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Aron Jacob Poem
To be but also being too
To being two or to be one, too.
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2012
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Aron Jacob Poem
A man stands no chance with a woman,
With red eyes she schemes in a coven,
So scolded or not,
If he wants a shot,
He'll be better off with a husband.
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2014
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Aron Jacob Poem
Corpulent cottagers clapping like clowns
a fat Friday festival, gobblers and gowns.
Merry mad munchers of muffins and mirth
do-si-do dumbly, eaters of earth.
Champagne sugar shoved in a shoe
If love lasts not long, love handles will do.
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2012
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Aron Jacob Poem
Tingling toes
of the megabyte cavalry
callouses scraping
along private roads
Cascading matrices
on the plasma periphery
peasantry bleating
on official commands
Stewing a cauldron
a festering foment
watering nations
from acid-soaked cans
BE SAFE!
say the oracles
so buying a check
but electing the cavalry
leaves the infantry wet
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2013
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Aron Jacob Poem
The saddest thing about poetry
is that it can say nothing more beautiful
of the real than the real says naturally of itself.
The grandest thing about poetry, on the other hand,
is that it can portray in such splendor the unreal
as to awaken in us the notion that
the delusion is brutally real.
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2008
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Aron Jacob Poem
A line of loafers march in step,
through halls of granite and of pearl.
A rare and vaunted holy sept,
heels all clicking, toes unfurled.
Through halls of granite and of pearl,
briefcases locked by secret code,
heels all clicking, toes unfurled,
two by two, sixteen all told.
Briefcases locked by secret code,
the minting men on orders high.
Two by two, sixteen all told,
Thirty-two pennies, no laces to tie.
The minting men on orders high,
a rare and vaunted holy sept.
Thirty-two pennies, no laces to tie,
a line of loafers march in step.
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2012
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Aron Jacob Poem
If roses alabaster white e'er deign
To cast in crystal eyes one purposed song,
Dare tenderly to grasp the bluest vein
O, golden tears, a reddened heart ere long.
For blown, a wind of breath, whisked far along
Does shimmer in all time stood silent--still,
And by the lunar light, a broken will.
Come morning, to the rose in bed, love spoke
A cantillation voiced in bluebird tongue
How doth thy petals rise with blood of oak?
How dost thy stem ascend the fairest rung?
On heights o' heaven hast the soul been hung
For all, for all, to bare no droplet spared
O Life, in alabaster love repaired.
- Aron Jacob
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2014
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Aron Jacob Poem
Force of mortal and faceless reason
A dark light finds no fate to reason.
Of cancerous nights, an uprooted slumber
Manic red luster of livid white reason.
No justice refined for the everyman's token
The cavalry's engine, the hum of blind reason.
For heavenly voices a desperate chorus
Numb as in prayer to beseech yet a reason.
One summer's bright flower reborn in a shadow
Calls off the late reaper, a wind of sage reason.
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2011
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Aron Jacob Poem
To once transcend and yet remain here
A life, what was, some wind hath lain here.
A fortress sinks by fate and blood
What glory, tell, made life adorned here?
Supple trace of ill containment
So forced from death but to be chained here.
Lilac crumbs mark travels homeward
Or a path unseen to life beyond here.
How I, a rose on nested silk
Make peace at last to travel on here.
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2011
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Aron Jacob Poem
A rope snaps,
nobody hears,
Does anyone fall?
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2012
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