There once was a tiny squirrel named Tim
who practiced Tai Chi with great Zen.
He gathered a troupe~
a pint-sized nutty group~
three fluff-tailed apprentices and then…
They donned little leaf-green attire,
stitched snug with twig-threaded fire;
each jacketlet swayed
as their movements displayed
a woodland-born martial desire.
With belts made of braided vine-twine,
they cinched their small uniforms fine;
each buckle was crowned
with an acorn they’d found~
a medallion of mastery’s sign.
They circled in synchronized flow,
soft paws in a forest bungalow;
their medals clicked light
as they moved through the rite~
a jade-tinted tai-chi tableau.
Perfect is a distant goal
Perfection exists,
We realize it very distant ...
Better than we conform
in being apprentices,
Improving the imperfect ...
We are still very mediocre ...
We will be more mature, better,
When we accept it
No despair ...!
Mystical labyrinth of twisting harmonic warnings
Gazing into infinity’s composing handiwork –
Moonbeams in silver sung sonatas –
Ivory hued cantatas resolved from heart pacing crescendos
Spring’s soothing birdcalls after tympanic thunder.
Measured tempos of rhythms search for their time signature
As aching melodies in moveable feasts of swans
Search for resolutions in atonal firebird tango ballads
Through classical dusty suites of western legends
Not losing pitch or tripping over downbeats.
Too many notes squeeze into four square spaces
When magic flutes songs soar over seraglio dreams
Imperial marches set imprisoned phrasing free with fanfares
And close encounters of key notes discard dissonance
Seeking rhapsody in hues of blue.
Plaintive and joyful - hopeful and merciful -
Healing rhythms inspired from the eternal melody,
A lost chord to haunt then heal the midnight heart
All arranged in one accord from the Master’s apprentices
To rest in finality of one trailing echo of waltzing river.
Emotional funeral for lost relevance.
Days, nights, years of abuse, and misuse.
endured nightmares as apprentices.
With the utterly shifting views, this is confusing.
Yet, nothing is grander to me than this existence.
I would like to chase it after being oozed.
Beyond gaining affection for my muse.
I don't know what's going on
today I even suspect
if I ever had any skills
to understand the world I live in
sure they dug a ditch around here
or built walls that I can't see
there's something hidden in everything
or is this just my psychopathy?
i always knew i should be good
but i didn't know i should be better
because I didn't see it as a competition
maybe I underestimated
everything they wrote in the books
for people like me
naive or ignorant like me
now doomed to suffer the consequences
for having lived as eternal apprentices
Invaluables
milestone apprentices
we filter our times
Much I marveled the romance dear
Instead I uncovered the fondness
Ah, distinctly I was conquering
And its eyes have all the occupying
There stood an avenging spying
The catching closeness concerning
Learning, learning!
The apprentices came concerning
What could there be more purely discerning?
With such a passion for churning
How they were churning, burning - learning
I crave the floating, flowing fascination
With such a passion for turning
I crave the decisive, diverting doing
Long I stood there leaning, dewing
Of the bonk's that is wooing
Of regards that are cooing
My breakthrough, I could not awaken
All my soul within me wooing
It threw its ghost against the heavens
The witting whipping wringing
All my soul within me winging
I discovered the lovers
The revolutionary brought such sorrow
They are perfumed from unseen vipers
The pertinent push preferring
Do you like quivers?
They are perfumed from unseen hardcovers
Our love is just now discovered, unlike any others;
1/8/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2021
Mirror, mirror from the wall to online
vanity declares, pick a piece of mine.
Respond, rewrite, re-integrate the theme;
This contest prompt is becoming a meme.
Culture shifts slowly; one stanza at a time.
Apprentices with reason and rhyme
compose on the edge of vulgar and crass
pieces that are cheeky and bold as brass.
Later as veterans they make their mark -
courtesy melts; poetry becomes stark.
Though unlived ages defter poets shall bring,
And blur all rhymes woven in my barren span;
May young pupil-scribes with like relish savor
These yellowing tropes as sworn zealots can.
Despite the flurrying crop of many sharper wits,
Let new apprentices of fine art read these lines;
And gratefully gain inspiration from olden writs,
Fresh as dateless gems in death-hidden mines.
And should new vibes rather greatly outshine
This dusty craft and they still dissatisfied pine,
Abiding honor for founding feats will here keep
Future pliant eyes that for fallen warriors weep.
Not for incurable want of well-winding nuance
May youth disdain this tart ink ten eons hence.
Think of all gone generations' fluids of the vine:
Piling time betters stale rhyme like bottled wine!
Muse forbid that future versifiers should deem
These musings an exaggerated antique dream.
“We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.”
—Ernest Hemingway
An incandescent drip of flavor
falls from the tip of my lip
words gathered and built
as my thoughts delicately fulfilled
the symphonies played throughout my mind
Entranced, my spirit soars
seeking its solace
in an empty space
where the lines of your soul are traced
I am not a writer but a slayer of sounds
echoing each emotion
foraged in the fortitude of light
My fingertips are their caretakers
they caress the pulse of your bosom
encircling each bit of tenderness
rising alongside my words
I put you on display
with every drop of ink
oozing out the fibers of my grain
My craft is a heartbeat
You are my sea
Two masons far apart,
Saw a house in the middle,
with cracks in the slab.
How to rebuild such a structure,
so it could endure a lifetime,
of Mother Nature's fury, and
the shifting sands of time.
First the simple things they thought.
meeting somewhere to find out they were compatible,
and had the necessary skills to get the job done.
The goal to build a slab to last.
Forgetting their errors as young apprentices,
so the new structure would not be weakened by the past.
Talking often to make sure the mortar was mixed with care.
Slow but steady pace they thought would get them there.
No voids on the surface, or buried underneath.
Then of course the paperwork, so the job is complete.
Meeting at least six times a year, in between full time jobs,
to make sure the quality is won.
Building a foundation strong enough to add the rest of the house one day.
Welcoming help from family, friends, and fathers,
providing refreshments along the way.
Idol makers,
apprentices of Tubal-cain
Cruel instrument inventors
of the bitter aftertaste pleasure,
and sweet deceit pain
Children of Jubal
delighting in the music of suffering
Instruments of oppression
they have mastered well
From the mouth of dragons
breathing metal fire ...
sends more and more to the watery grave of hell
Instruments of idolatry
be evil, deified works of the hands of man
The unlearned ones
worship the gun ...
the jet plane
Bow on their knees to give thanks
to the tank ...
the submarine
Every war machine has their devoted blessing
Instruments of cruelty,
whose promise of use
will give the builder and the buyer
power, riches and land —
Slave shareholders of chained souls
to body bag claim
Idol makers,
apprentices of the bittersweet Tubal-cain
Evil reprobate roots
rising from the spoiled sour Magog ground,
at the harvest time of the second rain
Abominable Armageddon souls made to drink
the brimstone blood of their shame
S/he knows hot cold felt co-passions
calling to become Bodhisattva Caller,
EarthTown Crier,
co-messianic prophet of brightest gloom
begging prophecies still hiding
winning our least best common denominations
racing diverse nurturing
of ecotherapeutic tranquilities,
resonant resilience
to both call and cooperative calling back
listening through speaking
what has fissured pathological cracks,
powers of matriarchal hurricanes
nurturing yet controlling
Earth's patriarchal steadfast Peter rocks
deaf to nurturing calls of invitation
but best for flat plane echoing
climates full
uprising
evolving
revolutions
calling as we nurture echo-call,
crying as we nature fall,
supplying all we together recall
competing WinWin cooperations,
co-operators
of and for peaceful piracy,
creolic recreations,
trumping each reweaving species
relearning shared vocations
as Solidarity's apprentices.
Climatic avalanches self-invite
what we co-invited yesterday
as bounty.
Just When We Thought
By Franklin Price
2/29/2016
Just when we thought that politics
Had reached the lowest it could go
They've stopped slinging mud by hand
Resorted to a big back hoe
There's only one who's good at it
Has done it from the very start
The other two for catching up
Are trying now sling their a part
They're digging holes and not a ditch
It's evident their mud is thin
Hard to throw, and will not stick
Thin mud slinging cannot win
Sadly equipped for taking part
Apprentices who should not linger
Get back to the issues quickly
They're up against a master slinger
Such purity, bliss
sweet angel’s apprentices-
Preening downy wings.
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