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She has no mirror
but where flirt the leaves with the pond
she comes in the cool of noon
mixing the dark of her hair
with the summer shade
dipping into glass green water
her toes and far above
and all the pond sees
encrypts within the bubbles of rainbow
that only her clothes
swelled in awe
can read.
Jim Davis Jun 2018
When could I next hear
The bird's quietness
The wind's rolling
The thunder's boom
The rain's drops

When will I ever again see
The dewdrop's glisten
The grass's green
The sunlight's beam
The flower's preen

How much longer until I smell
The rose's aroma
The perfume's bouquet
The forest's dampness
The first day of May

How many more times will I feel
The touch's tenderness
The cold's bitterness
The water's wetness
The dragon's armor

When is my next time to taste
The whiskey's bite
The meat's blood
The kisses' sweetness
The color of blue

When will I again
Sense your love and
Believe it?
As well as I believed
Those other things

©  2017 Jim Davis
Bamboo groves sing the symphony of winds
in their crackling I hear my heart
on the red lone summer road.

The village woman passes with her cow
she has no time for poetry
yet her radiance fills me to beg life
more..

O Death be a while away
I've taken root on this land.
On the village road, May 11 2018 2 pm
  May 2018 Jim Davis
Traveler
At all times
I'm forced to hold it
In the front of my mind
The fact that
I am separate from them...

The war mongering neocons
Wall-Street, Big Pharma
The Military Industrial Complex
The Establishment of our two social parties
Mutated into an ugly
Form of legal corruption
Sanctioned by our own
Supreme Court's ignorance

It's time to take the power back!
The Constitution
(It's not just about guns)
When will we stop voting
For the same old choice
"The Establishment"
Traveler Tim
Slingshot, burning tires
Kites.... Really?
Murdering innocent people
With our money
in our name
Hell no
I am separate from the them!
Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is ******, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
      I am the captain of my soul.
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