We Needed The Rain Poem

We so  needed the rain.

We prayed for it.

I sat on the porch and watched it

hit the parched earth.

The grass had long ago turned dormant,

brown and dead


like the crops

like us

we prayed for the rain

for the farmer


and when it finally came

the trees looked happy

the droplets disappeared

and the ground was still dry

it takes a day for the water to finally run

in streams down the gulleys

becoming brown with the earth.


I sat with my cat

and noticed the rain this time


It is because we so needed the rain

that we played in it

that we felt as if

it had never rained before.


Send Rain

These words in these blocks

and these buttons

these spots on the screen

are seen by

a boy in Puerto Rico then

a girl in Mississippi then

a man in Samoa then

a woman in China.

I can hear them applaud for me.

in my heart of hearts.

I can feel your heart beating

in my fingertips.

I can hear the wind blowing on the beach in Samoa

through the trees in Mississippi,

and I can see your eyes reading these words

from so far away.

We need rain here.

Send prayers for rain

for the crops

for peace

for love.


Puerto Rico!


Water Poem by David Michael Jackson

The hot summer sun
makes cake of my skin
and the sweat lets me know
I’m alive

the water
is better then

it is needed then

and noticed

Can a poem be the water on a hot day

can the water flow down
this page
this poem

this time or the next
until there is no next

no new

of the water in a poem until it lies there in a pool on the page, on this page


For the Love of the Merpeople by Dandelion de La Rue


The mermaids sang
to lusty Zorba
I am sure, but not to
Prufrock, so he said,
he of tiny
dibs and dabs
of life, drizzled on
his plate with tiny

Did he regret
what he had missed?
I think he did.
I see him sadly
staring at the waves,
hoping for
a second chance,
but fearing,
ever fearing,
nearly everything.

I see so
many Prufrocks
on the news,
they’re so afraid
of getting hurt
and so afraid
of life without

But those who
guzzle life
from gallon jugs,
I think the
mermaids love them.

Porch Swing by Dandelion de la Rue

Porch swing life in
some other place
moon humming happy
bugs playing fiddles
pies cooling
by the window

Down the road awhile
in smokey midnight bars
torchy songs low and thick
red lipstick eyes closed
songs for someone gone
a long long time

Outside slow motion
wakes the blood
sends foggy feet
to the magic house
yellow glow windows
Strong souls there,
souls so big
they never die.

Dreamstreet Man
drew that door
then walked through it.
You don’t know
he said
who’s the dream
and who’s the dreamer.

The air’s the same
The air’s the same.
It’s the same good
honeysuckle air.


What I’m looking for


They always say

they hope I find

what I am

looking for,

and then I laugh

and walk away.


I look for nothing



I look for those

who soar and wander,

through the hidden doors

and down the paths

that don’t exist


I look

for weeds on

pampered lawns


I look

for dandelions


even loved.


Dandelion de la Rue  May 29, 2012

Dew Poem

Write me a poem he says.

That’s not good grammar son.

Has some literature professor checked you out?

Are you poetry certified?


No Sir but the dew….

Oh shut up about the dew

nobody talks about the dew.

Yes sir but the sea…….

Oh shut up about the sea

Nobody cares about the sea.

But sir the peace

The peace is the dew

that can find its way to the sea.



david michael jackson April 15, 2012

Follow Your Dream

What is your dream?
You have to follow that.
That is what is important,
it’s not education,
it’s not job,
it’s the dream.
It’s something to fall asleep with
every night of your life.
A life which matters
only through love and dreams.
My dream is this.
Today I did this toward my dream.
Now I can sleep
a poet’s sleep

Devil in the Red Suit Collecting the Rent by John Horvath Jr

Devil himself along the red clay unpaved road
comes in a red suit bright as the sun of March
up onto the porch to ask directions; so many lost souls
in some parts obscure the reasons for being
in the first place there–accidents of birth, some say;
others claim that fate or destiny will work that way

Work is what it is. Lost souls damned to the mornings
of waking to it and condemned to the long hot middays
of it returning at night to curse the momentum of days
of it sleep resting from it day-to-day unchanged works
on the soul ’til Sunday frenzy of loafing on a frontporch.
Then the devil himself in his damned red suit asks after
so-and-so or his son, the woman or her daughter never,
or almost never, for some reason. He comes asking
directions and they never know where nor heard tell
of him except he might be up the road a piece might well
have died in his sleep a year ago alone in his shack; hell,
aint it a mite late to come for collecting when a man’s bone
that ought to be in the ground by now fretting the worms
just goes to dust in his bed, the meaning of dead-tired.
But come to think on it, not that fellow you want but Jack.
I do think ’tis Jack. Jack you want. Fellow with all yellow
hair comes round the field to count bushel-at-a-dollar;
Old dollar-bushel Jack, he’s who you oughts go after.
They laugh up their sleeves as the sun goes down on the fellow
along the red clay unpaved road walking then they go to their
beds with their dark faces wrinkled in dark thought:  who’s next.
They wake surprised to bright red sun of the morning next
to the women who will send that devil in the red suit
along the road back to their shack. Lord, I aint next.
But will be soon. And each knows it:  Work’s what it is.

– John Horváth Jr

Cruelty to Animals Poem

Have we excluded these animals

from our cruelty laws,

the cow

the pig

the chicken?

When did we excluded these animals

from our laws?

Is it okay to be cruel to these animals if



Is it okay to be cruel to these animals

since we

eat them?

This poem cries for chickens

crowded together like


on a line.

This poem cries for cows

crowded together like


This poem cries for pigs

crowded together in

concentration camps.


This poem cries for man



an aside…..when the “aliens” did the same thing to humans, we called it a “horror movie”. When we treat our fellow creatures horribly by making them live elbow to elbow their whole lives until they bite each other’s tails, then we lose.  When did we lose our humanity? Was it when we became “business people.” or just urban enough to only see a chicken in the grocery store?



david michael jackson   May 10, 2012  dave@artvilla.com

Mothers Day Poem

Mothers Day Poem


For my mother Maria Jackson Taggart 1926-2011


oh Mother oh mother oh mother
this day this day this day
this day is your day.
You gave every day to me.
You held my little hand.
You wiped my little nose and butt.
You took up for me.
You said,
Don’t ask for my pity
You said,
Don’t use that word,
don’t ever use that word.
You said,
Those people are okay.
You said
You can be anything
you want to be.
You said
That’s my child and
you better back off
You said
“I love you”
again and again and again
until I knew it.
Oh mother oh mother oh mother
This day
and all my days
are yours.


Read about the happy mother’s day tradition at Gypsy

More David Michael Jackson Poetry

david michael jackson  May 9, 2012  dave@artvilla.com