June 2018 Poetry Feature: Paul Jenkins

June 2018 Poetry Feature: Paul Jenkins

Golden Berries


Golden berries on a shriveled limb,

Hanging limp with the weight of

Anticipated death.

Roots, they go deep, but now tear and

strain at the loamy bosom of time,

The sweet relief of sleep is a ruse, former

Dreams yet haunt that realm of shadow,

And diamonds are mean pebbles

In the dark, how they cut and grind in a

Cursed world of grey, where color is a trickster.

See the branches, whipped in the windy swell,

How they creak, the leaves of twilight fall and

Fold beneath the tramp of the unconscious.

The tinkle of bells, soft, imperceptible to the

Heady ambition of youth.

Spurn not that simple harmony, a soft choir

That sings only for the ears of the dying,

Those golden berries, watch them drop like the rain,

Once so proud, now they sink below the eddy of a

Rising tide, and with a final wink they are gone.

A tarnished mirror now shattered, the dream has ended,

And diamonds are mean pebbles once again,

In that icy clutch, so sweet.


Beloved


Walk with me a little, down this

Battered path, beneath the canopy of

Those noble oaks and frosted pines,

Just a little further now, I swear it

Won’t be long, drooping naked trees

Hang not your heads, nothing dead

Is wrong.

All purple hued, these reds and golds,

Through autumn’s passion thus imbued,

Shadows stretch and evening yawns

Frail and ashen, your name is in the wind,

It seems cruel and unfair, even the trees

Seem to moan, but nature does not care

That I am gone and you are left, left yes,

But not alone.

Listen to the rain, hear the heavens cry,

Feel the sun and taste the bitter ice,

First or last regardless, we all must die,

But it is the living who pay the price,

Soon you will see clearly, through better

Eyes, and behold at last, the wax and wane

Of better skies.

When darkness has fallen hard, I will

Hold your hand in the night, and

When you cry I am with you still,

At last, when death calls, meet it with

A smile, you’ll find me yet again my love,

I’ll wait for you and dream awhile,

Amongst the ferns and gentle flowers,

In a place of peace where we count not

Time by hours.


You May Also Like...

May 2018 Poetry Feature: Caleigh Adams

May 2018 Poetry Feature: Caleigh Adams