Best Importune Poems
To presume to write to someone about courage
and not complaining, don't importune or make dying people cry.
I've always said Leave me alone with autumn.
Don't stand around my bed, I won't be in it.
Over 7 years after he died, I finally looked
through my father's papers. Couple of unclaimed insurance policies,
savings bonds, our genealogy and on graph paper in an engineer's
block lettering quotations from The Seat of the Soul.
Reincarnation and karma are the chicken soup of the soul,
the after life is the reward for our colossal imperfections.
Along with banking instructions, he'd underlined
this: Your soul is immortal. It exists
outside of time. It has no beginning and no end.
Every time you ask for guidance you receive it.
If we are not at home in the world, contributing purpose,
we lose our desire to stay here -- ?and we die.
The physical world is an unaccountable given in which we unaccountably
find ourselves and which we strive to dominate to survive
or it is a learning environment created jointly by the souls that share it
and everything that occurs within it serves our learning.
Sin is activity directed toward self rather than toward service
to others. Sickness is sin. Almost any condition can be corrected.
You are part of God, therefore, think in a godly manner.
If you cannot accept this, forget it all. Do not even begin.
The first act of free will: How do I wish to learn?
If we participate in the cause, it is impossible not to participate in the
effect.
We shall come to honor all of life sooner or later.
Until you become aware of the effects of your anger, you will continue to
be an angry person.
Walking is the most commonly suggested exercise. Also, breathing.
"Thy will be done." Concentrate on that!
These expressions of certainty, conjectures and guesses
were inscribed by him in block letters on graph paper.
Not long I need to let mine heart to shrink
From thine earnest appeal wherein did sink
And firm beneath its heav’nly charm it live
With glorious joyance thence loth to upheave.
So gently thou this time me importune
That any keener soul of love must croon,
But see how alters brisk one’s erstwhile dearest
And heedeth not entreaties that thou makest.
Mayst thou complain I furnish this with art
Of garrulity to reproach, than thou wert,
Thee for thy ways capricious unto me,
As my sweet fury ne’er can I show thee.
Yet cautious I whisper to realms inmost,
Retrieve the passions though alone we boast.
SO GRANDE LOVE
allure, passions, loving
dedicated importune, caress submitable retaining
Love for her
~
So I sore Love Her
surly do
undeniable
02/24/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
I don't mean to importune
But I can't help but notice
How your eyes are set upon the path before your wandering feet
I don't mean to be rude
But I can't help but see you
Staring at your faded reflection in the water as clouds wander by
I don't mean to mimic you
But every word, everything you do
Just seems exactly like what I thought I was going to say
But there's never enough time left in these days
I don't mean...
But that's ok if the leaves give you shelter from the sun and the rain
Rest a while at the edge of yourself
I mean, so long as you don't mind my presence, my faded voice
It's just that all that echoes from your lips sounds like it bears repeating time again
and again
What's that?
You're leaving? Don't leave me here with nothing but a shadow of time on the water and
mirrors in sheets of white rain that bring little relief to my desert so dry in the shade
of these tears that I've cried, phosphorescing in the lonely night.
I thought that I'd found you
The one who would lie at the edge of her own nothingness
Until the roots of oblivion finally set in the soul
And the hole there before her, brimmed over with water
The hole would just prove to be what I've become
And what she'd become, nothing more than a door into sunsets
And daffodil tears in the morning would form on her lips as she finally knew who she was
But no, you could never fulfill that fate
After all, all the words that could fall from your lips
I've already said over and over again to myself
No, there's nothing you can say
That hasn't been uttered once over again
From my lips, now wet with dew
And the tears of a flower
As hour by hour
The days end
And so I turn into myself
As I've always been turned
She loves me
Loves me not
Petal
By
Petal
Form:
POESY TO (T)RAP
A poem for a competition is requested.
Who is the judge and what does s/he like?
Does political correctness circumscribe the contest?
Where shall the heart of upbeat poet strike?
Cancel that. The rhyming is old-fashioned.
Like speech the rhythm may not regulate.
And look out! Verses must not raise their
Symmetrical countenances
Lest the spirit of anarchy lose her boot straps
And struggle in the destitute tradition
Of great Milton, Longfellow or even Aussie Murray
Who could write an essay that reads like poetry,
So condensed are the thoughts into his vocab.
Oh dear! What craziness begins each line in capital
Consonant or vowel. I’m begging on my knees
To be forgiven for such outlandish tradition –
But I can’t help it.
Perhaps I’m just the juicy bug that eats the
Leaf of modern thought. I’ve yet to morph into
The rap of modern poesy. Forget that word!
But don’t you know computers now have stolen my
Authority. They think they know what I must write
And capitalise each brand new line against my
Deliberation with the lower case, in catastrophic singularity.
Oh!
I must importune my reader that the ‘oh dear’ line began my
Battle with computer misread of my desperate attempt to
Start a line in lower case and perhaps
Climb out of the chrysalis of poesy
And flutter the wings of rap.
And then complaints concern the excessive use
Of punctuation when they sight the quotes around
‘oh dear’.
Success at last! One line at least begins in lower case!
Perhaps, indeed, the chrysalis is snapped
And I can yet emerge a modern poet!
When I need you most you are not there
When I’m crying, fighting with life and grief
When I’m hurting beyond the touchable
When I’m wounded in the unseen
When I’m weary and desolate
You are not there
To ease the pain
To comfort me
To heal me
To share with me
Yet,
When I dream
When I find peace
When I wake
When I try to forget
You are there
When I breathe
When I admire and compare
When nature’s beauty confronts me
At the most importune times
You are there
Yet overall you are not there
Yet present
Your spirit and soul touch me
Yet your physical presence deserts me
Why?
His lively taste for romance
Was born of a superior conception
Or perhaps a critical quintessence
If not indeed a preconception
For we cannot in haste conclude
Nor precipitate be to preclude
He loved with a silent passion
Allowing only a thin sparkle
Of his earnest attention
To illumine the spectacle
Unlike those who importune
He craved not a penny of her fortune
He made mental tributes galore
'Penned' many a memorable missive
And like the great poets of yore
Whiled away decades mutely pensive
As one whom we might presume
Lived his life in a charmed dream
But how did I come to know
The story of this secret lover
Who though he lay so low
Yet managed I to blow his cover?
Some day you'll come to glean
That I was his go-between!
Living lies thus multiply then divide the mind’s eye of their owners
Surreptitiously increasing, they’re distinctively releasing noxious toxins within
their donors
To their chagrin,
Fear lives within
An augmented, exclusively demented, overtly invented place of internal judgment
Finding rejuvenation, removing the devastation, but never full restoration of the
broken covenant
Pensively stained with much disdain, yet clearly aimed, aching hearts will tell a
story
They importune mankind,
And swear of truths with double sides,
And hang the noose between the lines
Much of which is the lore of we.
Form:
Living lies thus multiply then divide the mind’s eye of their owners
Surreptitiously increasing, they’re distinctively releasing noxious toxins within
their donors
To their chagrin,
Fear lives within
An augmented, exclusively demented, overtly invented place of internal judgment
Finding rejuvenation, removing the devastation, but never full restoration of the
broken covenant
Pensively stained with much disdain, yet clearly aimed, aching hearts will tell a
story
They importune mankind,
And swear of truths with double sides,
And hang the noose between the lines
Much of which is the lore of we.
Avalanching in this benighted place.
Hollow noise like the roar of an angry bull.
Emotionally desolate, importune of answers.
Feeling castigated, in bleak. Veer not from me oh dear God.
Embedded in avalanche.
I bellow for luminosity.
Seeking comfort in coldness
Heart shattered, sighs echoing. Forgive me for my sins oh dear God.
Broached in a new world of wretchedness I never knew existed.
My visage turning into the seven seas.
Far offshore
As I ebb away with the tides. I fix my eyes onto you oh dear God.
A silent prayer,
Cloak my tribulations.
Let there be oblivion.
And this gloom a phase. Make me whole again oh dear God.
Gestation period
A grotesque routine
Queasiness
Excruciating. Give me strength oh dear God.
Avalanching in this benighted place.
Feeling castigated, in bleak.
Importune of answers.
Why me? Hear my cry oh dear God.