Saturday, September 01, 2018

Scooping Up Hope

Davis Farmers Market
—Poems and Photos by James Lee Jobe, Davis, CA



You rise up from a seed.

First you push through the soil of your lineage,

Fertilized with love and faith and hope.

And then the sapling of your youth breaks into the air,

Into the light.

Leaf by leaf you spread through this life,

Roots down and branches up,

Sun and rain,

The sap in your veins.

You are shade and strength,

The wood of years,

The tree that lives on and on,

Dropping your own seed for the next generation.



 Davis, Armadillo Music



I would drink to you, if I drank.

If I enjoyed parties at all I might even have one,

But really I don't. Miserable happy chatter,

No one even thinking about death,

How can people enjoy themselves

If they're not miserable? To be happy

Without being depressed? What's the use

In that? If only I drank, I would drink to you...

Oh, hell; probably not.



 Davis Food Co-op



Shall we sweep the forest clean?

Shall we walk across the ocean?

We shall.

For years we've counted the bodies

Of the dead from our wars, so many bodies.

We've listened to the leaders tell us

That now it will be alright,

That now the end is in sight.

It isn't.

Lower the flag, it's dirty.

Light a candle and leave it

In the window for the souls

Of the damned to see their way home.

Shall we sweep the forest clean?

Shall we walk across the ocean?

Yes, we shall. And it is a one-way trip. 



 Davis City Hall



I’m actually not bad at math at all,

But I never was all that interested in equations.

And I like knowing how and why things exist,

But I'm certainly not a physicist.

Driving in my car across a moving planet,

I watch the sun through the windshield,

Which is itself moving through the universe.

And those cows I drive past, standing and eating?

They’re moving, too, through space and time.

They just don't know it, or care.

Me, the cows, a car, the universe, the sun,

Existence, equations, math—exactly how much

Do you expect from a poem anyway?



 Davis, The Avid Reader



Long days, spent on our knees.

Bent over,

We scooped up hope by the handful,

And held it up to the wind.

And let it go.

Below us, prayer,

Or something like prayer,

Conversations with something greater.

Beds on wheels rolled past,

Pulled by mules,

Carrying the newly dead.

Time is a shield, a blanket,

A heavy over-shirt,

A common well shared by all.

On we worked,

Scooping and lifting.

Day past into evening,

And then on into night.

Owls made their pleasant sounds,

And one by one the stars opened up

And blessed us with light.

____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

That I might always keep my heart, my eyes, and my mind open.
That compassion might begin with me and grow outward,
Spreading like ripples on a pond from a pebble I tossed in.

—James Lee Jobe

____________________

Many thanks to James Lee Jobe for this morning’s fine poetry and photos!  And a note that today is the last day to drop off art submissions (at noon) at Sac. Poetry Center Gallery for the up-coming City of Trees Art Invitational. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.

—Medusa



—Anonymous
Celebrate the light that is poetry!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


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