Monday, May 2, 2016

A Poem by Emory D. Jones


Bent grasses hint
at the passing of unseen winds
and spirits.

Spires of black spruce,
rise out of moss
and point skyward,
their broken branches draped
with a haunting thin gauze
of lichens.

Poisonous red capped mushrooms stand
like miniature tables and chairs--
fungus furniture
that some secret night
might have hosted
the "little people"
so important in the folklore
of the native Ojibwa.

Something spiritual lives here,
something dark
something old.

Dr. Emory D. Jones is an 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 two 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 was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Award by this society in 2015.  He won Poet of the Year in the Mississippi Poetry Society in 2002 and again in 2016.  He has over two hundred and thirty-five publishing credits.

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