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Best Poems Written by James Turner

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

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Details | James Turner Poem

Death of An Uncle, and the Melted Lego Man

I had only just begun to understand 
the meaning of death when my uncle died.
Before him, death was something that
happened to family members of which
I had never seen nor spoken to.
Sometimes they were brought back to
us  during dinner time, Dad would down
his beer and speak of their yesteryears.
The day my uncle died my mothers face
changed it sagged like a wet flannel
stuck to a bathroom wall.
She grew large sacks under her eyes
these were where here tears gathered
I remember thinking.
And her face, her face reminded me of
my little lego mans, he had fallen from
his turret into the hungry coal fire two
years before, Father rescued him from
the flames, carried him like a newborn bird
in the soft folds of his palm.
When father returned him to me, his face
was suspended, frozen yellow droplets
ran down his yellow smiling face.
After the funeral and after those unknown 
well wishers had drunk themselves sad
I fetched my little Lego man, and replaced
his head with the smiling pirates one
I gave it to my mother, and she like the Pirate smiled.

Copyright © James Turner | Year Posted 2006



Details | James Turner Poem

Beauty That Binds, Thorns That Defend

Among the suffocating weeds
of this overgrown city I found you.
Defiant in your beauty, shielding 
yourself  from the ever emerging 
hope chokers, repelling those
that tried in vain to pull you down.
A siren in the shadows luring all
with your petal gentle smile.

Each cut strenghed my desire
to tame you, each crimson droplet
of regret reminded me of the prize.
Slowly your sharp shields smoothed;
your gestures like a gentle breeze
cooled the heated air of suspense.

When finnally we embraced
A stillness fell upon the world outside
and there we kissed, two hearts
beating in nervous natrual unison.
Even your thorns retracted just
enough to allow yourself the touch
of unfelt unexchanged passion.

Yet even today in the pillowed
comfort of my arms your thorns
sometimes appear- A reminder
of the past which can never be erased
And every so often I bleed.

Copyright © James Turner | Year Posted 2006


Book: Reflection on the Important Things