Best Companions Poems
Tiny boardwalk along the Halifax River
Waiting to see what “catch” nature will deliver
Royal Palms’ fronds rustle in fall’s gentle breeze
No noisy distractions from teens on their jet skis
Cute baby seagull swims above my fishing line
Unlike a pet, this bird doesn’t bark, bite or whine
He knows me well and I can tell he wants to eat
So I toss bait and he bobs his head for the treat
Yet he lingers, craving a flounder or redfish
You see, my companion and I have the same wish
Quick tug at my line; what prize might lie below?
A hefty blue crab emerges as my cargo
With claws and feathers interacting, I’m amused
But break up the fight so no animal’s abused
Such friends make life better for one who lives alone
In a pandemic when isolation’s seeds are thrown
Fishermen appreciate little rays of hope
That grant a smile and make it easier to cope
August 15, 2020
For Silent One’s “Sanctuary” poetry contest
True Companions
There’s a finite place
in a life’s ill-defined time,
an Alice-like membrane,
if you will, when
at the instant
of passing through,
presence and absence
co-exist, life and death
are true companions.
I know a thing or two
about this side,
the presence from which
I write of
love and pain,
uncertainty,
insanity,
birthday cake with ice cream,
childhood memories,
bullies,
the touch of my lover.
My-knowing isn’t
all-knowing, of course.
Lives cross and diverge,
only to meet again at
that instant of passing-through,
bringing into question,
what’s on the other side?
Go ask Alice.
I think she’ll know.
Getting up early to embark on a trip,
a snowy drive to Jersey.
Trying to quell my heart's rapid beats,
favored songs in my speakers.
"Hey man, I don't want to be alone,
not for this - not again."
"I've got you, bud -
when and where?"
Visiting his grave one more time,
now two years from the day.
Thinking of stories of him,
trying to remember his voice.
Two vets talking near a silent one;
chatting about old times and new.
I think he'd like to chime in,
and wish he could so bend our ears.
I didn't have to go there solo this round,
though it wouldn't be the first or last time.
My request for help via companionship,
so swiftly asked and answered.
Some brothers don't have the same blood
that runs through your veins;
through deed they cement the same bond,
through trials they bear the same scars.
Whenever you can, find these souls,
these spirits kind and kindred;
for when you fall, you may be stunned
at the number of hands there to lift you.
I love the love
The light
In other side, hate
Is shadow
Over light
**This is a special set of poetry written with my friend Justin Connor--we each wrote separate accounts of special companions. The ending verse we wrote together. These poems are meant to be one piece of work. **
Scarcely a year old, I remember with sad, sinking heart
But then I smile, because I remember all the good times
It was the night of Pentecost, our little kitten was found
My mother, happy to bring in the oddest of pets,
Curled her fingers around a small kitten, beaming
And there was sunlight in all eyes all the night
He had been crying in the bushes for a place to stay
And he had found one…it might have been destiny
There was something in his green eyes that dazzled me
Weakening and strengthening my heart all in one I held him in my arms,
A special cat on a special day
Pentecost is his name, and it is here he will remain
I remember everyone loved him because of his grace
That dreamy eye and soft-hearted face
I remember the first night and many more nights to come
I turned my music box, opened it up and sang him a song
He listened intently and soon was fast asleep
His small colorful multi-marked body breathing deeply
His tiny, white boot legs tucked under his chest
“You’re the best, Pentecost,” I whispered. “You’re the best…”
Even my father, who was never fond of cats,
Was won over by his embraceable charms
Pentecost would spawn an effort to make him smile
Stretching out on the floor making sure everyone was watching
Listening lovingly to my dad’s favorite classical repertoire..
He would ring around our ankles with his paws playfully
Causing us to scream in shock and skip away
He would jump back from the shriek making us laugh up a storm
And look up at all the noise curiously
Pentecost also liked small boxes to squeeze into
I would lift up a cardboard flap to see a whiskered jewel
And he would look up at us and wonder
Can we make room for two?
He favored no one and was friendly with all
Long and muscular, this cat had boundless energy
One point he’d be at the window
And the next in the laundry, his tail whipping
What I will never forget was how happy he would lay in the grass
I would watch him and pet him, the sun hitting his fur
Gray black stripes and swirls of art lighting all at once
His soft, sensitive ears rubbing against my arm
The affection was mutual as Destiny knew
Life’s companions
With what Ghosts will I saunter down that last mile ?
How many ?, will keep me company, make me smile.
Fill these empty footsteps, yet, all the while,
make that journey one, forever to remember
long after it was terminated that fateful September.
A time when it became clear, this was the end
and we would never walk again, but I, as a friend
for these long five years where I try hard to fend.
B. J. “A” 2
December 24th 2015
Cold
is the
iron bench
I sit upon,
watching for you on
this cool Autumn morning
but all I see is a lone
slug moving slowly from lichen
to lichen on the far arm rest, a
thick trail of slime marks its supine passage.
I remember our long talks as evening
approached, sitting on this old worn bench,
the sky blushing at us as it
shared its multi-hued secrets,
flowers fragrant and sweet.
The birds singing songs
of love to us
but it all
had to
end.
It
was on
your birthday
when I told you
I love you and gave
you the gift, a thin gold
chain. You just stared at me, the
chain dangled between your fingers.
Letting it slowly fall to the ground
you smiled sadly then turned and walked away.
That was the last time I sat on this bench,
the last time I saw your gentle smile.
Now, it is a lonely refuge
for me and my torpid friend,
a lost, eremitic
soul, searching for what?
Only he knows.
How I wish
to be
him.
I
watch as
he slowly
traverses the
handle when through the
dim morning haze I glimpse
a gleam of light from under
the bench. It is the chain buried
in the sand, only the clasp showing.
I leave it for some young lovers to find.
08/17/16
Days passed and still we did not take him
I was angry at everyone and stayed near his side
But one day he had disappeared
My heart skipped a beat as I searched the whole house
Calling his name despondently
Finally I heard a faint meow…
I found him under the couch….
He was alive!!!
Pentecost, the great and faithful…
Laying down on his side…still breathing…
And with effort lifting his head to gaze at me..
Wondering if there was room for two..on the floor
His eyes opened and closed slowly
Staring back, I swallowed, never looking away
I crawled half way under the couch and prayed “Please… please… don’t leave us…”
I sobbed looking into his eyes
He was so sad seeing me cry, yet calm
And it seemed like he was meaning to say… “It’s okay, Laura… it’s okay…”
I got up quickly as if the world was ending and got the music box,
Came back down and played it for him I hummed feebly, hot tears coming down
His head lowered resting tiredly on the carpet
His paw reaching for me
He fell asleep soundly as he laid his paw in my hand
Soft, tranquil and cold
Gently I closed my hand around him
When I rushed home from school the next day
That is when my mom stopped me to say he was gone
He had taken refuge under the house
Alone, he had found peace,
In one of his favorite spots in the summer…
Pentecost was gone…
And the entire family grieved his absence
Even my dad when he heard said softly, “Poor little guy”…
When I turn on my music box I remember the happy year with Pentecost,
I will never forget the smiles and laughs
Damasked in his charms, his light remains
So young he died, but forever he will stay
As the music faithfully chimes “It’s okay Laura…it’s okay…”
~Dedicated to Pentecost, a faithful and furtive feline with a heart of gold~
A couple weeks before her fourteenth birthday,
We knew something was wrong
Peanut, who loved to eat above all else, suddenly turned down food
To make it worse she was having trouble breathing
I had urged my dad that we had to take her to the pet hospital, and he agreed
At the hospital, when they told us what was wrong,
I could see the look in my dad’s face
Even I knew, it was her time
We all got to say our final goodbyes,
Held her paw, and stayed with her as she drifted to sleep
Her passing had hit us so hard, like a huge weight had fallen onto us
I kept asking myself, over and over again,
“why did she have to go?”
We all thought she was gone forever,
And tears of sadness had stuck with us for a while
Then a strong realization came over us,
Peanut was not gone,
She would always be with us
Tears of sadness soon became tears of happiness
When we learned about the Rainbow Bridge
Hearing that touching story,
We all knew Peanut would forever be in our minds and our hearts
If Peanut is waiting on the other side of that Rainbow Bridge,
Then I look forward to the day when we cross that bridge and can be with her
again
Dedicated to Peanut
In our memories,
The pets that have passed will always remain
We realize upon having them
That they turn out to be something more-
A loving companion, a protector,
And most of all, a friend
Someone who will always be there for you
And understands,
One who gives you a shoulder to cry on,
A creature subtly unassuming,
Who will simply listen..
There is a connection with our pets
That is impossible to break
And when there comes a time to say goodbye,
That connection will help us continue on
We never want them to leave,
But all of us know that nothing lasts forever
But the effect they leave on you
And the love you have for them does
The Tv is my constant companion and so
is my CD Player.
I view pre-recorded programs.
Find new programming to watch.
Change between certain channels.
Get caught up in Love-Hate
sequences. Comedy - Laughter too.
Rarely watch Sci-fi. Watch the days
events - news. Compare actual events
with TV programs. What is reality and
what is fiction? Is there a line between
them?
Then, I listen to my CD-player. Music
I love to hear. Does it sound the same
as my TV? Can TV make the same
sound between what I see and what
I hear? And, what I imagine I hear and see?
Both are entertaining.
Which one do I love more?
Which one is the better choice?
Which one calms me most?
Which has more to offer?
Can I choose between them?
It's like choosing between two
best friends. Both have good
and bad qualities, yet I
can't distinguish between them
for I love them both.
Why separate them?
Enjoy each for their own sake.
Enjoy each for my sake.
For they are my companions you see.
As the night is consumed by crimson mist, I stand surrounded by all manner of nefarious foes, both human and demon, living and dead as I stand my eyes burn with draconic flame I feel the lust ,the lust for blood and vengeance revenge for their words and actions, chains and abuse their acid venom The blades they used that flayed my flesh from my body leaving me with bones and sinew leaving me raw not an inch of skin left to protect me
As I start toward my foes, consumed by blood lust and the flames of vengeance when wolves of silver rush in front of me and from the shadow of the wood a man and woman appear both handsome and lovely clad in white; from the black skies a wall of gold and black shimmering with light appear holding back my foes
In the air clad in gold and black scales emanating power a dragon comes and from the earth rises a sylph ,a cold wind blows as summer leafs and the scent of honey mix with the frigid air around us and two Fae one of the winter and one of the summer court come walking out of the wind
then dragon fire flames the barrier between me and my foes , the Fae speak in an unknown tongue immediately wind gathers gathering my foes in a tornado of such power that non could avoid the earth arose around the fury of the storm as the pair in white strode into the storm soon I heard not pain but moans of joy emanate inside wolves rushed in soon there came limbs flying from the maelstrom of power the dragon rose into the air above the magic’s of those around me soon the smell of burning flesh flooded my nose soon the carnage was over
this is also a personification
Ice Cream Companions An Acrostic by James E Lee Sr.
Indefatigable brownies ingest eaten with chocolate cake.
Chewy candies treat nuts and cherries.
English toffees mixed in milk and cream boysenberries?
Crude digests absorb ate to fast brain freeze.
Red strawberries absorb flavor.
Edible earths erode moo cow liquids.
Adjacent frozen earths review.
Mixed topping drizzle chocolate, strawberry pineapples.
1/4/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
When I was little, I didn’t know what it was like to have a pet
Until the day my parents decided to bring Peanut home
I remember it well, out of all the dogs we saw,
Peanut was the one who stood out
A newborn puppy, so cute and innocent,
We knew she was the one
She had those sad puppy eyes,
And we saw that she had already had an effect on us
At first, she didn’t know what to think of us
We were strangers to her
Her first night, she was shy, a little bit scared,
But then she realized we were her family
In her younger years, she had such a playful spirit,
One that would make you smile
When one of us would come home from school or work,
Her energy of excitement exploded with happiness
What really made her happy was eating
She would want to do that all day
There would be times when after a long day
She would sit in a patch of sun that came in through a window
She loved the warm feeling of the sun when she rested
It always felt good to my parents and I,
When she would curl up and sleep right beside us,
Never leaving our side
Peanut was always very protective of us and her home,
Anybody she didn’t know, she would bark at until they went away,
Or until she got tired of barking
However, if the person she didn’t know had food with them,
They were her friend all of a sudden
Peanut was someone who had completed us as a family;
She made us happy—our first family pet
She was someone you could talk to, and she would listen
Many years with her, and we created so many good memories;
Ones that would make us laugh or make us smile
As the years went by, she started showing signs to us that she was getting older
Age ten, she started slowing down, her face became grey
Despite old age, there were some things that didn't change,
Like her wanting to eat or wanting to be with us
I held the leash like it was sacred,
I warned that she spooked easy.
He knelt down slowly, extended his hand
like a priest offering sacrament
to a god built from nerves and ribs.
He said good girl too fast.
She bit down to the bone,
drained the smugness from his face—
he earned it, the wound. The scar
would preach a gospel he'd finally believe in.
Now, when he reaches for warmth,
it's with permission. His hand flinches
even when it's safe. The nerves
didn’t come back right, fireworks
in reverse: a cold bloom,
then nothing good.
Still—
there’s a kind of comfort
in knowing how easily a creature
can taste the air and understand
they're not safe,
sense they're being lied to.
And now, I should say,
Beware—
I'm a lot like that.
To every happy memory, there are sad ones that hit just as hard
And the sadness began when I looked at his side
To see a large lump there
I wasn't as worried as I should have been…
Everyone thought Pentecost would be okay
For our other cat survived a thing like this on her own
She had bitten the lump off herself
Puss oozing out…and she had healed with no problem
This lump was different…
I cringe because it was wrong for us to wait
He began to grow thinner… his eyes began to look sad
He no longer ran from the window to the laundry
He no longer jumped into my dad’s lap for a pet
He didn’t even eat, and that was one thing I thought he would never give up…
Dreamy, but sad, I looked at him opening a can of his favorite meal
I wished there was something more to be done for him
I begged my parents to take him to the vet
Because I sensed it would soon be too late
My mother kept saying he would be fine in due time
But in a matter of two weeks my mom surely knew
And she was the one to say it…
She said softly, “I think he’s going to die”
I held him on the less tender side of his body near my bed
Tears building in my eyes
I didn’t want Pentecost to suffer…
I wanted him to live life and be his happy self…