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George M Jackson

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Member Since: Dec, 2003

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Covet (Redeux)
by George M Jackson

Monday, January 24, 2005
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by George M Jackson
•  Silent Drifter
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           >> View all 112

After posting "Covet" the other day, it lingered in my mind...I didn't think it said enough about what I had to say...it felt incomplete and bothered me, so I went back and added to the poem. Not sure if it helped or hurt the piece, but it seemed to ease me, so I went ahead and posted it. Here lately, thought a lot about growing up, and how much I had forgotten about being a boy. Well...anyway...here it is. The original text is still here, just added to it. Thanks.

How quickly it passed, that immortality


Just an illusion now but a reality then, a


Place eternal where nothing mattered but


Everything had purpose, fleeting summer


Days that went on and on but never lasted


When the stars came out to wink at fireflies.


 


Ah, but those nights lingered too, crickets


Playing out of tune but keeping time just


The same, though I didn’t know it then and


Wish I could forget it now, counterpoint


To a distant ticking that was lost beneath the


Bittersweet regard of my own beating heart.


 


Except that I never regarded such things, only


Knew that I was alive beneath those


Stars, the regard I speak of written by a man


Caught in the romance of childhood, that


Half-remembered dream of twelve-years-old


Just an abstract recollection to me now.


 


So forgive me, please, if I choose to wander


There, even for a little while longer, because what


I do recall is indeed bittersweet, however elusive


Those thoughts may be, at least until I close my


Eyes, look inward to find whatever remains like


A seeker of ancient artifacts without the proper tools.


 


The smell of freshly mown grass, I remember this.


The magical sound of playing cards in bicycle


Spokes, wind in my face, racing my shadow to


The ice cream stand and a double-dip cone on a


Huffy that had seen better days, I remember this.


The pretty girl who lived down my street…


 


 


I can bear to write no more, but will


Hold it close because what I was has made


Me what I am, and like that empty wind


I also covet what is left behind, the leaf


I chase but a single page in a book I


Once thought would never be completed.


 


END


 


“Covet (Redeux)”


 

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Reviewed by jude forese 1/24/2005
i like how you space your thoughts and earnestly desire their completion ...

a poem motivated by true inspiration ...
Reviewed by Dave Harm 1/24/2005
The good gets better! I smiled with the thoughts of putting Mickey Mantle cards on the spokes. Man, I had a fortune and didn't even know it...
Reviewed by Mr. Ed 1/24/2005
the regard I speak of written by a man
Caught in the romance of childhood,

I try to get caught up in mine as often as I can, and yes, I even had a Huffy, too!

This was a fine poem the first time, and it's even a little finer now.
Reviewed by Daniel McTaggart 1/24/2005
George, I apologize for not stopping by for a while. Been busy. But now I get to catch up on all these gems you've been penning. And this one brought back many warm memories. I remember chasing fireflies under the stars with glass jars. Smelling mown grass and swatting mosquitoes. I wish I could linger there longer, too.
Reviewed by Sue Hess 1/24/2005
excellent, anything you added could only make it better
Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 1/24/2005
I am not reading you for a long time yet....but this must be one of your finest!!

Love Tinka
Reviewed by Judy Lloyd (Reader) 1/24/2005
I think that it one of his best too and enjoyed it so much each time that I read it.
Reviewed by E T Waldron 1/24/2005
I'm so glad you reposted this! It is one of your best, and it was up too short a time. Splendid work George!
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 1/24/2005
this is even better the second time around (and the first time was great!!)! very well done poem, george; enjoyed much! thanks for the sharing!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :D
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