Poetry of young David Jackson
 

written at age 14
 

Love is like a flower
'bloomin' in the spring
from a lowly seedling
to a stately king

if it is not cared for
if it's left alone
Love will surely wither
gone forever gone

at age 20....
 
shall I say I have drifted in silence
with the leaves on this creek
or
I have lain in quiet solitude
with these bleached logs

shall I say I am the wind
and have seen the river
into which the creek flows
and the sea

no
simply this
and only this

bottomland corn
a creek
and a young man throwing rocks
at leaves

to David       to Moongate