Jackie Allen Poems
I Am What I Am
When I was but a wee child,
two or three or more,
I dreamed that I could fly like a butterfly.
Over the mountains,
on wings of adventure
I sought out branches of laurel
and like a fairy,
I crowned my head with a ring of joy.
High above, when the clouds
up in the sky began to darken, began to cry,
I wished, at ten or so, that I was as small
as a mouse, so that I could scamper
into the rhubarb patch
and hide beneath their umbrella-like leaves,
munching on their juicy red stems,
making mouse-like noises.
Early in my teens, ...
Time Of Reckoning
Yesterday, he fell into a vat of self
pity, and with intent, stirred up the past...
drank of its bitter wine...
a pathetic, defeated man.
O, morning sun, be thou his true witness...
The hour of reckoning is knocking at
his door...He asks if life‘s rhyme is but a ruse,
and he but a pale shadow?