Best 200 Poems
I grew up at a very fast pace and I wasn't slowing down for
anybody.
As a child, I was tired of being told by the adults what I could
and couldn't do.
I was the child, yet they were having all the fun. I wanted to
have fun too, so I did what they did.
I was smoking cigarettes and having sex at eleven. Started
drinking and smoking weed at twelve.
I was a single mother at sixteen, married at seventeen and
wanting a divorce at eighteen. I buried my third child at twenty.
By this time in my life, being an adult didn't seem all that fun
anymore.
I am fortytwo now and can't erase none of the above. So if
you're reading this and still at a fairly young age...
Slow down. You're only a child for seventeen years and then
you will have the rest of your life to be an adult and do as you
please.
The history of the two hundred year war
T'was blackness at it core
A Feudal Economic plan
It good conscience it couldn't stand
Thousands died in fields of waste
Quenching its bitter taste
Edits like Dred Scott
Its effect not soon forgot
Raiding maunders of the Klug Klux Klan
Hanging trees and a poll tax plan
Atrocities committed in Rosebud
Civil Rights a justice thud
Dispensation in the name of Obama
No ending there but a coma
Today they march commemorating its story
In false glorification of its history
I
If I could share this picture with you
I would, my dear writers, Beloveds -
Because Earth births us again & again
Long after burial, giving back, post-death
Nature in majesty: birds at play in scores
II
I see egrets commute to & from, my abused lake,
Here where plastic is king, adorning flora
Even fauna, sewers overflow, trash at waters edge
But egrets, & soon the comorants return, & declare:
We overcome, can't complain, we still have fun. Be!
2OO poems
To my 2OO women
Living legacy for my 2OO generations
Hopping falling in divisions
Written 2OO letters
Sharing 2OO words
Tip toeing restoring 2OO reasons
Asking words a shivering my heart
Beating in 2OO beats
Figure’s broken in 2OO bones
Still possessed in exorcism in 2OO curses
Flashes
Camouflage
Splashes
Reflections in 2OO spectrums
Defining illusions in 2OO ways
Footsteps toll and telling 2OO stories
That Athens builder up ruins in 2OO Africans ruins
Ruining in war if 2OO Zulu warriors
Speculating the future in 2OO dreams
Wearing stripped t-shirt,
In 2OO stripes
In front of 2OO people
Residing 2OO poems,
In 2OO rhymes lyrically flowing in 2OO speed
Driven fast cars in 2OO roads,
Near 2OO cars
Causing, collisions!
Conquering in 2OO earths!
Teaching Eve in 2OO Adams to be even
Even them doing Shakespeare in 2OO poems
On land late thoughts in 2OO brains
Throwing gangs
And guns in 2OO bullets
Pulling pools in different shorts
In a 2OO balls, having no balls to his guts
Gates opened its path of opportunist
In 2OO ambitions
Swelling soils
In 2OO stones
Burned in a cool
In 2OO coolies
In procession of 2OO ploughs,
Escapism from 2OO poems
CHAPTER 1 : POETRY AND BLUES is emotionally capturing depth of love in true characteristic of love embodiments, hence its roots. True told love stories in poetic form and love crime, love tragedy, love and love. Shakespearean is love, he defines it; poetry and blues.
white fur of the frost
draws patterns on the window -
blinded by beauty
03.02.2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
y'all can have your 100
I'm seeking a higher plain in life
I'm striving for
200
a faithful servants reward, FOR MY LIFE
8/26/22
Written by James Edward Lee Sr 2022©
Ask for refuge to Allah
Whenever Satan’s temptation allures you
Surely Allah can hear and He knows too.
I
Relationships LORD
My trips
Asking You
Blessings, Cure
For All
II
"African" Omicron
Or European
Travel Restrictions?
Travel Apartheid?
Permissive Will,
Or Sovereign?
III
Still, Abba
Bowing Now
Loving Thee
Love All
and m e
** OMICRON is Letter 15 in the Greek Alphabet; It is also a star
*T* The 2 cases of Omicron Coronavirus in USA includes a person who returned from South Africa; and a Minnesota man who went to NYC for an anime convention. South Africa or its region did not "create" this mutation; African scientists did a great job in identifying it and sharing info with WHO.
Blood beyond this room -
Flows to scream -
Where i wake -
Breaks a river to tear into a stream -
Wrists, bound to the blade -
I am veined to the twist -
Wild by nature -
Matured to be unknown - Sentenced by the present -
To live -
I have to die -
Just to feel alive -
Death has my back, free to the knife -
Blunt is the meaning -
Why why has no reason -
Even in 200 odd seasons
ocean nordic breadth
briny waves foam quilt sea cliffs~
seagull’s hungry squawk
12/6/2023
I used to never cry when characters died
In books. Their deaths were words on pages
That my eyes roamed over. In search
Of conflict. The screams of childless
Mothers seeped through the paper,
Always falling on deaf ears.
Pain used to be a mild acquaintance.
One kept at a distance. It was the feeling
Of skinned knees. Of sidewalks not quite big
Enough for three people. My nights spent
Grounded, eating alone, were a hollow
Loneliness. Tears were sweet then.
Now I devour the trigger warnings on
My favorite shows, the words of decay catching
My eye like gleaming diamonds. I hungrily
Watch for the hopelessness buried within
The stomachs of dead children. What I once
Thought was Pain is merely minor casualty.
Now I sob. When I see mourning. Fictional grief
Is mine; every thought focused on draining
What is written and making it about myself.
About what Pain used to be. My mother
Worried when I began pretending that
I was the only one to ever hurt. To ever mourn.
Now she’s the one pretending I’m not here.
That is a Loneliness heavy with grief and sour tears.
Pain is no longer distant. It is the feeling of cold
Skin. It is the sound of the last phone call at 4:23 p.m.
It is a desk with no kid in it. It is the messy room that
Childless mothers now have to clean. It is the sound
Of my own screams that have only stopped because
I have run out of breath, and I refuse to open my lungs.
The Pain is no longer my acquaintance.
It is my only friend.
I
Times when one had right to stop one's Beloved
From leaving on a trip, urgent but uncovered
For these times. Omicron has made Africa notorious
But Level 1 Lockdown prevents me being imperious
So, freedom still reigns in my home, we say goodbye
Mind flies ahead to the return (Quarantine or Reunite)?
II
Traveling mercies, LORD, for my Beloved; all who travel
Within nations and across them (though UN heard the quarrel)
Keep them wise, safe, Covid-free, but otherwise kind
Challenges to health and love we've had; when we began to unwind
Urgent pleas and chauffeuring arise. Church on Sunday remains
The focus of my being and those evangelized. Living to break chains
Paws on pilgrimage, a faithful friend
Walked beside his master, 'til journey's end
But Pandharpur's crowds, a moment's distraction
Loyal companionship faced subtraction
Ten days of travel, now lost in a blink
Human hearts are heavy, beginning to sink
Searched high and low, called out his name
But the holy town's chaos swallowed the same
Reluctant goodbyes, heavy steps homeward bound
Prayers whispered for the friend yet unfound
But what science sees as the nose and brain
Love is known as a bond that can't be slain
Two hundred miles, a canine odyssey
Guided by more than eyes can see
Scent molecules dancing on the breeze
Leading him home with invisible keys
Magnetic fields, a compass in his cells
Guiding him true over hills and dells
Memories of sights, sounds, and smells
A map in his mind where devotion dwells
Endurance powered by love's strong fuel
Determination, no mere stubborn mule
Problem-solving with each step, each turn
Finding the path home, his only concern
When he appeared, tails and spirits were high
Garlands and processions reached the sky
Science explains, but can't fully measure
The depth of relief, the reunion's treasure
For in this tale of a dog's return
Lies a truth that makes our hearts yearn
Be it human or canine, love knows no bound
In 200 miles or just around the ground
So next time you look in your pet's eyes
Remember the miracle that therein lies
Not just neurons, instincts, or evolved senses
But a love that defies all consequences
In every wag, every loyal gaze
Lies a devotion that amazes
A bond so deep, so pure, so true
That finds its way home, always to you
I’ve barely started to walk, feet ache
still figuring out how to make a poem.
Some lines come easy while some stuck
but I keep running round the clock.
Each day might pull me a different way
some soft with hope and some hard to say.
But if I show up with a heart in hand
I’ll find my voice and learn to stand.
Each step I take a day
Leads me home, a place I'd like to be
Hurdles may come I know, never will I sway
For I know each step adds to the true me.