All that moves does sound for it.
Heart-bent out there - shattered,!
If but morn-broke; by mist-wall, magpie
Soft-checked; and sweet-tempered.
Approximate to which place
For worldly neighbourhood
Wailingly upgushed, had first for me.
Babe. Still lost in its wood.
Almost
Why is life such a compromise?
Everything is nearly right or not quite there
Nothing is either perfect or nowhere near
Its as if we were born to approximate, almost
The weather holds up it's mirror to life
It's undecided, like the coin toss, random
Not quite sunny, barely dry yet hardly warm
Its partly cloudy – largely bearable, almost
I trudge down the street, greet familiar faces
Conversations trivial, going no places
The weather this, the latest that
Its as though our imagination’s stolen, almost
I was going to do something different
Ride free, a white horse across rivers
Sail fast, on a yacht over fences
Then I woke up, half asleep, almost
But is it so bad to compromise?
To realise life’s boundaries protect
I wasn’t destined to break records
Second place is good enough, almost
I’ll take my podium place
I’ll carry hope’s umbrella
Its partly cloudy and grey
I’m pretty much OK. Almost
Ryne Sandberg has passed away
For this special soul, baseball prays
One year he could not give his all every day
What’d he do? ~ He gave back his pay*
____________________________________
*That year, Ryne had inked a contract for the
highest single-year salary every paid a base-
ball player to that point in time. Approximate-
ly 8.7 million dollars. He left the team in June,
returning all of his unearned salary to his
astonished team, the Chicago Cubs.
The tree of Tule in Oaxaca, Mexico, is the tree with the largest trunk diameter in the world. Its circumference reaches almost 60 meters and has a height of 42 meters. Its approximate age is 2,000 years.
tens of people could
take a nap at the same time
the ancient big tree.
Number of t letter - in the above text - is 28.
I never measure or use a straight edge
Ruler? Measuring cup? I scoff at these tools.
I approximate everything that I do.
That is why I am a folk artist, not a fine artist.
I cook with total imprecision too
Guesswork is my best friend
I toss in a dollop of this and a dash of that
My husband runs when he sees my surprise casseroles.
While circular area's moot
3/14 math groupies salute
Approximate pi
Which helps us get by
Since squares within rounds don't compute
winter’s calling wind
blown messages least most falls
torn tween autumn fall
winter’s lull at last
approximate two half months
left to receive cold
and influx of snow
winter’s alarming burst of
temperatures below
thirty degrees and
under distance sun noon day
yet it still be cold
1/30/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
I
We all enjoy some peaceful moments & this is a basis to think more deeply about greater peace but for those who have no moment of peace and shalom to remember, they may lack pegs upon which to hang ideas of such positive feelings and fraternity.
II
We learn from Dr. M. L. King Jr. that quietness is NOT peace.
III
Peace is a porridge, or stew, if you may
You will need to prepare - no other way
To wish the menu to suddenly shew
Had we bought or grown ingredients few
We may begin to approximate the meal
But ants versus crickets reveals the deal:
Industry will welcome winter; carefree lives
Expect magic: good food or Peace to thrive
Looking into a crystal clear river, itching to bathe my feet
Water’s look shallow, I’m buried in thought gone obsolete
The trickling liquid beckons me over, promising of a cure
My reality is a long time stolen, faltering into life obscure
Torn between instinct and choice, ambivalence devouring
I make a compromise to dip one toe, not too overpowering
Testing water proves difficult, distracted by gaps and voids
Cursing and blabbering alone, answering myself annoyed
Anticipation is conflagration, expectation being unknown
Dementia doesn’t have a reservation, comes with life alone
One thing leads to another, I’ve wandered out of their cage
This river’s measured now, my toe the approximate gauge
Looking again find I’m knee deep, as memory starts to fade
Pushing out further still, forgotten is the compromise made
Keep wading outward, I have no comprehension of bounds
River is unable to claim me, my mind was long ago drowned
Your Favorite Rhyme Poem in August 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
10/08/2021
an early mourning stroll, and hours spent passing through as many neighbourhoods,
and sometimes you sob so
violently that you cannot contain
noises breaking past your lips, sounds
usually repressed. sometimes you can only
sob while pacing the streets, and sometimes you
must spend hours shaking, shaking, pacing the streets.
step after step. you roll your shoulders, gasp;
i think of making you a playlist. i think about the order of the
songs so i can communicate to you my witness. oh,
how precious you are. my Love, we sit on secrets. there is more
to say, that which surpasses language. perhaps, music could help
approximate; and Dearest, i digress.
not a playlist. a poem instead,
gracelessly splattering ink
in an attempt at abstraction,
to bring another viewpoint of Love into focus.
just for you.
the house gardens contain miracles.
wrong pillow. neck knot. ache.
stupendous silhouette of castle
piercing through hazy fog
reminds me of your shadow
as you come to meet me at twilight
mixed hues of spectral sky
reflected in dreamy water
in furrowed thick impasto
of amber and sandstone
are glowing ember
of your undying love.
Notes: Claude Monet painted a series of impressionist oil paintings of the Palace of Westminster, home of the British Parliament, in the autumn of 1899 and the early months of 1900 and 1901 during stays in London. All of the series' paintings share the same viewpoint from Monet's window or a terrace at St Thomas' Hospital overlooking the Thames and the approximate canvas size of 81 cm × 92 cm (32 in × 36 3/8 in).They were, however, painted during different times of the day and weather conditions. This one was during sunset. ( Photo and reference credits to Wikipedia).
20 May 2021
For "All Yours ( May 20) Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Brian Strand
1st place
Letting a flame of hope burn
means bringing light to that
obscure dream falling apart;
can something of exceptional value
be built from the ashes that have burnt?
Can we fix a broken vase with glue
and think it is as good as new?
All these assumptions have a specific clue:
when choices are many, not few!
Is a mile an actual mile,
or an approximate length defined by space?
Is our perception as lucid as a mirror
in which we see those traits with a flair?
Do all of our virtues reflect honor or disgrace?
Are our tempers good-natured or vile?
Letting a flame of hope burn
gives a new shape to an abandoned dream
thought to be as vain as ambition
not felt more than a beating heartbeat,
or awaiting a miracle to happen
in the midst of troubling times that gleam
on gruesome faces of anger and defeat...
when trust is spurned in taciturn scorn!
Is imagining a life abundant with deserved joys contrary
to the orthodox creed one must spend it in solemn prayers?
Is sacrifice a duty or a choice determining one's destiny:
whether our prospective is victorious or fails expectations?
It certainly isn't beyond the realm of possibility
That one day we'll become robots, it's more a probability
We'll have an on/off switch
And a program which
Will provide us with our happy zone's approximate vicinity
Starry night sky above
--- starry night sky below ---
reflected in a restless sea:
twin nocturnal profiles face off,
touch nose to nose
--- share stars for eyes ---
the wind that meets the water.
Floating in darkness
the silvery moon rises -
intriguingly, inscrutably
--- dark side, light side
hidden from each other,
man in the moon ghastly.
Baleful lunar eyes hover,
looming mirrored,
awash in inky waves.
Glorious morning yawns.
Hidden somewhere in the firmament
she waits, and she waits some more,
leaning against the wings.
Beguilingly draped, she anticipates -
her next sweeping entrance.
...
All Creation
--- benign yet indifferent ---
gathers Her own,
draws them ever closer,
--- finely tuned, outrageously only approximate --- ,
the union of yin and yang.
Both tumble along as one,
--- celestial dice rolling ---
swept bobbing w/ the tide,
transcendence disguised,
transcendence revealed.
As I gripped the glass in my hand,
I studied its form
The diminutive stem of depression era green
was pale and nearly transparent
It supported the fragile, colorless goblet,
also very small and featuring
a decorative etch just below the rim
Perfect for sipping a classic Martini
And with each sip, I pondered
whose lives had it touched,
where and when could it have been
A flea market find,
I knew only its approximate age
I imagined the possibilities
And as I nursed my inebriant friend,
I realized that the glass
was half empty or half full
and I wondered if anyone else had held it
during difficult times
determining how to
process the world in which we live
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