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Best Poems Written by David Walker

Below are the all-time best David Walker poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Twenty Pints of Sunshine

Twenty Pints of Sunshine
David J Walker

It seemed to be the only thing 
In abundance on the farm
The light and heat
	The shine so bright
Long days 
short nights
And work doled out in the mornings

Today we will bottle in bell jars
20 pints of sunshine 
	And call it canning
A summer seasons planning 
Saved for the 
	Short days
		The long nights 
Of freezing winter weather 

To be opened
	It says
When sleet falls in December
When the woods are wet and dreary 
When the farm is fallow 
When sunshine can only be found 
In pint-sized 
Bell Jar bottles

Details | David Walker Poem

Simple Math

Simple Math
By David J Walker

100 seems to be the magic number
Numbers less than 100 are the lesser…More than 100 are the better
100 on a test …100 meters to run…100 miles per hour…100+ for fastballs…100 $$$

My father lived 26 years < 100
And his father  only 11<
My mothers father, 
a man I should have, but did not really know
Lived 5 years < 100…and very close to 4 
if that counts for anything

I knew a man who was 102 …2 years the > 
and  still smoke cigarettes and drank
A shot of honey bourbon whiskey every afternoon at 3

I knew a man who died  suddenly 
At 48 years < , one afternoon alone
They said it was the curse of genetics and
There was nothing they could have done

I wonder how 100 holds its magic over us
A simple goal of getting old
And then you’re gone

Details | David Walker Poem

Extinguished Names

Extinguished Names
David J Walker

The old farmhouse looks older
	What else can it do
Burdened by weather 
Threatened with fire

Memories have long ago escaped the
Walls painted in tears 

	Windows with laughter
	Doors that clatter 
in an afternoon wind

When we left we left  
	A piece of us
In scenes behind drawn curtains 

Someday 
	Lightening will strike in an
Act of vengeance by the Devine

The long-awaited flames and 
The tears we left behind
Will never be enough to 
	Extinguish the names

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I Am a Book

I Am A Book
By David J Walker

I am a book of Unread pages
I am a book

	I am a book Written in stages  in
A travel log On a road called Time
With the foreign stamps Of Passport Ministers
Checking my credentials along the way
I am a book

I am a book Of unread scripture
With the lectures on faith 
In staggered chapters and the
Tattered chronicled collections of 
Odd jobs We have asked of a Loving God
Written in a foreign language
I am A book

	I am a book Of erotic poetry in
Pictograph albums Scrutinized and analyze 
Then censored By holier than me censors 
I am a book

	I am a book With pages numbered 
And then sealed  Its secrets to be 
Revealed in full on an unannounced 
Judgment day with Disputes left in the hands of
A Divine Defender
I am a book

	I am a book
To be colored  Everyday
Where the lines do not matter
Only the hue and The view 
In which you see me
I am a book

I am a book Not to be left On the dusty shelf of
A forgotten  library  Rarely opened in a 
Distant history I am a book to be read
And even if misunderstood To be savored
I am a book

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Fingers Feeling Freedom

Fingers Feeling Freedom
David J Walker

No 
    thank you  
            no gloves for me

I want my fingers
            to feel the free 
the earthiness of
            the dirt

the soil of
            my blood and birth

the waters of 
           my mothers womb
           the warmth of 
my fathers sun

the morning
         measure of my worth 

the mixture of the
	mulchiness 

the frostline of
	the centuries 
	seven cemeteries 
	deep

where grieving mourners
	claim to weep

where sleeping foreigners 
	feign to sleep

my fingers 
	feeling
		freedom

Details | David Walker Poem

Daybreak Words Upon the Morning

Daybreak Words Upon the Morning
David J Walker

Awaiting words
That will burst upon the day 
Suffused in first light before the sun
Reveals itself 

Notice the clouds clinging 
             To the sky
Hiding the blinding  blend 
Of blood red orange suffused in the 
Magenta tinge

Of a distant sun 
              Arising 

There are secrets to unravel 
As the day begins

There will be sweet breads and
Ripe fruits served on 
Spode Blue Italian China 

There will be news to disseminate at the table
In a failed effort of Omniscience
There will be moods to moderate in mimicry

There will be appointments to remember and 
Then forget in emendation

Words burst upon the morning
as if condemned and then 
pardoned 
         again and again 
overnight

Details | David Walker Poem

Just Beyond the Gate

Just Beyond The Gate 
David J Walker

There is a road
	there is a cliff
there is certain rendezvous
just beyond where

There is life 
	There is death 
There is light lit 
By excised breath 

There is sleep 
	Lying in wait 
Just beyond a
Final dawn and unknow fate where

There is the low laughter
	Of a river
And pasture with green grass  
Just beyond the gate

Details | David Walker Poem

My World Is Made of More Than Me

My World is Made of More than Me
David J Walker

My world is made 
of more than me

               And no-thing more 
that’s meant to be 
no-thing other 
		than dirt and water
mixed together 
		into mud
and what’s forever 
into blood
and what’s for never
		mimicry

no-thing more
		then what’s meant to be
no-thing air
	no-thing water 
no-thing mother
			no-thing father
no-thing-
	ness
no-thing more
		no-
		thing- 
			less
		no-
		   thing 
hanging
	over me

nothing 
that is
		unknown 
			to me
nothing that was never
	meant to be

Details | David Walker Poem

The Crown

The Crown
David J Walker

I can sense the advent 
of the harvest to come
	The bees have retreated 
High on the nectar of a successful hunt
Home is the hive 
	Alive with instinct
Survive 
	The colony sings in a low hum 
Of favorite hymn’s sung
To the dead queen

Who can replace her
Among the close cast 
 The vast number of children 
In line for the thrown 
	A King…in the Queen's domain?
I can sense the advent 
	Of the darkness of
Another fall 
Mistaking 
a bitter fruit for freedom

Details | David Walker Poem

Hiding Under My 3rd Grade Desk

Hiding Under My 3rd Grade Desk
David J Walker 

Mrs. Pollards smile 
Was enough to reassure every member
Of her third-grade class 

That their world was secure 
As the crass voice in the 
Crackling PA speaker announced 

An End of the World Drill in the
Middle of the day

Usually, a call to quietly line up 
And make an orderly march to 
The hallway where we would 

Stay crouched in a fetal position 
Until the voice returned to sound
The all-clear

But this time was different
This time it was 
Duck & Cover under your desk
	Was the end really that near?

Were the bombs about to fall
On Thatcher Elementary in
Pueblo, Colorado?

Did the commies hate us so much 
They would rain down missiles 
On our playground?

Not today! 
	Not when It was my turn
To pick sides for Kickball
A girl named Diane with blonde curls
Beside me talk about a sack lunch

And tetherball
And a game of Jax if the 
Hopscotch courts were full

Would the bombs blast the whole
Building away 
Leaving us huddled under our desks
Before recess?

Would we walk home among craters
Created by Commie planes coming

Over the artic just to find us while
Reciting the rhythm 
Of the Times table

The Social Studies lesson was
About the Pilgrims and how we 
Should be thankful for freedom 

In science we were learning 
About the moon and how soon
Someday we would get there

If they drop the bomb could we 
Still watch cartoons at 4 in the afternoon

Would there be anything left of the
Playground at Mineral Palace Park

And what about the swans that
Make their home on the park lake

How long are we supposed to 
Stay under these desks I whispered
To Mark 

I don’t know he said
As Mrs. Pollard shushed us 

As we hid and waited for
The all-clear