Friday, July 17, 2009

Dear Editor,

Here are some poems for consideration for your magazine or journal. Thank you for supporting

poetry in today’s world and age. I as a poet sincerely appreciate your efforts.

Mr. Wilson was BORN IN 1941 IN Ithaca, New York and was raised in the Finger Lakes

Region of upstate New York. He was employed by the Traveler’s Insurance Company for 27

years from 1967 to 1994.He retired in 1994 and became disabled with his diabetes and heart

conditions. . He began writing in his notebooks in his college days. In 1989 to 1991 he had

65 poems published .:

His poems are drawn from his own life’s experiences. He presents rich images through the

strong and interesting use of his poetic vocabulary and language. He is proud to be a poet of two

centuries. In 2009 Mr. Wilson has had poems accepted for publication by:

Westward Quarterly, Cloud Appreciation Society, Nomad’s Choir,

The Poet’s Art, Ceremony, NKF CT Connections,, Star*Line.

(Jim the Ct Poet)


Inner Heat

It is just the heat swelling up in great surges

Of the great coastal tides,

I surf on desire’s rides

I body surf and hang ten deep

I pray the Lord my trunks to keep.

So in my vulnerability

The dream will not surrender

To an ecstasy too real and tender.

It is this rapid pulse of mine,

It flows swift like red wine

Which thirsts for the inner soul

In an obstinate obsession burning.

What tests await our anxious learning.

This tearing of the candle’s flame

Which spews direct with gentle aim,

The dimmer mysteries of midnight.

It is the heat of an honest flame,

Desire’s own special calling

Which in a well ventilated space

Would grant a glow across a cave.

But in the closed up room

It casts a mystery of doom.

So set me free with Love’s direction

And grant me my deserved release.

My Canoe Now

This is my canoe now,

It is my transportation on the river of life

To paddle off into a new direction

Jay stroking as needs be to stay on course,

Whenever the currents will allow

One to go to his island in the stream

And pursue serenity’s undisturbed dream.

It only took one leap of faith

To catch the angel’s wings

To guide my canoe to where my heart sings.

This is my very own canoe now,

I will bypass the shoals

And have lunch on a sand bar.

I will eat a sandwich and drink a soda,

I will suntan on the afternoon beach,

I will lean lazily against my canoe,

All alone, so very much alone.

I will enjoy the peace of the ages,

I will write on the poet’s pages

In the land of no telephones.

This is my own canoe now,

My silent ride down my river

Which once held such dreams

Too dear to hold within my hands

Which now I use for my jay stroke.

Popsicles in the August Snow

To go where the brave dare not go,

The orange popsicles in the August snow,

A September morn with white rabbit luck,

Canadian geese and a star carbon duck.

Love on the subway, wrong way uptown

Colombian coffee, roasted and brown.

We walked with llamas in Peru’s mountains,

We bathed in Greece’s Olympian fountains

We meandered across a newly plowed field,

We sank in ankle deep soils

One proud footprint after another

We were young enough for sure

We moved our busy feet quickly

We raced where others only walked.

We picked up pine cones in the evening

Using the fire flies as our lanterns.

We listened to the owl in the old grey barn,

We smelled the lilacs in the park

We ran diagonally through the cornfield

Looking for the last lost pony.

We chased the harvest moon,

We bobbed for apples in a wash tub,

We went on long hay rides

Way past the barn and the old cider mill.

Thank you for considering these poems Have a nice day

and enjoy your family and summer.

Jim the CT Poet

Apology In the mornings when I look Earth is overgrown with exhaustion with a sad insomnia An ocean of plastic undulates a...