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)
JAMES WEBB WILSON (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
