The Rhetorical Question

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, Portsmouth, writing

It’s ill education

It’s the pursuit of satisfaction

Comparing cash value

To the subjective flow of time.


The Rolling Bones

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, Portsmouth, writing

Take a chance and

Roll the bones.

Don’t let it build

Until it bursts.

Mow the lawn,

Water the garden,

Get your hair cut,

Sip Lillet Blanc from a chilled cup.

Allow alcohol to touch your lips,

Don’t let it be the reason they move.

Zoned for Conservation

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, Portsmouth, writing

They say only the strong survive!

Looking around this room,

I can tell that is certainly the case.

A mighty tree has come crashing down

The whole forest heard it fall.


Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

October woods harbor trees.

Dead, dry, free standing trees.

Their roots reach deep, through a blanket

Of curling rustling leaves.

Oranges, yellows, reds,

They ridicule the embers

That will engulf their confused apparitions.

I drag them from the Earth.

Root and all, axe in hand,

The head of which I sharpened

With a piece of granite;

New England is made of it.

With each dead tree fallen

A rush of brush scrambles

For a piece of blue canopy.

Burn the forest floor

Without abandon.

Tired, desiccated wood releases energy.

Sticky blood like napalm

Keeps the flames licking high

Into midnight sky.

I have a bed of coals but

I can never abate my thirst for flame;

Keeps me surrounded with

Light in order to write.

Hear Me Out

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

I think in rhyme and verse

Bright sunshine casts thick shadow

Eyes dark tinted like a hearse

Opening morning world windows

Can feels like a curse

Living in the carpool lane

Digesting my surroundings

Into an ink stain

Writing keeps me grounded


Let your eyes fall

Onto my words

Let my voice climb

Up your brain stem

Let my soul pour

Into your cerebral cortex

I’m armed

With vocabulary and context

Buzzing like power lines

Inhale oxygen and Mary Jane

Hold on tight

So high, I develop a fear of heights

Fuel injected

Coffee, pot scented

Shadow black

Milk occasionally

In order to swallow it quickly

Swirling like the Milky Way Galaxy

I’m tired of not having a salary

My father abandoned me

In the interest of himself

I don’t fear death it comes with living

If it comes for me

I pray it’s ready for the commitment

My energy spans universes

Both forward and reverse

I’ll rise like a zombie

Walk along the Earth

Spreading the plague

Of poetic serenade

I grew up on Hip-Hop and B Movies

My bars pull and warp my environment

Like a black hole

You stole everything you could carry

My heart’s made of lead

So who’s laughing now?

The Earth spins beneath my feet

So quickly it keeps everything in perspective

In this endless scrolling world

There is eternity to look back

With only seconds to act

Give me some of your time and I’ll talk you blind.

Bound in Time, Time Outbound

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

I still see you in my dreams

No matter how old I grow

You remain seventeen or younger

Whether you left or I stayed

I have yet to decipher


Nothing is more solid than death

It seems as translucent as a memory

I know today we would be in touch

Friendship has transcended this waking life

It inspires me to sit and write poetry about you


Your energy jumps through

Time, dark matter, and dimensions

Without the restraint of boundaries

Without the restraint of emotions

While the Milky Way Galaxy swirls


My energy is dictated by milligrams of caffeine

Measured by cups into my bloodstream

I sit and wait for work to start

In the King & Simcoe Tim Horton’s

While the milk in my coffee swirls