The Lions Roar ~ A Poem by JP

The lions roar is very loud–
He voices his power just like a god,
And none would ever doubt
The terror as it strikes them down,
But lions know little of courageous things.

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The Depths ~ A Poem by JP

I’ve seen enough creation,
And gazed long at the depths
Of fathomless oceans,
And deeper still into the stars

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Symbolic of Femininity ~ A Poem by JP

She is the source:
the matriarch, and the material,
the mad spring, and it’s ever renewal,
the pregnant valley that blooms en masse

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The Machine’s Operation – A Poem by Jp

The terror storm is not yet here for us
so children’s lullabies can still be sung;
aboard bodies are pressed against the gears.

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On Trudeau and the Freedom Convoy – A Poem by JP

Today the sun is outAnd the world’s no darker,It’s just the veil has liftedAnd the shelter once takenNo longer prevents youFrom knowing the darknessIs always at the endOf the warmth of the day.

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Gifts – A Poem by JP

If all I had were words,
and we were naked in the woods,
I’d give to you the fruit

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Words – A Poem by JP

Words will say nothing of the world–
words only wish to speak in tongues
and tie themselves in knots to hearts,

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Wetiko – A Poem by JP

I’d like to think the natives had it right,
that perhaps we’re really all diseased
and infected with the Wetiko virus.

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The Cost – A Poem by JP

Sometimes love is not enough,
sometimes all the rainbow doesn’t lift
the heart from the basement of us,

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The Shut-in’s Regrets – A Poem by JP

Go now and build your grave
against your life’s pitiful cries,
and when the end is drawing near

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New Beasts – A Poem by JP

Unlike all the beasts we have known,
murders, thieves, and miscreants
there now arises a wickedness
that cannot be measured in neat units
or fit into convenient little molds.

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Attempting as many types of line breaks as I can in as short of poem as possible.

The poem breaks
with rhyme or makes
it’s way across the page

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Poets Bend Your Lines

We poets do not live
within the confines of margins;
poetry itself lives

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Easter Eggs

I want you to carry my eggs;
I trust you and the care that you take,
yet I know that you are afraid,

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Hellhounds

Standing at the crossroads
I heard the devil sing his song
and he tuned my guitar,

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No More Gold Gods

No more porcelain gods,
or the prejudice for the painted gods,
or the gods of plastic and oil;

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In Summer We Stand Up

Now that the summer’s gone
and the Station Wagon is rusted
into the American lexicon,

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Artificial Intelligence

A.I. is the genie,
and we are the question;

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On a Bad Marriage

Everyday was exactly the same,
and the night did nothing,
and staying weighed me like an elephant

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Some Say (On Phidias’s Zeus)

Some say that time consumes all,
but Phidias’s statue’s beauty
did not disappear with a thousand falls;

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