Jay Loring Poems

A poet once picked up a pen,
as his custom for ages had been.
But he sat on a bird,
and his screams could be heard
...

People, people, everywhere...
a constant endless flow.
And each is going somewhere,
but to where, I do not know.
...

It's sometimes lost in a sea of words
that cut like knives and pierce like swords,
or tangled in obscurity, in hubris and pomposity.
It's twisted, bent, with lies entangled,
...

The fruit trees in my orchard stand
Like tiny sentries ‘cross the land.
Their leaves are gone, their branches bare.
I wonder, as I see them there…
...

I thought that I might walk a while,
to venture out perhaps a mile,
to see the woods, the barren trees.
It never fails to make me smile.
...

I stand upon a precipice
and gaze at the unknown.
As closer to the edge I've come,
my apprehension's grown.
...

A man should be judged by the work he has done;
by the difference his life made to all or just one;
by the love in his heart and the smile on his face,
and for making the world a more beautiful place.
...

My senses bombarded
with way too much sound
The drums ever pounding
and shaking the ground
...

There's one thing that we really need
To show in words and then in deed
It's Kindness
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A blank piece of paper.
A song with no rhyme.
A cold unsolved caper.
A victim of crime.
...