verse – The Poetry Of J.P.

A Carpenter’s Tools

How many year ago
did the carpenters tools
become useless
to understand the world?

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The Bluebird and the Apocalypse

There is an apocalypse in my chest,
and there is a bluebird beating its wings.

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O’, Do Not Speak of the Soul

Not in leaflets or amid the marching
of nuclear niore to be found,

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Endless Weight

I have gone out into the snow,
braving the winter’s fiery cold,
and searched for rabbit high and low
when frosty mitts refused to hold.

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Dance in the Fire – A Villanelle

Do not let your spirit be leveled flat,
your laughter should rise with the coming sun,
laugh, cry, and dance in the embers of life.

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To The Scientific Minded

We adapt and flex as rubber,
because, for us searchers, wonder
finds answers that aren’t writ in stone,

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To Be Human

To destroy is to be human,
we’d sell the sun to buy a candle;

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Telescope Eyes

Often I think that people are distant
and only look close when viewed from a far;
Each star its own among the crowded streets
and lonely bars; each a beacon that peers

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The Swoosh

The Reaper’s cloak swooshes across the road.
A feeling of doom sweeps over my bones,
I hear the sound of sharpening up in my throat,

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Backlash of Tongues – Poem

The re-inspection
of words, that were his, or his,
is often entombed
in the backlash