A Front Porch View

He sat on a rustic cabin’s front porch.
Mountain peaks in front for him to see.
Back and forth moved his old wooden rocker.
The view framed by pine and juniper trees.

Some dog’s bark echoed in the distance.
An engine wails, straining to climb the pass.
A western tanager lands on top of a telephone pole.
And a deer looks both ways before crossing at last.

Jimmie Aaron Kepler
September 2, 2020
Written in Alto, New Mexico

What If There Were No C’s?

abc-2860036_1280What If There Were No C’s?

What if there were no “C’s” to say with our A’s and B’s?
What if all the C’s went out on strike?
Tired of being seen by you and me as just average unlike the letters A and B.
Now here is how your life might be if out on strike went the letter C.

You begin your day with a ‘up of hot ‘offee while in your lap is your ‘urled up ‘at.
Then later you ‘ould take your dog for a walk
While wearing your favorite ball ‘ap to keep the sun out of your eyes
Unless of ‘ourse, dark stormy ‘louds filled the sky.

On to the park where the ‘hildren and ‘anines go to play
Where you li’k an i’e ‘ream ‘one bought from a man pushing a ‘art.
While sitting in the park table’s ‘hair you ‘arefully observe the ‘ars
Driving down the street wondering about the driver’s worries or ‘ares.

A gust of wind makes you need to retrieve your ‘ap that just blew off your head.
Your hair now a mess needs ‘ombed but instead of ‘ombing it the ‘ap you wear
The favorite team’s ‘ap does its job of hiding your unkempt hair.
And you let your dog lead you ba’k to the house.

Ba’k inside your ‘ondominium a box of ‘andy ‘alls your name.
The temptation is too hard to resist so you pi’k a ‘ho’olate that’s ‘herry filled
Get a ‘up of hot ‘appu’’ino and sit on the ‘ou’h.
Then into your lap jumps the ‘at and she quickly ‘urls up.

Finally, resting in his home he re’alls his manners,
And remembers to remove his ‘ap, and loves on his ‘urled up ‘at.
Now you know how it would be if there were no “C’s” to say with our A’s and B’s
Because you’ve seen how your life might be if out on strike went the letter C.

Jimmie Aaron Kepler
Written for my granddaughter Aurora
Written during November – December 2017

 

You Are the Son of God!

You Are the Son of God!

by Jimmie Aaron Kepler

After the crowds were dismissed
And all started going away
His disciples gathered ‘round Him
Listening to the few words He had to say.

I’m going up on the mountain
I need alone time to pray and meditate.
Get onboard your boat and cross the lake
Before it gets too late.

While on the mountain top, eve changed to the night
While the Father and Jesus were all alone
And the disciples’ boat moved toward the other shore
His followers heard the tempest as it began to groan.

Now the wind and waves
Increased all through the night
And as a black fear gripped the men
The wondered would they survive to the morning light.

Sometimes between 3 and 6 A.M.
Jesus came to them walking on the sea.
But they feared he was but a ghost
They were terrified and wished that they could flee.

And immediately Jesus spoke to them
His words cutting through the violent storm
It’s me, take heart, don’t be afraid.
His words were full of love and very warm.

But Peter wasn’t so sure it was Jesus.
His grave doubt quivered in his voice
He yelled. “Let me walk on the water out to you.”
Was his verbalized faithless choice.

With kindness in His voice
“Come,” the Master said.
And Peter walked on the water towards Him
Without fear of drowning or becoming dead

But then He took His eyes off Jesus.
He looked at the wind all around.
And suddenly he began to sink.
Peter feared he would drown.

Lord Jesus save me!
Was his faithful cry
Jesus reached out taking his hand
“Why doubt me? You’re not going to die.”

Then they got into the boat
And the disciples began to sob.
For the wind and waves and tempest had stopped.
They worshipped and declared, “You are the Son of God!”

“You Are The Son of God!” by Jimmie Aaron Kepler
is a retelling of the biblical story found in Matthew 14:22-33
where “Jesus Walks on the Water.”
It was written in April 2020.

Little Squirrel

Little Squirrel

Little squirrel
In the tree
I see you
Looking at me

Your color is red
In your furry coat
You look at me
Sitting in the boat

You’re eating the acorns
Found in the tree
A smile on your face
Dropping the shells on me!

© 2009 Jimmie Aaron Kepler, Ed.D.


Originally published in:
WORDS…RHYMES…POETRY & PROSE
May 2011

Small Ball

Photograph, “Jackie Robinson in his Brooklyn Dodgers uniform” Record Group 306. Still Pictures Identifier: 306-PS-50-7551. Rediscovery Identifier: 11261

Small Ball

Get ’em on

Get ’em over

Get ’em in

Jimmie Aaron Kepler
2012

Photo Source: United States Information Agency [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Winter Nights

Poetry Reading

Here’s a photo of me reading my poem “Winter Nights” at Barnes & Nobles Kitchen in Legacy West, Plano, TX.

Here’s the poem:

Winter Nights

The frigid nights fall earlier
On these chilly winter days
And the moon-man mounts the sky
Veiled in Metropolis haze

The mornings all break later
So slow the new day’s dawn
The bitter blanket lingers
For the winter nights are long

Stars spangle the satin sky
As the moon-man dips down low
Twinkling winks from a million worlds
And here we are, do they know?

Oh I wish the night would never end
Yes, I wish the night would never end

February 2017
Jimmie Aaron Kepler


Thank you Storm Ricamore for reading and your suggestions on the poem.


Photo Source: Storm Ricamore picture of me speaking, the other photo Image by cocoparisienne from Pixabay

Urban Pigeons

Urban Pigeons

White clouds
Fill the Columbia blue sky,
Like hundreds of cotton balls.
The brilliance
Of the summer sun,
Reflected even brighter
Off of the clouds.
The clouds remain
Suspended in the sky
With little movement.
A flock of pigeons,
Land on an adjacent building.
They stand on the edge
Of the ten-story structure,
Peering downward
Looking
For some crumb or morsel of food.
They also eye the sky
And the roof,
Of a neighboring building.
The birds are watchful
As a red hawk
Is perched waiting,
Waiting,
Waiting
For one of the pigeons
To let its guard down
And become his next meal.
The sounds of cars,
Trucks
And an occasional motorcycle
Fill the air
As they travel
From their point of origin
To their destination
Using the freeway
That passes
Through the building’s shadow.
A panhandler
On a nearby corner
Looks up at the sky
Shielding her eyes
From the bright sun.
She looks to see
What the airborne commotion is about.
The sun temporarily blinds her
With its brilliance
And then she sees
Dozens of feathers
Slowly descending to the ground.

August 2009

Photo Source: Image by Wolfgang Claussen from Pixabay

Kepler, Jimmie A. “Urban Pigeons,” vox poetica, August 26, 2012, Retrieved August 27, 2012, from http://voxpoetica.com/words_to_linger_on.html and August 29, 2012, Retrieved from http://poemblog.voxpoetica.com/2012/08/29/urban-pigeons.aspx.

We Never Lived In the Now

We Never Lived In the Now

Your face shows your age,
though your countenance is still glowing.
Your age says grown-up,
but you’ve never decided where you’re going.

You’ve grown older.
Yes, I’m older too.
The remainder of our lives is before us,
oh, what’ll we do?

What were the dreams
you had so long ago?
What was your vision?
Where did it go?

You traveled your way.
I went mine.
A history so different,
yet lives intertwined.

The gray now shows in our locks,
showing how much we cared.
Your grin still lights my life,
my smile brightens yours when shared.

You lived for then.
I lived for when.
We never lived in the moment.
No, we never lived in the now.

Jimmie Aaron Kepler
Originally published in WORDS…RHYMES…POETRY & PROSE! in 2008
“We Never Lived In the Now” is included in the forthcoming book,
“Jimmie Aaron Kepler: Selected Poems 1967 – 2019” from Poetry and Prayer Press.

Photo Credit: Image by dietcheese from Pixabay

Your Best Friend


Your Best Friend

If ever you find yourself being broken apart,
Because the one you trusted has broken your heart,
And all the time you find yourself crying,
While on the inside you feel like you’re dying,

Call me if you feel lonely,
Come to me when your life needs to mend,
From time to time you need only,
Someone with love unconditional – your best friend.

One time life gave you a fright,
Existence was as black as a moonless midnight,
You were feeling so out-of-place,
With no one to hug or embrace,

Then you saw the light,
You came to me in the middle of the night,
And you ran to me to give your heart,
And that’s when your new life did start

Call me if you feel lonely,
Come to me when your life needs to mend,
From time to time you need only,
Someone with love unconditional – Jesus, your best friend.

Copyright © 2008 by Jimmie Aaron Kepler
Originally published in “WORDS…RHYMES…POETRY & PROSE!”
Also published on: “Writing After Fifty” and in the book “Gone Electric: A Poetry Collection.”


Photo Source: Image by Mabel Amber, still incognito… from Pixabay

I Started High School

Grace Slick today at age 79
Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane 1967
Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane 1967

 


Starting High School

In San Francisco, it’s the summer of love,
Long-haired hippies, peace signs, and doves.
In Vietnam, the soldiers are dying,
Back home their families are crying,
And Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play.

Jim wants to “Light My Fire,”
While Grace’s rabbit only flies higher.
The evening news shows the war isn’t cool,
This week I started high school,
And “All You Need Is Love” is what The Beatles say.

Written by Jimmie Aaron Kepler
Schertz, Texas, August 1967


The photos are of Grace Slick. She is an alumna of Finch College where she majored in art. She is an accomplished artist. The artwork is hers.


Note: This is the oldest poem I have written by me. It was in notebooks and papers my mother gave me a few months before she passed away in 2014. Aren’t parents great about keeping things and then later in life returning them?

I wrote this poem as a freshman at Samuel Clemens High School in Schertz, Texas. Samuel Clemens High School was two miles outside the main gate at Randolph Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas.

Impressing, my English teacher was challenging. The assignment was to write a paper on “What I did on my summer vacation.” Instead, I wrote about what was happening in popular culture. Instead of prose, I wrote a poem. I failed to follow the rules. She called me a “beatnik hippy poet weirdo.” I viewed her insult as a compliment! I gave in, complied with her orders, and wrote five pages of drivel avoiding a grade of “F” on the assignment. I wrote about hitchhiking to the west coast.

“I Started High School” is from the forthcoming book “Jimmie Aaron Kepler: Selected Poems” from Poet and Picker Press.