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Jim Davis Jul 2017
Learn to live
with self
before living
with any other

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis May 2017
I only want to me

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Apr 2017
Sad in heart
Poets should keep
Laughter still
Between lines

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis May 2017
Can one stay serpent's toxic poison
Arisen from words in mind's air
Words said in haste or in hate
Seeping through mind's darkest lairs

Entombed in not ever forgotten
Slashing heart or brain crushing
Life as one left out in the rain
Soggy, wet, miserable, cur soul

How much more in life of suffering
Like millstone hung, dropping deep
Drowning thoughts, ******* all air
Only waiting upon a forgiving word

©  2017 Jim Davis
Psalms 52:4.  "You love any words that destroy, you treacherous tongue!"


James 3:8 (NKJV) But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison.
Jim Davis Dec 2020
Finally... she destroyed his poetry
Jim Davis Jan 2020
She can be
Sweet as Honey
Sour as Lemon
Depends...

©  2020 Jim Davis
Jim Davis May 2017
I breathe the warm winds
for your arousing scent to
trigger release in my mind
to remember all your aromas
  
I taste the so sweet
in the still, soft moment
hoping to satisfy
my hunger in desire for you

I wait upon the enveloping
touch of your luscious body
all as another skin
enshrouding all of mine

I pray for clear sight again
of your smile sent to me
like a thrown lifesaver to
one drowning in love's sea

I listen for your love whispers
only once again more
assuring me of sender's return
of my forever love of you

I imagine your swift return
for a few more fleeting moments
of precious fading time
in my arms again soon

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Nov 2017
Sky I  see, in blue, in sky, in white, in cloud
Bits of grey, scattered within, also in there
Scattered thoughts, perhaps soft pattering rain
Sounds unexpected, echo in my ears

Buzzards drift, uplifting, to warm east winds
Dragons as flies, butter as flies too
Peacock in azurite, fanned out to full
Littles aflutter, in all branches near

Winds catch soft breeze, just right, a good cool feel
Deer strolling into verdant far land
Crows with caw of a disturbed picnic lunch
Minnows dappling pond's water,  glass clear

This is sacred sight, which when I turn old
All blind, I expect, I will too soon miss
Unable to gaze, upon peace
with my squinting pair, of sky hazed blue eyes

©  2017 Jim Davis
For my father, whose eyes were beautifully blue!
Jim Davis Aug 2019
Slipping my hand away
from her soft shoulder
with an eviscerating stare
she used her tongue
as she flayed and filleted me
cutting sinew, bone, flesh
all my feelings alike
words slicing through
splitting my dry carcass
bursting open my soft heart
spilling sweet love’s blood
on the cold sawdust floor

©  2019 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Apr 2017
When sleeping poets do dream
Do they dream at certain times
the same dreams as us, you, or I
Long love dreams without an end

Spiders winding and toads weaving
Tiny cockle shells or huge daffodils
Cold hearts melted or fried ones too
Loves not gone the other way again

Falling off, falling in, falling down
Purpled eyed women and wiggly men
Nightmares arriving never in time
Time speeding up to stand still again

Summer nights in dripping red clouds
Rain falling up or tasting sour winds
Chased once around the world twice
Losing anyway the long way back in

Winning big green coins for jumping
slow trains to nowhere, now there anywhere,
and everywhere not here,
running on tilted electrified blue time

Inhaling the soft touch of perfect love
including all the ugly ingrown warts
Coughing up butterflies into the pool
with the squishy muddy zombie eyes

Echoes heard louder with both eyes
Coloring skies without knowing why
Flights to there with wings of flame
Swallowing rainbows to taste the gold

Colors amongst us walking, talking
Phantasmal fast riding beasts
sinuously moaning oh white *******
drifting with silver temptation winds

Tripping over sounds under tall feet
blowing them in retort not too,
but three, five and one dime more
Fantastical things, ordinary for all

Then perhaps, they maybe dream
Mostly all the same as us, you or I
Of course, that may mean, we,
Could someday be real poets, three

Yet we know the biggest difference
Between a real poet or not, must be
not so much in sleeping dreams
but in those precious awakening dreams

©  2017 Jim Davis
Actually posted this the day before (22 April) HP theme of today (23 April) as "dreams", thus a truly prescient dreaming! , #npmdream
Jim Davis May 2019
Turns out...
I only loved...
thoughts of you...
not you!

©  2019 Jim Davis
Is it really... only the thought of you...  I love?
Jim Davis Mar 2017
Some -
thus not all. Not even the majority of all but the minority.
Not counting schools, where one has to,
and the poets themselves,
there might be two people per thousand.

Like -
but one also likes chicken soup with noodles,
one likes compliments and the color blue,
one likes an old scarf,
one likes having the upper hand,
one likes stroking a dog.

Poetry -
but what is poetry.
Many shaky answers
have been given to this question.
But I don't know and don't know and hold on to it
like to a sustaining railing.

Translated by Regina Grol
Wislawa Szymborska
Wisława Szymborska
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Maria Wisława Anna Szymborska
Szymborska 2011 (1).jpg
Wisława Szymborska, Kraków, Poland 2011
Born 2 July 1923
Prowent, Poland (now Kórnik, Poland)
Died 1 February 2012 (aged 88)
Kraków, Poland
Occupation
Poet essayist translator
Nationality Polish
Notable awards
Goethe Prize (1991)
Herder Prize (1995)
Nobel Prize in Literature (1996)
Order of the White Eagle (2011)
Spouse Adam Włodek (1948–1954; divorced)
Maria Wisława Anna Szymborska[1][2] [viˈswava ʂɨmˈbɔrska] (2 July 1923 – 1 February 2012) was a Polish poet, essayist, translator and recipient of the 1996 Nobel Prize in Literature. Born in Prowent, which has since become part of Kórnik, she later resided in Kraków until the end of her life.[3][4] In Poland, Szymborska's books have reached sales rivaling prominent prose authors: although she once remarked in a poem, "Some Like Poetry" ("Niektórzy lubią poezję"), that no more than two out of a thousand people care for the art.[5]
.....
Her reputation rests on a relatively small body of work, fewer than 350 poems. When asked why she had published so few poems, she said: "I have a trash can in my home".[3]
Jim Davis May 2017
Where do our souls within arise
from whence does one's soul come
Is our soul hatched from underneath
Or born alive, yet hidden by the sun
Or are we like our God, I am,
and will forever always be

Always there
And always was there
Coming with the beginning
And lasting until no end
Love defined, love for all
Gifted to all, actually for free

Anyway, Is there a carrier of souls
Down from the heavens above
Angels with wings perhaps or
Unimaginable stuff flying from there
Or perhaps there is some soul ***
Where two can easily become three

Romancing all those new souls
I want a little part in that adventure
Some of us could soon enough see
Our first date in heaven's long bliss
Doing nothing, swinging and singing
Praises of glory in all different ways

One more slim chance of a kiss
Can one start to kinda imagine
How great that will all eventually be
That alone may give ugly ole me
Ecstasy's sweet heavenly bliss

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Mar 2017
Can words
Slice thoughts
Like a razor
Like a knife
Stab flesh
And blood
Throw a blow
Impale the heart
Destroy Love
Twist the brain
To wish a death

Careful of words
You throw
Deadly weapons
In a mind's world

©  2017 Jim Davis
Nothing serious here, except for some.  Just playing with a thought!
Jim Davis Mar 2017
My heart stops
In my throat
How is this
Possible
I ask
Not believing

The moment
Has struck
The eyes
Give me
A pathway
To my own soul

She stands there
Not perceiving
Only later
Does she confirm
She may have
a stopped heart also.  

© 2016 Jim Davis
Fourth poem for my love of 3 decades!
Jim Davis Sep 2017
Holding a love
Between one
And another
Fibers unseen

Some strong
Some weak
A look alone
Can break one

A word can
Break two or three
A few words can
break forty or more

Replace those
Strands of
Love and
More in hope

For unless
New bonds
Love breaks
One falls

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Oct 2019
Stop fighting against
The brightening light
Surrender all to love

©  2019 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Mar 2017
Ancient
Unsung melodies
Arise from within
The unseen ear
Oft of love
Rarely hate
Sometimes fear

All the words
tumbling together
A bedlam mix
Set in confusion
A cacophony
Barely heard

Clarity sought for
Giving life for the soul
To face this world
And fear not
Brave soul
Fear not

©  2017 Jim Davis
susurration
"The delicate-sounding word susurration comes by its gentleness naturally — it’s a very soft whispering sound that can barely be heard."
Jim Davis May 2017
As winds blowing through
Unless I am a mind's thought
How can I exist

For where would a flower's sweet beauty be, without me to  see

Of course then, as also I think

Where would sweet me be without
Flower's sweet beauty to see

Could also so easily say

Where would sweet me be without
All your sweet beauty to see

©  2017 Jim Davis
From Wikipedia -   Waka. Waka, Japanese poetry, specifically the court poetry of the 6th to the 14th century, including such forms as the chōka and sedōka, in contrast to such later forms as renga, haikai, and haiku. The term waka also is used, however, as a synonym for tanka (“short poem”), which is the basic form of Japanese poetry.
Jim Davis May 2017
Sand in my toes
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Sand in my mouth
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Sand in my nose
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Sand in my ears
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Sand in my eyes
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Sand in my brain
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Five tours
Out
With a bang
Does that to you

©  2017 Jim Davis.
Prompted by a friend who did five tours!  Even one tour is sometimes enough!
Jim Davis Sep 2019
Hot summer ending
In late evening listening
To loud Patsy Cline

©  2019 Jim Davis
Finally in the low 90’s here, smidgen of rain!  SOCKS Spell it out and you’re talking Spanish!
Jim Davis May 2017
God has the final answer

©  2017 Jim Davis
Some may remember the game show - and this has likely been said before - but maybe not here on HP!
Jim Davis Mar 2017
Lives lived,
Lives loved,
Lives scattered by the time winds.
83? 84? appeared again!
Over 500, counting spirits!

Kids, parents & grandparents.
We were those
and had those!
Now we have those
and are those!

Long looks, winks, and glances,
Some for the first time!
Shame on you old people!
Some repeated again,
from the first grade.

Stories told! Stories untold!
Lies and truths by perspective.
All intriguing, wish I knew all!
Could write a book!
An abundance of belly!
And belly laughs!

Remember when?  
Barely!  
Was I there?  
Yes, without a doubt.
We all were there!

Some loves long lost
Some long loves not lost
But brought along.
For some, it is,
Thank Goodness both ways!

Paths taken,
to the present.
Some purposefully.
Most not!
All in the rearview now.

Popular?  Did it really matter?
Smart?  Maybe not so much!
Athletic?  Ouch!  It hurts now!
Pretty boy? Pretty girl?  That's gone!
Loved?  Yes, that's important!

Some lost their flip.
Others brought their flop,
and showed it.  
Dragged Main, but now the mainframe!
LOL!  Wait!  What's LOL?
Ya know, ****, LMMFAO, ROTFLMAO!

Cruising that four lane thoroughfare,
Around and around,
Der Weinerschnitzel to Sante Fe.
Doing it every time we return.
Feels the same, if you do the dips slow!    

I had a baby!  Might be my baby!
Nixon bombs babies!  
Draft done.  Some of us captured anyway.
Crazy world then, and to come!
God bless the babies!

A night or two together.
A picnic lunch in history,
We were some of that history.
Not about me,
But about we.

Those gone?
39?  Too many?
We are too!
Gone! Just the same!
Too soon!

Capture it! With a photo?
Hold it!
Treasure it!
Until we meet again!
Don't step in it!

© 2015 Jim Davis
First attempt at a poem.  Written after my 40th high school reunion in Clovis, NM.  A lot of memories and a lot of friends.  While still emotionally charged I wrote this on the way back home.  (But not while driving of course.).
Jim Davis May 2017
Kevan Fuchs died today in his sleep
In a similar way as his father of one
And actually, also my father did too
Of those bitter, big cancer scourges
Which always come in unexpected
In this short enough life, a bit early

I've known him ever since first, when
We were knee high to Dad's shotgun
Throughout our small neighborhood
We would all roam to see and look
For ***** toads and such other fun
Without any known end in our sights

We often, came all together, at once
In his parent's, little Clovis back yard
In the under ground, in our deep dug
Wild little clubhouse of our new pride
Approved by our jealous Dad's stare
Made all by ourselves, with great care

Eight by eight, with three feet of deep
Shagged carpet floors, walls around
And places to hide stuff with those
**** magazines we wished to remain
Unseen by our parents, although they
Surely lived through similar wild times

Black lights , fluorescent mod posters
Fans to cool, while there in the deep
Kept the place comfy, from several
Hot summers in New Mexico's heat
Staying nights over, in conspiracy we
Came colluding, while hoping no fame

This place was our place, of known
Refuge from all of the big crazy, with
Frightening world still yet to come
Giving us our youngest freedoms
And also so much being in trouble
As kinda neighborhood hoodlums

Far up his Dad's, tall, two-way radio tower
One of us in care would climb
With binoculars to see the dark night
With our pair of walkie talkies held
Warn the others, carousing around
Of any plight, in appearing headlights

Kevan's brother, still alive,  Keith
My other brother by another,  Buddy
Also at first, a weird guy, named Chris
One other member, as second cousin
Who actually, was my very first kiss
When it was hard to aim, lips to miss

All bound as one, by made up signs
And part of something called PSO
Which, if you don't know well, what it
Truly means, then you were definitely
Not a part of the so very high bliss
Which we suffered through so often

Kevan's true nature is clearly proven
Finally, most completely, at his end
In the nature of his wonderful loving
All his family, who also so loved him
And all those other parties to trouble
Who also so loved, really all of him

©  2017 Jim Davis
Kevan passed away over a year ago.  I just wrote the poem recently.
Jim Davis Dec 2020
Frankly...my dear...

© 2016 Jim Davis
Best three word movie line there ever has been... so far...!   Arnold’s “I’ll be back...” runs for a close second place!
Jim Davis Feb 2017
Under the shine of the moon,
Hand in hand on the strand,
Listening to the subtlest of sounds,
Of hearts and minds entwined,
And lives tangled together,
With the moon's passings.

A glance, a wink, a blown kiss,
A mist, a vapor,
Disappearing time traces.
Brief fleeting things,
Brought to memory,
In times as this!

A touch, a rub, an embrace,
Whispered words loudly heard.
A sweet mash of lips,
Leading to luscious heights,
With throes of ecstasy,
While standing in dreamy repose.

A fresh love grown old,
Tempered like finest steel,
Against life's arrows and flames,
A love to press on,
Till breath is gone,
And the shine is no more.

© 2016 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Oct 2018
Aleksandr Pushkin

The Poet
1827
While still Apollo isn’t demanding
Bard at the sacred sacrifice,
Through troubles of the worldly muddling
He wretchedly and blindly shuffles;
His holly lyre is quite silent;
His soul’s in the sleeping, soft,
And mid the dwarves of the world-giant,
He, perhaps, is the shortest dwarf.

But when a word of god’s commands,
Touches his ear, always attentive,
It starts – the heart of the Bard native –
As a waked eagle ever starts.
He’s sad in earthly frolics, idle,
Avoids folks’ gossips, always spread,
At feet of the all-peoples’ idol
He does not bend his proud head;
He runs – the wild, severe, stunned,
Full of confusion, full of noise –
To the deserted waters’ shores,
To woods, widespread and humming loud…  


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, November 13, 2003
Pushkin is not listed under the Classics tab here in HP, thus I am posting this from https://www.poetryloverspage.com/yevgeny/pushkin/poet.html
Jim Davis Mar 2017
Clever is she
Sculpting and molding
her time in reality
Twisting a few words
Into a smile or a tear

Dreaming a better place
Without cracked
hearts and minds
Aside from hers
Almost cleaved

Word follows word
moment follows moment
In time or rhyme
Often a jumble
At times sublime

Continually striving
For that poem of
One last word

© 2017 Jim Davis
Poetess poetry poet words time life death
Jim Davis Aug 2019
Supposing I were to die
With the rising sun
of tomorrow’s day
Would you know
Would you care
Probably not
It’s not you dying

©  2019 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Mar 2017
The spark of the soul
The shine of the eye
The twinkle known
The rainbow in the storm

Young and bold
Old and cold
Matters not
All infused
With the nectar
of vital force

Eventually,
at the last
and final end

Quickly
Snuffed as a candle

Or slowly
smoldering as a coal

The breath of life goes

With all gone
Only the spark left to rise

© 2016 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Jun 2017
Come with me to the deep tan desert
In the dark, far from bright city lights
Lay outside, with any up view to sky
Feel the dry breeze across the eyes

And believe me, you must all know
I'v been there, I've almost nearly seen
Can you see the rent torn within
The curtain parted away to reveal

To actually see the world not here
Know it is there in your sight
So that when your wings sprout
And in the fading light of the days

You go flying away past the sun
Floating the new sky revealed
Entering dominions of wild dreams
Knowing answers without questions

Before you die and crumble away
Leaving only ashes of thoughts
and memories only in floating love
Have undying belief, it is really there

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Apr 2017
Struggle in the fight
With the words to life
Throw them to the mat
Wrestle them until still
And start to shine a light

©  2017 Jim Davis
Submitted for HP metaphor theme today #npmmeta
Jim Davis Mar 2017
Set out the day
To accomplish a great deal
First there was the cat
The paper's need for read
Breakfast with bacon
Coffee is so good
Then a call or two
Really must get busy
So much to do
Pause for a think
Time to reflect
Write a line or two
...
Quickly the sun is setting
Too dark to write
Time now for a
Bit of wine to relax
Rest from the weary work
Of this long day of think

©  2017 Jim Davis
Some days just can't get anything done
Jim Davis Apr 2017
To Live
Open your heart
Let love all in
In the lost heart
Victory is love at the
End

©  2017 Jim Davis
Is it cheating to steal one's own poem just posted for today's HP theme #npmacrostic
Jim Davis Apr 2017
Be loved
When you die

©  2017 Jim Davis
My 2nd 5 word poem
Jim Davis Apr 2017
In the last
three decades,
after we became one,
I touched
amazingly beautiful things,
horribly ugly things,  
unbelievably wondrous things

I touched nature's majesty;
hued walls of the Grand Canyon,              
crusty bark of the
Redwoods and Sequoias,
live corals of the
Great Barrier Reef,
dreamlike sandstone of the Wave

I touched magical and strange;
platypus, koalas and
kangaroos Down Under,
underwater alkali flies and
lacustrine tufa at Mono Lake,
astral glowing worms
in the Kawiti caves

I touched holy places;
Christianity's oldest churches,
the Pope's home in the Vatican,
Hindu and Sikh temples and
Moslem mosques in India,
Anasazi's kivas of Chaco canyon,
Aboriginal rocks of Uluru and Kata Tjuta

I touched glimmers of civilization;
uncovered roads of Pompeii,
fighting arenas of Rome,
terra cotta armies of Xian,
sharp stone points of the Apache,
pottery shards from the Navajo,
petroglyphs by the Jornada Mogollon

I touched fantastical things;
winds blowing on the
steppes of Patagonia,,
playas and craters of Death Valley,  
high peaks of the Continental Divide,
blazing white sands of the  
Land of Enchantment

I touched icons of liberty
and freedom;
the defended Alamo,
a fissured Liberty Bell,
an embracing Statue of Liberty,
the harbor of Checkpoints
Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie

I touched glorious things
made by man;
the monstrous Hoover Dam,
an exquisite Eiffel tower,
a soaring St Louis Arch,
an Art deco Empire State Building,
the sublime Golden Gate Bridge

I touched sparks from history;
the running path of an
Olympic flame just off Bourbon,
the last steps of Mohandas Ghandi
at Birla House before Godse,
******'s Eagle's nest and the
grounds over Der Führerbunker

I touched walls of power;
enclosed rings of the Pentagon,
steep steps of the
Great Wall of China,
untried bastions of
Peter and Paul's fortress,
fitted boulders of Machu Picchu

I touched strong hands;
of those conquering
Rommel's and ******'s hordes,
of cold warriors of
Chosin Reservoir,  
of forgotten soldiers of Vietnam,
of terrorist killers of today

I touched memories of war;
the somber Vietnam memorial,
the glorious Iwo Jima statue,
the cold slabs at Arlington,
the buried tomb of USS Arizonians,
Volgograd's Mother Russia  

I touched ugly things;
shreds of light in
Port Arthur's prison,
horrible smelly dust
in the streets from 9/11,
ash impregnated dirt
in the pits at Auschwitz

I touched oppressed freedom;
open ****** plazas
of Tiananmen Square,
smooth pipe and concrete
of the Berlin Wall,  
tall red brick walls
of the Moscow Kremlin

I touched constrained freedom;
heavy ankle and
wrist slave chains
in the South,
little windows
in Berlin's Stasi prison,
haunted cells in Alcatraz  

I touched remnants of madness;
wire and ovens of Auschwitz,
stacked chimneys and
wooden bunks of Birkenau,        
Ravensbruck, and Dachau,
the tomb of Lenin,
toppled Stalins

I touched hands of survivors;
of Leningrad's siege,
of German POWs and
of Russian fighters
of Stalingrad's battle,
of Cancer's scourges  

I touched grand things;
deep waters of the Pacific and Atlantic,
blue hills of Appalachia,
towering peaks of the Rockies,
high falls of Yosemite Valley,
bursting geysers of Yellowstone,
crashing glaciers of Antarctica and Alaska    

I touched times of adventure;
abseiling and zipping in Costa Rica,
packing Pecos wilds and Padre isles,
flying nap of earth Hueys to Meridian,
breaking arms in JRTC's box,
fighting Abu Sayyaf, and Jemaah
Islami in Zamboanga City

I touched through you;
wet sand beaches of  Mexico and Jamaica,
mysterious energy of the monoliths of Stonehenge,
rarefied air in front of the
Louvre's Mona Lisa,
ancient wonders of Giza,
Egypt's tombs and pyramids

We shared soft touches;
drifting in Bora Bora's
surreal waters,
joining hands camel trekking the
Outback's dry sands,
strolling along Tasmania's
eucalyptus forest trails

basking in swinging hammocks
under Fiji's bright sun,
scrambling in
Las Vegas' glittering and
red rock canyons,
kissing under the
Taj Mahal's symphony of arches

We shared touching deep waters;
propelled in gondolas
through the city of canals,
Drifting atop Uru cat boats on Lake Titticaca,
Swooping in jet boats
up a wild river in Talkeetna

Racing in speed boats
around Sydney's great harbour,
skimming in pangas in Puerto Ayora,
paddling the Kennebec for
East's best petroglyphs,
cruising Salzbergwerk's underwater lake

We touched scrumptious things;
Beignets and chicory coffee at DuMonde's in the Big Easy,
Hot *** with sesame sauce
in the walled city of Xian,
Peking duck, dimsum, scorpions,
snake and starfish on Wangfujing Snack Street

We touched delicious things
Crawfish heads and tails at JuJu's shack
and ten years at Jeanette's,
Langoustine at Poinciana's, Fjöruborðinus and Galapagos,
Cream cheese and loch bagels
at Ess-a' s in the Big Apple

I touched your hand riding;
hang loose waves of Waikiki,
a big green bus in Denali's awesomeness,
clip clopping carriages of Vienna, Paris,
Prague, New Orleans, Krakow,
Quebec City, and Zakopane,
the acapella sugar train of St Kitts

We shared touching on paths;
the highway 1 of Big Sur,
the Road of the Great Ocean,
the bahn to Buda and Pest,
the path to the North of Maine,
the trail of the Hoh rainforest,
and time after time, the way home

Yet,
I could spend
the next three decades,
in simple bliss,
having need for
touching nothing,
other than you!

©  2016 Jim Davis
A poem I wrote last year for my wife!  Posted now since it matches the HP' theme for today - "Places"
Jim Davis Jun 2017
A turn of the phrase
can turn the mind
Opening it
to before unknowns
Never to return
To it's original shape
And squeezed limitations.

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Mar 2017
Spiral of fate foreseen
A Vegas winning sure thing
A journey to realms beyond
Where those already gone
Traveled before I
With letters sent home
still left unseen
Wait, I'm not ready!
Is there another?
This train came too soon!
Excuse me,
I'll wait for the slow train!
Can I exchange my ticket?
For a later departure?
Perhaps tomorrow?
Of course tomorrow,  
Can never be!  
Round trip ticket please!
I wish to not be gone long!
I must return, otherwise,
who will care for the wee ones!  
Wait, I still must pack!
All my silver and gold
Can I bring?  
Is First Class an option?
A sleeper car?
Bring any friends?
My loved ones
should meet me
after reaching the end!
Must I board,
This train?
An evil angel at the controls
in the locomotive's cab
steam billowing all around
conductor in a ghastly robe
bearing the cutting scythe
leaning out the door
shouting out
to the platform crowd
"All aboard!"
"All aboard!"
this train
always runs on time
and no one ever
gets left behind
except perhaps a few
entering heaven alive
first stop is Sh'eol
all disembarking to wait
then chugging on to the
station with pearly gates  
those remaining aboard
catching a glimpse
then fast downhill all the way
to the end of the line
the last stop of Abaddon

©  2017 Jim Davis
Had fun with this one!

From Wikipedia
"She'ol (/ˈʃiːoʊl/ shee-ohl or /ˈʃiːəl/ shee-əl; Hebrew שְׁאוֹל‎ Šʾôl), in the Hebrew Bible, is a place of darkness to which all the dead go, both the righteous and the unrighteous, regardless of the moral choices made in life, a place of stillness and darkness cut off from life and from the Hebrew God.[1]"

Abaddon
"The Hebrew term Abaddon (Hebrew: אֲבַדּוֹן‎‎, 'Ǎḇaddōn), and its Greek equivalent Apollyon (Greek: Ἀπολλύων, Apollyon), appears in the Bible as a place of destruction. "
Jim Davis May 2021
How did I finally become
this hideous terrible beast
In the mirror’s reflection I see!  
It’s happened gradually I suppose
Without my realization of change
****** to forever live as a beast
Now it may be too late for me
Howling at the moon’s cool light
Lonely for another’s breath of love

©  2021 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Jul 2018
Asleep or awake

You are in all of my dreams

Nightmares without you

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Oct 2018
Drifting on a cloud
With my angel in my arms
Send me to heaven

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Sep 2018
Oh my sweet goodness
Bright sun in Todos Santos
Warm cinnamon rolls

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Jul 12
Cloudy summer day
Mind holding life's mirror
Quiet reflection

©  2024 Jim Davis
A summer day in San Antonio, Texas with my love
Jim Davis Jul 2017
Leaves swirling on path
Clouds darkening past noon sky
Must seek safe refuge

©  2017 Jim Davis
Jim Davis Mar 2017
When black swans sleeping
After the dark, lonely night
Awake to the light

© 2017 Jim Davis
My first attempt at a Haiku. After I wrote it, and then researching swans and their symbolism I found this;

"Swan Color Meanings
White swans in dreams are symbolic of cleansing and purifying ourselves and our lives. Black swans indicate deep mysteries within us that are longing to be set free to express themselves creatively - perhaps as Bridgid would have us do, in poetry or music."
Link not allowed

There is also the "Black swan Theory"; "A  event or occurrence that deviates beyond what is normally expected of a situation and is extremely difficult to predict; the term was popularized by Nassim Nicholas Taleb, a finance professor, writer and former Wall Street trader. Black swan events are typically random and are unexpected."
Jim Davis Mar 2017
Dark, well I know
Still, a spring tide's shining moon
Guides my way to you
From web
Spring tide
"a tide just after a new or full moon, when there is the greatest difference between high and low water."
Jim Davis Apr 2017
Fine spring beauty day
Seeking the agarita
Berries all must grab

©  2017 Jim Davis
From the web site wildedibletexas
"When agarita berries are ripe, they can be plucked from the bush and eaten raw though the tender-fingered should beware."

Actually, I had seen red berries in an agarita bush, I started plucking them, and ate a handful quickly as I have done in past years.  I was thinking to myself, these don't taste like I remember.  Then I discovered there was another plant growing amongst the agarita.   After a quick search on the web, I found out Nandina berries, while toxic to birds and other, are considered non-toxic to man.  

"The berries of the nandina plant contain hydrocyanic acid and are poisonous. They are toxic to cats, dogs and other grazing animals, and they can cause animals to experience seizures, comas, respiratory failure and death. They are considered nontoxic to humans but may cause stomach pain if ingested."

Thankfully, I lived! Moral: the stupid,  in addition to the tender-fingered, should also beware!
Jim Davis May 2017
Fiery pismire lair
Harm of none, yet I poison
Still does Lord forgive
was out on the place
dropping ant bait poison on fire ant mounds and thought about Kato's Haiku and attempted my own.

“I **** an Ant”

Shuson Kato

I **** an ant

and realize my three children

have been watching.
Jim Davis May 2017
A flower's beauty
Lives not within earthly realms
Only within dreams

Also love, as things unseen
Lives forever, floating me

©  2017 Jim Davis
First waka
Jim Davis Jun 2017
As the meadowlark
Singing after fresh spring rain
Poets need the same

©  2017 Jim Davis
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