What have Tests become
Not really a conundrum
The game’s true fulcrum
To beach bum humdrum
Cricket now plays dumb
Kowtow to cash cow scum
To T20 aplenty did succumb
Moolah the ruler in this slum
Seduced reduced simulacrum
Absurd but heard the word’s still mum
Batters in tatters another LBW plum
Chickens no bantam baby tantrum
Same silly song will willy nilly strum
A dastardly turns bastardly doldrum
Forget regret best bet rule of thumb
Rank dank stank so glum & then some
Beat the drum or Tests simply overcome
Stark dark depths these guys lies do plumb
No comfort for our sport not even a crumb
Our sort annoyed destroyed in Pink Floyd void
In perverse parallel universe worse is to come
So ho hum reeling feeling “uncomfortably numb”
Cold feet weigh the bantam kid whose ears seized phantom
wail risk-taker jargon of win-or-lose bargain.
The 9th descendant of Adam
He lived during a disaster he couldn’t fathom
He was chosen by God, contrary to fantasm
And lived nearly 1,000 years, transcending a phantom
Surviving the storm from the flood in the chatham
Alluding to events which form a chiasm
Including leading his ark, including the bantam
Following the flood water hitting the stratum
Weathering through the mark of wrath, events are not random
A confirmation of benevolence interpreted through oppression of Canaan
While Ham leaves a curse on Noah’s son Canaan
To forever integrate with the Biblical datum
menthol cigarettes / messy journals / propane torches / unfinished poems /
broken promises / black bandana / clock rings /
thrift shops / candle wax / stolen books / peach nehi /
poison ivy / nicotine gum / ripped overalls /
leyland cypresses / junkyard blues / gutted cigarellos / abandoned houses /
tin foil flowers / gatorade / starburst / diabetic insulin syringes /
toy boats / vix vapor rub / red nose pitbull / lemon balm /
cutflowers / river stones / wooden crosses / cluttered bookstores /
broken pocket watches / bad behavior / birdsong / bantam chickens /
spare tires / cartoon band aids / unread voicemails / black ink /
ripped dollar bills / friendship bracelets / dirty laundry / vinyl /
chopped firewood / inferno / 70's model trucks / heart locket /
fave pen / soda slushies / free verse poetry / lana del rey / god jesus /
BOLD
So what now you were told
That you were to be bold
courageous, confident
courageous, confident, and fearless; ready to take risks.
To show- showing or requiring courage some bold plans.
Adventurous. Are those the thoughts of man
Audacious. I never conceive that I am
Courageous. Only in the arms of Jesus
I now shall be daring, fearless, heroic, bantam
Resolutely I do say, I am just a man
Confident when in doubt cry-OUT Jesus
Straight forward unto God
Speak His words out Be in His love
Be gallant assuming all things are His truths
aweless dauntless enterprising intrepid
Be unafraid for the Lord our God fights all of our battles
undaunted speak up, valiant valorous
Holy rest in His way
Be told, no you know not that’s not your way
For you are bold
You don’t have to be told
For you are bolder boldly boldness overbold Holy
Speak,
Speak,
Speak
You don’t have to be told
For you are bolder boldly boldness overbold Holy
Holy
Holy
I gonna be now
BOLD
4/15/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
A colorful bantam rooster perches atop
The open-air “Blue Heaven” bar in Key West
Red, yellow, green, and blue stools inviting
Passersby to imbide a salty dog or a margarita,
Slices of Key Lime pie are mouth-watering
Old-fashioned lanterns dangle from beams,
While a peculiar green fish garnishes a post
Colorful bottles of vodka, gin, and curacao
Lined up like sailors at attention on deck,
A playful atmosphere of “what the heck!”
Written September 28, 2021
[Inspired by “Blue Heaven” a print by
Key West, Florida artist Lynne Fischer,
which hangs in my living room.]
In our hearts of hearts
Seldom does the mind thinks
Grandeur particulates healing for ourselves
Materialistic beliefs placed in spiritual sheets
Cover me, console me in my anguish and grief
Must I ask up in my chest for kindness?
Must I look with my mouth spurn out my eyes?
Visions of helpless not why must I hold on too
Those physical visual cues
Must I hold to have acceptable life and health?
Or shall I just rely on in God we trust;
I’m just a seed-bearing break of a plant,
Whist in this vast universe I’m just a bantam chink
tween rocks, stone and matter
Just a physical substance in general, as distinct
from mind and spirit calls
I’m liken a still life flower chink twixt the wall
2/29/20
For Flower in the Crannied Wall Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
I purchased a bantam in Feckham
And named her Victoria Peckham
This scrawny old bird
Just can’t cluck a word
She's hoping the farmer won't neck em!
Our rooster is called ‘Coq au vin’
He tries to fly just like Batman
If Victoria sings
He starts flapping his wings
At least the old bird’s got one fan!!
I've just returned from a moonlight walk with my hubby ... we were just going past a farm and I had to stop to write the first limerick down and wrote the second when i got home ... I do worry about my muse!
4/4/18
I know of a gentle young lady,
who told of a mystery,
that's ancient and bold, a myth of old,
so curious to people like me.
This amiable lass,
a woman of class,
and violet hair to boot,
laid eyes on me,
my naked belly,
and proclaimed with exuberant fact,
"Did you know you've a deep belly-button,
a cavern as deep as the sea?"
and then she said,
straight from her head,
something I couldn't conceive.
People like me,
with this bantam innie,
are deep creatures emotion-ally.
A blur of fur, it scurries quickly but
I hear a meeo-ow, tender, loving, warm.
Only, yesterday her eyes, they shimmered sapphire.
Now flecks of gold in pools of jade, they glint.
To touch her is to feel velour as she
caresses woolly fur across my face.
Low purrs, a bantam motor, gamma waves.
A shiny ebony statue, black sphinx.
With magic tinted whiskers, tilts her head.
A bounce and paws all four on top of me.
A moist and icy button brushes past she
exposes pearly arrows with a yawn.
The hollowed pyramids, they always shift
they twist for surround sound, twist to be
alert and quick; she prowls. So curious, life enchants.
A glorious game for a blur of soft fur.
I looked out my back yard window today.
whilst taking my small white pill,
a little green man came walking my way
His dreadful face was missing some features—
the nose, a neck, an ear, no mouth
file him among the hideous creatures
Afraid at first, I watched him a bit
down on the ground, he squatted until
lurching over, he commenced a fit
Out the door I stumbled seeking to help
this verdant, bantam, alarming dude
mumbled, writhed, and even yelped
Touching his lime dorsal made my skin crawl
his body snakishly encrusted and gross
slimy stuff came forth-- I wanted to bawl
The state of his health concerned me so
My viridescent guy began to squawk
giving birth to an egg which began to glow
My body screamed as I watched it with dread
the ovum cracked and broke apart--a femalish
thing slinked out, biting off the green man's head
Abruptly, my alarm made me fall off the bed
Whamming my head, I realized-- a nightmare
@#*@@!nothing more need be said!
If you are cathedral of consecration
I'm the voluminous chime summoning souls
If you are the moonglade mountain peak
I'm the fedora of snow atop you
If you are the bantam flame of hope
I'm the mammoth lantern you sit in
If you are the magnificent crown of laurel
I'm the koh-i-noor glowing your majesty
If you are the whorly petals of the gypsy-sue
I'm the daggerlike thorns of flaw
If you are the bard of the Zambezi
I'm the first sonnet of your anthology
If you are the mythical firebird
I'm the scarlet embers of reincarnation
If you are the forsaken pirate ship
I'm the glubs of your drowning
If you are the ancient persian pearl
I'm the millions carats speaking your worth
If you are the sacred vial of eternity
I'm the gluck to the kingdom come
If you are cathedral of consecration
I'm the open arms of the door of mercy
Scruffy the Bantam
by Robert (Bob) Moore © 2015
Grey Mare Lane Markets, was a place I used to like
I used to go there Saturdays, riding on my bike
Down Mount Road, then Hyde Road, then down Pottery Lane
Told my Mam a snake I’d buy, she’d say “then don’t come home again”
I ended up with day old chicks, a couple for 5 bob
I used to think they’d give me eggs, and I’d be like Old Lob
but they would not even last the day,
before the poor things passed away
so next week I will buy some more,
telling Mam I’d “buy a snake” as I ran out the door.
One day I got a fighter, who made it through the day,
a real bantam rooster, who decided he would stay,
he lived just down the garden, in my dad’s little shed
I always called him Scruffy, ‘cause of the black mark on his head
He was afraid of nothing, not dogs or cats or me,
and I always threatened him, one day you’ll be my tea,
then he was gone, I don’t know where, I guess I never will
I like to think he chased a cat, and is trying to catch it still
My bantam cabin door scuttles
Light streaming ,trying to Breach in
Keeping my hand in its boulevard
Cutting up the gush of light
I came outside astound I am
Flying aloft the ground Rakishely
Maybe some vehicle
A new world an advanced domain
Frigid atmosphere adding smell of concealment
Glittering with neon lights
What a colossal look just miraculous
All hybrid race of improved DNA residents
Aura of the place attracting me
Attracting me to live here
To not to go to my world
Full of pedly issues , pedly form of mankind
Now i realise
Realise to fell like immortal
I am in the future, your future
It is my present
My machine is working
Seeing through the portals of time
Miles i have travelled
Miles still left to tell you
In this wonky day and time,
this favored temperate clime
dares suggest wisdom's course
espouse prevalent societal force.*
Family tree boundaries,
stretched by current modes
like an old elastic band,
accept new branches
hung precariously
on the old sturdy trunk.
Old Limbs are newly bushed
with leaves bearing prefixes
with measuring sounds;
third, adopted, step, half -
or followed by modifiers;
in-law, live-in, significant other.
Partners and lovers
get tied on with slippery ribbons,
names entered in a ledger,
but not with permanent ink.
Disjointed families, add-ons,
and second family births
leave our children wondering
to whom they belong.
*Adulterated quote from “A Traitor to Memory”
by Susan Elizabeth George, Published in 2001,
Bantam Books, a Div. of Random House, Inc.
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