Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby: Favorites

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Winter Sun

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Emma Elisabeth Wood

I imagined we’d grow gray together
and take winter sun holidays
somewhere we could warm our bones

cut out coupons from newspapers
stacking up in a jam jar
next to the fruit bowl

you’d rent guidebooks out of the library
and I’d take evening classes
so that I could understand
black tied waiters

you’d find it cute and impressive
and you would hold my hand tightly
during take off

the plan was that we’d walk around
foreign supermarkets and guess
the contents of the cans

they’d be faded beach towels
and the sticky scent of tanning lotion

our antiquated skin would burn easily
if we didn't smother it

but I’m not sure it matters
anymore, fretting over factors

we already have tumors
growing like doubts in our chests

we have nurtured them,
tended to their hungers and thirst
until we have none of
our own

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Suit

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Dave Gledhill

Suit

Well of course, Your Honour, I can explain,
why I urinated on the train.
You see the first toilet appeared to be locked,
and the other one of course was blocked.
Is it wrong? You could dispute,
Do you expect ‘Moi’ to ruin an Armani suit?
Clearly men of our position,
can appreciate my pleas of contrition?
What’s that you say? Inebriated?
A glass or two, it should be stated -
for the record, which should also note,
the tear in the sleeve of my cashmere coat,
caused by the vandals that restrained,
as I was wrongly cuffed and detained.
As a chap of substance before the court,
perhaps my innocence could be bought?
No, no, not a bribe of course,
more a donation of remorse.
It’s not as if the jury gives a ****,
they obviously don’t realise who I am.
It is clearly just the wrong decision,
to send a man of breeding to a prison.
A witness says that I was ******?
And that I tried to stand up but missed?
What slanderous lies of lesser classes,
perhaps I’d had three or four healthy glasses.
And reports of singing and standing on my seat,
are fabricated, nonsense and incomplete.
Cameras saw me strike the face -
of a man, with my leather briefcase?
Perhaps at this stage I should refrain,
and allow you to address this stain -
on my character which I’m sure you agree,
is beneath the contempt of someone like me.
Surely you can’t have confirmed my guilt?
What about the reputation I’ve built?
Before they take me, please pray tell,
will there be a servant in my cell?

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Hermosa

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Holden León

Hermosa

Hermosa,
Odio que no puedo besarte
cuando te veo
Odio que no puedo verte
todos los días
Este vida tan difícil
esta ahogándome
Pero cuando estoy contigo
siento algo que no puedo describir
porque nunca lo ha sentido...

h.l.

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

The Most Important Poem I Will Ever Write

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Alice

The Most Important Poem I Will Ever Write

I have heard your Name

all of my life,

sometimes through open palms,

sometimes through clenched fists.

I listened

until my prayers sounded

more like fear than worship,

I listened

until when I bowed my head

it looked as if I was flinching,

is this what You wanted for Your children?

And so I grew,

my tongue becoming a sponge

wringing out praises

that washed my face

but never cleansed my sins

because they were only words

and I have since learned

that You hear me in a language

my tongue was never fit to speak.

I was a fool

who believed You were her Psalms

sung over yesterday’s blasphemy,

who believed You were his Sunday’s best

covering last weeks adultery,

a fool who believed a Rosary

was nothing more than an accessory.

And so I grew, and gradually we stopped speaking

I filled the the silence with anything I could reach for

I filled my bed with different men

and knelt before them

for too many years

convincing myself they were searching for my soul

with their hands on my skin

but by morning those twisted sheets

only filled me with knots.

I filled my arms with junk

until my veins were swollen.

I followed my track marks

thinking they were leading me to heaven.

I was a hunter

whose hunger never stopped

until the day I shot myself down and

I sunk beneath my body.

I thought it was luck

that woke me up,

and I wondered where the hell You had been

where was my white light, my angel, my saving Grace?

And so I grew, seeing my angel came

through the body of a man

who pounded on my chest

and breathed his life into me

until my lungs opened like the gates of Heaven

and he said I let out a noise that sounded like a demon

but I started to have the feeling it was Mercy.

And so I grew, walking down a different Road

crying how there were too many cracks on this path

never realizing it was Your bones

that I felt breaking beneath me

and when my feet were dragging

that was just me fighting to walk on my own

when You refused to stop carrying me.

And so I grew, not knowing Your Name

but crying out for You

in language not fit for this world.

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

When The Ocean Calls Your Name

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

BarelyABard

When The Ocean Calls Your Name

Open your eyes
and focus your ears.

Steel all your senses
and cancel your fears.

The sea is calling
so anchors away.

Shut out the darkness
and embrace the day.

The wind is whispering
throughout the blue,

so unfurl the sails
oh captain and crew...

Hoist the colors, all weakness is shed.
Now bring the horizon and quit
when you're dead.

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

I know why the caged bird sings

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Maya Angelou

I know why the caged bird sings

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Quiet Girl

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Langston Hughes

Quiet Girl

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Widows

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Louise Glück

Widows

My mother's playing cards with my aunt,
Spite and Malice, the family pastime, the game
my grandmother taught all her daughters.

Midsummer: too hot to go out.
Today, my aunt's ahead; she's getting the good cards.
My mother's dragging, having trouble with her concentration.
She can't get used to her own bed this summer.
She had no trouble last summer,
getting used to the floor. She learned to sleep there
to be near my father.
He was dying; he got a special bed.

My aunt doesn't give an inch, doesn't make
allowance for my mother's weariness.
It's how they were raised: you show respect by fighting.
To let up insults the opponent.

Each player has one pile to the left, five cards in the hand.
It's good to stay inside on days like this,
to stay where it's cool.
And this is better than other games, better than solitaire.

My grandmother thought ahead; she prepared her daughters.
They have cards; they have each other.
They don't need any more companionship.

All afternoon the game goes on but the sun doesn't move.
It just keeps beating down, turning the grass yellow.
That's how it must seem to my mother.
And then, suddenly, something is over.

My aunt's been at it longer; maybe that's why she's playing better.
Her cards evaporate: that's what you want, that's the object: in the end,
the one who has nothing wins.

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Little one

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Michael Anderson

Little one

Speak, Little one. Before it's too late.
Before you learn too much, and decide not to say what you're really thinking.
Before you live in fear of what others will think of the words you say.
Speak, Little one. Paint us pictures of your young, hapless mind.
Influenced only by apple sauce, ******-Doo, the color blue.
You carry with you only whats left of your first blanket.
Sometimes the questions of the Unknown, as "Why" "What" and "How" appear more often than not.
You cling to its cotton, frayed edges. Not knowing how long it will be before it's forgotten.
Like your words, the little things, they come and go.
Be swift, Little one. Return to your fort between the living room book case and the television.
Constructed eloquently of blankets, pillows, and my leather jacket, it is safe.
Speak, Little one, for soon you will outgrow your fort, and become part of a world that's not
Continue to speak, little one, as your words will grow in confidence and importance
as you grow so abruptly and follow no plotted coordinates.
And eat, little one, and clear all of your plate,
So you can get back to speaking, before its too late.

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

You Are

Aug 2013 Jacqueline ''Jack'' Maby

Rose

You Are

You are
My anchor to this Earth,
Holder of my Heart,
Protector of my Soul,
Apple of my Eye,
Starlight in the Night.
You are
The Love of my Life.