Owl Poem with Warthogs

Wee Willie was a warthog

he warted and hogged the whole day

and at night Wee Willie turned into

a great horned owl and

flew and flew

all night long.

The owl’s name was Ollie the Owl

and Ollie perched in the highest tree

and waited for the sunrise.

Warthogs and owls

don’t know that I know

their little

secret.

I am a man in the day and when I sleep I

fly with Ollie

 

Oh Wee Willie

Oh Wee Willie

Do you sleep when Ollie

flies?

Oh Ollie Oh Ollie

I’ll meet you when

the sun falls behind the

mouse’s

house.

 

 

david michael jackson April 21, 2012 editors@artvilla.com

If the kids liked the Owl poem they may like my rabbit poem

Cinco de Mayo de La Puebla Poem
Amigos
Gracias por la batalla de Puebla
Thank you for our freedom
Strike up the band
Break out the smiles and banners
and dance dance dance
let the skirts fly high
let the men stomp the ground and shout
Bravo
Cinco de Mayo
Bravo Cinco De Mayo
Gracias amigos
Gracias
Por nuestra libertad.

david michael jackson May 5, 2012

This Day

This day this day this day

the sun the sun will shine

this day this day this day

my love will be mine

oh write for me a sonnet

oh write for me a book

oh slip the bonds of caring

into the cranny nook

oh let me be the one

the one who does not weave

the thread of discontent

with the words I leave

I paused on the hillside
long enough to see the Indian family
passing beside the tall oak,
long enough for me to catch
a glimpse of them
against the sky.
A solace of Indians

I saw them turn to me
They looked me in the eye
I turned away
I said
Go away there
why
are you following me?

I saw the slave then
in chains
gazing at me beside his mule.
I saw him turn to me
He looked me in the eye.
I turned away.

I said
Go away there
why
are you following me?

When I looked again
I saw the
woman.

 

 

 

……………….david michael jackson

There are great poets,
no minor poets,
and me,
no real rain of perfect words.
These words of today will always
have to do.
We make do with what we have
and I have only the flowers
I failed to pick today.
I let them live.
They have so little time to attract the
bee
and I am as worthless with the pollen
as I am here among the
great poets,

but the flower doesn’t ask
“Is it a great bee?”
And neither should you.

Poems for peace
start somewhere.
They start too often after the war
after the bodies are counted
and we have given up on counting them.
Poems for peace come from the cries
of mothers over children.
Poems for peace come from
soldiers who cry,
why
why
why.
Poems for peace don’t come as easily as
this poem from
this poet for
this poet is not worthy.
this poet is not worthy.
he has not killed nor seen the blood
on his own hands
enough to cry
for the soldier,
enough to cry for the
innocent.
To say I am not worthy so
I will not speak of the peace,
I cannot.
Who didn’t see that war or this war take
take a piece of their lives,
you?
Who didn’t see the lack of peaceful words
harm someone,
you?
Who didn’t lose a friend to war,
you?

The Oh bumblebee poem

Oh bumblebee
bumblebee
Bumble on bumblebee
Bumble on,
but be a humble bumblebee

this bumblebee poem humbly by
david michael jackson April, 22,2012

So A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose you say.

“I could smell the roses from ten feet away.”

A rose is a smell of a rose and the feel of the

rose petals on your finger.

A rose is a rose bush with thorns

and bees.

 

A rose is love,

friendship,

and death.

 

A rose is a dried flat memory

pressed

in the pages of a book.

 

It is a young lady’s eyes

peering over a

bouquet

at a young man

smiling.

 

 

david michael jackson   April 20, 2012