Sunday, December 15, 2013

Renew


Renew

After weather
and the eyes of generations
the white house
reveals its rotting boards,
still withstanding
the winter winds
that pulled the cotton flowers
from their knotted fingers.
Once dressed in unbroken white
she has protected
her family
from the typeset headlines
and dying soil,
but now struggles
in pastel yellow,
blending into the horizon
of grass and grain.
We want to bring renewal,
but only the owner
can paint you.

-Robert L. Jackson III


Sunday, December 8, 2013

Each's Babylon

Each seeks a tower,
abandoned or built,
unguarded by steel
armor or blades,
to close the divine distance
and increase their view.
Some chisel new clean blocks
from the cleansed and uncovered rock,
while others use remnants,
rounded and covered in moss.
Searching amongst the trees
and city lines,
the tallest options
often are never considered
due to the effort required
to ascend their spirals
before they crumbles.
Some never stay
in one corrugated nest
after seeing the green valley
and shiny steeples beyond.
Few realize that our heads
need only the height
of our spines to achieve ease,
because earth contains 
the common elements of the sky.

-Robert L. Jackson III

Monday, October 21, 2013

Repaired (Munich - Munchen)

This was written in Germany.

Repaired (Munich)

I.  A dark sky of overcast
was painted
to replace the ceiling portraits
lost in the war.
The lost depictions
conveyed ideals of humanity
and justice,
through the characters of myth.
The cracks 
of the repaired structures
reveal no sign of weakness
below the plaster.
II. The live shells
slept below families
until the installment 
of modern architecture and amenities
required their detonation
to be removed.
The straw,
meant to absorb the waves,
rekindled a lost struggle
and the clear windows
cracked and shattered.
The air however
never stays opaque
but the music
curves 
it into a memory
of fading tiles.
III. The king,
lost in a millennia
of sand,
never dropped
the crystal cup,
leaving one lonely handle.
But to secure symmetry
a metal loop
augmented the other side
and carried
no light.

-Robert L. Jackson



Friday, September 27, 2013

September Travel

September Travel

The ghost of geography
guides me through the meadow
of tempting poppies 
and Black-eyed Susans.
She takes my hand
through the electron ether
without the taint of contact
to poison our thoughts.
How do you tighten your grip,
with no pressure
between the topography
of our hands?
I look to my feet
to check if the path is tread,
and if the destination
is recorded.
Is there a tan manuscript
rotting on a shelf
or beneath the flowing sand
that maps our love?
She guides me through the atlas,
tearing pages from their binding
and breaching the bandwidth
of the bridge we emitted across.  

-Robert L. Jackson

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Relics


Relics

Do the royal lineages
require more glimmer and detail
to become inspired?
They bring as luggage
a portable alter
laden with fierce images and deep oceans
of molded metal and polished gems
piercing holes
that they hope will leak out
the heavens.
The skulls and fore arms
of saints 
and the splinters 
of deadly scaffolding
lie in windows
ordained with visions
that instill their worth.

-Robert L. Jackson III


Saturday, August 31, 2013

Cielo Azul


Cielo Azul

For the first time
I saw the gray sharp predator
skim the white debris of life,
searching for the injured
in the early morning sun.
Its body and tail
moved in unison,
revealing no sign of thrust.
After dusk
another danger streaked
across the sky;
Innocently following
the pull of the larger body;
Revealing the faux instinct
of a falling star.
The dinosaurs only feared
the teeth of the meteor,
that never roared,
gnashed or taunted
in its silent hunt.
The gray one
rules in silence
and leaves the water blue
in the bleaching sun
until hunger returns.

Robert L. Jackson


Thursday, July 18, 2013

Sailing Revival (July 4th, 2013)

Sailing Revival (July 4th, 2013)

Decades ago,
I spent a season of youth
sanding smooth
the aged edges
of the centerboard
and rudder;
The lone materials
that kept my hull
from sliding away
on the edge of the storm.
Then I sealed
their wooden grains
with laquer
that caused them to glisten
and enriched their contrast.
This work of preservation
was returned to me
when the next youth,
smiled and wondered,
and road across the choppy crests
toward the guarded coast
of the mangled spoil island,
whose anchoring roots
of pine, palm and mangrove
have dissipated
over the same period
and allowed the crystals of sand
to migrate
to the jetty grown
public access beach.

-Robert L. Jackson III