Grant me rest under your lissome stems
Let me hide from the raindrops — shiny globules
That drip with tropical hauteur,
Rain that harms the ribs with cold rebukes.
Welcome me within your greenish lair, from
Your cane roots to your starry leaves —I insist on visiting
In your prime, so fresh with dew and so green, like
The envy in the gritty eyes of singed composts,
When waving rays of the shifting sun
Bathe the narrow venues formed by adjoining stems
Up, up and up the stairs and dome of the jungle.
I pray to shoot up with you and befriend the skies.
Oh, such elevation!
Fill my gourd with green wine;
Make me drunk with the spewing colours of life.
My heart is open to receive light —from misty dawn to
Dusk crowned with your blessing.
Let it rain on, I pray.
My palms are spread out like your leaves — I borrow the
Innocence of your frondescence.
Carve me flutes from your nodes, and, from them
Raise the cadences for summons, to be accompanied by
Drums fashioned by hands greased by the gifts of
The forests. . . .
Raise the joy, the frenzy, the tone of the ceremony
Raise, raise . . . upheave them
To royal heights — such as yours.
gargoyle friendly
dark cathedral with arches
Victorian glass
attracts vampires
priest performs exorcism
adjoining graveyard
hair stands up on arms
eerie silence from this place
I feel threatened
The Home Goods store is packed with stuff
That no one really needs.
It’s kind of like a garden filled
With bright and cheerful weeds.
You stroll the aisles and start to pluck
Some items from a shelf,
Each one designed to make you buy
A present for yourself.
A fish-shaped plate, a speckled bowl,
Some baskets of bamboo,
Plus pillows, frames and placemats -
All just waiting there for you.
A separate section carries food,
Like chocolates and snacks,
While cards and wrapping paper fill,
With toys, adjoining racks.
Some furniture is worth a look -
A cabinet or chair,
But better snatch it up because
Next week it won’t be there.
It’s fun to spend an hour
In this store, without a doubt,
Though guaranteed you’ll leave with things
You sure could do without.
ADJOINING SET BLESSINGS
in a BEAUTIFUL NEW DAY
My mind, heart, spirit and soul blessings unto you
Blessed Good New Day
This new day I send you blessings peace, love, joy and light in our Father. Everything is all right may your day be bright and radiant as the Son. Jesus and to God ever be the glory. So soul shine you're going to have a Beautiful Day
××××××××××××
Good New Day to you. Thank you for sending blessings, peace, love, joy and light I receive what you sent. Now that I have I shall give what I was given. Yes indeed I was and am given this beautiful day as daily bread. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!
1/07/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr & Candace Rodgers
adjoining new lights two suns for a morning hunt wax bright harvest moon
"BIRDS GATHER ON ELECTRIC LINES
KEEPING THEMSELVES WARM Terzanelle "
Those the little birds warming themselves warmth
on standing electrical and telephone lines
together side by side one by one doth---
~
The bird’s stance summer breathless leaves
adjoining, aligned, snuggle so steadily
gathering amidst buildings homes, and eaves--
~
Giant rush of big galling winds so gust
soar ever so high above skies freighting
fluttering flapping of feather wings thrust
~
leaving flying in groups from grounds gaiting
talons feet embrace lines like humans lust
every so closed close in distance like dating
~
a mixed the couples birds pairing flaring
up so high tens of feet so very high light
above the somewhat warm grounds staring
~
beaded eyes nestled small birds encasing
shares bodily heat keeps from frozen plight
winter cold so the birds warmth embracing
birds on electric lines all day and night
12/23/2023
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Sex is satisfying surreptitiously,
getting the bang for your buck,
no, from your buck. His heart
pounding, over and over again.
His antlers held high with a sigh.
Sleep overtakes the gorged,
with victory of a benign smile.
Deep is the pleasure, no need
to concoct the siren of his dreams.
Delirious, at once put out
of his misery with no need
to set sails into the dark night.
His nostrils filled with her sensual perfume.
Her hair strewn upon an adjoining pillow.
Her hand laid upon his rapturous heartbeat.
Her buck is spent. He emptied out his pockets.
There is nothing left, not a glance, nor a tingle
for a dish, doll, nor centerfold. Only his wife.
Gnarled tree rooted firm, fallen bark,
abundant earthen ground cradles.
Horned larks and thrushes beat their wings,
wavering within sun's gold rays.
Lace shade dance a hush call, seep by
a calm sigh and the incessant
babbling of an adjoining brook.
Delicious breeze, reviving kiss,
entice utter lull in veiled dream.
A world, a marriage joined as one,
desire of only pleasant warmth.
A muse of chill wind and aching
darkness that stirs snow fall with wings.
The old bare and brittle, gnarled limbs
gaze out towards humble night sky.
This is the last poem on the history of Felicity, a person I know from correspondence with a friend abroad. No relation of mine.
In one year's time, I shall retire
What is there to look for?
Two of my daughters got married.
They live quite far from me.
Only Felicity remains, the middle one,
The one I loved most.
Mind you I paid for a grand wedding for both of them.
No favouritism would impede me from
Granting their wishes., but living far
I rarely see them especially as babies came
To brighten our humdrum life.
But where was Felicity? She spent so much time
At the hospital, except for our usual Sunday lunch.
Until one Sunday, a bomb blasted my brains.
Felicity had a fiancée, whom she invited
To our Sunday lunch. Was I angry? Confused?
He was a comely fellow, a brain surgeon to boot.
He promised to buy a house adjoining mine,
And a door would join both our houses.
Soon Felicity got married and what a wedding I paid.
They were the happiest couple on earth.
And soon she gave birth to a bundle of joy.
From that day on I did not act as a father
But a nanny for my lovely grandson.
And breathe your breath I kiss the hand of your daughter and decree Your Glory your glory and righteousness of her hand small and soft
it touches my skin I grab hold and
in the veneer I can see softness
to think little spear
firmly but yet gently I caress
as I place my front lips over the upper palm
the veins are showing looking like a beautiful flower
as closer I place my face on top of her hand
my lips touch and grander my nostrils flair
as I witness the smell of lavender and myrrh
Adjacent so I place gentle kisses on top of her hand
I stand firm I look on vigilantly with my adoring eyes
Father anoint my head with oil
As I die to self your breath caress kisses me
purification it Graces me in peace
let my lips speak let your voice
sing and empower me restoration
let the favor the abundant blessings and fruitfulness
as I with your lips on and through my vessel
when I stand in the presence in the aroma of God's daughter I am, I shall.
Come let us walk anointing adjoining hands coupled
-------Hand Held
9/12/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2023©
The park came alive and glistened this morning.
It would be sunny today, obvious since dawning.
Four days of rain had given the grass a new hue.
The trees looked lush, were embellished as new.
Early morning all was quiet, peaceful and serene.
It was quite the loveliest the park had ever been.
Rain rendered the surroundings to a lustrous view.
The sunshine illuminated all and shone through.
The kindergarten now opened adjoining the park.
Children arriving. On the silence they left their mark.
Wonderful giggles and chatter now could be heard.
Everyone seemed happy, not a discouraging word.
Now the rain had gone, finally outside they could play.
No more raincoats to wear. Won’t be trapped inside today.
Children raced round having fun, each and every tiny tot.
The noise oh the noise! They sure were a rambunctious lot.
In a mass of blooms
sits a summer house all gold
on a sandy beach
Momentous waves each moment
of drama filled beauty days
Near the coral lane
adjoining bright reds and plums
beneath blues and cream
Orange and yellows in front
Green thrills of summer behind
It is always there,
never quite within range
where the mind can snare
some shadowy form, or shape
an outline and hold it long enough
to name.
It waits for the sun to go down
and the evening to draw in
like a taken breath when it comes
closer and nestles into what warmth
lingers there under the folds
of a gathered dark.
Sometimes when I am off
elsewhere and far away in thought,
I am sure it slips inside my head
and enters where memories are,
trying on a face, posing
in some familiar scene,
rummaging through what a child
left there long ago as if
it was searching for itself.
And there are mornings
when waking I sense its presence
in the dissolving residue of a dream,
a small footprint left on that
shore between awareness and sleep,
an indent, a scooped out hole
where something broken
took refuge and sought comfort
in being near.
There are dark times
when it almost becomes
a plumbed in part of me,
each bunkered in our own
adjoining rooms, held apart
by a wall neither of us
want to breach. We have spent
a good part of our lives here,
holding onto what should be set free,
fearing that if we did, one of us
would cease to be.
In dream I saw a shooting star.
It scorched a purple crusted sky
Between the moon and rising sun
Where an ambitious wish could fly.
Pale plunging tail to distant views
An auspicious sombre trail.
Inviting hope for seeking souls
Hinting solemn quests,
Yet to fail.
Adjoining was a moody sea
Spacious waves, so synchronised
Pounamu tinged in stirring sand
Tainted truths, in sophisticated lies.
On land I see opposing peaks
Each splitting views of common ground
Defending sight from unseen flanks
Staunch guardians rising to confound.
Next soaring albino kereru
Flying in swirling koru paths
A karearea strikes one down
Leaving repugnant aftermath.
Suddenly the sun is blacked
In silent roar
Concrete jungles on the rise
Foundations built on measured thought
In new clothes
Green emperors look surprised.
My neighbor has moved to Wisconsin -
he likes ice-fishing,
yet in his empty apartment
I still hear a radio.
It must have been raining through his roof,
because I can hear feet paddling about
as if walking through puddles.
Sounds are snowing
melting ice-puddles slosh.
Last night I heard seagulls in his kitchen.
If I press my ear to the adjoining wall
I can hear the creaking of lake ice.
It must be his abandoned radio,
but why did he leave it on,
and why does it squawk like a seagull?
It's as if he is still fishing through
a hole in my imagination.
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