© 2018 by JJ BAILEY. All rights reserved.

All background photos by Brooke Orchard: www.brookeorchard.com

POETRY

​A Soldier's Tale
For Cyril, my love

Who would have thought, this modest man

Of youthful face and island tan 

Of easy laugh and gentle smile

Would have walked, so many miles? 

 

A man who fought in lawless place

With heavy arms and dirty face 

A man who toiled, a world away

Now safe at home, with God’s grace 

 

The rarest man, that would choose

The duty that most sons refuse 

He’ll wear the scars, for the rest

With medals pinned, upon his breast 

 

This soldier carries a tested faith

With the past, for always 

New battle ahead in darkened maze

Adjusting to civilian ways 

 

Though his mind may wander to dark days past

He fought for the light, only freedom may cast

 Burning Ways Of The Past

The skin wrinkled around his eyes

Just slightly

But I could tell

As if remembering the past

Was like looking at the sun

Memories

Causing him to squint

I know that look.

Familiar as the freckles

on my own face

Only a glimpse

I can see now

that these burning memories

                                                     have turned to ice.

 Disappearing Wild

The true face of ancient earth

now a disappearing wild

Our fate waits upon the edge

is there hope for earths child?

 

The natural heart does long for thee

When the pines were tall and strong

When the wolf would sing

                        to waiting star

                                      His most beautiful of songs

But the modern world out grew the pine

gave shelter in the past

And in our hast, we paid no mind

to shadows that we cast

The wild wind grows quiet now

Or rather we would not hear

For all their pleas

                          In ancient tongue

                                       Fall upon deaf ears

Our heart locked in modern box

Grows, through the decades, cold

Til not the wild from which we came

can stir our guarded souls

 

A Moth To The Moon

She's calling to you

The moons amber glow

Lighting your path

As ages ago

Your kindred await

Night offers you peace

You knock at my window

Beckoning release

Trapped behind glass

you long to be free

Two gentle hands

Catch you with ease

Bare feet in the grass

I approach the night

Music surrounds

Sung on moonlight

Romance awaits

Beneath the stars

And the warm ancient gaze

Of Venus and Mars

The same ritual

Since the dawn of time

Our ways aren’t so different

Yours and mine

I open my hands

And your journey begins

To chase your moon

 On two tiny wings

Adama

He came from the earth

No clothes on his back

 

We’re made equal by the soil

 

Prince or Pauper

Beggar or Royal

 

Red earth

Makes us the same.

 

Primal fear

Makes us the same

 

Is it something we can overcome?

In time?

 

                Tomorrow may be too late

                                Forever may be too soon.

 

Do Not Go Into The Way Of The Gentile

Cheap speakers blare with the burden of a heavy message

Suffering through the winter chill, faithful, at the citys’ stained alter

Determined not to fade into the night and the white noise of traffic:

                        “Do not go into the way of the Gentile”

Preacher will carry his message through the darkness and into the dawn

Offering Salvation to a disinterested mass, clutching at scarves and hot drinks

Looking for the broken heart, the wounded solider, to whom his words will speak

But I, as all others, are just the passer by, receiving only a piece

Catching only a moment of your long journey

To carry us from evil to the light

Even as I am blocks away

I can still hear you

Offering your song

into the night