A woman was known as a 'broad' in the U.S.
and I'm more broad-minded when there I confess
a woman was called a 'bird' in the U.K.
so when in Blighty as for me
altho' there's a pecking order
in the bird-watching hierarchy
I'm an eagle-eyed if not avid avian attendee
and yet Ol' Blue Eyes
should have paid more attention
for when he said, 'Let me be frank with you,'
and went on to sing, 'Egrets, I've had a few
but then again too few to mention,'
he proved to be a poor ornithologist
as there were not a lot of birds
(or broads) on his watcher list
A eulogy for the me I had to kill to survive
She lay in a casket
I was the killer
But was it really me?
When the world gripped her hand and told her to kill her blackness
She stared in a mirror
Full of sadness
Knowing she would kill her last bit of innocence
So did I allow her to kill that part of herself
Or was it the fault of the system itself?
I the only attendee at her funeral
I the only person who would understand her death was about survival
Either way she was miserable
Even in death her silence was painful
Would this mean she would always struggle?
I say my final goodbyes to the girl I was
Her mind strong but not strong enough
To live in a world where her blackness was starved
A slow and painful death that carved
A scar in her heart
A forever reminder of what I lost
There’s speaker blaring loud voices over the intercom;
Come on, come one come all;
It’s all about-loud as the Bomb;
Poets from all around finally meeting on hollow grounds;
Words smiths, no not computer cliché
Resonate from a different place
No avatars just real words
Everyone will be heard write on, write on;
Real life post-stars meeting and assembly of physically rhyming (some rapping for the first time;
Some of us may have been English teachers it’s a national meeting of the poetic minds
Come on, come all
And be liken Scripts Spelling bee
Be a first to be an attendee at the
1st
Annual PoetrySoup Convention
3/22/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
The great game is who I am allowed to be
the game is my name and the only way,
time flies by without the look of death in a single eye.
What is this "Mad world" men put their selves into,
when the great game is out of their way in the woods, standing far away?
I do not wish to know, for only the snow, can mask the intend glow of foot prints left for me to know,
which leads to death and the other home.
I'm the game, the elk, mighty and young, being hunted by you,
the great game attendee.
The game just begun as you take that hat place on you head,
grabbed your bag
and load your gun.
In a theater or museum
Someone’s there to check your bags
And I wonder what exactly
An inspection like that snags.
Are there weapons nestled next to
People’s wallets or their phones?
Have they confiscated contraband
That some attendee owns?
As the line moves up, my bag’s unzipped;
I let them glance inside.
Although they have a flashlight,
There’s so much that I can hide.
But I don’t, of course, and neither do
The visitors behind me.
I think of 9/11 then;
Precautions still remind me.
The bag check’s just a surface ploy
So we can all pretend
That we’re safe, but that’s the error
On which terrorists depend.
A New Ferrari
By Rick Rucker
We have changed our plans,
We will marry in The Netherlands,
The reason is primarily money,
It is far cheaper to fly there, with my Honey,
An island wedding sounded so romantic,
But the travel planning would have been frantic,
She has a large family, the logistics of them getting there,
I would have lost more of my hair!
Other things are still the same:
The wedding song, and the singer’s name,
Ditto some of the other things,
We will still exchange our rings,
If you have read some of my poems,
You know that I am prone to writing tomes,
I will have to cut it short,
Lest everyone falls asleep in The Court!
Since I am American, they think I am as rich as Ari,
So, just to not shatter their faith, I will give each attendee a new Ferrari!
Not really, but it sounded good,
Please forgive the small falsehood,
I am sure they will be overjoyed,
To see us, how our spirits are buoyed,
There is no way that I could envision,
This happiness, to my friend’s derision,
They do not believe in love at first sight,
I now believe it with all my might!
The time ticks on six o’ clock the face of a shaken man.
A hand moving by itself eyes the cocktail rush.
He grabs his jacket torn from each side as he leaves his house.
Opening of the door of the point of no return.
A smiling face as he looks for the good almighty dollar.
He has found a note he quickly gives it in exchange for an adrenaline rush.
A look to his left hand that stops moving by itself. ”Yes,” he says. “I have found
myself.”
Black hole buttons looking at the world as it passes him.
The bar attendee looks at him in astonishment.
Is this a guy who arrives here or someone else?
He turns around there is no one there apart from the cocktail given to him.
He looks outside. Where is the noise coming from?
Patrolling cars surround the area; a man is being carried on a stretcher.
(Fictional poem but meaningful)
(Taken from my book called shock)
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