Archives for category: Writing


The Soul
by JDA

Humankind exists between the
Apes and the Angels
And are envied by both.

[image: Vitruvian Man by Leonardo Di Vinci]



by JDA

Love is enslavement
Who wants to be enslaved?
Where did I go?
Where did she go?
Neither one of us is the person
that the other met.
That initial burst of love’s
flame reduced us to ashes,
uncertain, confused, wondering
where we went.

So now there are only two
people exactly the same.
You and me. We need one
another because we are
a unique species.

Time to climb the gang plank
to Noah’s Ark hoping for a
pure future.
   The dove waits patiently.

Mary Magdalene kneeling befor Christ

by JDA

Was He waiting for Magdalene or
was she waiting for Him?
It was all prophesied.
Even their love?
Love transcends prophesy.
What happened at Peter’s home?
She washed His feet with her perfumed hair.
Had I been there
I would have lifted her up
saying, “Don’t do that to
yourself!” explaining that no one
was worth that debasement.

But women see things, know
things, do things that are
beyond my comprehension.
And so it happened with or without

[image note: Filippino Lippi – Kneeling Saint Mary Magdalene and Standing Christ (creative commons)]

black and white photo of bicycle on its side on a lawn

Tough Truth
by JDA

There is a hollow spot where my heart once was
Too much grief, loss and loneliness is just part of the cause.
I’m not sure I wanted one.
Sometime, way back, I must have chosen to let it go.
A passive counterattack.
I recall looking at the hurt in peoples’
faces and never wanting to be in
their places.
Someone being blatantly cruel to a gentle one.
Like a dark cloud over a golden sun.
And I could feel it.
The ache, the bewilderment in their soul.
So…I just shut down somehow,
never wanting to pay that toll.

Ah, I know I’m lying
I feel it all, all the time
And my heart, which is of course here
pretends it isn’t dying.

(image above used with permission – copyrighted anonymously)

reflection on a pond of bare, dark branches of trees
by JDA

Her head was filled with darkly mean things
and all the petty evil they bring
like half a being, partly shadow and partly, softly real
Blank-faced, empty-eyed in search of
a spiritual meal

Why the compassion for this terribly
lost one?
When a sensible person would turn,
moan quietly, and run

Did I write, “like half a being”?
And how would I notice that,
And all the other things as I sat?

You know don’t you? It was you and me I
was sorrowing for.
There is no her, just projections from a
lonesome mind…..No, it was her. And
she was more honest than I.

(image above used with permission – copyrighted anonymously)

image of a butterfly in black and white
by JDA

A late Sunday night in November
alone with bad radio
Grid overhead like a bad school marm
Don’t breathe too loud
Breathing, like a new born infant
is seditious
If you think freely, more’s the woe

Boy, do I miss you, and you, and you, too

But now you’re just a pair of
frightened, suspicious eyes
as the grid lowers

My eyes notice this because they look
just like yours

I want to love again as naturally as I’m
supposed to…once knew how to

Simply, wake up, stretch…and love

(image above used with permission – copyrighted anonymously)

beautiful yellow and white flower
by JDA

Monkeys in shadowland
believing Darwin though wrong, right
Sitting mesmerized by the shining plasma box
stuck in the lowest common denominators of
sex & violence produced by Morlocks

Some, turning with vague unease gaze
backwards toward the cave mouth
and see blue skies, flocks of swans flying
by ancient trees

Terrified by something so real and
beautifully true
they turn back to the counterfeit
safety of the box, while the skies begin
to weep soft silver dew.

(image above used with permission – copyrighted anonymously)

Ferris wheel at Treasure Island Music Festival (creative commons)

by JDA

In order to understand the world you cannot be part of it.

The nape of a woman’s neck, though beautiful, is not the full of her.

The need to know, to understand the wholeness of things,

moves you backwards for clarity and definition.

Her soft hand gesture, a tree bending in November wind

as scudding dark clouds shred the sky,

another step backwards and half-turn to the right,

the ferris wheel rotates in multicolored brilliance

as tired children blow little, red, plastic horns in musical accompaniment.

Step backwards and look skyward through sausage and pepper steam

and a tiny star looks down on you quietly, maternally

a temporary mooring for your lonely boat.

[image note: Ferris wheel at Treasure Island Music Festival (creative commons)]


by JDA

Where have the angels gone?
Have they left for a reason?
Am I to be all alone,
for some seditious act, some treason?
Or, more likely, they are there
wings still, motionless,
watching, waiting for sobs, need…

Then swirling circling down for one so lost now found.
“Always stay close,” they seem to say,
“never stray too far, dear friend, not even for one day.
With no one you are no one.
You cannot be seen or heard.
When asked, we will find you.”

(image above used with permission – copyrighted anonymously)

water flowing in a stream of pebbles

by JDA

Thoughts, once his, became theirs
pure water pushed through mud
now tainted and dirty
the water flowed on
through and over smooth stones
shedding the sullen particles of nature’s dark sister
then emerging clean and sparkling in perfect sunlight

Further in time, or in another world, the purity still alone
danced with leaden feet
to a sad whispering lament
while keening spirits shrieked their regret

(image above used with permission – copyrighted anonymously)