Let Me Relish the Drizzle, the Dude
I get the feeling that every once in a while
You drum up something special just for me,
Whether mundane or whether a minor miracle.
I’m scorching in the field, raking and weeding,
Blinded in buckets of my own sweat. Tired.
Out of nowhere, a cooling drizzle blows in.
I’m helping a friend move a clunky armoire,
And we can’t heft the damn thing into the truck.
Then a biker dude pops out of the hedges to assist.
Is this from You for me? Or am I making it up?
Am I so desperate to find a hint anywhere
Of kin and kindness to ease my aloneness?
However You work, let me think my pleasure.
Let me delude and amuse myself. Let me relish
The drizzle, the dude, and smother You in thanks.
Into Your Folds
There’s a song You sang as a bird flew near.
She heard it and plummeted into Your folds,
Never to be seen again.
Please, can You start over? Repeat it just once?
I only caught the first faint notes,
And am circling back.
World, hush – all thoughts, loves, woes, worries.
I drift into the winds of silence.
There! It begins again.
Delicate chimes strike high above a hum of hope.
The tones beckon, entice, captivate.
I must get closer.
Not All Your Answers
Ill at ease, squirmy,
Sick to my stomach,
Heave-ho.
Anything for relief –
But no, it’s You, Lord,
Replying.
Not all Your answers
Come dripping in joy.
So be it.
A clap of thunder –
A horse rears and bolts.
I hold.
A Trail of Suitcases
I find a trail of suitcases
Stretches out behind me.
Each is broken and drips
Madness and mistakes.
I find my clenched hands
Hefting two new suitcases
Heavy with my sad stories,
Packed full with tragedy.
I find my fingers weaken
And loosen and intertwine.
The suitcases fall away,
Bang, crack, and splinter.
I find my hands reach up
In a prayer for the end
Of all suitcases, trunks,
Storage sheds, and attics.
I find I stand up straight;
I stop staring at sidewalks
And see the clarity of sky.
I find that I beg for love.
Sky Diving Full Naked
I can only relax,
I can only unwind,
I can only laugh,
When I know I’m giving everything.
My seconds to You, Lord,
My days to You, Lord,
My life to You, Lord,
When I know I’m begging for more.
Sky diving full naked,
Topping the Alps full naked,
Sitting silent full naked,
When I know I’m blasting beyond.
Now I do anything,
Now I walk anywhere,
Now I greet anyone,
When I know I’m all of me for You.
DK Jammin’ is 73 years old and lives in Colorado. He graduated from Yale University with a law degree, raised a daughter, and worked at the Texas Legislative Council in Austin. He is the supervisor of the Words Department for the Center of The Golden One.
His poetry publishing credits include: “The Coffee Maker” in Macrame Literary Journal, “A Landing” and “A Fly Comes Your Way” in The Accendo Review, “As I Imagine” in Soul Poetry, “She Sails Our World” in Metapsychosis Journal, and “Goddess of My Inner Joy” was published in the Men’s Poetry Journal, “Enkidu.” He has been a playwright, lawyer, and a psychotherapist, but recently he has been inhabited with the muse of poetry and cannot stop writing.