Dr. Emory D. Jones is a retired English teacher who has taught in Cherokee Vocational High School in Cherokee, Alabama, for one year, Northeast Alabama State Junior College for four years, Snead State Junior College in Alabama for three years, and Northeast Mississippi Community College for thirty-five years. He joined the Mississippi Poetry Society, Inc. in 1981 and has served as President of this society. He has over two hundred and thirty-five publishing credits including publication in such journals as Voices International, The White Rock Review, Free Xpressions Magazine, The Storyteller, Modern Poetry Quarterly Review, Gravel, Pasques Petals, The Pink Chameleon, and Encore: Journal of the NFSPS. He is retired and lives in Iuka, Mississippi, with his wife, Glenda. He has two daughters and four grandchildren. THE SPIRIT MOVES YOU: A SESTINA You are so pale you must have seen a ghost No wonder in this old abandoned house When outside there’s a spreading chestnut tree Whose rippled reflection shimmers in the pond-- Beyond the pond there is a mounded grave And all above a beautiful sky-blue heaven. But now the wind arouses stormy heaven And awakens from its sleep the shrouded ghost Where stone cannot now mark a shallow grave That once belonged to a person in this house; No life can stir within this muddy pond Clogged with leaves that fall from this old tree. Gripping this earth, this ancient sentinel tree Stretches its limbs and reaches to the heaven That spreads above and smiles in that old pond That ripples as if it were touched by playful ghost Who glides upon the porch of this old house And dances as if it never knew the grave. But now it is more serious and grave As sky now darkens above the ancient tree And windows glare like eyes in this old house With not a beam of light from darkened heaven-- Wind devils play in the yard as if the ghost Is stirring them. And swirling roiling pond Flings its spray in air above the pond More fitting for the spirit than the grave From which escaped the mischievous rollicking ghost; The air is warm and damp upon the tree And sun smiles from a sky of golden heaven And life now seems to return to this old house. And now you can return to this old house A place of quiet rest beside the pond Most familiar under smiling heaven As flowers decorate the peaceful grave That rests beneath the greening chestnut tree And now provides a rest for peaceful ghost. You cherish memories in this old house And quiet days of fishing in the pond Under the shadow of the chestnut tree. GOOD GOD (a Double Gloss) (Based upon the following lines from “Yet Do I Marvel” by Countee Cuillen I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind, And did He stoop to quibble could tell why The little buried mole continues blind, Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die….) I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind, And , led by His Holy Spirit, we will find Blessed happiness, a core of peace, And in the middle of our strife release From struggle and a joyful, peaceful mind-- I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind. And did He stoop to quibble could tell why The worm must come before the butterfly Or human hearts, when softening, must break And flood the eyes. But then how could he take Notice of all the little hurts we cry Unless He stoops to quibble and tell why? The little buried mole continues blind With little cares of what he leaves behind Because within his world there are none who see Or strive to rise out of the earth. But we Still question Nature that would forever bind The little buried mole to continue blind. Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die, Invade the realm of mole, in earth to lie While all above us continues as before, Not knowing, until then, that death’s a door? But then we understand God’s reason why, Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die. CHRISTINA’S WORLD (An Ekphrastic Poem) In the painting ‘Christina’s World” Andrew Wyeth Depicts A black-haired woman, In skirt and blouse, Raising herself Off the ground and Gazing up a hill At a gray Unpainted house, Barn, And outbuildings. Is she longing For a past love? Is she seeking A lost Childhood? An air of mystery Lingers In this Composition That will always Make us wonder.
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