the poetry knook, the poetry of stephen m. james

Online

Guilt boils over as the screen sleeps in black.
Can I spend one night away from its glow
And all the pixels of people?
What if someone, somewhere needs me
No one will call, so I chat to fill this lonely night.
They tell me worries, problems, stories of mistakes,
Maybe I’ve been there once feeling their aches
And it’s killing me not to be there typing,
Messaging a friend I love dearly.
What my come if I am not there online?
wondering if i’ll make a difference over the net


Wellspring

The wellspring of my life gushes fourth
In black, bloody brooding of what to do.
Above all else I try,
But vaccines will never be
To guard me from catastrophe.
inspired by my verse: proverbs 4:23


For You

Surrounded by those not knowing
What God has been showing
To this desolate planet beneath
Deluged in disbelief.

What can I change of me
To change some part of you?
Cycles through my brain
And I can’t contain, these thoughts of you.
This anger roars
And my temper soars, to new heights
As I face this question one more time. . . .

Lost they call you under the steeple
You’d never carpool with those people.
You don’t hear a voice and look away
Hoping Heston might ring someday.

What can I change of me
To change some part of you?
Cycles through my brain
And I can’t contain, these thoughts of you.
This anger roars
And my temper soars, to new heights
As I face this question one more time. . . .

Not amazed at your daze due to your past
So tortured, I try not to ask
But truth is truth and we’re all frail
Too much riding on this to fail.


Gladiator

I will never be a soldier fighting a barbarian horde
Or see my family, crucified, hanging on my door,
But will stand on my word and my promise
To not seek the crowd’s thumb gest
For if I shall kill to seek revenge
My soul I know I’ll singe.
If I am to die in a tragic mess,
So be it, but that’s easy to say in U.S.

You do not fear Rome. It does not live.
You fear my God because He lives.
“I will see you in the after-life,
But not yet (unless you change).”


Sweet visual

Sweet visual, you know not the difference in
Right and wrong
Only coating the bass and treble with pulsating rhythms
You do not know the mid-tone.
Like an infant’s response to warmth.


In Your bottle

You keep my tears in your bottle
Recording every drop on paper.
A deluge of hope in me
Saturating my struggle
With compassion and empathy.
It’s easier to hate this pain
Than love the causes of my cries
For mercy.
You make them bearable
So I don’t succumb
To my fears.


Sounds of huffs

Sounds of huffs of air from animals
of my same species saturate my den,
Clouding my judgment
Steps from the back hallway rush me to reality.
Buttons I press to conceal the truth
Hidden in the night.


Ride Home

My windshield is maria menaced by metoers.
Everything but my face is dry,
But nothing shields my heart.
I drive on; into the stormy night,
with double glare;
Should I pull over
crying.
“No more.” I cannot say:
Can’t face. . . . this.
We will now never–the same
Can’t return–
You as I did–
Once.


Afloat

Sadly,
One thing that keeps me afloat
Is events that were set in motion months ago
When I wasn’t able to do anything
that are now only happening.


Worry Lane

Do you ever worry about me?
Surely, there’s some doubt, please.
It’s like not being missed
Because you know I’ll be fine.
Worry Lane, at least to me,
Seems to be one way.
Tell me when I’m wrong.
do people worry about me?



© 1993-2024 by Stephen M. James.