You'd tilt cartons under your nose;
milk missed your mouth and cooled my toes.
Droplets have hardened when they've seeped
under the bed, the run now steeped
in stickiness since you've been gone.
If shadows sleep, mine has withdrawn
under the bed asleep like dust
when squeaks wake up the bedframe's rust.
Your absence forces me to yank
the mattress off to scour the rank
sourness and rough smattering
of crumbs, the stuck broom battering
lampshades reddening my eyes , beets
as if I am a ghost in sheets
circling a glass bowl's facedown rim
embedded in the dust grown dim.
When you smile you light the world.
I'm so proud you are my girl!!!
You make gentle winds blow, birds sing,
when they hear a mere mention of your name.
Do you know the joy you bring???
The world and it's turbulent ways,
come rushing, pushing
battering, and crushing,
but the sound your voice,
soothes and hushes.
The world and its unwavering,
unsavoring remarks,
seem overwhelming,
declaring to me,
'is that the best that you've got'?
But then you say,
just a few words,
'Dad, I love you'
and the world don't stand a chance,
I'm back in this fight, ready to stand!!!
All the while,
and all the time,
I keep you, first,
upon my mind.
All the time,
and all the while,
thinking of you,
and whenever you smile.
oh clouds that drift and hover above
a journey a trajectory and path unknown
ocean waves battering thundering to shores
oh woods where tangled vines creep birds sing
birds of many species singing with joy each day
flowers wild and unruly twining and creeping
winds with their constant solemn music
rain that the forests and woods drink
blue water in ponds streams rivers and lakes
oh creatures that sleep in hollows safe from harm
sun in the azure sky shining on earth
moon up there trustworthy for night dreams
I’m sick of the noise
I’m sick of the noise
Despair has me ill
I’m sick of the noise
Life has me confused
I’m on edge, I’m in lose
I ill and detained
I’m ill and I’m drained
I’m sick of myself
I’ve recently given up
Music is medicine for the soul
The birds of the air
Angels from heaven
Share
Come play wit me
In harmony
The songs of the wind
Each and every heart beats
The flow is sweet
We can’t retreat
Language and feelings of negativity
The storms of the life challenges complexity
Come pray wit me
In harmony
The sonnet of the tornadic scene
Battering eyes hurting vessels
Un learnt lessons
The birds of the air
Angels from heaven
Share
Come play wit me
In harmony
The songs of the wind
Each and every heart beats
The flow is sweet
Come unto me
And receive the beauty of ….
Music is medicine for the soul
Now I’m sweet fully complete
Delivered and whole
Music is medicine for my soul
3/17/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©
Listen to the raging summer rain
Mercilessly battering the ground -
Drops bouncing like crickets all around.
What heights its descent has drained
Into the pools when it came unbound!
My head is made silent by the sound
And a sense of cleanliness will remain
After everything's been washed down
And the neighborhood streets have drowned.
Harder still it strikes the window pane -
'Tho a peculiar sun broke through a cloud.
So long as the raindrops continue to pound -
Listen to the raging summer rain!
Staggering
That man got a battering,
He brought on war, then started crying.
The weight of it all, still staggering,
Hollow truths, the world defying.
I hate when lies start multiplying,
You see it clear when stutters grow.
Mumbling words, and lips low, fumbling,
A face that cracks beneath the show.
Staggering breaths, their chest expanding,
No escape from all that ranting.
Don’t try to hide, your breath betraying,
One right blow, the pain is planting.
We stand a few feet from the battering, foaming waves,
they can foretell if hail or rain is coming to scatter us...
as we run for cover to the beach house color rust;
should we wait for those swollen clouds to bust?
To get frightened is to imagine an immediate evacuation,
or even an illusional mirage from deadly hydration;
peacefulness is the narration of unrealistic writers,
not of the cautious fishermen securing their rocking boats!
Any other day along this crowded and vibrant bay all comes alive
with this sweet song, " Be mindful of today, tomorrow is unknown. "
How true it sounds to our ears when notes and voices thrive;
we look beyond this small island: so endless seems the clear horizon!
Storms may come and go, but the scenery remains intact;
people who were born here and built their homes, stay here:
unless they are forced by dire reasons, they'll unwillingly leave:
someone says," My grandad built this house with excessive sweat! "
What does it mean to matter?
How do you get to matter more,
when your mattering takes
a battering at its core.
Do we want to matter in the moment,
or is it what we leave behind
that really matters?
Does mattering lie in the hands we hold,
In the whispers to the heart and soul
In things we touch,
In the things we leave behind,
In the legacy built up
before we must depart?
How much do you matter?
Is your mattering enough
for self and others?
Or is it just a smattering,
of what you could achieve.
if mattering really mattered.
My mind is going through changes
Like a broken thermometer's temperature ranges
I had to break out of my mind's cage
To sit here and write a new page
But see the days pass in a haze
Because life is really just a maze
It's amazing and soul shattering
When anxiety keeps battering
I just want to shut off my mind
So I can say I'm doing fine, you'll find
But now I have third man syndrome
As I'm slowly guided back home
The walls are slimy and broken
With memories awoken
There's a leak in the roof overhead
Splashing on to a forgotten bed
In this place that I left behind
Yet it's all I have to remind
Myself how hard it really was
To evade the fluorescent buzz
To stand in this dilapidated place
As reality looms before my face
There truly is to be no going back
So I have a mild panic attack
This is such a familiar script
But my will to go on has shipped
So I shift through the trauma
And decades of drama
So my mind can go through changes
Like a broken thermometer's temperature ranges
I was with you, in the beginning
Being present for delivery of WORD
Your growth was astounding
And commitment unto death, pure
But then, government entered the gate
And offered concessions for compliance
I watched your back bend
I entered in, you slithered, away
I surrounded you, as Deception grew
A dragon, drenched in sacrificial blood
Destructive fire rolled out of your mouth
Consuming innocence with zeal
Authenticity gone, devoted to kill
Compassion at every gathering
Conform or be deformed by the battering ram
Your war cry...and a blasting horn
Of pie in the sky
May you be held accountable for claiming WORD
While disdaining TRUTH
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-22-2024
I smile at myself
for being so sentimental,
but how lonely it looks -
the last leaf
on the cherry tree.
Its countless companions
who shared and hung together
through months of heat,
furious winds and battering hail,
have all let go.
And you, the solitary survivor
now, hangs as a sad reminder
of all that was, the vigor
that once swelled a sweetness
through an abundant crop.
Shall I take pity and pluck you
from the branch, or just let be,
until one cold morning
I'll find you gone and a bare,
leafless cherry tree.
Take a battering ram to the other side
The recoil will do me harm
A knife and spoon will suffice
Break the gates violently with arms
It will seal itself again and entice
It will swallow my body with charms
It will spit me out again with vices
Put down that aching piece of log
Give these hands other than a mace
They are meant for more than war
Give it a last heave-ho just to tease
Grab any pen knife, make a scar
Whittle that mad log to a canoe
Each shaving an ordinary day
Look not upon the door with lust
Hop in the dugout after years of fray
The current takes me to the other side
Break through the door every May
But I hold onto that old log that died
The door on the river never sways
My citadel’s veil unbreached cries
It’s hard to face the day without a ram
Shave off my horns to be a lamb
My shepherd beckons on His raft
Lift me up from muddy waters damp
Onto my battering ram lashed
Break on through the other side
Day to day may I be washed
Hour to hour may hopes be dashed
The gate is straight ahead
Let go of the ram for good
Kindly cut the door with scissors
Only sheared lambs enter
Scientists describe it as an event
In the hot paradise of Key West
Condos festivals hotels
Dancing feet under bells of lights
I’ve sung Margaritaville there
Myself
Beneath the docks
Pan fish spin in the new green pea sea
Mad somersaults
Alone
To their own kind of tambourine
Bring out your Dead
Bring out your Dead
14-foot Swordfish swish their tails
Beach themselves by the dawn of rails
Swim in the sandpaper sun’s preferable agony
A woman stands by cries and mutters
“I’m so sorry”
Reaches for his folded-over fin
Comfort to the roadside beggar
Sting Ray does the butterfly
Chops atop the ocean’s surface
Charges something unseen beating its wings
Battering the space where waves dot the sky
As if it were an archangel screaming
Stop it! Stop It!
To the Great False Prophet Anthropomorphism
Animals and plants are as human
As we
Without fingers and hands to see
All creatures speak from a conscience
Possess morals
If we’d listen from beyond our own shortcomings
And denial
The Key West fish are calling us
In plain language
Help us help us
We’re boiling to death.
Sanctified, sealed, once written in blood
Shipped on the seas and fought in the mud
Swords and arrows and battering rams
Sparing the rich to sacrifice lambs
Multitudes sent to battle by hand
Manpower spent to confiscate land
Another war by the King's decree
Fought by the poor and always will be
Sadly though, many lives they barter
Proudly though, many souls they martyr
Death from wars are always repeated
Kings, in time, are always defeated
I often wonder
are you even slightly aware
of what you're doing to me?
How you're reaching inside me,
touching me, and where?
Your words inflame me and then
Sometimes they're not enough
I want more, need you in me
like a battering ram inside
sometimes these feelings
are impossible to hide.
I often wonder
how your lips would feel
pressed against mine
would our tongues intertwine?
or could I even breathe
with you so very near
or would I just cease to exist
and die from this tryst?
Can't you see how my soul
gets lost in your eyes,
your smile, the very thought
of you holding me down
or pulling me near and
how the fantasy moves me
to tears.
I often wonder
If you enjoy those times
when you are making me feel
this way, If I begged for more
A plea whispered in the dark,
what would you even say?
I write this poetry from my soul.
Deliver it at a crawl to you
does it thrill you all I have
to say or tell me am I slowly
pushing you away??
©SamHarty
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