A Collection of Poems by Jack Miller
As a young man, I would never have admitted to writing poetry or singing love songs to my wife, but at the age I am now I can confess that I still do both. The poems I chose to put in my books are ones that do not need to be deciphered, and some people might think of them as too simple. I do feel obliged to inform the reader that some editors agree with that point of view, and some of the poems were rejected by several publications who know a lot more about poetry than I do. I am from Missouri, however, and have to be shown, so I invite criticism from anyone who cares to give me their comments.
My feelings about poetry, that it is created to shock or disturb the reader, is summed up in the first poem of this section, and contains an opinion which some may wish to disagree. Let me know if there are any you like.
Perverse
I bought a book of poems, and read them every one.
I must say I understood, not one when I was done.
I found not one poetic, and some were even crude,
describing bodily functions, or acts perverse, and lewd.
I wonder do the poets really picture life that way,
or have I missed completely, what they have to say?
I can't believe an expletive or clever sounding curse,
can be described as poetry, when it is so perverse.
The Warrior
I fear the dark the warrior cried
when no one else could hear
I fear the arrows yet unloosed
and future so unclear
I fear that death may call me out
as shadows round me grow
I fear the most that I will die
and none will care or know
The Widow
Old woman breaking beans,
Her thoughts on what life meant.
She gave her all for meager means,
but tried to be content.
She loved one man those many years,
raised children long since grown.
A life of love, and joy... some tears
made boards, and mortar home.
She wonders now, why it should be,
Life's riches passed her by.
then with a nudge from memory,
Her heart discards that lie.
When I'm Gone
Sit you down with chamomile
and read my poetry
On lonely nights for just awhile
you and my memory
Emotions of Nature
One tree does not a forest make
or one rain an ocean be
but does a forest mourn a loss
do storms delight the sea
The Dart
A dart lay hidden neath my tongue
It flew at loving wife
She writhed in pain and thrashed about
as if it were a knife
Her tears in anguished torrents fell
A stain there on the floor
Then holes appeared within her heart
where love had been before
Lazy
For mowing lawns and other tasks
I find I've one desire
In Sawyers way to lie, and bask
While others do perspire
Deja Vu
I've been here before
I know what's in store
There's a place up ahead
Where I know I have said
I've been here before
The Garden
The garden has given all it will
The end has come to its season
The air conveys a changing chill
and plants have lost their reason
They stand in wrinkled faded dress
till winds can strip them bare
then wait for winter’s cold caress
and rest from summers care
Snow a hiding blanket Ice covers the ground
Natures secret clocks reset and waits for springs rebound
Cycles set to start again the Garden soon will wake
revived by sun and springtime's rain and Gods firm gentle shake
Topical?
I find it hard to understand
how magazines I have on hand
are topical in what they say
with dates still many days away
Stages of Life
I am baby weak and pale
born with hunger scared and frail
fearing shadows in the night
awaiting love and mother’s light
I am child I know no fear
My road is long my way is clear
I've so much time left to decide
where I will go on life’s wild ride
I am man and know the way
I've much to do and much to say
The road is shorter than before
but I have time to do much more
I am older wiser too
I saw the world and loved the view
I found the things a man must know
to find his way through life and grow
I am old now weak and frail
but unafraid of life's last trail
I have no fear of that goodnight
Awaiting God to bring the light
Squirrel Encounter
He runs along then stops... a glance
A pose for me; his warrior’s stance
He chatters loud to show disdain
then runs some more and stops again
A backward look through tail acurl
How fierce how proud this warrior squirrel
The Mighty Tree
A mighty tree stood tall and straight
A sentinel it seemed to wait
As part of forest’s darkened fold
Through summer’s heat and winter’s cold
Fires and storms have left their mark
Scarring trunk and stripping bark
Still it stood erect... Alive
An Icon for the word …Survive
Lightning strikes and careless fire
failed to be its funeral pyre
Its destiny to stand or fall
decided by a man and saw