Jerry Buckley

Jerry Buckley Poems

Before Adam's first election
Must have been the thought of Eve
Nothing less than pure perfection
Sould he so easily deceive
...

In the blinking of an eye
Lost my equilibrium whenever you walked by
Scarcely could have been foreseen
Bewitched me when you twitched your nose at me
...

Staged in neat horizontal rows: Linear. Like so many Bradford pear trees
Beaming out at us from the 'Society' section of the Sunday newspaper
Complete with full frontal smiles betraying idealism grafted onto ignorance
...

Jerry Buckley Biography

As William Matthews so aptly observed, most published poems fall into one of four basic categories: 1. I had a nice, almost religious day in the woods this afteroon 2. We're not getting any younger 3. Sure is cold and lonely without you (or with you) 4. Sadness and happiness are but two sides of same coin: and in any case the coin is 'too soon spent and on we know not what'. I'd have to admit most of my poetic attempts have fallen neatly into one of the above-mentioned categories. Not blessed with an over-abundance of immagination, I have to go with what I know: rhythmic and figurative language infused with splatterings of the more blatant poetic devices. I began writing poetry somewhere along mid-life and have kept in-play almost fifty, one-page poems and the manuscript for an allegorical novel about victory and atonement; 'Roll The Gospel Chariot' Visit my blog site for a sneak preview: http: //rollthegospelchariot.blogspot.com/ If it doesn't flow, please let me know.)

The Best Poem Of Jerry Buckley

Before Adam

Before Adam's first election
Must have been the thought of Eve
Nothing less than pure perfection
Sould he so easily deceive

Before Cain fain claimed his brother
There was gain and thus defeat
Before Jacob conned his feeble father
and Issac took that bite to eat

Before Aaron's staff stretched fateful
When a night light led the way
Only then a remnant are found faithful
Just those few allowed to stay

Before Moses dreaded Zion's thunders
There were visions of how it ends
We kick the pricks against our blunders
And refuse half the help he sends

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