Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Still

Still

Grass grows up
from shadowed soil
past sinking treads
and into the mechanisms,
following thin paths
of sunlight,
twisting past belts
and linkages.
Seals dehydrate
and crack,
returning petroleum
to the earth.
Live ammunition
bleeds black powder
from corroded
holes in their skin.
The barrels
bend under heat
and humidity
toward fertile mud.
Reeds engulf time,
leaving creatures
to detour 
around the mass.

Robert L. Jackson III

This poem was inspired by the Midweek Motif of War and Peace by Poets United:




Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Convex

Convex

The only buoyancy
is sometimes a lake
rather than an ocean,
where our bodies sink deeper
and are confined
by a concave shoreline.
The storms 
grow unrestrained
over the salt;
able to consume us
and digest us
on jagged reefs.
But through waves of energy
we can now see them
over the horizon,
and plot a safe course.
Yet the fresh water
and humid land
can nurture concentrated 
tornadoes,
that splinter
the ribs of our hulls
without warning.

-Robert L. Jackson III



Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Deep

Deep

Looking
for the hole
In the ocean floor
revealing the organs 
of the Earth
through a pixelated
image of the solid
measured from a device
marketed for finding fish
in the murky waters
of the churning currents,
voyagers spend their thoughts.
Only the fragile 
glass-bottom boats
floating on the clear water
of saintly springs
allow us direct sight
through the hull.
Only on unconfined vessels 
on the ocean
are the great depths 
and jagged topography
accessible,
yet only seen
through transcendental eyes.

-Robert L. Jackson III