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Thread: Jam Jar

  1. 10-31-2010, 07:17 PM #1
    Jerrybaldy
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    Jam Jar

    On long summer days
    we had a jam jar on the wall.
    Holes in the lid,
    punctured with a screwdriver,
    releasing a strawberry scent.
    Half filled with water,
    the wasps could never resist.
    I would watch them squeeze
    through puckered holes
    to feast on jam
    then drown.
    As a sensitive soul,
    when eyes were diverted,
    I would give rescue
    upon a lolly pop stick.

    Now I am all flapping arms
    and the way in above
    offers me no escape.
    The strawberry is rotten
    and the world outside
    is distant beyond the glass.
    Soon somebody will unscrew the cap
    and an innocent heart
    will offer a sweet release.

    For those who believe,
    no explanation is necessary.
    For those who do not,
    none will suffice.
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  2. 10-31-2010, 07:53 PM #2
    Haunted
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    This evokes so many different emotions...the idea of trapping something in and locking yourself out, both handled so pensively well Jerry.

    "But do you really, seriously, Major Scobie," Dr. Sykes asked, "believe in hell?"
    "Oh, yes, I do."
    "In flames and torment?"
    "Perhaps not quite that. They tell us it may be a permanent sense of loss."
    "That sort of hell wouldn't worry me," Fellowes said.
    "Perhaps you've never lost anything of importance," Scobie said.
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  3. 10-31-2010, 08:24 PM #3
    Delta40
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    nice comparison between a childhood memory and how you feel now.
    Before sunlight can shine through a window, the blinds must be raised - American Proverb
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  4. 10-31-2010, 08:44 PM #4
    blainebeckner
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    Not bad buddy, full of pain and beauty. Does just what a poem should and it's short and sweet.
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  5. 11-01-2010, 05:21 AM #5
    Hawkman
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    A nice analogy which harks back to a previous conversation we had in response to 'Jasper'. I think I may have mentioned something about Karma then...

    H
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  6. 11-01-2010, 01:41 PM #6
    hillwalker
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    A great piece Jerry - wonderful imagery, especially of how something considered sweet in childhood can acquire a much more sinister undertone when viewed through more cynical eyes.

    I wonder if our good deeds do come back to offer us release?

    H
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