James Timothy Jarrett Poems

It was relegated to the old root cellar
Dropped in haste in forgotten storage
Where dimmest beam of shafted light
Kept it 'live in yellowed life, weak and twisted
...

Her hair has been shorn
Her face cut and bruised
Her flowing gown torn
The beauty once in her eyes
...

I reached out to touch her
And nothing was there
Her soft warmth
Was missing
...

It was a gash in the forest green
A two track
Run red with clay
Smelling of grass
...

He pounded coffin nails
With a hammer forged of fear
Every word of spite nailing in and holding
Badged and vested
...

And now it's here

In rippling current
...

The dead don't hear you

While they lay in the grave
...

I have become the hard earth

Uncaring of toil
...

Soon the country will cry as I do
And their tears will fall like rain
But they won't dance in dry dust
To feed the thirsty green
...

To the streets

In mob and crowd
...