Thursday, May 28, 2015

A Poem by Ken L. Jones


Once while swigging barefooted wine near an ancient cherry blossom temple
Where sea life played upon traditional instruments
Until in the tranquil gardens there I became a marathon of sensations
In its savory sauce where I've always returned for seconds
Whenever I can migrate away from my perch of electronic waste
To enjoy its harvest of liquid gold pelicans
Above the waterfront where I watched them soar
Through the palace of the trees as they carved out the history of over the hills
Then above dry lakes and salt marshes where they disappear
And then like the shepherds on a Bethlehem hillside
I sleep out in the open by the starlight of my TV screen dreaming of a lush birdsong garden
That spoils so quickly leaving behind only the aroma of ironwork courtyards
That gives me the redemption of being used by a higher authority
During my slices of sleeping alone on that beach of innumerable roses
That fell from the sky while sea nymphs drifted across the frame
Until I moved well beyond Betty or Veronica and became a Barry White ballad instead
That fractured into amber hues upon the surface of the moon

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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