Jerry Pike Poems
|83.||Let's Get Lost....For Chet Baker, Jazz Man||1/3/2008|
|84.||Are You Happy With It?||5/31/2007|
|86.||Little Gold Box||7/20/2007|
|87.||The Guns Of Navarone||6/1/2008|
|88.||Snow Is On The Rise Boys||4/6/2008|
|91.||I Think I Am Close||3/27/2008|
|94.||Don'T Fall In Love||1/22/2008|
|96.||A Life In The Day||2/18/2007|
|100.||A Film Star In Babylon||10/17/2007|
|101.||And I Will Whisper||5/13/2006|
|102.||A Late Bird||8/9/2008|
A Late Bird
A late bird, your song flutters, heart to heart.
I see notes hanging from telephone wires,
then falling softly into the deep grass.
And I lay there, staring out of this world,
into another’s sky, where perhaps you might
be laying, and I ask, who are you?
Over and over, and we drift,
making people out of wishes,
filling skies with cherry blossom
and fancy silken hopes, misplacing spilt dreams,
then throwing a coat down to hide them,
not quite sure who will step on
into the future, and who will sink
out of sight, below that rising heaven.
In the grass by my right hand a cigarette lays,
so I watched as the fumes wove the breeze,
and tobacco turned ash, in the blink of an eye,
gone as life, up in smoke, through the trees.
On the green where I lay, in say fifty years time,
contemplating or writing their dreams,