Poems begining by J

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Justice Arnett

© Edgar Lee Masters

It is true, fellow citizens,
That my old docket lying there for years
On a shelf above my head and over
The seat of justice, I say it is true

John Horace Burleson

© Edgar Lee Masters

I won the prize essay at school
Here in the village,
And published a novel before I was twenty-five.
I went to the city for themes and to enrich my art;

Julian Scott

© Edgar Lee Masters

Toward the last
The truth of others was untruth to me;
The justice of others injustice to me;
Their reasons for death, reasons with me for life;

Julia Miller

© Edgar Lee Masters

We quarreled that morning,
For he was sixty-five, and I was thirty,
And I was nervous and heavy with the child
Whose birth I dreaded.

John Ballard

© Edgar Lee Masters

In the lust of my strength
I cursed God, but he paid no attention to me:
I might as well have cursed the stars.
In my last sickness I was in agony, but I was resolute

Jeremy Carlisle

© Edgar Lee Masters

Passer-by, sin beyond any sin
Is the sin of blindness of souls to other souls.
And joy beyond any joy is the joy
Of having the good in you seen, and seeing the good

Judson Stoddard

© Edgar Lee Masters

On a mountain top above the clouds
That streamed like a sea below me
I said that peak is the thought of Budda,
And that one is the prayer of Jesus,

Thus sung the kingsome angel reach a bough
From Eden's tree to crown the wisest brow;
And now thou fairest garden ever made,
Broad banks of spices, blossom'd walks of shade,
O Lebanon! where much I love to dwell,
Since I must leave thee Lebanon, farewel!

Joy and Sorrow chapter VIII

© Khalil Gibran

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

Joseph Winlock

© James Russell Lowell

Shy soul and stalwart, man of patient will

Through years one hair's-breadth on our Dark to gain,

Juan's Song

© Louise Bogan

When beauty breaks and falls asunder
I feel no grief for it, but wonder.
When love, like a frail shell, lies broken,
I keep no chip of it for token.

Juliet After The Masquerade. By Thompson

© Letitia Elizabeth Landon

SHE left the festival, for it seem'd dim

Now that her eye no longer dwelt on him,

Just wasnt right

© Ivan Donn Carswell

You lift the lid in awe, a seat and lid
upon an inside stall where you can go,
quite unlike the outside loo at home,
but oh the smell, the hellish smell

Joys of the chase

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Colours fade into nameless shades of grey
and where the tonsure of bas-relief crudely
stands effete, semantic symbolism degrades
into meaninglessness. The artefacts of an old

Jessie of Gibraltar

Our lives were founded on this rock, this Jessie of Gibraltar
Whose unfailing love endured beyond her ample nursing,
And we grew out of a rich and favoured childhood aware
Her powers were real (we tested them enough to know their soundness) into

Jacks Legacy

The critic gushed and said, Just like Jack,
so raw, I never thought to see another writer just
like Kerouac! Kerouac, who the fuck is he? A writer?
Christ, thats a laugh, compare me to a writer!

Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 4

Tho' toad I am the object of man's hate.
Yet better am I than a reprobate. who has the worst of prospects.
For there are stones, whose constituent particles are little toads.