—Poetry by James Lee Jobe, Davis, CA
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of James Lee Jobe
poems where far too much happens.
poems where nothing happens at all.
look at me; I’m just an old man
scribbling on a legal pad with a pencil,
waiting for the coffee to brew.
poems where nothing happens at all.
look at me; I’m just an old man
scribbling on a legal pad with a pencil,
waiting for the coffee to brew.
those mornings in winter
when the mist of fog covers the sacramento valley.
the early hours that pass like words between friends.
the harvest is done.
empty fields shrouded with the mist.
________________
a scientist might say that flies do not sing,
when the mist of fog covers the sacramento valley.
the early hours that pass like words between friends.
the harvest is done.
empty fields shrouded with the mist.
________________
a scientist might say that flies do not sing,
and a poet might say that everything sings.
this is a brand new moment;
how will you spend it?
it has been nearly sixty years
since I have seen that little boy
that I once knew. the one
who was abandoned by his father
in a bus station far from home.
the one who cried out to jesus
and found no answer but silence.
when I look in the mirror now
I see only an old man who looks sad,
but I know that boy is still in there,
somewhere.
every autumn the rains return to the sacramento valley,
but we don’t celebrate. there are no rain rituals,
and no offerings are made in thanks.
what kind of people have we become?
not only do the seasonal rains replenish the valley,
they also save us from the california wildfires.
let us stand naked and wet,
shouting praise for every drop.
let us raise our hands and hearts up to the clouds.
come now, beat the drums loudly!
out to the field! reach for the sky!
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
I learn the prayer
and then live with it
until my time is up.
—james lee jobe
____________________
“Beat the drums loudly, reach for the sky!” And give thanks for some fine poetry from our “old man with the legal pad” on a chilly, almost-winter morning. Give thanks—spring is just around the corner!
James says he is “going lower case again; i find that if i do this from time to time it helps keeps my tone quiet. i like that.”
____________________
—Medusa
—Public Domain Photo
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
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All you have to do is send poetry and/or
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that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
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