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is when you play your mother’s
favorite song, in a strange city.
The cement road tickles like sun-kissed grass.

is who you see in the mirror
every time tears run without permission.
In the salted blur, you can taste sweet blueberries.

is what the sun carries
oceans away, the love that nurtured you
basks you in warm wishes from the land of pines.

is how the city’s lights flicker when you’re
in the mountains, if you squint—
Imagine, in your reach, reflection of a galaxy.

is where white flowers peek through
cracks on a brick pavement.
Different lives, but same life—
a foreign land, yet one sky.

When My Life Changed

My soul welcomes challenges 
with triumphant spirit
as my will soars toward 
faith-flight of prayer wings
defying arrogance of self-confidence 
while hiding in the strength of the Lord…

My heart basks in God's goodness
for every victory midst bouncing hope
with steadfastness to keep on 
learning from trial and test
grateful for lessons
since transformation works
championing the new creation in me 
against my carnal human nature…
 
Yes, I am what I am now
by the grace of my Creator
and through His mercy and might
along His miracles of marvellousness
my life is His workmanship 
toward victorious bliss
in reaching-out with His love.

Velvet Tulip Serenade-Pirouette

Written: March 21, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France

Quote": The bliss derived from the splendor of nature, adorned with a stunning variety of flowers is a delight for all the creatures that occupy this earth. By Poet

             ****************

A crimson tulip basks in the sun-drenched meadow
Luring a dancer dressed in a jewel state of ecstasy
Tender, an array of wings glides across Kismet Gate
Pirouettes with delight mutter on velvety petals
Sipping aromatic ambrosia amid the bloom
Soaring across the air, seeking honeyed nectar
Butterflies flutter over radiant flower shadow!

April Hiku

"When the old plum tree blooms, the entire world blooms" - Dogen
   
                                with blossoms bursting
              my plum tree basks in sunlight . . .
a song bird’s sweet trill

May

May slides through winter roots.
It comes like a wet dog to your table,
stays to dry itself, turns into a canary.

It is an old man riding a bike backwards
into greening rainbows.
May dangles on a washing-line
of billowing clouds.

May is oil
for the broken engine in the barn,
the motor that has not worked all winter,
but now you hear it
purring softly in your dreams.

May is a new whisker on an old mouse,
a roofless church for hoot owls,
it grows sunlight
on the sleek backs of river otters,
then comes to basks on your porch.

WINTER COLD ESTATE-

WINTER COLD ESTATE

   winds a brisk soar basks 
   bliss frozen breezes cold sores
   naked trees blossoms
~
 soul cold blistering
 winters winds challenges waves bright
 cooling winds a blow



1/17/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©

The Last Lap

The Last Lap

Ignorance and fire
now common partners
lying on a restive bed

The night now owns the day
as the day now basks 
in opaque blackness

The burnt-out embers 
scattered to the wind
now reassembles with kindling flame 

Great hopes and dreams 
flashing through the phase
now swaggers in as lost sleep and mirages

Watching and Waiting

I think one of life's hardest tasks
is to watch and wait while a loved one basks
in something that is harmful 
while praying for them to become grateful
for helping them survive
while wanting them to thrive
love is very hard when a loved one
is hoping for life to be done
sitting in the ICU and just watching them sleep
while not making a peep
Praying constantly for them to understand
that their life means something grand
to those that love them forever and always
no matter what happens in the coming days

Golden Hour

She basks in the golden glow,
Draped in sunlight, ready for the show.
Empty laughter fills the evening air,
Her dreams alight, she doesn’t care.
Twirling in silk, adorned with lace,
Capturing moments that can’t be erased.
The world’s her stage, the city her muse,
The awaited golden hour, she can’t afford to lose.

Just a block down,
Another woman weeps,
Through crowded streets, she weaves,
Where hope has been denied
And promises deceived.
Her heart heavy as the golden hour strikes,
Burdened by night, searching for solace
Whose bed will she share for tonight


As they both glance up at the tie-dyed sky.
The other’s pout parts,
The other lets out a weary sigh.
One basks in warmth, while the other hides,
For the golden hour decides.
Their fates so different
Two lives entwined in a fleeting hour,
One finds bliss, the other her power


The sun sets low, casting shadows,
Skin tan and glistening 
While the other is pasty and sallow
The starlet hopes to shine
The trick dreads tomorrow 
Their paths entwine in the golden hour,
Where both their worlds realign.

Know Thyself

Who am I, mind asks,
whilst vibrant heart basks
in tingle of bliss,
graced by Mother’s kiss.

Resting thought flow crutch,
learning by love’s touch,
we become God’s light,
that throbs with delight.

When heart’s pure like snow,
we then get to know,
who in truth we are,
shining like a star.

Everything is clear,
when God’s light draws near,
which we may invoke,
on donning love’s yoke.

mr cottonmouth

sad and lonely inside, like a hollowed tooth with cyanide 
groaning and bemoaning about the market, the trade, the money in his bank, thats who mr cottonmouth is
a very rich man with a house in his south
who whines and pouts, while others put his fires out

his tongue is long and split, with two little twins that drip
be careful, if you work for him don't trip, don't make him flip 
he'll rip the stage, and try to mend the page
with the same greed that would make your mouth go dry

and like an animal, crass
or a poor child cornered in class
if you ask, why he basks so in the glow of his so called foes
he'll say its me or them, i deserve better than their pen, while he bawls and points, at the street

but if confronted with any form of the truth, it's almost comically as if theres a little cute cat, holding his silvered tongue, straight to the roof

he'll start to mold, his mouth like a snakeskin wallet that can't fold
filled with unpaid bills
but his voice won't go shrill, or squeak, he's adamant you see
that it was "them or me", refusing to believe 
that he has soured all the nuts, giving them an awful bitter smell

ACME

GOD* 
foremost
occupies top
priority in my life...
He's my faith's pinnacle
allowing me to exude serenity
in claiming triumph for reaching-
out pursuits, as my soul basks along blest
divine care, shielded by grace of hope's summit
wafting mercy --- grateful for reconciliation’s bliss
midst pardon's fulfillment from guilt... Now, my heart
cleansed from sin's wages, shares joy of eternal assurance
radiating victory, vibrantly worshipful sans doubt but anchored
by truth, freely soaring midst celestial liberty toward heavenly acme. 

*Deuteronomy 6:5 And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might.

July 2, 2024
3rd place, "This or That, Vol 26" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 7/27/2024

BLEST RAINDROPS

Midst hot months, cooling is a need
refreshing every one indeed
with showers, smiting humid days…
Hence, blest raindrops are welcomed grace.

Heavenly pitter-patter noise 
creating melody of joys
assures harvest with bliss always…
Hence, blest raindrops are welcomed grace.

Rainbows radiating hope bright
showcase colors of vibrant light
marking supplies of no delays…
Hence, blest raindrops are welcomed grace.

Among varied caregiving tasks
bathing spree is where my heart basks
as special child enjoys swimming ways…
Hence, blest raindrops are welcomed grace.

Pleading for needful water-quest
restless due to climate’s warm zest
faith trusts God for clouds from sun rays… 
Hence, blest raindrops are welcomed grace.

*2 Corinthians 9:8 - "And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work."

May 22, 2024
1st place, "Raindrops" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Jcb Brul; judged on 6/25/2024

3rd place, "Raining in Summer" Poetry Writing Contest 
Sponsored by Ink Empress; judged on 6/5/2024

Space Suit

Trapped in my space suit
Tied down to the launching pad
Terrorized by the rocket
Paralyzed to the surface
The cold surface of my skin
Basks in the judgmental sun

Strapped in my race boot
A dyed gown around my chest
A hard place and a rock, it
Seems I stand in perturbance
Fervidness of my kin
Tasks my legs to jump the gun

My chest strains as my legs race
My heart aches at my minds race
"When I win I'll pen the pin"
But I'd only lose to win a when
Internal torment. Eternal Dormant.
In turn I'll forfeit to eternal internal scornment

The Endless Cycle

Spring, summer, autumn, winter,
Nature’s endless march.
Each a cherished visitor.
With grace and determination, 
one by one each takes its turn on stage.

Seeds, long buried, know their time
to release next generations
of flowers, grasses, trees, all else.
Each a phoenix in repose.
Deeply programmed to unfold. 

Blossoming young sprouts—
break free from earth's clutches,
under ever-changing skies.
Suddenly, a grand symphony erupts.
Rapturous melodies released.

The meadow basks in warm sunlight,
where perky wildflowers seduce the bees.
Luring them deep into their folds.
With life’s nectar on their feet,
they fly off, sharing their fertile riches.

Summer’s end, a clarion's call to autumn.
No need for mourning—
the leaves set themselves free.
Unabashedly beautiful,
they tumble ceremoniously to the ground.

Frost arrives, a masterful artist, 
draping a shimmering veil over land and wood,
under the cool whisper of winter’s breath.
Nights grow longer, 
while days slumber in long-awaited rest.

Behind the closed curtain,
silent dormancy arrives, 
as life withdraws into hidden chambers--
Till once again, 
they hear thaw's gentle call to awaken.

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