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/
(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.)
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