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Best Famous James Lee Jobe Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous James Lee Jobe poems. This is a select list of the best famous James Lee Jobe poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous James Lee Jobe poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of James Lee Jobe poems.

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by James Lee Jobe | |


 It could be Valley Oak or Snap-bean,

Elderberry, or Cattail rising out of the creek;

all began the same, a spark of life inside,

the need to be coaxing their will into action.
Seed and pod, nut and bulb, cajoled awake, called by the warmth of the sun, moisture in the soil, swelling them, filling their hearts, beginning the slow push against the dormancy of the husk.
The earth itself helps, offering its richness to eat, till one by one each plant claims a soul, and bursts free into the air, breathing, giving breath, living in the sweet light of the distant sun.

by James Lee Jobe | |


 Quiet! Today the earth tells me, be quiet.
Ssh! No talking now.
Our soul is listening to tiny things, almost silent.
This is a language that you feel.
Our soul, says the earth, hears every little sound.

by James Lee Jobe | |


 I planted my grief
in freshly turned earth
A tree grows there now
You should see the size of it

I filled my wheel-barrow
with all my pointless regrets
I put them out by the curb
A truck will pick them up on Thursday

I spent some time following my cat
She led me all around our yard
stopping to rub her face in mint
I rubbed my face in mint, too

The moon shone on and on 
climbing higher above the park across the street
"Who can stay awake longer?" I asked her
as she began her long arc back down

by James Lee Jobe | |

Moon In Virgo

 You are not beaten.
The simple music rises up, children's voices in the air, sound floating out across the land and on to the river beyond, over the valley's floor.
No, you cannot go back for those things you lost, the parts of yourself that were taken, often by force.
Like an animal in the forest you must weep it all away at once, violently, and then simply live on.
The music here is Bach, Vivaldi; a chorale of children, a piano, a violin.
Together, they have a certain spirit that is light, that lets in light, joyful, ecstatic.
"Forgive," said The Christ, and why not? Every day that you still breathe has all the joy and murderous possibilities of your bravest dream.
The moon has entered Virgo, the wind shifts, blows up from the Delta, cools this valley, and you are not beaten; the children sing, it is Bach, and you are brave, alive, and human.