round wooden table with his back against the wall, and the gray hoodie pulled over his head during this rainy summer evening.
This Week's Spread
With a salary of $14 million I would not stripe the legs of a child to where they swell and bleed, nor fill his 4 year old
Apple Dew We rested the Sunday picnic cloth upon the stubby grass.
Two Poems accepted by the International ...
I am grateful and send thanks for having two of my poems, Summer Days and Apple Dew, published in the international literary magazine, Cuib-Nest-Nido! Please message me for the link for CUIB-NEST-NIDO or find in an Internet search. Happy Reading!
Can we forgive Vick and move on? I pose this question because I know the culture of the Bible Belt and the hills of the area. I'm not a Vick apologist, nor am I any longer a football fan, but the game still is of interest to me. I know people who have abused animals in their younger years that are no longer that type of person.
Since winter will not go away in Minneapolis.... Keeper
A long long time ago I can still remember how the Russians and Chinese teams used to make me cry and I knew if we had a chance
It’s Easter Sunday. Jesus supposedly died for our sins. Sometimes I think of Adam, and how the Bible said he clothed himself
Transit Sitting outside this coffee shop while reading a short novel
Comments about Jim Creston
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
It's time to pick a new people.
I've seen yours,
who fence their neighbor hens,
and pick feathers from the rooster.
Your atrocities grow each day
while not calling them soldiers,
and labeling them as terrorists.
At early ages we
throw plastic hammers,
and gouge eyes with the arms of Barbie.
The blood of your people is spilled
and my culture colors it more
red than of any brother.
Your sheets on camera a brighter white,
and ambulances louder
than the plucked rooster with cut
beak cut, which can not feed.
Pinned in the crib, ...