White Dove

White Dove proffers Olive Branch in timely intervention;
peaceful coexistence on the table once again. Then
juggernauts and holy hats upon their pale horses
thunder in--asunder--hungry, over-zealous men.

Stinging insults decimate the delicate alliance,
consequential dialogue in dumbshow disarray;
wounded rage runs rampant, exposing cryptic messages
borne of hate and avarice. White Dove flies away.

The blackened blue ablaze with apocalyptic symbols,
Armageddon bubbles underneath the bloodied waters.
Voices pierce the darkened sky, "You must stop the madness!
Please come back and try again. Save our sons and daughters."

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White Dove hears the mothers' pleas, observes the scene below.
Has the folly gone too far to keep the End at bay?
Brilliant flash! Silent night! Olive Branch in ashes...
Powerless, the Dove of Peace looks down on Judgment Day.

All Rights Reserved
White Dove, copyright 2008, Jackie Marx

Phoenix Sky

Rising Phoenix morning sky
found its way to camera eye
captured now for all of time
subject of my latest rhyme

On Velvet Feet

Wicked, on velvet feet
flashes pearly whites
welcomed in for scones and tea
demolishes the china

Naani Poetry Form: Naani means an expression of one and all.
It is one of Indian’s most popular Telugu poems, consisting of 4 lines.
The lines total must be between 20 and 25 syllables. The poem is not bound to a particular subject.

Starlet

Starlet settles in the West,

west of where she left her past.

Past performance covered up;

up 'til now she's pulled it off!

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Off and on the cameras flash;

flash in pan, kliegs light the truth.

Truth? A silent casting call.

Call collect. Go home, starlet.

Aural Tapestry

Yin and yang entwine

in the fabric of my day

aural tapestry

unfolding panorama

glimpses of Eternal Life

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This poem is an example of the tanka form: 5/7/5/7/7

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Aural Tapestry copyright 2009, Jackie Marx
Photo copyright 2008, Jackie Marx
All Rights Reserved

Summertime!

Sun baking bathers,
sand filling cracks;
gallons of Coppertone
slathering backs.

From my cabana,
timer in hand,
I call out, “Roll over!”
so both sides get tanned.

Summertime! copyright 2009 Jackie Marx

All rights reserved

ABCs of Love

Amazing as it seems
Between the black and white
Caught up inside the moment
Delirious
Elated
Finding middle ground

Giving more than taking
Holding, not rejecting
Inside, content within my joy
Kissable
Lovable
Malleable from now on

Never to be lonely
Or wishing for that someone
Perhaps that’s finally over
Questions of the unknown
Remorse for what never could be
Sidelined by
Tranquil
Unanimity
Valuing the center point

The Homecoming

John
is home
from the war
breathing freedom,
blowing kisses, waving from the tarmac,
running toward me in weathered combat boots,
his tortured eyes
camouflaged...
Is John
home?


A tetractys (form of poetry)

The Homecoming,copyright 2009, Jackie Marx

So Why are You Laughing?

So, why are you laughing? There's nothing funny about what happened--

or so you said when I finally packed my bags and waved goodbye.

I stuck around much longer than I should have, not wanting to hurt you...

Now you sit there, laughing as if none of it mattered--we didn't matter.

Did we, or did I waste my life trying not to hurt you, when, as I can plainly see,

as tears of hilarity stream down your happy face, we never mattered.

And, if we did, if you really did love me, why are you laughing?

A prose-poem using the writing prompt: So, why are you laughing?

So, Why are you Laughing? copyright 2009, Jackie Marx

Waiting for Redemption

The dawning of my final day
I tarry at the End of Times
on the beach of Armageddon
slapped by salty Santa Anas

Waiting...

For the Lord to pass His judgment
Will He lead me to Salvation
on the path to all that's Holy
crossing over to His Glory

from the toxic water's edges
rocky shores of crimination
over monolithic rubble
across the rainbow passageway

Waiting...

Sea swells sting my naked ankles
brimstone fires the final moments
rising up in desecration,
as I search the dark horizon

for the vision of His rainbow
colors piercing through the anguish
the good Lord reaching for my hand
to spirit me away from here

Waiting... for Redemption

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Waiting for Redemption, copyright 2008, Jackie Marx

Mainstream Pitchmen

Mainstream pitchmen in the tank
promoting favored party's plank
promising its hope and change
freedoms will not rearrange

Broadcast buzzes through the Land
with deft deception slight of hand
blindly hawking grand succession
sound bites guiding the election

Fair and balanced is at stake
with TV anchors on the take
unfolding right before our eyes
in 'apple pie and Mom' disguise


Author Notes:
I'm venting about the mainstream media, in general, though the focus in this poem has leaned toward the medium of television broadcast news. This tendency of the mainstream media (which they are finally admitting, concerning this election, anyway) has been going on for quite a while (in my humble opinion) and my frustration has bubbled over. So, I thought I would use the quatrain format to express my feelings.

They are Soldiers

They are soldiers

His loving force will guide the flock over mighty mountains,

through the valley of impending death,

combat boots beating down the French clay of Normandy.

Feelings overwhelming fingers squeezing triggers,

eternal soldiers take their rightful places by His side.

Sins forgiven, the sun will shine upon their noble deeds

They are soldiers

Monet's Meadow

Springtime brings resurgence of the Lord's bejeweled handiwork; His

banishment of dreariness and winter's dark depression sends
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Madame into the meadow, heir-apparent close behind her as

Monet unfolds his easel in the clearing near the orchard.
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Empty canvas begs creation: sable brush strokes and impressions.

His palette knife upon the board, Monsieur Monet commences.
~
The fam'ly captured evermore amongst the fragrant flowers in

the meadow of Giverny on that brilliant April morning.

All Rights Reserved

Monet's Meadow, copyright 2008, Jackie Marx

Forever Bedlam

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Bedlam breaks the midnight hush

Stillness shattered, raucous rush

Townsfolk scatter in the street

Rumpled bedclothes, naked feet

What has caused the rapid rout?

Something bad has come about.

Rape and pillage in the night?
Roofs ablaze? What feeds the fright?

People pointing toward the sea
at the shadows as they flee:
hooded henchmen, ghosts or ghouls,
mischief makers, April fools?

Bloody footprints on the path
in the morning aftermath;
three-toed monsters fear imparts,
even in the bravest hearts.

Since the creatures came around;
sleep is fleeting, never sound.
Midnight bedlam filling dreams:
musket flashes, bloody screams.

Once the innocence is gone,
dark infringes on the dawn;
at the ready, evermore,
bracing for impending war.

Forever Bedlam copyright 2008, Jackie Marx, All Rights Reserved

God's Morning Memo

Paintballs from on high,
brilliant blotches blast the dawn.
God's morning memo,
His panoramic prompting,
Don't forget, I'm still in charge.
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All Rights Reserved

God's Morning Memo copyright 2008 Jackie Marx

Fair-Haired Son

Shallow breathing, speech a jumble,
last appeal for fair-haired son.
Deathbed dirges sound the last note,
final wishes in the wind ...

Rheumy eyes glance toward the doorway,
Mother's teardrops flood the void.
Broken-hearted, she grows weaker
while she waits for him to come.

Second-born, unwanted child,
starving for his mother's love,
dries her tears; his mother smiles!
though he's not the chosen one ...

Wayward son waits down the hall,
not fifteen feet from her demise,
thumbing through the Wall Street Journal,
checking his financial pulse.

Mind's eye on inheritance,
the junk bond junkie beats the bell.
Flat line keening chills the air as
Mother travels toward the Light.

All Rights Reserved
Fair-Haired Son copyright2007, Jackie Marx

Mother Mars

Earthlings, I am Mother Mars.

For years I have been watching you spin madly in your deadly dance,

with no respect for Mother Earth. I've come to take your precious brood,

and keep them safe inside my arms until you change your reckless ways,

reversing degradations.

A universal mother, I'm taking matters in my hands;

my decision springs from caring, with no malice in my heart.

On a planet 'dead and distant' I'll protect my cherished charges:

'innocents' held captive, entrapped within your folly.

When you stop the desecration and your air is safe to breathe,

your precious treasure will return; 'til then it's safe with me!

All Rights Reserved

Mother Mars, copyright 2007 Jackie Marx

Stuck on Love

standing near the bedstead,

as your scent works its magic,

you say goodbye

I cannot...

.

the 'fling' was forever

for me

cocooned under cover,

I hug my knees,

.

my hands tremble as

I watch you leave

All Rights Reserved

Stuck on Love, copyright, 2008 Jackie Marx

Fixed Bayonets

The virgin day dawns icy
Blustery winds harangue
Glacial bullets find their mark
Aiming piecemeal at the trench line

As soldiers gone before me
I start from sleep’s cocoon
Helmet, weapon, Holy Bible
Crunchy footfalls o’er my head

Hail Mary, goodbye Mother
Trusty bayonet in place
I find purchase on the icy edge
Rushing headlong into Hell

Bullets flying, sabers flashing
Bombs bursting, blinding light
I fall back upon my feather bed
My beloved’s arms around me

Crimson patches mark the trench line
Brothers’ blood flows down like wine
The winter moon –the shepherd Lord
Peaceful meadow-dreams at last


All Rights Reserved , Fixed Bayonets copyright 2004 Jackie Marx .
(Incorporated into the musical drama: Rocket City! by Jackie Marx)
www.jackiemarx.com for more information

Are We America?

Are we America?

If so,

then who shall we blame for all that goes wrong with her?

We, the People, form this perfect union;

so, when Lady Liberty stands naked in the harbor,

who is at fault?

Are we?

All Rights Reserved

Are We America copyright 2006, Jackie Marx