Best Dry Eyed Poems
What happens to this poetry embroidered within the walls of my heart,
When the joy of my words are shattered underneath your feet,
Can the torture of your empty moon paint a slithering promise,
Far across into my deep colorless dreamscape of dahlias,
Your dry eyed apologies took me to a mortal with no reflection,
As you hide behind your short lived excuses and homed cruel intentions,
Like a fool I was to believe that a rose could bloom in the peeks of winter,
While broken instruments illustrated a weak illusion,
Shame, These knees you held with such tender affection,
Poured our tales into my abstract dreams,
How you wandered into my eyes casting a waning crescent,
Hoping the fragrant of a swine won’t clear my sight,
I’ve stood by the hills, where it steeps down your hell,
Perhaps the burdens you trust and love are the saint in your spells,
Claiming clarity for a chaos that have you deeply compelled.
The smoke is a question mark...
My view of you is covered in gray
You pause, look back, then walk away
You’ve neglected to open your umbrella…
Tomorrow, under a different sky
I will listen to the songs of yesterday
The world leaves behind a sign language for broken hearts
It is cloudy, it is beginning to rain…
Goodbyes are bitter ales we drank today
I look again, through the smudges of the day
We are going to leave behind a trail of smoke
A sound like a tired mother calling in her child
The train whistle rings in the dusk
I take a last look through the window
I have said my goodbyes
The train begins to move
We are leaving the station platform
Tears weep down the window
Spilling over the imprints of my hand
I found myself dry eyed and my throat too tight to speak
Finding a place to put the carry-ons
People are chatting, settling in
Happy, excited, anxious to be departing
A thin straight lift and a gray, silvery curve
Like a sickle for harvesting the first star…
The smoke is a question mark
___________________________________________
"Write A Backwards Poem"
she stood there in a daze
by strangers surrounded
they had given her the folded flag
as the last post sounded
keepsake of a warrior
it had graced his casket top
she held it scarce knowing
as the bugle notes stopped
in reality she stood alone
for now every tear cried
for the moment in a daze
ashen faced and dry eyed
the ceremony over
they moved out of her life
they had given precious time
to a bereaved and grieving wife
with the ceremony played out
she was really due no more
so they left her there in silence
to carry on the planning of their war
He put the shovel in the earth
With dry eyed dread he shakes his head
He's not a man to show emotion
He'll do the job, dig up ground
go through the motions, build up the mound
before the evening sun goes down.
His wife and son are standing by
While clouds swell up and tears are cried
that stem from grief they cannot hide
....
They stand aside, and he begins
Beside him in the crate, homemade,
so carefully the dog was laid.
Old "Oliver", was his best friend
but this is where that story ends.
Love came to them, from who knows where
and with it came a million woes
of muddy paws and ticks and fleas
of broken screens, and mother's screams
of slippers torn, and growing pains
And a love like no one understands
until they've known this kind, unplanned.
Concealed are tears he will not shed
He's not a man to show his pain
He motions them to come, and bring
a worn-out shoe, a toy or two
to lay within the disturbed ground
And then beneath the chestnut tree
He puts the crate into the grave
Then shovels in the dirt again…
They walk away, and the sun goes down,
without a word, without a sound
Sometimes such silence has a thousand words to say
_____________________________________________________
8/9/16
For Contest: "Camouflage Me A Poem"
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Angry shouts echo off of plaster walls,
Painting them sickening shades of despair.
She tries to block the noise out;
But nobody seems to care.
The words aren’t meant for her ears,
She is not the one who the barbs are meant to sting,
But with their searing heat and deadly edge,
Her wounded-animal soul begins to sing.
A song of loss,
A song of mourning.
A song of pain,
A song of scorning.
She can’t fight the pain.
It’s much too real.
She just needs something;
Something to heal.
To heal the pain
And heal the hurt
And to bury a hatchet in the fresh-tilled dirt.
A knife in her hands;
A heart in her throat.
A lighthouse blinking out;
She can’t stay afloat.
The pain feels good;
The wounds are what heal her.
The knife’s deadly call;
Its revelry reels her.
She finally feels something;
Something more than pain.
She’s finally gotten something;
Something she thought she would never gain.
She’s got healing,
And she’s got closure.
But her sins are dangerous;
She can’t risk exposure.
So she slips into silence,
Never uttering a word.
She’s too far gone;
The lines are blurred.
Her mind is a frosted glass,
Her mind is her playground.
Her wrist is a canvas;
Her soul has drowned.
A paintbrush is in her hands,
Gleaming in the secret moonlight.
She’s given up;
It feels so good to lose the fight.
Her skin is the stone;
Her knife is the chisel.
She feels so strong…
She feels so brittle.
Their voices are in her head;
She carries their hearts in her hand.
She is dry-eyed now;
It is only OR - no and.
The blade touches her skin;
Their screams reach her ears.
If actions speak louder than words,
How come nobody hears?
I shall never forget the day he died
And how I felt deep down
In the pit of my stomach
A complex man does not excuse
Or explain how he treated me.
Abusive fathers remain for a lifetime
Never going away
Leaving scars in the mind
That seldom entirely hide themselves
But emerge from time to time
To hurt again.
I shall never forget the day we buried him
My siblings shed copious tears
And mourners, who did not understand,
Wondered why I was dry-eyed
But, I cried a million tears inside.
A cold, dead sun hangs in an unearthly black sky,
Casting putrid light onto barren monotone,
He finds himself afloat as frozen minutes pass by,
No, not floating. Standing, in an of existence of his own,
Observing an alien landscape, of which he is not a part,
Detached from tearful events below,
Watching people gather, whilst waiting to depart,
The star of his own morbid show.
His gaze scans the mass of gathered faces,
Recollecting where each visage was first met,
Memories of times, people and places,
Some he loves to remember, some he longs to forget,
He identifies each person and their place within the scene,
Friends he held so dear and those he hardly knew,
Neglected family gathered together on the green,
With mother, still loving, despite all he put her through.
And then amongst the crowd he spies her,
The girl he would have married, if he’d ever dared,
To dream a life joined with another, a life laid bare,
But there never was a thing he wilfully shared,
Not possessions nor life nor heart nor truth,
Such things were his alone to be tasted,
And this to him becomes the final proof,
That his indeed was a life wasted.
The quiet audience take a solemn stance,
As the clergyman motions they are to begin,
Pall bearers bring the box to the centre of this merry dance,
No more than a shell of a man lies within,
A stranger’s words attempt to translate the soul,
As his mother looks on dry eyed and brave,
And the lonely box is lowered into the waiting hole,
An empty man in an empty grave.
Walking across the long bridge of sorrows,
the only thought that kept me moving along
was the hope of reaching dry land
on the other side of my suffering
Buried in the sands of the past
were my anorexic bones of pride
No one was there to mourn me,
but the undertaker
and a dozen pair of raven eyes
My winged companions travel with me
on this long journey to the other side,
where it’s rumored
my lost happiness got rescued alive
But the agony of finding it
are the flood of tears I now cry
It seemed like the earth swallowed me
when our love died
The days went by, and I was so all alone
No one came looking me,
so I had to dig out of that deep pit of grief
on my own
And I cried the tears for so long,
walking across this solitary water bridge
I salted away all my pain,
never wanted to taste them ever again
Now I see the dry-eyed, other side coming into view
With my last broken-hearted sigh on this bridge of tears,
I think about how much I will miss you
so much on the inside ...
but I will not shed one tear
for the death of my hateful pride
My tears were all for Fred.
My brother has already died;
My mother and my dad and then
The Tom to whom I had been wed.
Through it all, I'd been dry-eyed.
(They stalk me at night in bed.)
The phone call came that Fred had died
And a bomb went off in my inside!
I howled, I pounded things and cried!
I still don't fully comprehend;
I heard he was a real good guy,
But I hardly knew old Fred!
In the midst of the rains in this the season of Discord
Trials test and pains I am covered by Umbrella of love
In the distance with the dissent restraint
Collaborating with the air the wind that I breathe is tainted
I am covered by Umbrella of Love
And I won't get wet I am heavily blessed
Covered I am His Chosen One His daughter His son
As I shall live on dry eyed no tears to cry
I'm on my way to the by and by
Wings on my neck I'll fly I am covered
I am covered by an Umbrella of Love
From the Elements of the Enemy Satan
You can't Rain On Me there's no reign over me
Nor will you guide me in your rein
Your lying words you speak I choose not to listen
I only now move in the Light of the Father, with wings of Eagles and doves
I am covered
I am covered
I am covered by the umbrella of love
God's Got Me dry, no longer shall I cry
I'll walk over these mountains
I stride
Rains storms cometh on thus terrain world I am dry
With Jesus in me. on me, around me I'm glorified
As the Angels above sigh cuz.......
I am covered
I am covered
I am covered
By the umbrella of God's love love
Rain on me no more
I am covered by the umbrella of love
2/28/23
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
I came dry eyed and weak across the Sahara
From a distance I glimpsed your glorious shade
Most welcome oasis, much welcome hope
A tree I saw, a shade with none
So I came and embraced your incense
And together we were alone
Basking in the hunger of new found love
Then they came, a trickle at first, then the horde
And you welcomed them, you said we could share
The fruit was enough for all, we should share
And the crowd feasted on our fruit, on your fruit
And I lost the hunger for your fruit
So I walked away
Back to the scorching sun of the Sahara
Back to the solitude of the dust
But before I walked out of sight I turned to look
At what was once ours
And I saw the crowd leaving
Scattered in every direction, moving away from you
And I knew then
That when everyone wants a piece of you, no one wants the whole of you
We walked on leaving you alone
To embrace the solitude of the lost.
Nobody has the slightest clue
but there are no leads, either...
We have made sure of that.
The paradigm of who we are
has been
put forth and created
by the ones we love
as much as we created
it in our own minds
it was made
blow by blow
blade by bruise
and with hot and cold breath
as we have fluttered along
to amuse and
confuse those who endure
among us
as we endure ourselves.
Not to quench, but engulf.
Let's add...
"Take it as you will!"
We have proclaimed.
"We don't need your pretty
recriminations!"
But at the end of each day,
you linger and
I have the image of snowdrops
of your teeth on your lips
And the thickness of your lips and
your eye lashes
when you roll your eyes
or when they beat to the rhythm
of your blossoming
dry eyed and thick lipped
dreams and cream.
No one can take the
proclivities
of my heavy heart. It is
a stupid start
from the heaving and aching
(it's unseemly)
from the breath that
goes down a notch
and escapes
the leaps and bounds of
the lips that have done all, cursed you
and kissed all the
bits of you.
I wish for sustance in the gloomy places
and lightness in the treaden on ones.
Perhaps it is not a false paradigm
afterall, when we say it's not so.
And everyone needs to shut
the flip up.
Can not help the confidence
that enrobes
us. Just pretend
and put your hands up
if you aquiesce to my vision
i will put us into real time
Let's go together....
I can't slow it down....
I try to enhance
and it's a small glance
into the darkness,
and you aren't there
I can never fear
That which is not here.
We will avenge
together
if we have
the
time
...
I will make time
for us only
if you would only
spare me a moment
And we won't leave a trace.
The dry eyed man walked
with his chin held high.
He'd done his best, and
said his worst.
There he walked away,
away from the hearse.
Who it contained,
I do not know...
But whoever it was,
they sure got a show.
Clusters of refugee bubbles
Expelled from the side of my tank
Rise expanding in upward travels
Escaped depths, burst at surface
Forging against their vigour
Persuasive stream broken
by my bulky silver body
Interrupting incoming ongoing
Enthusiastic thousands
Spurts of filter flung hum
Tickle my sheer cycling fins
Tell me to nose dive again
Breaking trails of oxygen globes
Until Billy Bully Salmon slices in
Languid flicks follow frantic fro
Gyrating spotty specimen vie
Lunch pellet plops induce swished thrashing
Tumult on top flung untimed as ocean fury
Gaping lips capable of feeding incidentally
Cylindrical home groans, crowded by peers
Graduates from Tank Eight are due soon
To meet with intention, purpose imposed
Sight of orange net scooping candidates
Occasions mayhem, frenzied to catch bus
I surge with the fastest, fattest prime
For my place in net destiny
Overexposed oxygen exhausts me
Begins cressendo to deliver my bounty
Dry eyed tribute to nurtured practice honed
My splatting undulations
boast industry success
Cod calls me to lemon rained plate haven
Farmed fellows raised by deliberation
Egg nursery, microscopic sluge whirls
Infuse infant entire crew with dedication
To feed, to fulfil, crisp silver skin served
If you think eating me equals ocean depletion
You'll be pleased to imbibe controlled science
Take it from me, fat salmon, Raymond
I am desperate to get in your gut!
My reason for existence is to be ravished
Don't reject majestic fish - re-examine
The pearly peach flesh down throat glide
Indulge charitable fridge wrapped salmon
The whimper of a defenseless child weak and haunting can fill the cup,
of melancholy to age a grail of tears.
The squeal most animal like as heart is pierced
by betrayal a declaration ..almost too real.
The bawl of hunger and indignity the red-faced rage of entitlement,
the dry-eyed warning hail of men from battlements, so many, variations,
so many wet displays, so many maudlin melodies
of man and his betrayal…