Three Poems

Jack D. Harvey


King and master of
the queen of morn,
star of heaven had he;
then time’s bony fingers,
forgotten in the boon,
touched the bloom of youth
and trembling old Tithonus
bereft, bereft,
locked in a room,
withering to a cricket,
an insect
chirping endlessly
through eternal mornings
waiting waiting alone;

begging the gods
for the grace of his doom.



The dogs’ code.

Two dogs, one bone,
don’t share the bone.

Watch outside,

guard the yard.

Bark a lot;

bark the bark
right off the trees.

Hate cats.

Love people
who smell good to eat.

Hate the pullers of ears,
the tweakers of noses.

The dogs’ code.



Horace knew what
is winter
what was winter
slow as molasses
by the fire;
centuries and centuries ago

so far across the sea.

Jack D. Harvey’s poetry has appeared in Scrivener, Mind In Motion, The Comstock Review, The Antioch Review, Bay Area Poets’ Coalition, The University of Texas Review, The Beloit Poetry Journal and a number of other on-line and in print poetry magazines over the years, many of which are probably kaput by now, given the high mortality rate of poetry magazines.

The author has been writing poetry since he was sixteen and lives in a small town near Albany, N.Y. He was born and worked in upstate New York. He is retired from doing whatever he was doing before he retired. He once owned a cat that could whistle “Sweet Adeline,” use a knife and fork and killed a postman.