Inspired by the novel, Tuck Everlasting, by Natalie Babbitt
Within a deep forest beneath a towering tree
Runs an everlasting stream of immortality
Bubbling amid shattered and ancient stones
From it, a bottle is filled and later spilled
Upon the back of a fearful frog
Condemning him to an eternal hop
Often he passes the grave of the young girl
That has long grown old and passed away
She had refused to partake, in that same bottle
She spilled it upon the grey hide of the lovely toad
Ensuring him a never ending bounce, forever freezing him
In place, within the cycle of life, living each day, just to be
Spending his time diving beneath a million wheels
Upon a red hot suicidal highway, hoping for relief
Dreaming of one day joining her in an everlasting sleep
© Copyrights G. Jones 2007
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
The Muse's Goblet
Muse's heady impressions flowing
Fires a torch of creative passions
Martini and music slowly evokes
Unheard song of broken imagery
From the invisible goblet pours
Into my brain's river
Of ideas
Penned
By
My
Poetic form
Another series of rhythmic
Lines take shape upon written page
© Copyrights G. Jones 2012
Fires a torch of creative passions
Martini and music slowly evokes
Unheard song of broken imagery
From the invisible goblet pours
Into my brain's river
Of ideas
Penned
By
My
Poetic form
Another series of rhythmic
Lines take shape upon written page
© Copyrights G. Jones 2012
Wind of the Early Morn
The majestic scene atop the eastern mountains
Sunrise piercing a slender crimson golden path
Tapering downward into the calm turquoise Sound
As I glide through the cool wind of the early morn
Sunrise piercing a slender crimson golden path
Tapering downward into the calm turquoise Sound
As I glide through the cool wind of the early morn
© Copyrights G. Jones 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
Bewitched
Fixed in your eyes, arms, and legs
As though I’m in a dream state
Shadows dance around our bed
Reflections of your desires
Reflections of your desires
© Copyrights G. Jones 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
She Rock
She be soft and smooth, but true within
She has much of many things
She has scars from passion and passage
She be reflective and reflected upon
She be a story of love and war
She has felt the lips of fish
She has been skipped and collected
She be pet or weight of sentiment
She be whatever a mind needs her to be
She has always been true within
She Rock
© Copyrights G. Jones 2006
Her Decision
The dank city was quite
With an occasional
Horn or distant siren
Everything dripping damp
A heavy rain had just ceased
Washing away soot and grime
The sound of Salsa from somewhere
Fire escape music serenade
Echoes down the concrete canyon
As she sat watching and listening
Attention focused across the way
An Italian restaurant front view
A pair seated near a street side window
There was a woman that looked near her age
Her date, much older and slightly graying
She tried to guess at their conversation
As a cigarette burned between her nails
A single raindrop lands upon her head
After a short time, the couple leaves
She follows them, keeping her distance
Stopping, when they enter a hotel
Turning, she begins the long walk home
Pulling her jacket closed, zipping
Tears start to run from her tired eyes
She had suspected for some time
Her best friend and her own father
She thought of her naïve mother
Soon she reached her apartment
Fumbling for the key, shaking
Rush, slamming the bathroom door
Horn or distant siren
Everything dripping damp
A heavy rain had just ceased
Washing away soot and grime
The sound of Salsa from somewhere
Fire escape music serenade
Echoes down the concrete canyon
As she sat watching and listening
Attention focused across the way
An Italian restaurant front view
A pair seated near a street side window
There was a woman that looked near her age
Her date, much older and slightly graying
She tried to guess at their conversation
As a cigarette burned between her nails
A single raindrop lands upon her head
After a short time, the couple leaves
She follows them, keeping her distance
Stopping, when they enter a hotel
Turning, she begins the long walk home
Pulling her jacket closed, zipping
Tears start to run from her tired eyes
She had suspected for some time
Her best friend and her own father
She thought of her naïve mother
Soon she reached her apartment
Fumbling for the key, shaking
Rush, slamming the bathroom door
Later, lying in bed
She made her decision
I shall never marry
© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
While Crawling Toward the Finish
I had been in a deep dream, searching for a lost puppy
When the clanging alarm startled me to reality
The clear images fading like a burning photograph
Then, a desperate sense of unrecoverable loss
Lying on a couch, the beacon clock, clicking my heartbeat
With no desire in facing the awaiting mundane day
My aching back, reminds me of a night of stooped typing
And my dry mouth, of the many vodka inspirations
Opening my eyes, the room is semi aglow with dawn
Turning, I meet the scrutinizing eyes of porcelain frogs
Sliding roughly to a difficult sitting arrangement
Reaching for a bottle of room temperature water
My tongue dampened, I lean back to remember the reason
Why did I need to be shaken from my unconscious state?
Work, yes, that essential means to maintain my existence
Would I be teaching high school mathematics, English, or science?
Rising to my feet and in route the coffee maker
Now noticing the radio playing in the milieu
Earthquake, fire, shootings, political scandal, and weather
The essentials for the complex human news equation
Leaning over a large bed, I kiss my sleeping wife's brow
Patting the dog’s head, continuing to the master’s bath
Later, while adjusting my suspenders, my wife reminds
Lunch is in the refrigerator, don’t forget the trash
On the short commute, through a cold northwest drizzling rain
I evaluate my current role as middle aged
Spending each day killing time, while crawling toward the finish
In my castle of souvenirs and faded memories
Mowing an endless lawn and shoveling tons of compost
The whisper of worry in my ears, about debt and health
Watching my wife grow old and pets slowly age until death
I laugh, at what seems like, the pure senselessness of it all
During my day, I continue to ponder while teaching
Looking into the young faces of my eager students
They are filled with the exciting beginning of new lives
Far from comprehending the classic middle aged crisis
In the evening, within the walls of my cozy cave
The television news professing the Armageddon
My loving wife sleeping off dinner in her recliner
I freshen my drink and am silently thankful for her
© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
The clear images fading like a burning photograph
Then, a desperate sense of unrecoverable loss
Lying on a couch, the beacon clock, clicking my heartbeat
With no desire in facing the awaiting mundane day
My aching back, reminds me of a night of stooped typing
And my dry mouth, of the many vodka inspirations
Opening my eyes, the room is semi aglow with dawn
Turning, I meet the scrutinizing eyes of porcelain frogs
Sliding roughly to a difficult sitting arrangement
Reaching for a bottle of room temperature water
My tongue dampened, I lean back to remember the reason
Why did I need to be shaken from my unconscious state?
Work, yes, that essential means to maintain my existence
Would I be teaching high school mathematics, English, or science?
Rising to my feet and in route the coffee maker
Now noticing the radio playing in the milieu
Earthquake, fire, shootings, political scandal, and weather
The essentials for the complex human news equation
Leaning over a large bed, I kiss my sleeping wife's brow
Patting the dog’s head, continuing to the master’s bath
Later, while adjusting my suspenders, my wife reminds
Lunch is in the refrigerator, don’t forget the trash
On the short commute, through a cold northwest drizzling rain
I evaluate my current role as middle aged
Spending each day killing time, while crawling toward the finish
In my castle of souvenirs and faded memories
Mowing an endless lawn and shoveling tons of compost
The whisper of worry in my ears, about debt and health
Watching my wife grow old and pets slowly age until death
I laugh, at what seems like, the pure senselessness of it all
During my day, I continue to ponder while teaching
Looking into the young faces of my eager students
They are filled with the exciting beginning of new lives
Far from comprehending the classic middle aged crisis
In the evening, within the walls of my cozy cave
The television news professing the Armageddon
My loving wife sleeping off dinner in her recliner
I freshen my drink and am silently thankful for her
© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
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