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1.2k · Jan 2014
Saving the doves
James Jarrett Jan 2014
Spiraling down

With broken wings

Shot sure to it's mark

The hard ground beneath

Comes fast to meet you

We followed you

To find

A fragile bird

With broken wing

Dragged in the dirt

Limping, unable  to fly

We tried to save you

From hard, capable hands

That quickly snuffed your life
1.2k · Feb 2016
Cousins
James Jarrett Feb 2016
It's a picture from better times
Long gone by
Cousins sitting in the doorway
Full of smiles
Still too young to dream
Just happy to be alive
But there is hope and happiness in all of their eyes
And enough life
To last forever
Enough dreams vested in them to fill the world
And I look at that picture
From so long ago
And I notice that the paint
Is scarred and worn
That dirt mars the door frame
But you know
Their smiles are so bright
That it doesn't really matter
1.1k · Apr 2014
Bluebird
James Jarrett Apr 2014
She is robed in beauty

Singing of the dawn

Shades and hues

Of innocence and color

Make her glow

Like new found love

Sparkling like dew

She has captivated my heart

And captured my eyes

But not my spirit

Even she is not enough

To quell my dark desire

Pity and mercy

Have left my primal soul

I am born to ****

Purpose supplants passion

Gaze becomes focus

As I set to destroy her

Her death to come

In one moment

Frozen in my heart

Will destroy me

But I do it anyway
Many of my poems are cryptic and have meaning only to myself. I normally do not wish to explain what the meaning may be. In the case of this particular one, I think the explanation is probably better than the poem so I will explain.    I am many things and among those a bird lover. I have a special penchant for bluebirds as I find them to be among the most beautiful of birds. I am also an accomplished archer and have a 30 yard range set up at my shop. I reliably group at 1 1/4″ or under whenever I shoot and as a rule I do not miss.   When I am calm my aim is unerring.    So, a bluebird lands on a branch next to my target exactly at 30 Yds.  Yep… Right at my target. What’s a man to do?   I couldn’t help myself. I sighted in and took aim. The bluebird framed fully in my peep sight and I was even able to pick a spot; middle. I use a trigger release and I had become steel as I squeezed the trigger. There was no movement as I sighted and released.I slowed my heart rate as I prepared to shoot. I was dead on as the arrow left my bow.  308 F.P.S. of instant death.  I missed by half an inch, impacting just below it’s breast.  I was so relieved that fate had intervened that I can’t describe it. I was panting in relief as I saw that I had missed. The bluebird actually stayed there for a moment perplexed by the impact then fluttered away.    It wasn’t me; I had held my mark. It had to be the gracious hand of fate.    My punishment for this evil? I have never seen the Bluebirds again that used to frequent my shop. I am left now with only the fickle crows that kick at the front door and demand food. I traded the bluebird of happiness for the crows of depression. I know.. I deserve it.
1.1k · Apr 2014
This is why I like poetry
James Jarrett Apr 2014
Because there are no sides and
It doesn't matter what you believe
Or who you are
There is no left or right
We are all feel the same
Maybe a little broken
Or flawed or angry
It is a respite and relief from pain
It is spoken from the soul and to the soul
And it is the only time
That I can be fully human
I love the neutral ground of poetry where we all come to lament or rejoice or vent.  There are no differences or borders when someone leaves or dies that you love and you express that.
1.1k · Jan 2014
Dragon
James Jarrett Jan 2014
It comes within the dark of moon,
black wind whispering 'neath leather wings.
Seeking, searching the scent of life,
with eyes that pierce the deepest gloom,
the fog of clouds with clearest sight.
A scream that shatters, rents and wrenches,
ripping gashes in the cold clear night.
Nostrils flaring, lips a' curling,
eyes that glare with hungers fire.
Teeth of ivory, polished, ground;
on the bones of men, finely honed.
I lay upon the cold hard earth,
my body white against the dark.
So frail and soft with warm blood churning,
deaths desire, stomachs yearning.
The beast it swirled about my head,
circled, swooped,certain death,
talons reaching, grasping, ripping.
I screamed in terror as my world went red.
1.1k · May 2014
The little people
James Jarrett May 2014
There is treachery afoot
On the highest levels
Treason
Sedition
Malevolent power
From those that rule us
In their Ivory towers
Handing out laws
Made for men
That apply for all
Except to them
Greed and corruption
As they stuff their pockets
Help their buddies
All the while
Mock us
They think that we
Are just the little people
Dim and stupid
So far beneath them
But they have forgotten
That we are the sons of legends
Born of the Gods of the past
As surely as Hercules himself
But we are born of the Gods of freedom
Of Washington and Jefferson and Madison
Davey Crockett and Daniel Boone
The sons born of America
Birthed out in bravery and blood
And we see your treachery
And your blatant disregard
For freedom and law
And soon
The sons and daughters of America
Will be coming for you
1.0k · Mar 2016
Vote from the rooftops
James Jarrett Mar 2016
When tyranny sings
And gunshots ring
Then it's time to cast my vote
From rooftop high
To mountaintop
I will make every vote count
In the  mean time now
And the mean time here
I am sitting this one out
1.0k · Jan 2014
Larissa
James Jarrett Jan 2014
I thought of her one day

Walking in the woods

Between the sun and shade.

My wild child,

My Celtic beauty,

Beautiful and strong,

Her blonde hair

Flying in the wind.

With a smile on her

Face and mine,

We raced through

The small streets

On roaring steel,

Daredevils,

Without care.

I smiled as the wind

Ruffled through my hair

And wondered

Where

My wild child

Had gone.
998 · Mar 2014
Censored on a poetry site
James Jarrett Mar 2014
A poetry site? Really?
My words and thoughts are so much more inappropriate
Than the others?
Fearful that I might subvert the poets?
Tear them from their pain and longing
Steal their happy moments
With my words
Really?
You have no idea how your cowardice ****** me off
You in your fear cannot stop words
Or thoughts
I spit on your sniveling censorship
POETFREAK
POETFREAK
POETFREAK
I will take my things and leave
My closet full of wrinkled poems
And all you will hear are my footsteps
Out the door
I attempted to post the  poem "Valhalla" at poetfreak and was censored. ***** them. I have already posted it here and am not reflecting on Hello poetry
996 · Feb 2014
Bird on the wing
James Jarrett Feb 2014
I stand 'neath wintered sky

And mock by my life

Winged Goddesses.

Bolts from on high,

Blue crackling death,

Thrown with careless hand

Have not felled me.

Surrounded by their circling  fury

I smile

My body is battered

But my arrow is true.

Black  and fleet

Their wings churn the sky.

They point now  to one of their own

I have winged a Valkyrie
Sometimes, when you have cheated death as many times as I have, You feel a little cocky. This was one of those times.
James Jarrett Apr 2014
It had been a hard and sleepless night for the weary men on Lexington green. It had been a night of false musters and muddled information. Half of the 140 men had gone home after being called out prematurely on information that British troops would be arriving early. The remaining men awaited the arrival of up to 700 British troops that had been sent out to disarm the patriot militias, confiscate their powder and arrest their leaders, who had recently been charged with treason. These were ordinary men who stood there on that green and waited. They were tired and disheveled and had lives and wives and farms and children to tend to. They were men who could have been many other places, but chose instead to heed the call of the muster and await their fate on that damp morning. With British troops marching steadily towards Lexington this small contingent of men, with extraordinary bravery and valor, had decided that they would not allow the Brits to disarm them. They were being led by Capt. John Parker and certainly were not spoiling for a fight. Accurate accounts had come to them of British troop strength and they knew that they were gravely outnumbered. More patriot troops were mustering, but were heading towards Concord where the main goal of the British lay. These men stood through the dark night, through fear and trepidation, through doubt and anxiety, until they could hear the marching of the enemy coming upon them. This band of ordinary men had decided that they would defy the British troops that so greatly outnumbered them, defy their God given king and be ****** if they would be disarmed of their weapons. When finally faced by the British they were told to disperse and disarm or face the consequences. The men themselves held rank and appeared ready for battle; their battle line did not waver and they awaited the command to fire. Capt. Parker, however, was a good leader and had no suicide mission in mind for the men under his care. He knew that they faced annihilation in full confrontation with the British force and gave them the order to disperse. He also gave them the order to retain their weapons and the order was followed to the man without a single weapon being laid down. Somewhere in the following confusion a shot was fired and then numerous shots were exchanged, with the patriot militia falling back and scrambling for cover as they fired. It was not a large battle, but the shot that started it fell into legend and became the shot heard round the world. But it wasn’t the shot itself that mattered; it was the men who stood that long night in utter and stark defiance of the King and his army who mattered. Those men who would stand to wait and fight and die for liberty are the ones who mattered. Their ideals as men, as patriots, as Americans are what inspired those who followed to fight on. Their lofty idea, that they would remain free men or die defending their liberty travelled through the colonies faster than the sound of the gunshot. That handful of men, ordinary men; fathers, brothers, sons, husbands, craftsmen, laborers and farmers inspired a generation to war and victory. Now it would seem that we have the Brits marching again on Lexington, their boot steps echoing through history. But this time they are Brits in spirit and intent only, as their goal is the same though they wear a different uniform. The armed citizenry of Connecticut have decided that they are going to make their stand against the tyranny of their own Govt. They have decided that they will not be disarmed, or forced to register their weapons by the state. They have now been declared criminals, by the hundreds of thousands, as were the leaders of the revolution. It is ironic that the very same state that harbored the fugitive fathers or our own rebellion would become the tyrannical British. Their citizens though, have decided to make their stand, their Lexington green, and now dare the authorities to make good on their laws and raid their homes for their “Unregistered” weapons. Just like the first time though, this is not just about them. This is not just about some tired and nervous men waiting for a SWAT team to show up and end the life that they have. This is not just about some brave men who have chosen to make a stand and wait, exhausted, through the long dark night. This is about all of our liberties and freedom; yours and mine and theirs. This isn’t about Connecticut; this is about our natural rights that have been bestowed upon us by our creator. This is about the right to defend yourself against harm, crime and tyranny itself. This is the right to eat and the right to live and the right to fight if threatened. These are all of rights at stake, as they are under assault nationwide. A right lost in one place will soon be lost in another and never regained. There are men mustering again on the green. I am sure that they are frightened for they are risking all that they have. I am sure that they have uncertainty for they are facing prison and the loss of their families. But they are standing, and proudly, upon that hallowed ground awaiting the sound of marching troops, awaiting their fate…. In utter defiance. When that first shot that is fired, that surely will echo as loudly as the original, will you heed it? Will you let them stand on their own? When the first of the patriot blood is spilled, will you stay home? Do you have more important things to do? Ask yourself this; When the muster is called will you be willing to wait the night out on that green? Are you willing at all cost to have liberty? I can only hope that the answer is “I will be the first one there”.   I certainly know where I will be.
"We say: Bring it on. The officials of the State of Connecticut have threatened its citizens by fiat. They have roared on paper, but they have violated Principle. Now it’s time for the State to man-up: either enforce its edicts or else stand-down and return to the former laws that did not so violently threaten the citizens of this state." Statement from Connecticut carry to under secretary Lawlor
948 · Mar 2014
Too angry to write
James Jarrett Mar 2014
I am too angry to write
My words will burn through the paper
Tear it to shreds
Smoldering anger
Burst into flame
Will destroy
Whatever I write
I am so angry that it feels like
Bleeding
Pouring out from deep within
939 · Jun 2014
I haven't left
James Jarrett Jun 2014
I haven't left
Just pounded the inspiration
Out of my hand
With 20 Lbs. of hammer
A hand is a hell of a thing
To have
And it's starting to look
As if it's not healed
So woe for me
As it seems
My muse must live in that hand
And once again
She has fallen down the stairs
I know it ***** and is really not a poem. I have been notably absent because I smashed my hand driving a post in the ground. Healing is long and slow as I am 30 days in. Maybe it will get me depressed and I will be able to write something quality. LOL
928 · Feb 2014
Wounded dove
James Jarrett Feb 2014
Her soul bleeds love darkly
Red pools on the floor
She has been stabbed
Her soft heart pierced
By cruel knives
Sharpened with words of love
And water colors of rainy days
And small gentle hands
That won’t go away
Sharpened to cut deep
And she bleeds
And bleeds
As she is gashed
Over and over again
By the cold uncaring souls
That she once loved
918 · Apr 2014
A trip to see my father
James Jarrett Apr 2014
I look at him
Illuminated  by the dim yellow glow
of warm lamplight

He smiles
reclined and comfortable
in the chair of my youth

His rough unshaven face
carries the lines
of a million good times

His warmth makes
the slightly tattered furniture
look better, more comfortable

He stays up late into the night
telling worn old jokes
still funny

He basks in the love of his family
come to see him
and is warmed

I am carried back
carried to my place
in that chair

Loved and protected
rough whiskers on my skin
always safe with him

Sitting in that chair
always with a laugh
always with a smile

Now the oxygen tube snakes
'round his neck
while he tells stories

But his laugh
is still deep
and loud

The hour is late
and I drink his fine whiskey
that he no longer can

I look deeply
into his sparkling eyes
and know that he will die

But not when he can laugh
and still feel
like a child
916 · Mar 2014
Seasons
James Jarrett Mar 2014
I've drunk of the wine of spring

and been intoxicated by the lush sweetness of it's life

I've basked in the sky of the cool summer night

and felt the myriad stars beckoning to my soul

I've felt autumns bitter chill settling into my bones

as the leaves turned scarlet red and knew that winter was near

I've felt the frozen bite of Decembers icy winds wrap me

in their lifeless embrace and steal the warmth from my heart
From the Lunch with the ****** series
903 · Feb 2014
Dark horizon
James Jarrett Feb 2014
The warmth of the sun
has faded
A memory
Stripped
by the cold
and callous wind
Grey and darkened skies
Bring ominous portent
Clouds gather
on high winds
With dark
and obvious intent
Black and malevolent
Seething,
roiling,
in the sky
We await it’s fury
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
For the storm to break
Steeling
for it’s torrent
900 · Dec 2014
Leaving her
James Jarrett Dec 2014
I can't bear the thought of leaving her
My heart that races when I see her
Stopped and still inside my chest
My life's blood
That I would so gladly bleed for her
Dead within my veins
Casting off that cold corpse like a blanket
And flying into the darkness
Leaving her so alone
A broken widow in this world
Her soul mate flown
Gone away without her
I can't bear the thought of leaving her
Just going away
Leaving her nothing
But my cold flesh to cry on
To my love
899 · Mar 2014
Still trying
James Jarrett Mar 2014
My hand still reaches
with loves intent

To be greeted only
with fleeting warmth

How you elude me
and my love

Like a doe in the woods

Always there, but never close
It could be a love poem, but it's not. I have a wild rabbit that lives in my office. He will never realize that when the alarm goes and the door opens that wolves and raptors are not entering.
899 · Mar 2014
Some would say I'm odd
James Jarrett Mar 2014
I am odd
Some would say
But not to me
Living here in my own skin
My castle of bones
Listening to words
Beating like my heart
Some would say
I am odd
But not to me
James Jarrett Apr 2014
Part I.    Fate
It must have been sweet fate
That made us paint the pictures
That we did
Crimson brush strokes
Made self portraits
Crudely drawn in spatters and pools
That were soaked up
And washed away
Along with us
Along with our lives
Discarded in a bucket
And poured down the drain

Part II.  Bird cage

But you? A broken bird in a cage
So beautiful and fragile
Yet so strong
And still able to laugh
And I couldn't stop making you laugh
Because your laughter
Was the only thing
That could make me smile
And there I was
In that rusty cage with you
And we were not broken anymore
When we were together
We were new and washed clean
Our sacrifices on the altars
Accepted
By the sweet Gods of fate

Part III.  Catch and release

How can despair smile?
How can it glow when it sees you?
But the glow soon fades
When you leave the room
And so I am a stalker
Following you down
Those cold hallways
Room to room
To make you laugh until we become 12 again
And peel off our bandages
And run
And let our wounds become scars
And fly from that rusty cage
For so many miles
And so many years
That it becomes nothing
But a memory
But I knew from the moment I saw you
That it was sweet fate
And we would fly away together
Forever
To the love of my life. Only death will end my love for you and if there is a beyond I will find you even there.
882 · Jun 2015
The blue shed
James Jarrett Jun 2015
She caught him out in the shed
Like a thief
Stealing a moment of pain
Wracked by sobs and pouring out tears
Over small and faded pink canvas shoes
The shoes had supplanted his purpose
Sapped his intent
They made his tools indifferent
And uncaring
Turned them into nothing more
Than rusting steel and hanging shapes
Outlined on musty pegboard
That meant nothing
Nothing at all
Until her small and gentle hands touched him
And in shame
He dried his eyes
And put the shoes away
Back in their box on the shelf
And became a man again
Lived again
And worked again
In his shed full of tools
ain suffering loss death heartache depression love
875 · Feb 2015
Two track
James Jarrett Feb 2015
It was a **** in the forest green
A two track
Run red with clay
Smelling of grass
And laid down below
The ocean of humid air
And it carried off miles into the swamp
Riding on the back
Of the long, long Island
And my feet followed it
Like a river of earth
'Til its end
At the old Indian mounds
Mountains of men
And the ghosts of long ago
Just sitting there in the lonely forest
Reaching up to the sky
And every time I arrived
I always thought the same
Such a lonely place to die
874 · Mar 2014
Things I shouldn't know
James Jarrett Mar 2014
Possums not only smell nice, but if they really like you, they will put your hand in their pouch and groom you

Cold raccoon hands on your **** are creepy

A rattlesnake will bite the hand that feeds it

Flying squirrels in your bedroom are hard to catch, but cute as hell

Deep down inside, a wild rabbit will always think you want to eat it

What it feels like to bounce off the ceiling when a house explodes because of a gas leak

It is frightening when a squirrel goes into your mouth after peanuts and they are already gone

When you get hit by lightning it sounds like rock and roll

Lightning will strike twice

You must feed a baby rabbit "Special ****" from an adult for it to survive

When you jump from a third floor roof, your legs will go numb....Until the pain hits

It is really bad if a rattlesnake wraps around your steering column while driving

You can walk almost half a mile with a broken hip and pelvis

What *** tastes like

The sound your neck makes when it breaks

You can catch a water moccasin 3 times by the neck before he catches on  and bites you

A woman will make you carry her through a mud puddle, even after you have been bitten by a water moccasin  through an act of your own stupidity
And the list goes on. But just some Friday fun.
863 · Oct 2015
Hope
James Jarrett Oct 2015
I hope someday

That you will know

The love that was born with you

And will die with me

I hope someday

That something

Will take your pain from you

I hope you know

That I wanted the pain

To end with me

I hoped

That I could make it better for you

I couldn’t

I am sorry

My love has never dulled

And only will

When I cease to be

I love you

And will never know

If you care

I can never change that

But I will replace you

I swear

With something

That will make me forget

Although

All of the things

I’ve tried in the past

Have not worked

Someday

I hope
858 · Mar 2014
Pink lunch box
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
851 · Feb 2014
True love (10w)
James Jarrett Feb 2014
I would have been
A stalker
But she loved me
848 · Apr 2014
The truth is going to hurt
James Jarrett Apr 2014
It's hanging over me like a hammer
I'm just waiting for it to come down
But still I can't stop
It is the truth after all
But the truth doesn't always set you free
No, maybe some people
But never me
I wait everyday for that hammer
But I can never stop
I will never live
Or die
On my knees
I just know
Someday
I'm gonna get the truth
Hammered outta me
843 · Jan 2014
III percent
James Jarrett Jan 2014
As freedom fades
to twilight dim
and darkness filters in
Hopes fall
Like withered leaves
On droughted lands
Of deep despair
But we ourselves
Are here
Brought,
Not blown
By fate and resolve
To stand before the storm
uncolored by fear
unshaken by threat
We Stand

For freedom
839 · Jan 2014
Loss of reason
James Jarrett Jan 2014
In cold and bitter dark

Madness falls like rain

The muddied slopes of reason

Slowly slip away

Gentle momentum

In falling

Gains

And brings the mountain

Tumbling down
822 · Feb 2014
When I die (10w)
James Jarrett Feb 2014
When I die
Do I find
All  my lost things?
You know; Socks, left gloves, 1/2" wrenches. All of the things that have disappeared into the netherworld without explanation.
816 · Feb 2024
Moonrise
James Jarrett Feb 2024
Glowing waves

of grey and white

iridescent clouds

wash softly

against the pale shores

of the night sky

They lap against

the shining moon

But it is a beauty

I can’t enjoy

My love, my love

is not at my side

The beauty is lost on me alone

I am lost as me alone.

She sleeps

As the night does beautiful things

She sleeps

While I wonder

What would I ever do

without her?

All the beautiful things of the world

are lost

on me alone

Tomorrow I think

We will watch the sunset

and the moon rise

Tomorrow, tomorrow
801 · Jan 2014
The wordsmith
James Jarrett Jan 2014
He crafts the finest ever made

soft speakings of verse and prose

delicately hammered like finest gold

each fragile link formed and forged

by mind and heart with love and and woe

Words together in finest beauty

birth shimmering chains of golden thought

with pauses hung 'tween glimmering links

like iridescent shimmering pearls

Deep hued gems dripped from tongue

dance in jeweled and sparkling splendor

to decorate this work of art

hammered from the wordsmith's heart
799 · Jan 2014
Lost Irish soul
James Jarrett Jan 2014
He has gone past
being a  man
He has transcended life
and crossed over
though he is still here
His works and dreams
are gone
Though he doesn’t know
He has become a fragile shell
Holding the vestiges of life
of family
to the end
He has faded in the pain
Consumed by the unfightable enemy within
I stopped in to see him
on St. Paddy’s day
I hoped that he could make that party
that he wanted to attend
But it was not to be
If I could turn back time
by a week, I would
Just a week
All the man wanted
was a **** St. Paddy’s day party
He has become
one of the lost Irish souls
for on St. Paddy’s day
we are all Irish
At least
that is what he told me
I lift one for you tonight
Happy St. Paddy’s day
and goodbye to one **** good Irishman
799 · Jan 2014
The dogs
James Jarrett Jan 2014
The dogs have all had a piece

They lay and eat their ****** feast

Yet still he does, still he stands

That tattered remnant of a man

With just enough flesh to go around

To sate the slavering red eyed hounds

But they're almost done

They crave for more

Not this sorry motherf@cker

He's out the door

They stop and howl

'What have we done'

They've put their food upon the run

They snap and snarl

All in vain

Aught to stop their hunger and pain

They cry with sorrow

To the empty wind

'Please come back we're famished again'
794 · Jan 2014
The sorrowful pen
James Jarrett Jan 2014
My words bleed onto paper

In spreading pools of sorrow

They gush darkly

Onto the page

Pumping out until

Their life is drained

Then fall in pallor

To the floor

The stain they leave behind

Is there for all to read

A record written out

With a sorrowful pen
794 · Feb 2016
Kiss me now
James Jarrett Feb 2016
Kiss me now like it is the last time
For tomorrow only brings sorrow
Kiss me now
And hold me
While warm love is still on my lips
Warm breath still in my body
Kiss me now
While I still have life
For some time tomorrow
I will be cold
From something my wife, my muse, my love wrote
James Jarrett Mar 2014
My love, my faire, I dream of thee
Thine softest smile, golden haire

All things mine would I forsake
Of thy love might I partake

Faire Gwendolyn, easily, would I spurn
This broken kingdom sure return

My king, betrayal, I would not have shown
Had thy beauty then been known

And now with greate sorrow do I behold
Thy sweet love and fairness untold

Your servant in all things,  Lancelot
A tongue in cheek piece to my wife, who is nicknamed Jayne.
776 · Feb 2014
Writers block 2
James Jarrett Feb 2014
My muse has tripped
And fallen
Down the stairs
She hit her eye
On the doorknob
And now wears
Dark glasses
That cover the shame
Of her silence
And shield her
From the stares
I can't sleep at night
Listening for creeping feet
For she too
Is Irish in her soul
Who would ever beat up their muse?
James Jarrett Apr 2014
This game

has drained

the life

from me

slow suicide

knowing

what comes next

I wait to feel

the razor

the pain

and welcome

it's sting

I have been

waiting

now for years

and the time

finally draws nigh

the wait

has been

killing me
The fate you have created, hanging over your head
769 · May 2014
Broken heart
James Jarrett May 2014
She melds into the the soft sheets
Her milky white skin
Hot and smooth
Beneath my rough palm
A touch goodbye
That lingers like a kiss
Her words come back to me
As my caress glides over her
I taste her lips
And hot salty tears
And feel her fall into me
As she tells me the news
She is still so young and beautiful
And vibrant
That I almost can't believe it
But I have to
I can see it in her eyes
Her beautiful brown eyes
Say it all
And I just wish it was a lie
A filthy lie
Told only to hurt me
To tear the world out
from beneath my feet
To stab my heart
Until it bleeds
And cut me open
Like a knife
But it's not
For all my wishing
It's true
And now I touch her
On my way out the door
As she sleeps in soft comfort
So warm and peaceful and beautiful
And I don't want to leave
My love, what can I say?
James Jarrett Jan 2014
There is a place within your heart

that is reserved

for the one you love the most

The one you must have

That special soul

that interlaces

with yours

becomes part of you

part of your very being

Without whom

life is empty and longing

I knew the moment I saw you

That it was you

That you were the one

The warm sunlight

shining in my darkness

I knew I had to have you

That you would be in that place in my heart

Although, I had only just met you

One glimpse was enough

I am so glad my love

That after all these years

You still shine

your warm sunshine

on me
To my love
James Jarrett Feb 2015
I didn't even know that I was dead
That my empty veins held no life
And my heart
That engine of my life
Had sputtered to a stop
And become cold
That my bloodied hands
Somewhere in the climb
Had faltered
Lost their grip
And let the rough stone
Slip
My hand suddenly clenching
Nothing
Just an empty fist
I didn't even feel the fall
The rushing wind
Nor even the impact
I didn't even know
Until I looked up at the sky
And it's pearly blue
With quickly fading sight
That I was dead
744 · Jan 2014
Clothing is optional
James Jarrett Jan 2014
I wear sorrow as a shroud

A grey and tattered garment

Worn thin by time

Stained by pain of the past

A tattered cloak that covers me

Dragging on the ground

Pulling small trails

In the dust of time

Soon I will throw it off

For it weighs me down

And I will let the sun

Fall on me again
730 · Dec 2015
Dig a hole
James Jarrett Dec 2015
Just dig a hole
Make it big enough to hold us all
Just dig a hole
And roll us all in
Let's just be done
No more crying
And no more pain
Just dig a hole
And fill it in
**** me
728 · Jan 2014
Beachside
James Jarrett Jan 2014
Waves of sadness wash gently upon the sandy

beaches of my soul

Their foaming caress my constant companion,

churning, ever churning, remorseless, relentless

unstoppable.

The expanse stands bleak and desolate,

littered with the debris of time, scarred by

the harsh changing seasons.

The wind blows cold and hard beneath the

forbidding steel sky, weaving it's way

between and around the immobile faces of

the time worn stones, occasionally stirring

the rippling sand; but always, always,

imparting it's bitter chill
723 · Feb 2015
Dangerous ideas
James Jarrett Feb 2015
Just some ideas

Thought outside of the lines

And without the box

Ideas so dangerous

They comprise a crime

To think to be free

That your laws

Without my consent

Mean nothing to me

imprison for life

For thinking such things

But

A lonely cell

Just won’t hold

All of those

Dangerous ideas
718 · Jun 2014
Chez
James Jarrett Jun 2014
Loneliness and bitterness
fill her empty shell

Her lying words of love
slowly craft her hell

Trapped within the cell
of dark and twisted brain

All that she can ever give
is cold uncaring pain

Not a tendril of tender emotion
can reach into that soul

Except her own self pity
Poured endlessly down that hole
713 · Feb 2024
The entrance
James Jarrett Feb 2024
She wears her *** like silk
Draped around her in translucent veil
Shimmering as she walks
In ivory , elegant form
She can almost hear the heads turn
And feel the men stare
As she glides across the room
712 · Jan 2014
Sailing into darkness
James Jarrett Jan 2014
I was but a child

When she faded

First grey

Then gone

Into nothingness

And slowly slipped away

To the other side of the mind

Razor blades and bibles

Children cut from books

Kept her smiling

Kept her sailing

Trailing cut mooring lines

Into the dark night

On the other side of the mind.
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