Plants, trees and flowers
Design the wind that causes the dance
Where does it start?
Where does it end?
It doesn’t, it moves from beach to branch
From mountain to lake, from
Flower pedals to a blade of grass
It will carry a new seed of life
To birth a new tree, a flower or a plant
Each changing the direction of the wind dance
Writer (me)
Tammy P.
How does this writing make you feel?
Never still the mind of God.' continual motion
Growth of purpose' rythem of love, making..'
man and woman' comes from above.' Growth of grass
Errosion of cliffs.' Waves upon oceons work
To shift..Grit in oyster, kernel growth.' Denotes
Wisdom and tears..Indeed; my oath.! Wind that moves
Emotions to change; sadness to elation such
A range.. Snail or Eagle slow or fleet Earth and
Universe.' Of all such I speak..Can you feel the
Intended.? Do you reach? Do you yearn? Are
You commited? Such is helpful. If of God
You would learn.' satan apes God even as he dies
A burned out relic with rhetorical lies.' Who
Offers most often (that which you have!) yet to
Rob is his intention...I'll call his odds.' May I
Talk the Truth.? For it brings him down.' His
Is a tawdrey glory..His is the volatile crown
Dry as paper..If i may.? He readied he is basted and he will climb in the tray..Be seperate from him.' Always seek the Lord by
The way of His waters upon His holy shores
Travel through the ' red sea ' turn not aside.'
The Great God of all motion.' Intends to take
Him, HIs bride.!
w. a. i. t. i. n. g.
nights diss ~~
OLve
days
s l u m B er
2 wake
p
resources hop u
and
D
O
W
N
[ = ] voices send pictured messages { O¥+$ }
layers f
a
L
L
**
^
dot still •
we D
A N
C E
c h a n t + drin
K
STOP •______ to relearn
! lessons not perfect
ED
twilight calls bones
vacant
SLOT or
SWOT or
SLIT
slip t h r o u gh
q u i c k l y
s p a C I o U S
lochness
LAKE
O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O
Moving my hands.
My hands twisting and almost tackling each other.
Colliding knuckles.
Frantic and desperate.
Eyes grazing and chewing.
Jaw moving side to side.
Everything seems so much like-
A lack of communication.
So I twirl my body around.
As if I’m holding a ribbon.
Almost falling over.
Realizing that I haven’t said a word.
When I try to speak-
It’s just my toes tapping.
Feels like I’m yapping.
My mouth is heated.
Eyelashes grasping.
When you get into this state of mind…
Opening your mouth could reveal that I have no teeth or tongue.
I’m convinced.
No one understands me, ever.
So she guided me back to bed.
So I could make shadow puppets on the ceiling.
if
there seems
to be movement
or no movement
it is a story
a dream
haiku 12 : crescendo
beloved adorn
skin rips skin, blood spurts air pure
horn hails emptiness
hiku
~~~~~~~
b e LOVE d
adorn
skin
R
I
P
S
skin
blood
T S
UR
R
sp i
a
pure
h
o
r
n
hails
E M P T I N E S S
Where? Are the colors night?
Taste the rived winds black
Lack of colors attract
Black has no movement bright
Movement has no depth
Black has no tear ducts can’t weep
6/5/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©
Two small fists
discover the world
is round, blue,
and fits exactly
between wonder
and wanting.
Mouth opens
the first laboratory,
where everything
must be tested:
texture, temperature,
the taste of curiosity.
Eyes focus,
hands follow,
brain fires tiny
lightning storms of connection:
I can make things happen.
This is how learning begins,
not with books or words,
but with the simple
revolutionary act of reaching,
and grasping,
and bringing
the universe
close enough to understand.
Arms like tiny windmills spin through morning air.
Aiming, she builds pathways?deep within her mind.
Another swing flows onward like waves upon the shore.
Awakening intention burns?as neural roads unwind.
Reaching past reflexes like butterflies from cocoons.
Rhythmic movements carve?the skills she'll always find.
Object permanence sparkles bright like diamonds in her sight.
Orchestrating muscles smooth,?her future self designed.
Hand-eye coordination weaves like spider's silken thread.
Happiness erupts when fists?and dangling targets bind.
Intentional movements bloom like flowers in the spring.
Infrastructure grows within?her brilliant, growing mind.
I'm a baby.
I move constantly. Amazingly constantly.
And I flutter hard. Amazingly hard.
Why?
Because I'm rehearsing.
I'm rehearsing moving like I mean it.
I'm rehearsing being strong like oak trees.
I'm rehearsing dancing like butterflies.
I'm rehearsing for rolling.
I'm rehearsing for sitting.
I'm rehearsing for crawling like little explorers.
I'm rehearsing for walking like big kids.
My arms pump like tiny engines.
My legs kick like happy swimmers.
My brain lights up like Diwali morning.
Why?
Because I'm rehearsing.
I'm rehearsing coordination like orchestra music.
I'm rehearsing balance like tightrope walkers.
I'm rehearsing grace like flowing water.
I shake like maracas.
I wiggle like puppies.
I flutter like spring leaves.
Amazingly joyful.
Amazingly determined.
Amazingly ready.
Why?
Because I'm rehearsing for the moment
when I get to stand up
and dance through the world.
I want them to shake me—
not to break me,
but to stir something deep.
To rattle me, gently,
from places I’ve let fall asleep.
To spring anger—yes—
but only where healing begins.
To draw tears,
like cleansing rain,
and decorate the silence
with something real again.
I want them to leave you wondering,
just quietly wanting more.
Not confused,
but curious—
like standing before an unopened door.
I want my words to shake you,
not to harm—
but to hold.
To bring you to the floor,
only so you rise
even more bold.
My words should empower you,
employ you to want more—
more peace,
more light,
more truth than ever before.
To leave you hanging—
not lost,
but suspended—
in a breath,
where something new is just about
to begin.
Because words can move—
and I hope mine move you,
like kindness in full bloom,
like quiet strength
in a still room.
If I'm an advocate for anything, I'm an apostle of movement,
To venture far, to roam unknown worlds and dreams,
To cross oceans of time and rivers of memories,
To lose yourself in others' footsteps, to taste stories written in aromas, in colors.
Each journey is a mosaic of souls, a map of unseen emotions,
Rise from the comfort of yesterday, open your mind like a blank canvas,
Go, explore, embrace the unknown with the courage of a dreamer,
Each step is a gain for the heart and soul, a dance of freedom.
Move, let your heart dance to new rhythms, to rise
Like a kite caught in foreign winds, to understand the world's desires,
Each path a poem waiting to be written with your steps,
Leave your place of safety, throw yourself into the world's arms dreaming.
For movement is life, and life is a perpetual journey into the unknown,
In every encounter, a note in the symphony of life, a whisper of stars,
Live truly, for only then will you understand and know,
Wandering through universes of desires, you will rediscover the essence of your being.
In
Middle
Of midnight
Blue butterflies
Upward dance, to reach
For the gibbous face moon
Exhilarating pleasure
Giving way to just one flutter
A zephyr breath within its shadow
For spiritual outstretched golden streak
I fell through a hole amidst of a serious political moment
And choked on my anger
I kept falling and falling,
The world now looks like a burning hell
And I'm a living fuel,
Blazing and falling all the way to down there
Where my metamorphosis will be completed.
As bliss bubbles expand,
we feel each pulsation,
caress divine sublime,
as our meditation,
synced with the cosmic chime.
As bliss bubbles expand,
we begin to transform,
whence head and heart linking,
attain in love mists warm,
awareness unblinking.
As bliss bubbles expand,
we as a receptor,
sense the throb of delight,
in each body vector,
as our soul’s wingless flight.
As bliss bubbles expand,
polarities mingle
and exiting space-time,
with our soul’s eye single,
heavenward we thus climb.
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