William Jackson

Rookie (San Antonio, Texas)

At The End Of It All, What Will Remain? - Poem by William Jackson

At the end of it all, what will remain?
The garden will return to dry fallow ground,
and the brilliant scarlets and violets of the coral beans
I so thoughtfully planted near the downspouts
will fade into oblivion along with the purple sages.

The fiery orange reds of the pomegranates will wither
as the trees die out one by one. Even the southern magnolias
will stop producing the lemon scented white flowers
that have always turned black when curious little fingers
have willfully touched them, and sooner than later,
these same flowers and the trees will turn to dust
unless someone takes the time to acidify the soil
and give the roots long cool drinks.

More than likely someone will tear down the house too.
The highway or some other pressing necessity
will take precedence over the homestead and neighboring houses.
The shade trees will all be uprooted by bulldozers,
including the Texas Ash, the Mountain Laurels, a Red Bud,
and some Cedar Elms.

Will it have been enough that we loved each other
and raised two boys the best we could?
Will the world have become an even better place
for our boys and for all of humanity that follow in their footsteps?
How long will the seed of man continue to populate the earth?

No matter! Today I pulled weeds,
and I picked a yellow squash from the garden.
I boiled it with a bit of onion and added a touch of butter.
It tasted delicious with a sprinkle of salt and pepper.

Comments about At The End Of It All, What Will Remain? by William Jackson

  • (1/11/2014 2:19:00 AM)

    You have painted a beautiful picture in my mind with this poem - very vivid. I love it.
    Can identify with the garden, as my oldest son is always planting things around the
    house. As for the destruction of our environment, forests, history, etc. for mundane
    things such as freeways, malls, parking garages - it irks me no end that humanity is
    destroying our beautiful world. Great poem. Thank you for sharing, RoseAnn
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  • (2/24/2008 3:00:00 PM)

    You write like you care about the reader. If it's by design,
    you're a great writer of prose. If it comes naturally to you,
    then you're a gifted teller of stories and history. If it is both,
    then you're a great artist and a greater man.

    Greenwolfe 1962
    (Report) Reply

  • (2/11/2007 10:18:00 PM)

    At the end of it your beautiful poem will remain with its treasure chest of memories. One would hope it was revered and read with the same tenderness it was written. Rgds, Ivan (Report) Reply

  • (9/17/2006 2:24:00 PM)

    Masterly. The real stuff. How did I miss reading you before this? (Report) Reply

  • (9/5/2006 10:59:00 PM)

    You have proved even the weeds have a taste of their own thro' your poem. So nothing is a waste in this world. (Report) Reply

  • (8/2/2006 3:23:00 PM)

    Another great poem pondering the very questions that I have asked myself. And interlaced with beautiful garden images. You have made me hungry! (Report) Reply

  • (8/1/2006 4:04:00 PM)

    sometimes small things - like a simple little squash can help us to focus on what we are, what is our history and where we are going An excellent excellent poem from you...Pia (Report) Reply

  • (7/9/2006 3:07:00 AM)

    Very well written. yes the questions will remain, but lets enjoy this today!

    (Report) Reply

  • (6/12/2006 7:26:00 PM)

    The fleeting feelings of nostalgia, happiness, and treasuring the memories we feel are the greatest gifts because of their ephemeral presence. Fantastic! (Report) Reply

  • (6/12/2006 12:45:00 PM)

    Memory is the gift we always hold in the landscapes of our mind.Praise for your nostalgic poem.

    Kind regards,

    (Report) Reply

  • (5/30/2006 11:33:00 PM)

    This is a picture perfect poem. Like a sad painting.

    (Report) Reply

  • (4/30/2006 1:20:00 AM)

    very lovely like a painting
    meaningfully disintigrating
    questions of stagnation
    (Report) Reply

  • (4/30/2006 1:17:00 AM)

    The air of inevitability, hangs throughout. The pictures show a true appreciation of what you have, and have had. The end is a warm summer breeze, blowing away the mists of regret. Brilliant.
    (Report) Reply

  • (4/30/2006 12:52:00 AM)

    The endless question, but a lovely ending for the fruit of your labor.
    Deep thought.

    Patricia Gale
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 30, 2006

Poem Edited: Friday, August 19, 2011

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