James P. Roberts Poems

The scarecrow loses balance
and flops to the ground,
her long dark hair askew,
bewildered brown eyes
...

They do it all so dispassionately! Copy after copy
of your book - the holy of holies - all your condensed thoughts
and dreams, the tangible evidence of your blood, sweat, and, yes,
even tears, mostly shed during the sleepless midnight
...

The death toll in Iraq today
reached 10,000 American soldiers;
over one million Iraqis have been killed
since the invasion started in March of 2003.
...

When the first star appeared I went
ANYA KNEES and prayed to the Lord
to CLARA PATH through this sweltering
HEAT like a DUTCH OVEN. In the meadow
...

She rose up as an island out of
the sea,
her sparkling presence enveloping
me,
...

If ten percent of my poems are deemed good:
That is enough.
If the space next to the fire is filled with wood:
That is enough.
...

I turn out the lights. All save for two thick candles
and the blue glow of the television. Soon the blue
fades to black. The faces of my friends are mahogany
in the candlelight, eyes glittering, the shine of beer
...

Graves of the old
and the young
black sharecroppers.
Graven stone
...

I am the king of pigs.
No, it's not the kind of pig
you're thinking of.
My pig is five feet tall
...

The prophet sat in the dusty road
his thin body wrapped in a loose garment.
'Love Kills' he caroled to a bent king.
...