Best Other Than Poems
Wayward, frolic into left wings
That which brings me different
Wave of introspection
Putting myself into harm’s way
If I stay where I’m at
I could become nothing
But I desire to be more than
So I harvest a new timeline
Belonging to myself only
But truth be known
It’s just a left wing
Nut job of a thought
To be free within this world
Where we could live left(…)
To our own devices
And to please ourselves
But only by the expense
Of ourselves is truly a thought
That can’t become true
There are always others
That protrude into our life
Allowing us to feel
A powerful being of love
Whenever we need this
From being so lost within
Ourselves, we think that we can
Do it all by our own devices
But we can’t
We aren’t created to be alone
We must have companionship
And friendship
We must have this bond
That will never separate
And that which makes us feel
That we belong in this world
For a purpose, other than ourselves
Russell Sivey
I am the ocean
You are a cave
I am entitled
But you,sir, are brave
Into your crevices
I will creep
I am vast
But you are deep
I am the season
You are the reason
I am the horizon
You are a well
I am the hour
You are a bell
I try to consume
But you make me swell
I try to resist
But find out you compel
If this isn't heaven
It must be hell
You say that you jumped
I say oh well
You think you can lie
But you have a tell
You were not cast
You tripped and you fell
11/11/2020
Unlike most, just speaking facts
At times I met my match
And had to start over from scratch
Wasn't out to put others on blast
I'm just not one to hide behind a mask
Focused on the task
A helping hand was lent, regardless of if asked
This life moves oh so fast
I ended up in first, and I ended up in last
A cave filled with life, including bats
A diminishing forest :( , with a colony of rats
A neighborhood with sick or healthy dogs and cats
You're more than quite the catch
Excuse me Ma'am you caught my eye from first glance
While I got the chance
I'd like to ask
If you'd like to go out eat and maybe dance
Before such an opportunity has passed
Perhaps, I can take you out to a fine restaurant with class
Or if you'd prefer, we can have a picnic on the grass
My goal is toward a successful path
I have no feelings of wrath
To me life is not just about cash
I'm looking for my other half
Other than that
I've always got you and your back
If you want it, just ask
Toward each other, fixing any gap
Not talking any cap (lies) or crap
If we want to, traveling around the globe, with or w/o a map
You make me feel so good, and you make me laugh
I wouldn't take a single thing back
Just staying on track
And making a pact
Doing well at saving cash
In a world so vast
Moving forward, not staying in the past
Alas
No longer aghast
Was able to Avast
OTHER THAN THAT MRS. LINCOLN,HOW WAS THE SHOW?
Gettysburg has long since grown cold by too many graves
Because a tall man yearned to free the slaves
Those who white thought darkness a curse
As John Wilkes Booth stood ready to rehearse
How dare this man with a top hat and hopes so high
dare dream that freedom was more than simply a lie?
This man who was more than a myth and more than a man
While freedom was something he would not allow the betrayal of freedom to ban
The widowhood of war was something he could stand no more
As he wished opened a well-locked door
His enemies desired his death
While his compatriots wished him unending breath
For this was a man who added up the parts
And the sum was all the hopeful hearts
Those who as refugees proffer a prayer
While freedom’s tunnel was the hopeful’s lair
I can still hear his bell loudly ring
And still suffer Mr. Booth’s sting
The tall man was a dove offering flight to the grounded
And the heartlessness which wretchedly abounded
Democracy was his credo known and spoken in a most sympathetic way
From the staggering bodies that bled and died for the U.S.A.
He saw all men as equal in body, spirit and mind
Ah, but there are none so blind
He did not determine who would starve and those who would eat
All he wanted was a country united by the discreet
So his ship sailed on until it was sunken in a bloody river of red
And Gettysburg became a fundamentally sorrowful bed
A place where sleep the souls who heard Mr. Lincoln’s voice
And believed that every man should be offered an equal choice
A well placed bullet put an end to a presidential dream’s relief
Past a reef of grief
This tall bearded man’s legacy is Mr. Obama who defeated the odds
And prayed to a multitude of Gods
Abe’s was an undeniably accurate truth
One that died because of a bastard named Booth
And my top hats off to Mr. Lincoln and his kind
Yet as I said previously, there are none so blind
© 2012….copyright...PHREEPOETREE...~free cee!~
Again I am at my favorite coffee shop, sipping cappichino wanting
to write about something other than you.
Wanting half-heartedly to move to a different page in my life.
Needing someone else to fill that void you have left.
When I shut my eyes, you are there.
Small things constantly remind me of you.
Like Fate whispering to me from another plane to hold on a little longer.
At night my head fills with hazy dreams of us.
As I lay alone at night staring up into the dark,
your smile flashes infront of me.
I cry and reach out for you yet wishing that you are happy in your place in life.
I swim in this oceanic thought drifting out with the tide of a reality that I wish were true:
You, in your study working on another book, typing away.
Contenence of seriousness and contemplation= logic
Muscles of your jaw tense, your eyes moving in time with written lines
as the light of the screen highlights your face.
You lean forward as if to extract something from your works.
Hesitantly you begin to type again. Read what is there,
digest the phrasing, grimice, then fiercely press the backspace key erasing
forever that paragraph..
The frustration in these obsene lines.
I sense that you are stuck.
Leaning back in your highbacked leather chair staring at the screen.
Fingers arched in a prayer that your muse will come and bless you with a few lines.
To complete a thought.
As they move forth and back over pursed lips...Your concentration, to save an ill-fated ship from the clutches of a diabolical empire,
is such that you do not notice me standing in the doorway.
For the moment, I prefer it that way.
I take pleasure in watching you work,
pounder the course of the universe and not realize that you are being observed.
As I did when we were in the desert.
When I was on guard duty with the 240 Bravo that you taught me how to use.
I would watch you walk away from the TOC,
hands clasped behind your back, head covered with your booney cap lowered watching the ground. Puzzlement over the actions of the day.
Still, you have yet to see me standing there watching you...........
My stomach is hurting 'cause I haven't eaten.
My feet, they are swollen from sittin' up sleepin'.
I'm cold and I'm damp from the wind and the rain
And I won't last long 'cause my life's in the short lane.
l've once had a home,full of love and of laughter,
and the times in my mind I'll never recapture.
It's over for me,can't pretend not to know,
the wind blows through the holes
in my clothes with every blow.
I'm of no use to no one,
with this inescapable past that I keep living in and running from.
I can't get over 'cause I can't come from up under.
I have done seen the lightining, I've done felt the thunder
As I walk through the streets by the day by the night
I think of the days that I was young and won the fight.
When I think,damn,I used to be a super man,
now I am nothing other than a regular man.
only you will walk on my streets
the darkness will end
to follow the traces of abandonment
it will be finished in one place
gave a whistling mark
nobody will not know other than me
only you will smile from mirrors
ices will melt
a hidden hand wiil touch to my soul
the dream will end
facing the ball a wizard
nobody will not spell other than me
In the early light of dawn
I want your hair
To fall all over me
Like a Rand McNally road map
And I
Want to travel
All those highways and byways
Exploring your mountains and valleys
East, west, north and south
Especially
Those hot humid southern routes
Covered in sweet morning dew
That go deep into your heartland
I want to discover
All your hidden trails and secret caverns
Knowing they will lead me
Eventually
To your heart
None Other Than Kelly Ann
When Trump and his circus came to town
We knew that he would be a big clown
And many of them there had stressed
With him they never could be impressed.
Trump sure had raised a lot of static
About budget cuts meant to be dramatic
A message from him all of us did greet
He was ding away with Sesame Street.
Trump again is whining and whining
Worried about the economy declining
And as horizon our eyes started to scan
We saw none other than Kelly Ann.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Soldier and Poet
None Other Than Tom Sessions
Should see home and prominent possessions,
Owned by none other than Tom Sessions;
Are Great by mile;
All Southern style;
With ornate objects in his many obsessions.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Bolivia, NC
I even like this one myself. Also like
the way his holds his had real high
in the air so you can see it being
that he does seem so short.
Time, time is the cliché.
Time decides how we live,
Time is short, things take time,
Lost time.
It's time to defy time.
There’s many a kinds of love;
Many that’s sanctioned;
Better no better love, than God’s
Man’s love is sweet physical OK
Grandparents love is spoiling always
A Father’s love is protecting what’s his, always;
But the nurturer, the mother is the baby cradle
Virtue coming through always reliant
Confident
Mother
Mama
Mom other than God nothings more love
Other than God no one loves your more
1/27/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2022©
Leaning against the door frame. Slight smile on the face of this slip of a woman. In her colorful turtleneck sweater
rising over a slender neck to greet the curve of her jaw..
Long brown hair now streaked with grey piled high on her head. Strands fly away from her head in disaray.
Arms folded at her midsection an alknowning and understanding smile. looking in upon you with love and empathy.
Our lives not without their trials: deadlines, consueling statments, field problems, genes that will not splice,
a thesis due in a couple of weeks, and a 3y/old that will not sleep or eat her carrots,
pick up a gallon of milk and loaf of bread, peterson's dinner tomorrow at five, dentist appointments.
When this cherub finally moves into a place of sweet childhood dreams, the dishes are in the washer,
left overs in the fridge, uniforms pressed, and bills payed.
Lights are slowly turned out in the house to where there is the quiet of darkness and behind closed doors the world's delemmas melt.
Where there is only you and I for those brief stolen coveted moments. As it were a stages spotlight in two lovers
not allowing the world to encroach on the last bit of energy we hold to before we ourselves slumber.
Knowing you accent the happiness already within me........
If you are wandering into a dead end street
All out of hope
No one to guide you
Let your instinct take whole
A spirit will complete you when you allow
So if you don't have a clue who it is
Just be greatfull and take the bow
I've heard that poetry won't get us very far
But what do they know?
Where a few of my words blot a napkin
is my
One and only refuge
So in essence
It helps to keep my sanity
from
this heartless world
My broadened perspective
Where my eyes are held open
can never be completly shut
I write
What I see
I've heard that my words will be forgotten
When I am dead and gone
I will be dead and gone
But no one can touch this moment; the freeing of my happy soul
It is mine alone, regardless of if i am made of cartillage
or just bone
I've heard that as a woman I am overly emotional
But what do they know?
Dismayed
I feel every pulse of life around me
and the drip drop of of of the spring rain
I hear the sound of sobbing of people a thousand miles away
I feel the bloodshed
I smell the smoke
I see the heart break
Emotional?
By that you mean I can feel...
what do you feel
WHAT DO YOU KNOW?
By your silence I can tell that you cannot
because you forgot
You think that expression of any sort other than patriotism
is a waste of time?
keep your eyes on the prize
a.k.a. work ethic
and you will get ahead
Numb your heart
To the real world
You call this the real world?
where the realness is hidden by the dumbing down of society
For you see
Your senses are dulled
When you no longer can understand
the artist
and her poetry
no;
not poetry
but your own sense of empathy
desire, fear, laughter, love, hatred, confusion,
blatent disregard
You do much to spit in the face of our creator
feel it all
or all will be lost
our sense of justice, and empathy
should be kept at all costs