Sunlit afternoon

October 30, 2014 - Leave a Response

Muted afternoon sunlight
Filtered through weathered blinds
In our honeymoon room.
Separated Corrugated umbrage Falling across white sheets
Contoured by your form underneath Brings everything and nothing:
In the beginning all the hopes and
dreams of a lifetime —
In the end are fettered by funds,
friends, forms, children….
Lying on your back, belly exposed,
You are so vulnerable,
Your dreams shining brighter than
your pearly whites,
Not brushed away by your impeccable
dental hygiene…

i never knew the lilt of your faint West
Virginia accent
Until you used it to compliment Aunt
I glanced at you speaking,
Then drank you in longingly.
I was a name and address
And You were a large place in the

Fresh carp

October 30, 2014 - Leave a Response

fresh carp for sale,
for escargot to assail;
far cargo foreign sail;
and all that on a Wednesday

Dance with Me

September 5, 2014 - Leave a Response

Close you were,
And soft,
Real, so real
Your alluring green eyes,
Direct and penetrating…
I, captive of your enigmatic smile
Danced and danced again
To a song of past.
And future, too,
A song that we both knew
Not only by memory, but in our souls
As if we had moved in concert
Some Spring day in ages past
I could have held you long and long again
And never left the room
In my mind it is so…
In my dreams that won’t let go
Sweet reveries linger on
Long past daybreak, into morn
Those dreams break out in dimples
On my face in unexpected moments
Walking down the halls
Or in conciliatory conversations
I know they wonder at my Enigmatic smile…
It is for you.

Breakin’ Out – lent and Easter

April 18, 2014 - Leave a Response

Read the rest of this entry »

That Old Coat

February 17, 2014 - 2 Responses


I’ve seen it worn so many times
A hand-me-down from old friends
Where have they gone?
So fashionable the pattern
When it was brand spankin’ new
A flare, the cut, herring weave, too
The hint of sexy and dashing dare.

That old coat.
Less fashionable now
But functional, and “proper”
Befits the airs of the civic-minded
Career-focused, briefcase-swinging
Yes, practical, economical it is.

That old coat…
Comfortable, a little threadbare
But oh, so warm
Huddled on a bench
Beside longtime friends
Discussing politics
And the kids these days
Watching as the leaves fall
Our stone bench an island.

Those were the days
Money, sex, and power
The coat’s kept me well,
Dressed for all occasions
Now it just touches other old coats
Shoulder to shoulder
And winks at winter coming
Once again.

jon jacobs

September 11th

September 22, 2013 - Leave a Response


September 11, the radical operation
On a country infected by a silent disease
The scalpel that carved out a cancer:
The indifference of our souls

Smoke billowed heavenward,
Prayers crying for comfort
For answers to why
From the towers pierced
By our own supreme technology.

Blind cataracts of our mundane milieu
Crumbled in those early hours.
Days we cried for reasons
Of unanswerable horrors
Inflicted by an entity yet unknown

Who is my brother?
He who raced into the buildings
He who sifted through the ashes
Weeping for those he never knew
The brave who stood up to terror in the sky
Men, women, who now stand vigilant as protectors

Amber waves of grain,
Her purple mountains
A nation grounded on God’s love
America gathers a people once again
United in bonded brotherhood
We will ever stand firm

Johnkul007. 10/20/12

Hurricane Hugo (anniversary)

September 22, 2013 - Leave a Response


The winds blew…
I saw them all around,
Felt them tear at the soul of the land
Ancient sentries snapped, and snapped again
The trees bowing down before its fury
Not in worship but in submission
Their exalted years surrendering
Mustering not even a silent curse
Something left with the winds
Stripping all creatures from the countryside
In awe exhausted men gaped.
Empty, desolate, wasted
“It was like a war zone”
Though few had seen a battle
The ache was for a loved one lost
Torrents of rain and tears
Blurred visions
Blinded by cataracts of memories destroyed
Strewn as seaweed along endless beaches
Old photographs, bits of others’ lives
Knew no boundaries or surveyors’ markers
Like stray dogs they had wandered aimlessly
Deposited as evidence of unforgettable ravage
Now is the hour
Birth and death lie separated
By a narrow ravine of time
Over which we may jump
Or crawl
Or glide.
By wings eternal
I will glide.


July 7, 2013 - Leave a Response


Just where does it begin,
And where end,
This stuff of reality?
The forward part of my mind says now
is here,
Surrounding time of before and after
Never were,
Then never will be—
I know it is not so.
The backward portion sees
The past as through smoked glass,
Weeding out rotten-apple memories
Planting carnations and violets
In fields of forgotten vignettes,
Special moments longed for—
Mind’s eye lanes less traveled,
Lacing lost love forests…
Or perhaps not lost,
Just laid aside, a bit overgrown
Forever watered by the babbling
Bitter-sweet passions meandering by.
Follow it–follow it past the now
Into the year’s end hopes—
The goal so highly sought,
The wandering, the journey,
This is the now.
The reality I’ve looked so long for.
I glance here and over there, all about,
For someone’s hand to pull, to push, to


June 27, 2013 - Leave a Response


What is a fool?.
I am a fool.
Can a fool recognize himself,
Or must others always point it out?
Does the realization come suddenly
Like an explosion in a tomato factory
Covering him with malodorous red rottenness? Does it creep on like algae in a stagnant pond? Can a fool feel?
Can a fool fool?
How long does a fool live?
For himself? For others?
How do you discard a fool,
Rid yourself of the malignant little bother?
A little enticement and he lingers by,
Like the unpleasant smell of old English Leather Too copiously applied.
He’ll die of dehydration—
Millions of silent tears—
How do you know a fool?
Ask one.
Ask me. I know.
I am a fool.

Jon Jacobs


June 4, 2013 - One Response


Torrential rain shouts at me
From my windshield
Deafening, blinding
Awash after thirty miles of free fall
Suicidal to final impact
Now lying in limp puddles
Reflecting dark clouds above
Glistening brightly jagged bolts
Deaf to their resounding voices
Ready for rolling, round rubber
As final dissipation.

Flowers open their mouths
Drinking wetness
Perspiring fragrance
Smiling in color
Swaying under pelting massage
Calling dinner to butterflies
Dreaming of the gentle teen
They will adorn as bold corsage.
Life again eternal.
Called by the sun
For another journey.