Best Hankerings Poems
As Pharoah thought
Deep thoughts on Thoth,
He became serious
And thought of Osiris.
What of Seth?
What do Anubis and Horus sayeth?
Of Amun and Mut,
And panoplied Nut?
It may take me forever
Mused the Pharoah -
To invent the Alphabet
To honour me and the rest.
So he hit upon a plan
From the carved likeness of man
In relief on a cliff.
Hey, hello - was born the Hieroglyph!
So excited was the Pharaoh
That row upon row
Of ideograms were made
For then and beyond- never to fade.
Way back in Antiquity
Was the hieroglyph's nativity,
From civilization's start
Great works of art.
After five millennia or more
At a light and sound show
The Hieroglyphs stand out
In splendor and shout:
Look on and wonder
On our days of thunder;
When great kings ruled the land
Where you wonder and stand.
Great things we'd tell you
If only you knew
To read papyrus and stone
Like your own Champollion!
Be that as it may
Setting aside our dismay
We venture to now and here
And our version of the ancient fear -
Athazagoraphobic
Is a form of being sick
Where you fear you'll be forgotten
As your memory gets rotten.
To overcome this fear
Modern science was here.
Came our Dennis Gabor
With the fruit of his labor.
- Hologram-
Now you can see light effects
Both form and the texts
With science of the day
Having had it's great say.
But think all over again-
Isn't it plain
Holograms in chips
Are but chipped hieroglyphs?
That some day in future
A post-apocalyptic preacher
Would try to decipher
The hologrammatic cipher?
A Rosetta Stone of old
A better story told
Than this obsolescent chip
Of a "modern" Athazagoraphobic.
Let me wind up this ditty
Of trying to be witty
Holograms and Hieroglyphs
Are both alliterative scripts!
~11 April 2016~
Contest Judged : 29 May 2016
Humpty Dumpty had no yolk
As oft implied to younger folk.
This hatched idea in oviform
Should never have become the norm.
And so, before it is too late
I mean to set the record straight.
For Humpty was a tortoise bold
With hankerings to break the mould.
‘Why should it be?’ he’d often sigh
‘That we chelonians cannot fly?’
With lofty thoughts, aerodynamic
He climbed the wall – no sign of panic.
His oak-leaf wings in ten-fold ply
Assured success in his mind’s eye
But birds in flight looked on in dread
Knowing too well what lay ahead!
It's great to hold high aspirations
But best to know one’s limitations!
Now Humpty is content to roam
At leisure in his mobile home.
THE MYSTERY OF HUMPTY DUMPTY CONTEST
05/07/18
The calendar counts the weeks and months of COVID.
Yet, every pensive daybreak I am granted that for which I never asked.
Of course, suffering sickness and death tolls are endlessly morbid.
Still, my morning strolls find dazzling nooks where wonder is unmasked.
Plentiful pansies splash passion rainbows over meadowlands unrequited.
Common Windmill palm trees display fan palms like broad hands.
Neighborhood lawns spawn hankerings for cornucopias delighted.
Each new day contains unique complexions, signature ambient wavebands.
I am an animal of textures, but the relentless pandemic compels tactile chill.
By what right am I awarded these winsome private moments on each stroll?
Rain drums on the roof like an invocation, and I touch the palpable thrill.
Nature’s rhythms are carried on wings of monarchs and in the birth of a tadpole.
At last, I am not alone but connected to rugged bluffs and smooth beaches.
Finally, I realize without these endowments, existence would be impossible.
I am meant to discover all the simple prodigious self-ordering reaches.
In understanding them, I see no beginning or end, only that I am tangible.
BITTER LEMON.
I want to cut my teeth
On the rind of a bitter lemon
And feel the veins of wintry night
Caught in eddies on the frozen lips.
To follow the paths of the sea
Or to the creatures of sultry nights
Places where agonies kept vigils
In tear stained cheeks after saline.
In the love I embraced
Within my arms some pallid form
But strident heart betrayed its strain
Catching breaths for some ancient storm.
Graces of dead leaves in splits
Half remembered tales of ancient bliss
Some strivings for hankerings of heart
Looking for solace in a venomed start.
………….….A Drop
………………….of
.....…......Patience
..........…Time waits
............To manifest?
..........Time to fructify?
Time between action and result?
Patience is wait, in time, for desirous results?
Is patience the time taken for desires to manifest?
'To actions, you have the right; not to the fruits thereof'.
This line from Gita negates cause and effect..also patience
The best of intended action may not get the desired results
Yes actions will get results, but no rightful claims on desires!
So what exactly is 'patience'- Self bait/Greed trap/ innocence?
Theres no need for patient waits, if surrendered be our actions
'Act to the best of ability, leave the results as offering to partake'
There is no need for patience; if the hankerings are surrendered
Patience is just another name for our awaited - desirous -results
Gods handed over a bottle of ambrosia and labelled it PATIENCE
Drunk on patience the humankind hurries across their busy lives
Patience is the carrot also the whip that humans use in disguise
Stationed in space, frozen in time, self whipping, all in Patience
In patience, greedy calls for desirous results, terms 'innocence'
Lost innocence, lost is Dharma, lost is intuition. Why patience?
Patience is the ploy of the ego -to keep the Self ever in hope
Patiently waits the gambler, casts his dice, others will falter
Patience of a farmer is different. The farmer is a devoted..
A farmer waters the trees and waits for seasons to turn..
The farmer accepts whatever yield from trees comes
Yes in the Dharmic battlefield this is talking ideally
Ideally, there is no patience needed, if no 'ego '
No space for patience needed if no futures
Living in present is no space to patience
The ego sets targets, says is the doer
The ego then drinks from patience
This is the heady concoction !
High on concepts, the ego
Now claims to be sober
Stop being doer for 1
Just be! None to do
nothing to be done
Nothing not to do
Oh! That feeling
When time stills
...and whispers
It's all taken care of !
She was half asleep in the auditorium
Finding this new year’s curriculum
Dreadfully burdensome and cumbersome
So altogether utterly drearisome
When all of a sudden she heard beating of a drum
And started feeling audaciously adventuresome
With an incredible urge to visit an aquarium
Or race a shopping cart through an emporium
Or follow Hansel and Gretel’s every crumb
Either way her head was filled with wild delirium
With compulsions not meant to overcome
And hankerings to live life to the maximum
Elude deplorable feelings grum or glum
By keeping cheerful and upbeat consortium
Dance through gardens of chrysanthemum
Or plant fields brimful of sublime red geranium
My heart and soul seeking invigorating equilibrium
Embrace passion in its premium platinum sensorium
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on July 13, 2018 for CONTEST NO.465 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
Originally posted on June 9, 2018
Basis for Hope: Planed Aim Hope Dreams Of
Hope desire wished on expectation something desired;
Optimism longing yearning craving awaiting hankerings expected anticipate
Perspective confidence in the future aspiration ambitions
Expectation of trust, confidence wish for wishful desires
11/26/22/
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
Wilts the bloomed flower
indulging in hankerings
drying fragile bones
disappearing loving look
turning off once kind spirit
waning wits smirked
vying voluptuous verge
meagre mood metamorphose
saucy spell's sauce
hoisted hankerings hummed
pruning punctured pukes
dark dribbles dazed
rusty reels raved
rusticating riff's creates
lanky lusts birthed
callous crisps cremated
crunched crescendos hibernated
crumbling contractions cruised
bursting busty bruise.
'20:05:01:18:32
Note: of harassed ambiguity.
tactic twain trudging
eerie earth moaning
gaunt goddesses grooving
per punctured feelings
on hoisted hankerings
seeped'n salient scrunchies
then mystic metamorphosis
by bully bewitched
callous crest castrating
foil fates fostering:
fighting fortune furiously
nocturnal nature spilled
callous chaos's combustion
war met leisure.
20:01:08:10:08
~Note~ Inspired by Rosalind, Celia and Touchstone's arguments about Fortune and Nature as goddesses. I thereby present a fight between them. They'll keep contending though. No one to lose to the other.
From William Shakespeare's "As You like It".
eerie vision vied
pluming perforated plights
dark dribbles dug
masticating munching mug
hoisted hankerings smothered
felon zeal fostered
moaning mist cloned
thorn ocean thrown
gloating gaunt glows
salient shaver sucked
la-de-da lures lust
wielded wits gulped
airy alakazam ailed
porous pupils' plight
'20:05:13:18:47
Note: Of porous perception.
felon fate fostered
feigning flimsy clusters
voluptuous verge drown
cremating callous clown
dark dribbles birthed
hampered hankerings hoisted
moaning mists raved
foiling rusty rage
wanky will wailed
meagre moans masticated
voluptuous vying hibernated
bruised bugs perfected
porous pulses oozed
tracing taunted tune.
'20:04:29:19:15
Note: Of voluptuous verge.
eerie earth moaning
tainted soles trudging
salient strife smirking
lofty lust lurching
damped desires drooling
heightened hoisted hankerings
daedal dusts dangling
callous contractions cussing
smothered zeals scrunching
apt auras oozing
spooky silhouettes sealing
rustic rays belching
whosing wind wielding
all tiers tearing!
19:12:07:10:12
Some saw a clinging troll,
others the saccharine flesh
of a dark love.
The mother loomed over his brow,
swaddled his senses.
Each day, the boy
stumbled further from that
too loving embrace.
He grew ill-formed in mind
by the cloy of her.
Young girls recoiled,
older girls, twisted rumors
into strings and taboo nets,
kept a bundle
of ticklish images close.
He played no games with boys;
he 'was' the game they played.
Their kicks curled him
around contorted hankerings.
His mother drew out
the threads of guilt she had planted.
As puberty gnawed,
she trembled to fashion
her substance inside of him.
To closet him alone
into her needful passions.
She made herself the hollow
at his center.
until her abnormal demands
drove him into a toolshed
where he had now to choose,
between either an axe or a hammer.
pulpy passion puked
perforating punctured view
dark dances dripped
hoisted crippled hankerings
sassy seals spent
salient sieves etched
wanky wits wept
damping callous crest
beauty politics belched
dark diminuendo drooled
nocturnal nauseated clue
saucy syllables stool
felon fate's fostered
vying voluptuous triggers.
'20:03:20:13:22
Note: Dedicated to Aristotle.