William Jackson Poems

Like the lonely sun,
passionately longing
to kiss the man in the moon,
she, the bookworm,
...

Through the eye of the camera I once captured the world.
Then photography seemed an art, a mystery to be revealed.
'What's the secret? ' I used to ask Mr. Tommy Suits.
He would reply, 'F8 and be there. Spontaneity counts! '
...

Thursday- 2: 10 a.m.-
I still haven’t written anything.
So much for creative expression
in the early hours after midnight.
...

Silence is
a deafening
response
to those
...

If you would come to me now,
now that the sweltering day is through;
the tick weed sparkles with dew,
and the dark night
...

I should like to love in utter abandonment,
having neither my sanity nor my sincerity questioned,
and it would not mean diabolical entrapment,
a millstone around my lover’s neck, obsession personified.
...

I used to be a practical man, temperate.
Embracing restraint, I looked straight ahead.
No one could turn me. I was content.
...

The well spring has run dry;
my muse has abandoned me.
Reason has silenced passion.
...

In case you don’t know,

Of all the women I’ve ever met,
You drive me the craziest.
...

To best savor a rose,
Boast not of virginal white,
And do not prance with lustful red,
But gently coax open the blushing bud
...