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Best Poems Written by Jason James

Below are the all-time best Jason James poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jason James Poem

This Space For You

This Space for You...

Darling, my darling, how I long to see you so,
Such a long week of papers, pencils and meetings galore,
Prepare yourself for such a surprise as you surmise an unseen row,
Thusly have I, justly I espy this space for you rose petals and a sweetness which 
lies for you tersely in store,

A love seat owned which contains no love,
A meal for two but one undone this gustatory banquet an unaccompanied 
contamination,
The tenebrous night a pauper's precarious glove,
An untimely immersion the dawn's perversion hope's demise this unmitigated 
annihilation,

No skies for this fledging, a floundering fish without a sea,
A body with no heart, a gaze devoid of a glance,
A rhythm with no dancer, a toll with no fee,
Flavors bereft of any taste, a trust flailing askance,

My ring for no finger, the path that never ends,
Even a sound of silence unspoken, toiling bells that do not ring,
A card for no Valentine, words of adoration equivocate and descend,
This heartbeat lacking a beat, the stinger without a sting,

My gold with no luster, a ruby with no shine, closeness yet never being close,
A cheer for no victory, the desire lacking passion,
This vapid illusion broken by your repudiation an asphyxiation my final rose,
This space for you a tender touch I never knew the gift returned bleeding my soul to 
her an inconsequential reaction.

My frail fragility falling before my frivolous failure,
Void this emptiness spaces yet lie sown these trivial ties,
A baneful blessing the babe inside upon sorrow's deeps I the sailor,
Underhanded by life's whim still remaining this space for you my harrowed brow 
words untrue despondency your treacherous disguise.

Details | Jason James Poem

Fingerprints of the Father

Patterns of life, how can something come from nothing, how does order result from 
a chaotic beginning,
The genomic helix, encoded so small, building blocks of life a formulae masterfully 
done,
Please explain to this fool how the human eye does espy borne from randomness 
winning,
How does an organism breathe, where does come from the spark of life begun,

Traced upon these are the fingerprints of the Father,

Who decided that golden leaves from cyclic trees would change and turn their hue,
How is it that the oceans vast overcome not the nocturne shores they kiss,
By what power were vast mountains raised from a fiery magma stew,
What breathe directs the clouds rolling high what hand holds them in seeming 
carefree bliss,

Beyond these elements are the fingerprints of the Father,

The rivers toiling Neath turquoise and emerald depths this way and that,
Lobster and tuna, swordfish and crab, anemone and urchin, fish and star,
Whom kisses Leviathan's cheek in deepest darkness its visage whom begat,
When he thrashed his tail mighty and rumbled his primal roar over miles rolling an 
echo spread so far,

Upon the mighty waves are the fingerprints of the Father,

How is it that our planet is just far enough from Sol yet close enough to support,
Whence comes the power gravity who holds our feet fast to this earth,
Who start the rotation and began its seasonal declination in this cosmic sport,
By what hand were the heavens placed and the giants celestial at what time were 
they given birth,

Over the expanse of space and time are the fingerprints of the Father,

So if come we from monkeys and therefore they came from primordial scum,
How is it that the gorilla, chimp, lemur and orangutan do not live and act as humans 
do,
Where is their nothing that brought them and caused them to be different from tree 
and plum,
Who is right, is it by evolution's theory or creation's story which is true,

Imparting His truth and wisdom to the humble are set the fingerprints of the Father,

A man, a woman, for all who hurt, are broken and seeking to fill the greatest need,
How does the mother know what her dearest babe needs before it can talk,
By whose hand motivates sinners to repentance, by blood and suffering and most 
difficult of deed.
Refuse was the past into new life at last dead in trespass alive in Christ with Him He 
desires for all His children to walk,

From an empty tomb to His glorious triumph over sin and the grave is the victory of 
the Father and Son.

Details | Jason James Poem

Atlantis Dreaming

Before the inchoative formation of bygone days, before time's transposing and 
infantile sands,
Before the engulfing deluge covered our quixotic shores,
Whence the awakened were dreamers bestriding upon night's fuliginous sands, 
Too late did our vaticinators previse deluded by  knowledge's eldritch doors,

Of Lemuria and Mu, once reigning over the eastern climes,
As the deceitful dancers sway to notes execrable,
For their perspicacious chanters mumbling over antediluvian rhymes,
The Brobdingnagian power untethered to 
crystalline pyramids, prodigious and incredible,

As these inimical dreams descend upon me under a Carib sky,
My fevered mind stalwart to this time begins its empyrean dance,
Into the measureless currents of sleep I fly,
A boundary broken limitless by words unspoken beyond time's cyclopean expanse,

How could a sole entity depict the wafting citadels of eternal electrum, titanium and 
true gold,
Of the pellucid towers commanding the salient aether,
Antecedent portals from a vanished race bending time
traversing beyond spaces cold,
Tamers of the bestial winds, riders upon Gaea's gifts we savor,

Too late, did we realize our epoch was at a cataclysmic end,
Further and farther did our dreamers seek the surreptitious places, 
A astral vibration inside to the diamond chamber I ascend,
In this ageless sepulcher Neath Atlantis dreaming for the fall 
borne Wormwood beyond cosmic spaces.

Details | Jason James Poem

Failure's Childe

My daughter, my joy and my light,
Let me share with you a secret sublime,
For most people, they never know of this
ignoble plight,
Lives spent broken backs bent before
unremitting time,

Once I was a sprightly youth, innocent and carefree,
Ways of this prurient world still unknown,
But as the moments of life burn and
roam with rhapsodic glee,
Notes of the feminine tune string upon
the instruments laddish hearts once stone,

However, often the tunes turn into a lackluster jibe,
When we the grotty castoffs come and go,
Any futile attempt we make to pay for
love's perilous bribe,
In the metaphorical corners of our minds still
we try to let you scions of Eve know,

Just a glance for a meteoric millisecond,
To give the infinitesimal gift of
Hope,
Upon these Cupid dared not aim his amatory dart,
The missile's missive not meant for those
who bear not attraction's prepossessing mark,

As a voice for Failure's Childe I beseech once more,
Please divert no longer from us your
lenitive gaze,
Though we may be gamers, geeks, role-players
and nerds,
Still we avidly seek just one more chance gratis to win your secretive heart,

Though may a step might cause to stumble,
Or words of ardor may scare you away,
Remember, precious one though these seem
low and unworthy,
A half of a whole, the race never won, an end
without a beginning, the power you have
to save Failure's Childe from one more
inefficacious day

Details | Jason James Poem

Brotherhood of the Blank

Hi, how are you, my name is blank to your sight just another passer-bye,
Nice to meet you, others of your gentle gender call me Mr. Blank,
Since to you all my name matters not nor the tears I cry,
Apparently an odor insidious I exude therefore I must conclude by my tumultuous stank ,

Forgive us, those of the blank kind, as we shuffle along,
Our self-imposed martyrdom seeming only by this the attention we might receive,
Your kith and kin's secondary stare, giving us that look all are wrong,
Thanks for the pretense of a moment thought we finally in her we could believe,

Empty were our blank hands, to your kind we reached out to,
With your venomous dejection our fodder the callous rejection and dismay,
Our shoes sullied, the laces untied, the wounds uncovered, introduced to agonies anew,
Farcical the hopes fraying the breaking ropes with one empty hand you returned 
back to us two blank again the dullest day,

Our blank desires that us you would want more than just in what our wallets contained,
The mistakes turned our once hopeful hearts blank back to the game of waiting for not,
Nothing and none perhaps if ourselves perfect we could clone an Adonis with no blemish or 
stain,
Hair so thick, muscles of flexion a perfect complexion easy on the eyes for all you gold 
diggers a worthy price bought,

To the blank left turn we thought could escape your promises broken,
Your happiness thought we could obtain by sacrifice and time,
You first before us of the Brotherhood of the Blank only requirement to join is upon 
rejection's tears in which your dreams destroyed and stolen,
Us the slime you all have, are, and will be making us feel no vindication possible  
or paroles release from this cultural crime,

Either right, straight, up or down did the blank ones leave,
Trod they tried a history they could no longer defy back to the shadow's grave,
Metaphorical and deplorable this Brotherhood none may find any reprieve,
The power of pain and the agony of shame no Mrs. for this Mr. Blank to hold from life's 
languid game she desires not him to save.

Details | Jason James Poem

Edgar Hp and Mr King

A written word wistfully wrought into a compendium grim,
Of the darkling ravens beset upon the plutonian shores,
Hither did your shapeless muse invade our psyche and vapid minds dim,
Edgar has retired his effete quill yet still
it inscribes beyond our slumbering doors,

Into the ebony emptiness of a nebulous
night,
Stranger the stars wheeling acrid the sky keening past the silver gate,
The grip of Hypnos tugs upon the astral cord of Dantean flight,
Around Innsmouth conticent shadows arise unbound by the dreamer's fate,
Missdeeming angles converge the zenith disguised,
The hounds approach Tindalos has awoke from his hypnic repose,
Descending down to the fathomless depths within R'lyeh's halls Cthulhu prepares 
for his imminent supernal rise,
H.P. you dared to dwell upon the periphery of folie your mantle taken up by future 
librettist anew to compose,

Mr. King, Mr. King your words, sui generis, liberated this vestigial mind,
Carrie the queen, Cujo, how does your coat gleam Neath an insomniac's sky,
Silence plays in the streets of Lot just
around the bend Christine's cherry shine,
Tommyknockers knock after a Stand is taken, dusty boots bestride upon a pathless 
road naught is heard but a lone gunslinger's sigh.

A Mist departed for a raven flurrying to Lenore,
It dropped Poe's Palladian laurels before
H.P.'s forlorn feet,
Visions of the Crimson King preparing his
generous gift, a Colour from space not seen before,
A Delphic legacy handed to a youthful King entranced by a sulphuric smile and a 
clown's gentle wile the circus awaits all below Derry's cozy streets

Details | Jason James Poem

These Empty Hands

I have been told that I need to grow up,
The bulletin just arrived on my desk that
I have issues manifold,
To share this drink an ineffectual cup,
Perceant words heard before hope's sliver of a door closed again despite attempts 
untold,

The esoteric assembly gathers frivolous fools still flatter,
As the accused rises the jury renders their verdict,
Guilty of trying, crying and attempting to take from the platter,
Banishment to lands where even failure fears to fail ware the poisonous jibes and 
darkling despair's abyssal pits,

As he staggers with blistered, tired feet,
For anything he would do for her sweetest words in the ears to deign,
Try to grasp the memory of a memory,
these empty hands incomplete,
He would have given her his jester's crown on bended knee end the reign,

Reaching for you, only these empty hands,
Does the death of desire bring low
a harrowed heart,
Looking any where for you, finding only
vacant and tattered lands,
Perhaps only the dust of despair and the
ashes of dejection his true love's first
kiss will impart,

Stumbling upon your words of rejection,
with these empty hands I find,
Thought she was finally the one but no so setting my lost sun's glow,
Wayward feet reach the shoals of left behind,
Back to the boat I see the murder of joy and the theft of glee upon seven seas of 
solitude once more to row,

The mournful masterpiece finished at last,
These empty hands only wanted to hold you,
The mantilla removed the covering lifted
crystalline truth for all who pass,
Two empty hands grasping for yet just out of reach your unattainable heart which 
never knew

Details | Jason James Poem

Unhealed Hand

My time not yet,
This denial still denied,
These choices from aught,
In darkness still cried,

Who knows depths unreached,
Passive anger evolving faster,
Trials failed vitality leached,
Missives quoted dialing disaster,

Only misfortune I've kissed,
None other would dare,
Chance all others missed,
Finding any who care,

Before I greet farewell,
Innocence soul cannot understand,
Maybe one tale tell,
Improbable yet unhealed hand.