Jon Edward Walker

Rookie (6-26-1980 / othello)

Jon Edward Walker Poems

41. Broke N 12/12/2005
42. Burning Hunger 12/12/2005
43. Swimming With Apathy 12/14/2005
44. Great Friends 12/16/2005
45. Shards Of Fate 12/16/2005
46. Ambiguous Imperfections 10/13/2005
47. Looks Perfect 11/21/2005
48. Visible Insecurities 11/21/2005
49. Wild Eyes 11/21/2005
50. Homeless Curtains 11/21/2005
51. Over The River And Through The Woods 11/22/2005
52. Needed 12/2/2005
53. Badasses From Ohio 10/13/2005
54. I Too Know Defeat 11/23/2005
55. Mysty 11/14/2005
56. Pure Again 11/14/2005
57. I'M Someone's Hero 12/5/2005
58. Dancing With Chickens 12/5/2005
59. Goodbye 11/11/2005
60. Comfortably Tainted 10/10/2005
61. Waiting 11/5/2005
62. Surrounded 11/5/2005
63. Hanged 11/5/2005
64. Ashley The Poet 10/12/2005
65. The Poverello 12/5/2005
66. Pathetic Pretense 11/14/2005
67. Young 6/27/2006
68. My Girl 6/29/2006
69. Before Puking 9/26/2006
70. Troubled Tonight 9/26/2006
71. Sunshine 5/18/2007
72. Here It Is, I Suppose 2/12/2010
73. Fixed? 2/13/2010
74. A Head Through A Window 2/13/2010
75. Lucky Loser 2/13/2010
76. Who Can Be Against Me? 5/18/2007
77. When Life Sucks 5/18/2007
78. He's Three And One Half 5/18/2007
79. Darkness Around Me 5/18/2007
80. This Life 5/18/2007

Comments about Jon Edward Walker

  • Joy Vanderhelm (1/21/2006 3:37:00 PM)

    I find your work amusing, dark, gritty, drunkenly hilarious (with or without the drink) and absolutely chock full of talent. Often some of the greatest artists attribute their amazing talents to the influences of other greats that came before them. But, you should know, you have more than enough talent to stand alone, indeed, to positively thrive in the public realm of published works. You're definitely one of the few poets here that I gladly make repeat visits to.

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  • Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler (12/7/2005 1:33:00 PM)

    i've read your entire catalogue, and must say you have the heart and mind of a poet and write some strong and impressive work. it struck me how heavily you rely on Bukowski to find your angles and words, which isn't so bad. but Bukowski's already been those dark places, done all that. a poet with as much talent as you have really should consider finding his own voice and his own words. trust me, there is a slew of Chinaski clones out there trying to carry his torch. but the man is dead, his torch has been buried with him.

    you're already off to a great great start. keep writing, you've got a fan here.

    Jake

  • Carolyn (Cy) Vuletic (11/28/2005 5:34:00 PM)

    Jon Walker has more talent in his left pinkie than most of the 'poets' on this site, if you do not agree/ do not respect/ do not understand with what he write's about, then don't comment/bitch and moan about it, don't read it! And accept some 'minds' just can't comprehend/ interpret what other's obviously can!
    This is a poetry site, what ever happened to letting creative juice's flow? No one is superior here, ok!
    Carolyn G. Vuletic

  • Mary Nagy (11/2/2005 7:44:00 PM)

    Jon,
    I really have been enjoying your poems. I appreciate the honesty you write with. Your bio. is a poem in itself! Very interesting. I look forward to reading more from you. Sincerely, Mary

Best Poem of Jon Edward Walker

I Don'T Even Remember Your Name

you with the blonde hair
who smoked too much weed
you were my favorite.
High on cough syrup
I asked you to be my girl
told you I was thinking about
another town
a new start
but if you’d be my girl,
I’d stay
you agreed and we played in the park
that night for hours,
kissing and building miniature
stick houses
it took us half and hour maybe
to cross the bridge
and those Christians
slowed to walk with and
talk with us
they wanted us to know
that they cared
if you read this I want you to know
that I still care
you were always ...

Read the full of I Don'T Even Remember Your Name

Superman

Karma cuddles with her mother’s belly
stretch marked though it is she hangs it uncaringly
out from underneath her hoodie
while the pit bull
bites and plays with Sean’s
arm
the cocaine hides in the bedroom
away from the child and the dog
the mother refrains

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