Best Northeastern Poems
Down under continent
Down low is Australia
Australia the big island
Australia sixth largest continent
Country whose desert known as outback
Country who has the largest reef
Reef called the Great Barrier
Reef found off northeastern coast
Coast 35,877 kilometer of shoreline
Coast provides fun in the sun
Sun beats down on the desert
Sun is brightest in our winter
Winter offers some snow
Winter's are mild
Mild hop, hop of Kangaroos
Mild climbing of Koala
Koala live high in trees
Koala eat eucalypt leaves
Leaves favored blue, mansa, and swamp gum
Leaves are Koala's daily diet
Diet of Australian influenced by world
Diet consist of variety of foods
Food introduced from Ireland, Europe
Food from Italy, Greece and Asian new spices
Spices used in stir fry
Spices changed meat's taste
Taste of foods like rice, oranges, bananas
Taste of foods from all over the world
World influences shaped continent
World and Britian settled
Settled by Aborigines
Settled also by Britian
Britain sent convicts
Britian sent soldiers to New South Wales
Wales brassy, bold, stately and old
Wales sandy beaches, Jenolan Caves
Caves above ground
Caves in sea waters for adventure
Adventures in Abercrombie cave
Adventures in Tasmania
Tasmania mecca for adventure
Tasmania's mountainous terrain
Terrain for wild river raft
Terrain of sheer cliffs to climb
Climb the Great Dividing Range
Climb to new heights down under
Under sunny skies
Under skies so blue
Blue
Skies
Written: August 14, 2015
Influenced by Debbie Guzzie's contest..
First Blitz..Whoa!!
As the world
closes in on us
our eyes
see
what our hearts
permit them to see
In autumn - in
the waning of the year
as the trees
turn orange, red and golden
before the land is covered in white
we will see sound and light
Surrounded by nature's beauty we become a part
of the eco-system
A great dawn
awaits us
in the end
Voices of ancient
children
reverberate in the cool air
Sometimes when it seems
that we are lost
the rhythm of the seasons
reminds us of what we may become
Perhaps this autumn light
will bring this world
to its' senses
Strength, Tranquility
and a heavy sense
of peace
Are being swept in
by a cool Northeastern breeze
A many talks I have
a phone chats with mom and dad
Facebooking my friends
Long after dinner time
And if I really think about communication
the old fashion way
I call them upon my land-line
What's a land-line
And what ever happen to Northeastern Bell
well
that's how we talk to each other human to human
But when I wake up in the new day
I fall on my knees
and chat wit God as I pray
Oh! I fall on my knees
and have a chat wit God as I pray
What's the matter, got all this chatter on Twitter
Space chat is what's up, what is that
Does any one Email any more
And what is a phone booth
And does anyone remember Mother Goose
Facebooking my friends
Long after dinner time
And if I really think about communication
the old fashion way
I call them upon my land-line
What's a land-line
And what ever happen to Northeastern Bell
well
I Snap chat, Google and Verizon, Teen Mobile CenturyLink
All this downloading and less and or no praying
now before you fall asleep
with the phone in your hand
because your mind got over headed by all your Texting
I got a better communication
But when I wake up in the new day
I fall on my knees
and chat wit God as I pray
Oh! I fall on my knees
and have a chat wit God as I pray
But when I wake up in the new day
I fall on my knees
and chat wit God as I pray
Oh! I fall on my knees
and have a chat wit God as I pray
Anytime, every time anywhere I don't care
Stop talking space head
fall on my knees
and have a chat wit God as I pray
Dedicated to "Darlene Beaulieu"
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
11/27/17
from anthology " God's Children New poets, Poems and New Friends"
The Doors of perception
maverick swinging carefree
to billboard hits in
rock’s american counterculture
face of the sixties
vocalist Jim Morrison
steering to the pulse of free love
in the heat of Los Angeles
riders on the storm
loving madly an L.A. woman
parading Gloria absolutely live
rocking to roadhouse blues
in front of the Morrison Hotel
forever longing for the sun
he’d say to touch me and light my fire
people are strange
fame and money
up in flames
it’s a shame
gone in a flash
booze and partying
taken too far
age twenty seven
life of a rock star
no one here gets out alive
like so many others
joined the 27 Club
buried now in northeastern Paris
true to his own spirit
where he belongs
in the Poets’ Corner
Read on air by invitation ~ July 10, 2020 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on June 28, 2020 for contest STRAND COMPLETELY NEW POETRY (2) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
The wind or the wind As twisting a vine the wreath Breathing the breeze of the divine Sailors on the reef seeking the seas So intwined grows the anime rhyme Wind in your sails as a northeastern blows So through ages sail but when comes the time Searching the end will you last breathe be as cold Rarer air fills the breadth of the land The way with healing in His wings Receive the breath of life again So you may overcome death's sting Rising again children of the Master's wind Not grapes of wrath in the press they wind
The wind I rode was a northeastern gale
With a downpour of sleet and balls of hail
Wind at my face, plummeted with ice
Whore for a friend, needle for a vice
I was as lost inside as a soul could be
As the war forever raged inside of me
I once blamed the Lord for my fate
I was full of anger and living on hate
Then one day something happened to me
I said, “Forgive me Lord and he set me free.”
My body blasted with tattoos of hate
I accepted the Lord and changed my fate
Since then my life has been really cool
Bought me a home and returned to school
I love my children and adore my wife
God has blessed me with a wonderful life
And I’m positive these words are true
God’s there waiting to do the same for you
Pellucid pearls in northeastern North America
since planetary birth
Comprise Lakes Superior, Michigan, Huron,
Erie, and Ontario dearth
Largest group of freshwater lakes on Earth
Straddle Canadian–United States border
tethering partial global girth
Constituting 21% of world's surface
fresh water species hearth
Total surface equals 94,250 square miles
And total volume equals
5,439 cubic miles immeasurable worth.
Lake Erie from Erie tribe, abridged form
of Iroquoian word erielhonan “long tail”
Lake Huron named by French explorers
for Wyandot or “Hurons” whence they did sail
Lake Michigan likely from Ojibwa word mishigami
“great water” aka outsize gold quail
Lake Ontario i.e. “Lake of Shining Waters”
shimmering like hammered coat of mail
Lake Superior coined from French
“lac supérieur” "upper lake", an emerald watery dale
Ojibwe people called it gitchigumi medicinal
to cure that, which might ail.
These five lakes each reside in separate basin
Form a single, naturally interconnected body
of fresh water caisson
Linking east-central interior of North America
to Atlantic Ocean akin to an escutcheon.
From interior to outlet at St. Lawrence River,
Water flows via Superior to Michigan-Huron
southward to Erie to avoid a shiver
Finally released northward to Lake Ontario
as like a well taut archer with his quiver.
The lakes drain a large watershed via many rivers
as an Olympic team
Populated with approximately 35,000 islands
this estimate not x stream.
The Great Lakes region contains
many thousands of smaller lakes,
Often called inland lakes undulating
in cascading analogous to a fluid ream
Lake Michigan the only one located
entirely within United States
While the others border between
United States and Canada – essentially a liquid seam.
This poem was inspired by the interviews by Earl K. Pollon and S. S. Matheson conducted with native Sekanni peoples who were negatively effected by the flooding of their communal homelands by the building of the W.A.C. Bennett Dam. “This Was Our Valley” tells that story of injustice. 640 square miles of riverfront and hunting territory would be flooded to form Williston Lake. The Sekanni peoples were driven from their ancestral homeland in northeastern British Columbia, Canada and dispersed.
The Shopping Cart Injustice
People, place and spirit
All were our relations
Biopeds, quadrupeds, winged or finned -
River language told us so.
Fishing rocks spoke the run
Where the riffles and the rapids talked.
Ancestors, dead and alive, told living stories where
Running the river banks, the children played.
The land was a book written in forms.
We made our mark with love, community
Fishing weirs, aspen dugout canoes,
Hunting trails, camps and sacred sites.
Always traders, we traded furs with
White settlers when they arrived
On the rivers Parsnip, Finlay and Peace at
Finlay Forks, Fort Grahame, Fort McLeod.
We added pack trains, teams of pack horses
River freighters, flat bottom ‘longboats’
For supplies and for mail delivery.
It seemed that we could live together.
Then one day a government agent said
That shopping carts were coming
They would flood our world
Water rising everywhere
Shopping carts with electric can openers
Full, fast to check out,
Shopping carts with electric hair blowers,
Full, faster to check out,
Shopping carts with electric air conditioners,
Full, fastest to check out
Shopping carts with electric stoves.
Check out, check out, check out.
They would make our rivers into a lake
We would move or drown.
Our elders did not believe it.
That was the only consultations!
Soon Saskatoon berries all under water
Next, the banks sloughed back to graveyards
Next, cliffs crumbled, and banks fell into rising lake
Houses of the villages slipped and floated
Coffins, bones and bodies strewed the shore
Where tangled trees, debris and more
Eddied with flotsam in the wind.
We wept for our ancestors!
We weep for our children.
We had to flee the destruction
Caused by tree grinders, D-9 bull dozers
The dam construction.
Now they want to take more
Another dam for more shopping carts.
Please stop Site ‘C’.
In a sleepy old hamlet in Northeastern Maine
on old Knob Hill Road, there is a house,
a very old house,Victorian I think with
with what looks like old bell towers on either end
But they aren't really bell towers at all, I guess
you could say they look like spooky old watch
towers, or if your imagination were to run away
old dungeon towers, none the less spooky.
It's been said that strange things have happened
in that old house over many years, many, many years
Sightings of ghosts and apparitions, paranormal things
that of owners past perhaps, screams in the night
There are those who say, they saw lights on
over those many years, but really that would mean man made
There has been no electricity there in two decades
or has it? No one can really say for sure, alive that is!
All these sightings have only been seen from the front gate
and some from the back gate as well, no-one has ever entered
there has been no-one alive past the front gates in a long time
Not in the house on old Knob Hill Road.
So, when I arrived in that sleepy little hamlet my first
stop was the Police station, well they call it constables office
I didn't know any of those still existed anymore, I guess it
shows that old practices still do exist, I guess!
I wanted permission to enter that old house, on Old Knob Hill Road
I was really looking for the owner and figured this was a start
what I was met with was bewilderment and laughter
all of which was at my expense, They all thought I was nuts I guess
I met up with Constable Danforth, Chief Constable, actually the only
one. He said in his quaint New England accent, Thar hasn't been a
soul on that property in nearly eighty yaars now. The town owns the
property and the house, we wanted to tear it down, but couldn't.
I asked why of course, Well no-one will go near the old place
say it's haunted and evil, things like that. Well I said that is
exactly what I am here to find out, that's what I do.
Search for hauntings and evil places to prove reality or fiction.
Please don't mind the mis-spellings they are for accent purposes only, such as
yaars is actually years...Maine style..Continued in Pt. 2
Nestled in the hills of the northeastern plain
live the humblest people on earth
They're the neighborly folk of Modesty, Maine
plain-speaking and modest from birth
Every year in cold mid-December
the Humble Trophy is bestowed Friday night
As far back as the townsfolk remember
it has been handed to John K. Contrite
Mr. Contrite, upon receiving the prize
always bows, blushes and pleads, you're too kind
I'm sure, my dear friends, you realize
much humbler folks you surely can find
It's the twentieth annual Humble Award presentation
Everyone assumes Mr. Contrite will win
but to thunderous applause and grand excitation
the mayor presents it to Julia-Anne Schwinn
Miss Schwinn is the town's first grade teacher
always kind, mild mannered and sweet
Some call her Modesty's finest feature
so supportive and ever discrete
It is my award, Mr. Contrite screams out
I should win every time, don't you see?
Is it not clear, beyond anyone's doubt
I am the king of humility?
Miss Schwinn shouts back to Mr. Contrite
This trophy with me will stay!
You're nobody now. Just leave, goodnight!
They'll build a modesty statue to me one day!
Nestled in the hills of the northeastern plain
live the humblest people on earth
They're the neighborly folks of Modesty, Maine
plain speaking and modest from birth
To hovel me in your zareba is your intention
“For safety, to protect, truly for protection.”
Transparent lies I can clearly see through
And my resolve is a monolith to see my dream come true.
I will not cave, Complacency, not even to you.
Bribe me, offer small bounty, no good will it do.
For beyond you, I’ve an admirable dream or two.
And they will rise, be relevant and real, and profitable too.
In a time and a half, when this term ends,
I will be a nurse for a bit, and then it depends.
A small café, seating between twenty and ten,
I will run with, hopefully, a wife and a friend.
As the business rises and itself sustains
The hope is to gift my child café.
Then off will I be to try it again.
But stateside, no, rather northeastern Spain.
Those who oppose my dream, from me flee.
You may hovel in your zareba, but it shan’t hold me.
I declare, this is a plan, not a dream, and real it will be.
2-21-2014
SeSaw Back and Forth
About all of her experience we were curious
Founded out and are excited and delirious
And then many screamed and out they cried
She's not only experienced but over-qualified.
Bernie's experience was really in bad trouble
His whole life he spent living in a bubble
When you saw his experience it had been
Old and part of organization again and again.
White sock's on one foot and other's red sock
Found in Chicago and Boston baseballs socks
Only knowledge Bernie has in the debates
Is strictly limited to the Northeastern States.
If you were in Seattle and near Fort Lawton
I'm sure Bernie would have been forgotten
And when asked he said that less he cares
When you are mentioning foreign affairs.
Of all weird things we heard about Bernie
He never was ever an outright attorney
When you mentioned guns being outlawed
Back and forth about subject he se-sawed.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Northeastern Pennsylvania gets hit hard
we have had some bad winters
this year white as Christmas
I live in a rose-tinted town
bowing mainly to White Western skies
bleached of blue blooded color
but also of dire Eastern dawns
with smoky red skies,
warning farmers and gardeners
taking and giving nutritional cover
under bad-blooded weather
on our way to further apart.
I live in a NorthEastern place
replete with geriatric grace
yet less mindful of holistic medicines
less conscious through holy meditations
less green ecoschool wholesome
with cooperative administrations
of home
and families
and neighborhoods
as wholesome 7-Generation multihoods.
I live in a public space
directed by private embrace
toward trusting love of all four dimensions
all eight lifetime resurrections
From infant to WinWin child,
child to WinLose pre-teen,
pubescent to late adolescent,
where U.S. culture seems LeftBrain stuck
between delayed adolescents and too young adults,
young adults toward mature WinWin multiculturists,
voters listening to WiseElder leaders,
WiseElder leaders
longing to conjoin CoMessiahs
and Bodhisattva PeaceWarriors
and PolyCulturing Yogis
and MultiCulturing EarthScientists
and PolyPhonically inclined EarthArtists
and PolyPathic EarthEducators
and EarthFirst Mentors.
Researchers and Designers
of full-octaved trust,
if for no positively healthy reason,
to avoid hatreds of anti-trust
and ambivalent angers
seeking secular mistrust
and equivalent fears
finding infinite misery
pathologies.
I live in a rose-scented town
where three polluted rivers conjoin
worshipped by LastNative gamblers
reweaving our vapid ritual bows
within all four fractal revolving directions.
I live in a rose-fading town
aging while watching southwestern drought,
at risk of growing Eastern coastal
as Northern blizzards of chaos
compete with Southern hurricanes and tornadoes
of flooding tsunamic competing complexity.
I live in a rose memory town
filled with ghosts of LeftBrain dominant climatic pathology
rising up to restore RightBrain with Left
peace from within,
settling down to withstand
capital punishments
ego-justified retributions
without rose-tinted restorative glasses.
There is a belief.
I do believe.
There is still hope.
Hope for humanity.
Hope that man will value man.
The long lost humanity.
There is hope in Ukraine.
Russia will retreat.
The Al Shabaab, Al Qaeda
Boko Haram in Northeastern Nigeria.
Hope to see value.
Value in human life.
There is hope in our girls.
For a reduction in abortion cases.
A reduce in street children.
There is hope.
There is hope in our leaders.
To bring back the lost integrity.
Do away with the mistreatment of the poor.
There is hope.
@Tha Formidable Cheru.
#themonk.