Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Two Poems by Ken L. Jones

A Road Map Made of Fish Hooks

A litany of black-eyed Susan's
Bound in Moroccan began to bloom
Odd little summer had begun at last
After a winter that was a start stop feast
Until my cerebral cortex became a bass fiddle
Which as someone bowed it gave me very little peace
And all that ever saved me were her lips
Which were like an old Ernest Hemingway novel
As they opened like a flower
And drained me of my pride and power.

Canned Orange Slices and Yellow Eight-Track Leaves

Her voice is now nothing but a bit of trivia to me
As I listen to the ocean waves forget their words
While I wait for the melodies of approaching sleep
As darkness falls with all the poetry of Buddy Holly
And I go gentle into the cornfields once again
Where seeds and quartz grin like a painting of the reefs
Of my hotel room where after all these decades
I forgive the darkness of her angelic face.

For the past thirty-five years Ken L. Jones has been a professionally published author who has done everything from writing Donald Duck Comic books to creating things for Freddy Krueger to say in some of his movies.  In the last six years he has concentrated on his lifelong ambition of becoming a published poet and he has published widely in all genres of that discipline in books, online, in chapbooks and in several solo collections of poetry.  

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