Judson Jerome (1927 - August 5, 1991 in Xenia, Ohio) was an American poet, author, and literary critic, perhaps best known for having written the poetry column for Writer's Digest for thirty years.
Jerome was also responsible for a controversial amendment to Ernest Hemingway's 1933 short story A Clean, Well-Lighted Place ; in 1956, Jerome -- then an assistant professor of English at ... more »
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Judson Jerome Poems
Because the warden is my cousin, my mountain friends hunt in summer, when the deer cherish each rattler-ridden spring, and I have waited hours by a pool in fear
Empire in Winter
Love equals people times the square of the speed of light. If we but knew the way to split our atoms of isolation, paradise
I guess I have a deficiency. God never said boo to me when as a boy I stood straining in church with muscular endeavor for the sweet squirt of salvation. I never could
Consider the chalice: both what I seek And where I find, believing Savior's blood Was laced with meter and rhyme - my antique Sacrament. Whittle toothpicks from my rood,
Quotationsmore quotations »
''He wants to treat everybody's eyes with the same drops.''Jerome (c. 340-420), Roman church father. Commentary on Ephesians, prologue PL 26, 539.
''When I could not see the light with my blind eyes, I blamed not my eyes, but the sun.''Jerome (c. 340-420), Roman church father. Epistulae, XXII, 30.
''I praise wedlock, I praise marital union, but only because they produce me virgins.''Jerome (c. 340-420), Roman church father. Epistulae, XXII, 20.
''Nothing is hard for lovers, no labor is difficult for those who wish it.''Jerome (c. 340-420), Roman church father. Epistulae, XXII, 40.
''Keep always busy so that the devil will find you always engaged.''Jerome (c. 340-420), Roman church father. Epistulae, CXXV, 11.
Comments about Judson Jerome
(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)
Because the warden is my cousin, my
mountain friends hunt in summer, when the deer
cherish each rattler-ridden spring, and I
have waited hours by a pool in fear
that manhood would require I shoot, or that
the steady drip of the hill would dull my ear
to a snake whispering near the log I sat
upon, and listened to the yelping cheer
of dogs and men resounding ridge to ridge.
I flinched at every lonely rifle crack,
my knuckles whitening where I gripped the edge
of age and clung, like retching, sinking back
then gripping once again the monstrous gun,