A Glimpse that Troubled Me
That split second in which I saw
A hand firmly holding what it tore
Inside a bag filled with several leaks.
The way that hand swiftly separated
Itself from virtues only now abated,
Gave it the strength of one who speaks.
Whenever things look to be vague or dull,
The hand reaches out to begin its cull
Of fauna who appear not able to adapt.
When that time comes with malcontent,
The hand is encompassing in full extent
Over those eyes it desires to be wrapped.
Jason Ford, “A Glimpse that Troubled Me” in Poetry Monthly www.poetrymontly.com Issue 149, September 2008. p20.
(Note: In 2009, I started using Jason Constantine Ford because I discovered that there is a Jason Ford who is self published on Lulu. I do this to avoid confusion. )
Dark Clouds Hanging Over Us
Coldness spreads through the air as the sun abstains
Itself from giving light within a cloud sky.
Darkness slowly spreads itself across the plains
As scents of evil are approaching nigh.
There is a rumour that souls of criminals who died
Upon the gibbets are passing through this town.
Although no trace of evidence is supplied,
Morale among the people is slowly going down.
Since last night, a criminal’s fingerprints were found
Upon a skull years after the day he passed away.
Rumours of people seeing him in the town abound
Among those who fear themselves as likely prey.
Without a warning, peels of thunder are heard
Among people unwilling to walk into the street.
Around the deserted streets, not a single word
Is uttered among lips which already feel defeat.
The Book of the Dead
Within a realm already ruled by Death,
A Book remains upon a plaque of stone.
The names no longer fit to feel the breath
Of life are ones which winds of fate disown
As being born without the right to be alive
Within presence of blades which must arrive.
This Book commands the Reaper to extract
The blood of creatures ready to be cracked.
Vapours rise from stench beneath the brittle ground
Releasing swarm of wasps which hover in the air.
Each wasp reveres the book with feelings most profound
As opposition to the souls who turn to prayer.
The wasps await the Reaper’s next command
As host of vapours in the heat of night expand.
Jason Ford, “Three New Poems: The Book of the Dead, Dark Clouds Hanging Over Us and Standing in the Shadows”, posted on December 5 in the archive of DM du Jour, http://dmdujour.wordpress.com/
, December, 2013.
(Note: I specifically put myself down as Jason Constantine Ford but the DM du Jour chose to have me listed as Jason Ford. Several magazines have listed as Jason Ford or Jason C. Ford. I do not like this but that's the way it goes.)