Biography of Jesse Ellsbury
Jesse Ellsbury was born in Washington D.C. but grew up in the suburbs. He wrote his first poem when he was fourteen, and it started a lifelong passion. He attended the University of Maryland, Baltimore County of a full Humanities and taught with AmeriCorps before earning his Master of Arts in Teaching at the University of Pittsburgh. He is a licensed English teacher and enjoys it, but his heart will always be with his black pen, not his red one. His work can be allusive, abrasive, elusive, philosophical, witty, and even apocalyptic, but it is diverse and has a literary depth, detail, and humor that can be eye-opening. If he didn't intend to have the career path of Edgar Allen Poe or Emily Dickenson, he might amount to something.
Jesse Ellsbury's Works:
Cantos, Carnivals, and Other Atrocities
Father Knows Blessed
Jesse Ellsbury Poems
Even Depressed People Say That They'Re F...
Depression is something nobody gets, not even those afflicted with it. With the sponge on your eyes and the veil on your head, you’re too busy wond’ring what it’s like to be dead
Ode To A Glass Of Coke
The bubbles fly so fervently, Down my parched and painful throat, The straw amidst The blocks of ice,
After A Stint On The Rack
Why does quicksand exist? Why does the lightning strike like a wildcat growling from the midst?
A Poem In Rebellion
Poem! How dare you defy me the words at my command. I am your creator,
Times In Heaven
It was a day in early May When the two sat on a hill, Staring into the sea.
Bumblebee, how do you soar with a body so big and wings so short? The physics are ungainly, the angles don’t add up to one-eighty
Sparrow With A Broken Wing
The sparrow flutters with a broken wing, one working oar spinning it in circles. It has no idea what the future holds, a bleak and broken condemnation,
When The Smoke Clears
When the smoke clears and the fire engines disappear I’ll find that my house still remains
The Most Dangerous Man
I revel in the world around me, in the trees and clouds and oceans, I romp around and call to the hills and the hills call back to me in unspoken languages, the pangs of this are anguishing, snow has melted, flowers wilted, I thought that they would bloom
A Cynic's Philosophy On Education
There’s no point in teaching the rats on a sinking ship how to swim…
Love Is Not A Shallow Pool
Love is not a shallow pool, you don’t break your neck when you jump in, you just break your heart: and you never know your heart was whole
Adept At The Helm
Long ago, her serpentine fingers skipped the ivory shuffle across the keys of music. In crowded concert halls the voices of Bach, Liszt, Debussy and Rachmaninoff echoed passionately, filling the sanctuary of sound.
Amethyst Stalactites (How To Fail Like A...
Vacant eyes, naked skies, where did I go wrong? I bled for no reason at all. All the times I stumbled, bumbled, never learned to try. I learned how to fail like a pro,
“Another time and in another place, ” Was what my dear woman would say to me, While kissing my way to her neck and face, “I’m not in the mood, my dear, can’t you see? ”
I'Ve Heard It Said
I’ve heard it said that love’s an invention
that we envision whenever we’re threatened
that our individuality’s on trial,
when all we hope for is wrapped in another.
I’ve heard it said that love’s a convention,
a fear that anything different leads to resentment,
that perfection’s tarnished when we’re harnessed
to the interest of another narcissistic nut