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Best Poems Written by Jay Jenkins

Below are the all-time best Jay Jenkins poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Harvest Homes

She says, you can tell America 
from the rest of the world 
by the color of the wallpaper, 
or lack thereof. 
That southern hospitality is refreshing 
after so many years in London. 

The stuffed animal in her grasp 
is named ‘Dog’. 
When asked why she says, 
"are you blind, it is a dog after all." 

When the aide handed her a night gown 
she asked if it was for sale. 
He told her it was a gift, 
but she could not accept it. 
However, if he wanted to lend it to her 
that would be “lovely”. 

The aide was actually a woman. 
When we told her so she replied, 
“Well, she was a man 
when he gave me the gown.” 

We laughed and she said, “Oh lovely then” 
and laughed with us
while clapping her hands. 

I can’t tell you how old she is; 
anything beyond 80 will do. 
I can’t tell you how crazy she is. 
I imagine more than a little. 

Needless to say, 
I liked her immediately.

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For Lack of a Better Way

Read these words, 
as they flow to chaos.
The expression of rage
inked across the page.

You think you know me, 
you don't know shit.
Scared and tattooed, 
I hide all of it.

And if I gave 
a reason why.
The answer would be; 
what's mine is mine
My past, 
My pain, 
My life, 
My way, 

It's none of your business 
beyond this place.
Criminal white collar
selling nothing for gains.

Only chameleons
side step the blame.
Never in my life
have I lived this way.

Yet still it seems 
I'm pushing up stream.
A sea of white collars, 
against the grain.

I swear there must be
a better way.
With far too many
bills to pay,
I'm forced to keep pushing
in directions I hate,

for lack of a better way.

And so I'll let emotion
flow across the page.
So I can say,
what I need to say,

for lack of a better way.

Details | Jay Jenkins Poem

Where the Guns Go Off

There is no envy 
of where we live: 

rundown apartment complexes, 
dangerous housing projects. 
Poorly zoned business districts 
whose warehouses cut through our landscape 
like the tombstone's of giants, 
sitting tagged and vacant 
from a boom that never happened.

We are a single community 
divided amongst ourselves; 
a dozen or so quarter mile barrios. 

Each fiercely guarded 
by angry, misguided youth. 
They bleed to protect something 
that’s worth absolutely nothing 
for reasons hardly above reproach.  

This is the land of concrete and graffiti; 
broken knuckles and broken hearts; 
the place where flashes of light 
break the night and sometimes, 
we die. 

This is the crazy west side, 
the youth wrecker, 
the damager of all who dwell. 
This is home, where the guns go off.

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One of Those Nights

The morning sun 
beams through the front windshield 
like an intruder: 
brash and unwelcome, forcing you to wake. 

Whiskey eyed, smelling like an ashtray, 
parked at the back end 
of some ghetto ass neighborhood 
wondering what the hell you did the night before. 

It's like trying to remember words 
you haven’t written yet. 

One thing is for certain: 
a little bit of rope goes a long way, 
but a lot of rope 
will hang you.

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Angel In Disguise

You always said 
you were proud of me.
Even now, I can't imagine why.

Holding fast to reality,
from the bottom 
we can only climb.

Perhaps it was pity 
clouding your judgment;
guilt to keep expectations 
low. 

Then you always did 
feel responsible,
though the burden was never yours to hold.

I was a troubled soul 
for so many reasons,
none of which was from a lack of your grace.

So shine it down upon my face,
because I need it now 
more than ever.

You were my angel in disguise,
the fairest I ever knew.

I loved you then 
and I love now,
so rest in peace 

fair lady.

Details | Jay Jenkins Poem

Damaging Tides

She'll tell you Karma
is not her friend.
With fists clenched tight
she screams, "God is dead!"

Because she knows true heartbreak, 
she bleeds for one man.
Her insecurity spells loss
when damaging tides roll in, 

but he doesn't play executioner. 
He didn't set forth 
those damaging tides.

Tattooing a Buddha across his chest 
he braces for the ride.

A heart thats raging like a hurricane, 
he spirals against outstretched hands.

No interest in truth. No time for lies.
Catch him if you can. 

Because you should never crack 
your own foundation, 
especially
if you intend to stand.

Sometimes we become lost, 
and lose everything 
before we find our way 
again.

Details | Jay Jenkins Poem

A Few Things

In the beginning 
we love everything; 
the mobile that hangs 
above our head, 
the rattle in our hand, 
that favorite stuffed animal 
or blanket 
we put so much faith in. 

When the only word for God 
is mother and we never have to endure 
or pretend, but as time goes on, 
those damaging tides roll in. 

With each blue crush of the pipe, 
we twist and bend, 
until only a few things remain 
that we truly love. 

It’s at that moment of realization, 
as if trying to retain our own innocence; 
we pull close that which we still hold dear 
and thank God above.