Poetry from Stephen Jarrell

Broken Poets

Alone in a locked room
window bars rusted
unmade bed against the wall
dripping faucet in the dimly lit bathroom

someone slamming a door down the hall
a thumping from the ceiling
forgetting yesterday with the outside wind
nighttime shadows already closing in

sitting in the corner on the only chair
beside a tiny desk handmade wood
an open notebook filled with words
lines of poetry endless in thoughts

they laughed at you when you were a kid
wrinkles on your forehead and closed mouth
only a few poets are known by name
but you are blessed and will never change.



Never Forgetting

In this quiet
night

soft on your back
remembering

the past
horizons
caressing
sighs

oceans away
but waves coming near
rhythmic
with her beside you

sand and salt
smooth beach
laughter and tears
never forgetting

the touch
of her
tender hand

with you
all those years.



Her Last Words

Heaven so near
to us,
we can touch it.


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