Hazjizadi, help me fly.
Tell your tales, help nights go by.
Let your stories fill my dreams.
With your wit share all your schemes.
Hazjizadi tame my anger.
Lead me from all paths that canker.
Stay a thousand nights with me.
Hazjizadi set me free.
William Jackson
willjxn
I grew up in Southern Colorado's San Luis Valley, positioned between the beautiful San Juan Mountains to the west and the breath-taking Sangre De Christo Mountains to the east. I am currently living in Utah. I am a father of four amazing children. My wife and I have two of my children with granddaughters living at home with us. I am now, the proud grandpa of three beautiful granddaughters. The two oldest call me Papa. A name that is more endearing than any other. I enjoy late evening swims, reading books, gardening, painting with the assistance of computer technology (GIMP) and taking hikes in the Utah and Colorado mountains and foothills. And of course, I also enjoy writing poetry and sharing it with my friends and family. I have had my personal struggles in life and poetry has helped me come out victorious over them.
Prompt 11: The Jātaka Tales
Were I to come as a wild thing.
By what form would learning bring:
flora, fauna, insect slug,
ant or bird or black tautaug?
If I were born to poor disgrace;
Would you yet see a human face?
Black man, white man— in between,
would you think; I know something?
There are truths to learn from all.
Buddha teachers— great and small.
Open up yourself— discern.
All are books— from all, you learn.
Prompt 10 hour 8 a Sevenling…
Clothed— I keep my guard out-placed.
tee shirt, denim, Converse laced.
Keeping out the weather.
Naked — I let down my guard.
Edened placed— movie starred.
Letting in the weather.
—We both love the weather.
Prompt 9: round
digging in the ground
ancientlings to roots are bound
one eternal round
prompt 8 Outside
I lament the day,
When I was locked outside.
I lost everything
my home,
my child,
my trust.
Anger kills the future.
Anger pains the past.
I lost reasoning
My child learned too fast.
Post 7 hour six… Find Me!
Fun is in the finding.
Fun inside an old ice chest.
Fun is in the finding.
Baby sister’s guest.
Babysitter wonders,
Where has her charge gone?
Near to death, he smothers.
Gasping for each breath.
Prayer slips from his conscience,
Pleading to be found.
“Please come now and find me!”
But there comes no sound.
Babysitter questions.
Where can he be found?
Then she sees the sister
On the chest, she’s crowned.
Quickly she discovers;
Little charge thought lost.
In her fear she quivers.
By my game the cost?
Prompt 6: Hour five Crackled Sky
Yellow bus comes to a stop.
Trees plowed down all around.
Disembarking— mountain top.
Lighting strikes— no sound!
Frozen Spider webbing sky.
From these cracks leap steed.
White angels riding from on high.
To the earth, they lead.
“What am I to do?” I think.
I hear a voice reply.
Stang directions from the brink.
“Newborn’s coast— go nigh.”
“Newborn?” questions I.
Prompt 5: Flowers for 100 years
My Dad would be 100 years,
His body lies in earth.
My Dad would be 100 years.
I didn’t see his birth.
Flowers for 100 years:
I laid down on his grave.
Flowers for 100 years—
Damned ‘squitos won’t behave.
My Dad might be 100 years.
On this, all Father’s Day.
Myself— might live 100 years;
If I could find the way.
Flowers for 100 years;
well, that might be the means.
Flowers for 100 years.
Eat flowers, not pork and beans?
prompt 4 Motion Frees My Words
I am given thought—
When cleaning up a slimy sink;
dishwater refreshed.
Cleaning up a muddy mess.
Pulling weediness.
Like fresh breezes move the dust;
motion frees my words.
Give my thoughts a little gust—
From mind’s rancidness.
Prompt three: Little Views
giants walk on us
walking on our shuffled selves
ant’s eyes see big things