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For you alone know what it is I long for.
It is only you who suffers my greed.

My wish is that (in time) the scar of me will fade;
and again the june sun will darken the skin of your face.

As the the plowing barge leaves only a ripple as it roams the river,
so too will the sins of my path fade from your way.

It is not my goal in this world to achieve all my opulence,
but merely to allow your innocence to live.



Solitude. Longing. Wishing. Praying.
Understood not by those for whom I hold the most faith.
Instantaneous allocation of my most defended desires.

I . . . as in my true self, crave that which can never be mine.
Deliver me from myself,
and exonerate the past which was appointed to me.

For the therapy of a small town can be mine only remedy.

Drifting inconsistencies steer truth away from itself,
As intended deeds fade from fog to dew.

Withering remorse pollinates the harvest of tomorrow,
And, thus, I pant for the embrace of the country.

Abe Draper writes to us:
Abe writes to us: “My dad, Eddie E. Draper, has been sending me USADEEPSOUTH links for several years now, and I have thoroughly enjoyed the creativity presented by your members. I have never published any of my poetic works, but would love the opportunity to do so on a site as devoted as yours. Even though I am in Jackson now, I feel as if I am only a mouse click away from my Mississippi delta home.”


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or write Ye Editor at bethjacks@hotmail.com.

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