There is not much to say about me really. The nagging question I ask myself after attempting to write a poem is this: Is what I have written any good? (Is it even poetry?)
Much of what I have written probably is not good and is not even poetry, but I write anyway. Does it matter? Sometimes I think it does, and other times I wonder if my attempts have all been for naught. I ... more »
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William Jackson Poems
A Bad Poem For The Ages
I thought I’d write a bad poem, one for the ages, signifying nothing. Pavement suffocates the living earth just as bad poetry fills volumes. Still, oblivious to the land’s rape, the masses enjoy sentimental blathering, And all is well since professional wrestling rules even sports columns.
Sun And Moon
Sun and Moon Wishful lovers Never touch Languish in silence
A Word For The Wise.
Do your best. Organize your thoughts. Never give up.
And The World Whirled On.
My Love never languished. She was a visual feast, another Helen, and we loved with an incandescent love so that even the gods wept and wished to be mortal.
I Should Like To Admire You
i should like to carefreely lie on my back, all the while
A Sublime Moment
A green sprout, A single blade of grass, A pharaoh ant wiggling its golden antennae, Thousands upon thousands of leaves rustling with the wind,
At The End Of It All, What Will Remain?
At the end of it all, what will remain? The garden will return to dry fallow ground, and the brilliant scarlets and violets of the coral beans I so thoughtfully planted near the downspouts
What do you mean you do not feel? I feel everything!
This Life Mysterious
This life fragile all too easily shatters. Three tragedies I will never understand, Crushing beauty, flowering hate, loss of innocence.
At Times I Think I Am Dorian Gray.
At times I think I am Dorian Gray. Moreover, I know my inner self all too well. However, I have no portrait to hide away, And the truth of my life my face will tell.
When Dawn Spread Out Her Fingertips Of R...
When Dawn spread out her fingertips of rose, we went down to the sea, and there in the shallows, in a protected place, you lay on your back in the brine, gently buffeted by the incoming tide as I carefully upheld you
If Only Time Allowed
If time allowed me to live two lives instead of one, I would have no obligation except to love you. If only time allowed.
Like bees drawn to the moonflower by lunar light, I am inexplicably
I Love Life!
although death is. although death is the great leveler, Life continues on
A Bad Poem For The Ages
I thought I’d write a bad poem, one for the ages, signifying nothing.
Pavement suffocates the living earth just as bad poetry fills volumes.
Still, oblivious to the land’s rape, the masses enjoy sentimental blathering,
And all is well since professional wrestling rules even sports columns.
It matters little that only a select few appreciate the immortality of verse,
Or that God's world festers in the aftermath of inhumanity's touch.
Bread and circuses even now in this age soothe ignorance's curse.
To hope men feel soft earth, the wind, and grass is to expect too ...