she’s a swimmer

The feelings

Shift

Alternately between

Fear and joy

As the arrival

Grows

Closer and larger

With each passing

Trimester.

She’s a growing

Swimmer

In a completely

Enclosed sea

With an anxious

New world

Beyond her

Reach

For now.

When her arrival

Comes splashing

On a rising tide

She will be

Held tightly

And gently,

Wrapped

In a love

She does not yet

Know

But created her.

Her world

And the world

Around her

Will forever be

Changed

By her arrival.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 2, 2009

(Written in Korea.)

untitled 12/02/09

She swells

With anticipation,

Growing with

Expectancy

From the developing

Joy within her.

The changes

Are showing

And the glow

Has now set in,

Along with

The fear

And the overwhelming

Hope

For the future.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 2, 2009

(Written in Korea.)

bon voyage

By now

She’s sitting

In an airport

Approximately

6,900 miles away

From me

And our home.

Soon

She’ll be settling in

To her seat

And fastening the buckle low and tight across her waist

In preparation for take off.

Not long after

That

She’ll likely slip off her shoes

And curl up

To sleep-

Possibly even before

The plane lets go

Of the ground

And reaches a cruising altitude of approximately

39,00 feet.

Knowing her,

She’ll skip one or more of the meals-

Choosing instead

To sleep

And arrive at home

Hungry.

By the time she lands

In Los Angeles,

She’ll be getting

Hungry,

Yet she’ll wait

Until she gets home

And we’ll walk

A few blocks from our cramped apartment

To a corner taco stand

For the traditional

Welcome Home

Carne Asada burrito,

Or perhaps this time

It will be a fish taco.

After a month away

From each other,

The touch of her fingers

In my hand

Will be heaven.

And the following morning,

When I leave for work,

She’ll still be asleep

With the blankets

Pulled up high and tight

Under her chin

Keeping the cold

Of a Southern California

December morning

Politely at bay.

She probably won’t even flinch

As I kiss her lips

And her forehead

Before walking out the door

And out to the car

For the long drive.

Maybe at noon

My phone will buzz

With an “I love you”,

Making my day

A little brighter

And my journey home

So much more

To look forward to.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 20, 2009

(inspired by music)

My guitar

Bleeds

Out onto the page

Searching

For the note,

The chord,

The support

Of the lyric-

Giving

Structure

To the song

And depth

To the words

As I scribble

Across

The emptiness,

Filling the space

From wall to wall,

Edge to edge,

Top to bottom.

I search

For the notes

Within,

To place them

Between the empty bars

Of the blank page,

Leaving the song

Unsung,

But recorded.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 14, 2009

Hotel lobby- Tokyo

Sitting

In a hotel lobby

Watching

Daily life in Japan

Unfold

In an orchestrated ballet

Of ritual and tradition

That I do not understand

From my distance

Of unfamiliarity.

All of the nods and bows,

And obedience

To rank and position

Seem somehow detached

From modern reality

That is such

A part of

The current Japan

So known

For the latest technologies

And lust

Of fashion.

And still,

Somehow,

The ancient dance

Continues-

Obedient to history

Until the end.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 12, 2009

(written in Japan)

untitled 12/4/2009

Exhausted

From a day

Of standing

In one place

And nodding politely

To all the people

Whose language

I can not

Speak.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 4, 2009

(written in Seoul, South Korea)

Starbucks- Tokyo

Experiencing

The surreal

Of Starbucks

In Tokyo-

Soaking

In the disembodied

Familiarity

Of the white, green and black

With a totally different

Accent

On a Friday

Night

In the hippest city

In the world,

As rain falls

To the street

And clings

To  my clothes

And hair.

“American”

Christmas music

Plays, thankfully,

In the background-

Drowned out

By the voices

Of young Japanese

Gathering

At 10:00PM

After a long week

Trapped by duty

And an office.

My blissful role

Of passive observer

Goes completely

Unnoticed,

Sitting in the corner

With a pen in hand,

Quietly blending in

To the noisy background,

Trying

So hard

To capture it all.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 11, 2009

(written in Japan)

Analog

Writing

With the pen

My daughter selected

For me,

Because

She knows

That I like

Pens and love

To write,

In a journal

Selected by a friend

Who thought of me

When she saw it

Because she knows

That I love

The sound

And feel

Of pen

Scribbling feverishly

Across the page

To try

To capture

The moment,

The feeling,

The emotions

Of life

Being lived

And felt

And thought of

With each breath.

Timothy Vance Jackson

(originally written in Korea, December 3, 2009)

Thanks

On this day of thanks

I find myself

Thankful

For a small woman

Sitting thousands of miles

Away

From me

On a small island,

Visiting her family

And sending messages

Of her love

Across the miles-

The texts

Reminding me

Of my blessings

As I think of her

And miss her toes

Under the table

Touching mine.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 26, 2009

untitled 11/25/09

Sleep

Sits across the room

From me

And taunts me-

Staring quietly,

But refusing to

Speak to me.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 25, 2009