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The Untold Blues Of Poetry

Still in a dream a shadowy light marches through the mind and
mist my past with a dreamy fascination, it filled all the cold voices in my imaginations

through poetry, like a ghost vanishing without a trace untold expressions cast a shadow over my imaginations, in the medit of silence crept lines, lines so diverse you bet this lie is reherrsed

my poetic being is scribbling in my mind, my thoughts are quiet and magical like the death of my character, I could’nt move to skate on the pad, I’m thinking, my mind flickering with the poetry, even the lad in me is awake, my passion, my inspiration, but I know this story wont be told

Beneath the earth Poetry is a key to a peaceful world that lies deep
within the mysteries of peace, I layeth still composing this magical bliss of sweetness I will only witness

the noise in my stress is now silence, Poetry in my head is the very best piece I have ever
had

all I can here is the chaos of children with echos of laughter ringging out clear, like the sound in the flaps of a butterflies wing, I realise i’v just missed a poem, I
could’nt do much it got me prisoned for reason, that why I call it, The untold blues of Poetry…

NB:The best poem I have ever read is the one that only appeared in thought

The Untold Blues Of Poetry!

Love on a Cloud

She sent him a message …
A message of her undying love….upon a cloud
The cloud full of passion and love….embraced his soul
The silky white cloud resembled the purity of the love
That no force could ever separate
A love that stood the test of time
has reached the heavens!

My voice

My voice
I seek not to alter the fabric of space
To unwind time irreversible
What I seek, is the voice
The voice that stands firm,
Sets paths unchanged,
Moves mountains untrailed,
Sets fire unquenched,
Builds brigdes connected,
Calms seas untamed,
A beacon to weary souls,
Water to the parched heart,
Solace to the unembraced,
I seek the voice everlasting,
The voice pending,
The voice infinite,
The voice sustaining,
My voice an echo unchanging.

Am I A Victim of Things I Need to Maintain?

“Am I a victim of things I need to maintain”

Words of the late Tupac Shakur

A thug who needed a place to let his head down

Cause the life he lived, came with discomfort

He was human, like me, like you, human

 

Early this morning I made a call

A call that would prove that history has no repeats

But man, oh man, was I up for a surprise

This is not the first time, this is a repeat of the many times

And to think taking a different approach would be a change

I take it I was wrong, again, for the many other wrongs

 

I have been Jack for a long time

Everytime I hop out the box, I get pushed back in

And everytime after that, I would have an excuse

Write it down, as therapy, what an excuse

Kick myself, say life’s a bitch, scratch my head, excuses

Like now, life’s a bitch right, excuse

 

This is not a poem, but written in the form of one, not an excuse

 

I have a stone in my shoe

Getting rid of it, brings a bigger one, after the other

Ten years is much as an excuse for more years to come

I have a grave yard field with them, one on top of the other

And I am sick of TRYING to bury the word “excuse”

My anger gets me heated, and this is much a release therapy

A place to let my head down and rest just a little bit

 

My phone is buzzing for life, and I’m disrupting from it

How do I recharge my own as easy as recharging a phone?

Where do I begin, I know from the bottom, but where?

Where are the doors I’m looking for, where are the ones I’m not?

Is God really with me, can He listen, will He open a door for me?

Or am I just a victim?

Loss

Tragedy renders survivors helpless,
hope snuffed from their eyes creating a pertinent darkness.
Monsters in the soul rise up to feed,
until they become the life of the now empty shell.

Grief personified in copious tears.
Life halted at it’s prime.
Silence echoes of a happier period; when the sands of the hour glass did not stand so still.

Yet,
the sun still sets only ’til the morrow,
the world still spins even with one less soul.
Time ticks on habitually;
the flat heart line as endless as the memories of an unforgettable soul.

However, with darkness is the inevitability of light.
And with monsters, the surfacing of an ever watchful hero.

Never Cease

In a single palm
Or at end of finger tips
To live and to have lived
Not one life
But many

The plea of love and light
The keyboard keys echo
Alone
In the dark

This twilight of dreams
The one who writes
The one who reads
Lives more than once

What then of love?
What then of filling or being filled by light,life and being?
This their verbose immortality
Or brevity sweet

The unwritten realities shall day with thee
Universes in mind
These words
These lines

Merely paper scattered with dreams
This pen and ink
Or keys
The life and times of endless beings
In thy death
They shall not with thee
Ever end

For we and they shall read and be read
And again
They shall with thee
Never cease

S.M.I.L.E

Simple
Many do it
In good situations
Letting go the negatives
Everlasting throughout the days of their lives

Soos n boek

Mense wat verby skuur
almal volgens die reels van natuur

Die chemie van ons wat bestaan
met alles wat ons veklaar
die onbekende spasies
van dinge….
wat ons nie verstaan;
met die aanhoudende dink van lewe
en wat ons daarin wil vind- laat my terug wens na die eenvoudige
denke van n kind.

Want soos n boek onderdaning aan my lesers
wat my hart beskryf op lee wit papiere, die fasiere dele van wie
ek is- my siel stadig oopvlek my hart ooptrek.

Gevorm deur die hand van my skrywers
wat daagliks n hoofstuk voltooi
my hart, my menswees my dryfs gees,
dit wat my laat bestaan , maar ook

dit wat vergaan..

J.C Jacobs

Company we Keep

I was so young, so naïve
The world was my playhouse
I was happy, so content
Living each day for what tomorrow might bring
The hope sparkling eternal in my eyes
And then….
You touched me softly with caress
You told me politely you loved me you undressed me
With your eyes
And then…
You wrote me poems, promised me sweet nothings
While lying drunk in love under the shadow of our willow tree
We would dream and just be free
make love with pure intent.
You told me you loved me, time and time again….
But then
I told you I loved you
And you left me, lingering
You left me although you were always there
There were so many others you told the same thing
And now
I am broken, trying to fix what I didn’t break
Trying to put together piece, by piece
By piece
Allowing for no love as my heart has grew fearful
Sceptical of the world
When
You left me out in the cold, you ran from my tears
I am not lonely just afraid of the company to keep
Because the company we keep will earn us a reap
Whether good or bad, that we will become in the
Company we keep.

J.C Jacobs

Droom Huis

Daar in die verte, in die Bronberge
Le daar n sprokie wat my hart begeer
In die diepte van die groot bloekom bome en
wilgers daar sal my hart na hunker met geen keer

Op die immergroen heuwels sit n huisie;
Omring deur die skone natuur,
In die huis,
Was ek nog nooit van tevore,
Maar toe my oe die eerste dag die plekkie vind
Begin ek weer diep denkend droom soos n kind;

Ek sit daar op die stoepie op n naweek weggebreuk
En kyk uit oor die vlaktes en dink aan gister se gedagtes
In die blou lug sien ek die weerspieling van n man, met
n kleine handjie in sy groot skulp hand omring hy die seuntjie
Wat hy help met die visstok so groot en onbeskore vir sy lyfie
Probeer hy sy eerste vissie vang in ons eie dam

Ek hoor die gelag en gejuifel van my dogtertjie
Soos ek in die gras groen berg skeur inkyk, vind ek
Haar heel spelend, fluister sy saggies vir al haar troeteldiere

Dis laat middag en die twee le uitgepaas die sagte,
Bronne briese wind waai deur ons hare, soos die
Groot bome n lied sing, die perde kom oor die heuwel met
Haas, en vir ou laas skyn die son met sy streulende strale deur die
Skeur van die Bronberg se deur.

Soos die laaste glimlag vir die laaste dag, weet hy ons
Harte smag vir more-
Nog n eksotiese wonderlike dag, In die droomhuis
Wat steeds in my toekoms sit en wag……………

J.C Jacobs

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