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James Jarrett Apr 2014
I have no wars

Left in me.

I am broken

Except in will.

My strength left

Is but  for a few battles.

My sword

Has grown heavy,

My hand weak.

The only strength left

Is in my heart.

Let my will then

Carry the fight for me.

Let my will

Bring me honor

Let my will

Swing the sword

For freedom

Let my will

Carry me to

My last battle
James Jarrett Apr 2014
Her scent and taste

Arouse primal passion

A Hunger in the depths of the soul

I need to feed

I am famished

And she

Is a delectable treat,

A taste

To be savored slowly

Her skin on my lips

Is delicious

It becomes

Honey and salt

My tongue

is titillated

I eat slowly

Like a man who is starved

I will devour her

Completely

Savoring

Every mouthful
James Jarrett Apr 2014
She tried to be a daughter
But never had a chance
She would have
been
Could
have
Been.
But no one was there
so she went
her way
And made her way
She became
who she is
Today
Day by day
And
For all her beauty
she still hides
Though
she shouldn't,
Behind forgotten pain
To my friend Stacey, who I would be proud to have as a daughter
James Jarrett Apr 2014
Her juices drip

From my lips

Her wetness

My only desire

I have forgotten

Who I am

I am lost

In the scent

And taste

Of her passion

Her passion

Becomes

All that I am

For the moment

I drink her love

I drink her

Her lips

Kiss mine

passionately

Back
James Jarrett Mar 2014
Whilst strolling through the woods one day to while away the time
I came across a creature, orange furred and fine
He had pointed ears and bright green eyes
And a tail that kept in time

He sat on the path quite relaxed and squarely in my way
He did not move, he did not budge, he would not let me pass
"Good day to you and how do you do?" Said I in my merry way
"But please move aside, as you've broken my stride
and let me continue with my day"

"Hello"  Said he, as he sat on the path, in a soft and purring way
"Let me introduce myself, my name is Chumley and I am your cat
I'm pleased to meet you, pleased to see you, so glad to be your cat"

"It's a fine thing you've done and a fine man you are
to walk your cat through the forest
A cat could ask for no finer master, could find no better man.
So, let's finish our stroll on this beautiful day and continue on our way"

"Hold on!" Said I, quite taken aback " For surely you are mistaken.
I have no creatures great or small and most certainly not a cat. You are wrong good sir, a mistake I,m sure, for I know that we've never met."

"Oh master!" Said he, with a sorrowful cry "What is it that I've done? Whatever would make you treat me so, the pet who has been like a son?"

"Step aside!" Said I, becoming irate "The day is fading, the hour is late.
You are not my pet, I know for sure, your mind is muddled, go find a cure! Now move from my way and allow me to pass. I've had enough of you blocking my path!"

A tear seemed to form in his green hued eyes
and next when he spoke he asked me why; why after all these years
would I forget a pet of mine

I'd had enough and told him so "Move from my way and let me go!
I've things to do and things to see, begone from my path and let me be!
You've wasted enough of my walking time, now out of my way, you are not mine!"

The cat finally spoke in a wavering voice " I will leave you alone you give me no choice.
But I will always remember our time together, long nights in bed and walks the wood.
I will always remember the love and the good

Later that night, I'd dined and I'd supped, I'd closed the curtains
and turned up the light
I thought of that cat I'd met earlier that day
The thought of him would not go away

I sat at my table, full from my meal, of bread and cheese and wine and veal
I wondered if he hungered, whether he had any meat.
So just to be sure I put a bowl at my feet......
For my cat Chumley


Copyright 1989 James Timothy Jarrett
This was written for a children's book with hand drawn illustrations. The story itself was written at work on post it notes. Every stanza that I finished I would slip to my wife who worked at the same place.    If you have ever come across the cat that insists that he is your pet and is going home with you, you get it.
James Jarrett Mar 2014
That little pink lunch box
Looks empty
Sitting on the shelf
But it's not
It hurts me to look into it
Because it is still packed full
With my love
My heart
Dreams and aspirations
That were gently laid
Into it everyday
Packaged in neatly
So they would all fit
I think of those little hands
That carried it everyday
That carried everything
Packed into it
And it melts my heart
It makes me wonder
Why I even opened it
God, I miss her in the mornings
James Jarrett Mar 2014
It's hard to believe
in fate
Until it happens
Blood on blood
Running on your skin
Dark tattoos of pain
On your soul
On your floor
You bleed
until you can bleed
no more
You bleed until
You are empty
An oldie but goodie
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