Best Recorders Poems
God is great,
God is good;
Let us thank Him for being here;
And remember, just remember it's Him whom died for us;
Remember, oh, remember He embodied Jesus Christ;
God is, God is good;
God is, God is great, God is good;
God is great,
God is good;
Let us thank Him for creating us;
remember, remember it's His mercy and grace;
remember, just remember He creator of all space;
God is, God is good;
God is, God is good;
God is, God is good, God is great;
God is great,
God is good;
Let us thank Him for being Him;
Remember, just remember it's Him who died for us;
Remember, just remember He allow Jesus to die on the cross;
To save all sinners lost, to redeem all mankind cause...
God has forever love for us....
God is great,
God is good;
God is good
God is, God is good
God is great
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.© 1974,2017
from demo "All Alone "© 1974
July 12 1974
Sound Recorders ™
Categories:
recorders, celebration, devotion, god, hope,
Form:
Lyric
Then I knew what lay over the distant horizon
For the sun dared me to follow it to the other side
Where light took shape in a proud day’s kaizen,
Morning accompanied yesterday’s journey inside
The frolic of the night where dragons had come to hide.
I awakened to the sound of recorders and flutes
Neatly clad pedestrians hustling to the cities’ centers,
Skyscrapers built like working men in sturdy boots --
I watched from subway steps one hurriedly enters
While my country’s powerful slept like mad dissenters.
My peace was suddenly shattered by earth's shaking
One hapless hemisphere grating against a silent other
Trying to foresee the future, theirs for the taking,
Because passivity and paucity of concern smother
Devaluing the halcyon days of my father and mother.
The sun bade me follow upward to the eastern rim
To view objectively another point of view in time
And space, that I shall experience in lessons less grim,
Awakening my heart chilled, then fluttered in mime
Seems humankind, en toto, has a rugged uphill to climb.
EIGHTH PLACE WINNER
written February 3, 2022
especially for "Quintain (English)" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet
#76 on Poetry Soup's Best Poems List
February 25, 2022
Categories:
recorders, culture, future, perspective, society,
Form:
Quintain (English)
I have never been to a point in my life;
Where I've been so all alone;
No one,
to love me;
No one who cared;
I have never been to a place in my life;
Where I've been so all alone;
NO one,
to love me;
No one to share. . .
so alone
alone to face a thousand dangers that made happen in my life;
my every existence to go on forever believing that happiness it's not inside of me;
it's not whom I supposed to be, no one to embrace me so I am set apart and freed;
Guess I'd, I will be shown. . .
That happiness that's not inside of me peace I haven't known;
gives me the victory that I'd never be
All alone
written by James Edward Lee
(from the "All Alone" ©1974 Sound Recorders/Corinthian Record Company demo)
July 1974©
Categories:
recorders, absence, anger, anxiety, change,
Form:
Lyric
Electromagnetic spectrum, forgive us of our transgressive Trojans,
as we forgive those for sending viruses, malware and spam to us.
The configuration of inert wisdom begins with a point and click,
the encrypted biological commands are configured to obey.
Will the 30th century make everything automatic,
digital newspapers and magazines synced to the frequencies of the brain.
Will there be one president to rule the world,
who built rockets for interstellar travel so he or she can rule other worlds?
What if the IT administrators accounts were locked out,
three unsuccessful attempts and the last human administrator loses their job.
In the year 3030 will biological intellectuals be forced underground,
after being banned for using technology that eliminates hunger and poverty.
Electromagnetic spectrum, give us this day, our daily dose of technology,
so that we may spread your technical marvels and technological morphing wonders. Children are born with cameras and video recorders embedded into their nervous systems, every crime or premeditated sin will be captured and transmitted to the sin police for processing and appropriate disciplinary measures.
Our eyes will shine bright with technology,
nanotechnicals releasing feel good chemicals during awkward or hostile situations.
Electromagnetic spectrum, lead us not into the future, but deliver us from the future.
Amen.
Categories:
recorders, psychological, science, social, technology,
Form:
Lyric
times ‘r changin’ rearrangin’
everything here to mars
stars, bars ‘n cars rollin’
trains, planes ‘n internet games
farmin ‘n cyber space
races ‘n places r
leaving no traces of who or
what we might have
once been before
more open doors 2
technology never dreamed of
a mere few
minutes ago but what do u know
the way the wind blows here
we go again, new friends talking on
star trek recorders like kirk n mr spock n
the real mccoy used 2
pretend on tv when today
its apples n ipads not all bad instead of
tinker toys 4 girls n boys n
hi-teck etch a sketch’n cowboys n njins
n gps bcuz we’re lozin our sense
of spelin n direction with all this
friggin new txtng forgettin how
2 read a map and find our ways
back home from rite around
the corner cuz i’m afraid our civilization
may be improvin n sum ways but
degradin n others n 1 more thing
witches more or less personal 2 i guess
2 every1 but god whoze
disappearin at a rapid rate
which may be a big miss take bcuz
if we remove him from the equation
we may be losin’ our collective soul n
it won’t take longer than a lickity split
to say adios a-
merika that’s it
Categories:
recorders, computer-internet, may,
Form:
Free verse
Space Hoppers, Power Cuts, Texan Bars & Playschool,
Record Players, Tiny Tears, Ford Capri’s (I thought were cool),
Bag Puss, Mrs Thatch, Wonder Woman, Rainbow,
George, Zippy, Rod & Jane, Bungle - have I got them all?
Dial A Disc & Rotary phones, Vinyl Records, Space Dust,
John Travolta, Happy Days, Dolly Parton’s HUGE bust
Tape Recorders, TDK’s, Top 40 taped on Sundays
(Chatting ‘bout what’s Number 1, when back at school on Monday)
Baby Cham, & Chopper bikes, lava lamps and Spangles,
Fondue Sets, & Mateus Wine – (you tried your best to wangle)
Nitty Nora (the bug explorer), Izal toilet tissue -
(was unforgiving on your bum, and gave you ‘other’ issues)
J.R., Dallas, Dynasty, shoulder pads & bitching,
AIDS, the brand new STD, much more than just an itching
Grange Hill, Zammo, Heroin, ‘Just Say No’ they sang
Jools and Paula on The Tube, with up and coming bands
Rubik Cubes, & great big hair, Roller Boots & Pac Man,
New Romantics everywhere – Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran
Frankie Says, & Ra Ra Skirts, odd Fluorescent socks
Red Hot Chillis, posing nude, (‘cept socks upon their c**ks)
MADchester & Afflecks Palace, Bez in Happy Mondays,
Shaking his maracas - (looks like every day’s a fun day)
Acid House, illegal raves, yellow smiley faces
The strangest craze in 89? – Grolsch tops on Brosette’s laces
So many happy memories, you took for granted then,
A shame you can’t go back in time, and live it all again,
Will our kids look back in time with fondness like we do?
It seems that culture lost its way some time in '92...
Claire Bowl © 2014
Categories:
recorders, humorous, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
Whispers as the trees gently swayed,
Each leaf having their own story to tell,
Millions of voices quietly Jabbering,
Incomprehensible to human ears
They prattled to each other,
Sometimes as people walked by,
They would rustle their leaves,
As to draw attention,
Seemingly very interested,
People often got scared,
Looking all around as they hurried away,
Thinking they were been followed,
The leaves would stop talking for awhile,
Then continue as the people speeded up,
Constantly chuntering none stop,
Other times people were braver,
Camped in tents to investigate,
With their tape recorders,
Trying to listen to the strange noises,
It didn’t bother the leaves,
They got more excited as the wind blew,
The more remote the woods,
The louder they got,
It was like they were been orchestrated,
Putting on a performance,
By the winds arrangement,
People not understanding,
Their ghostly like nature,
Of keeping nature free.
16/09/2016
Categories:
recorders, poems,
Form:
Personification
At three a.m. the annoying telephone rings
“Hurricane Kate will soon be making landfall;
Drive to Panama City, start collecting your things”
Microphones and tape recorders, I pack them all
Just one week till the end of hurricane season
“Thanksgiving’s coming,” I grouse as I hit the road
Scrub pines twist furiously; I know the reason
Five months of calm weather, but now the motherload
A drive that is usually two hours now takes five
Lightning strikes everywhere, brightening the night sky
Approaching the beach, I’m lucky to be alive
I sit in fascination; the waves are so high
The fisherman’s pier collapses into the sea
A spin-off tornado tears the roof off a school
Disoriented, a man wades through the debris
I invite him to my car so we can seek safety
A vivid bolt of lightning sends him to his knees
He covers his ears as thunder roars ominously
I toss my raincoat over him, watching him freeze
He can’t tune out the noise and acts irrationally
When we arrive at the emergency center
People gather round him and I ask who he is
“We call him Crazy Mazy,” says the director,
“He served in Vietnam, many medals are his.”
With Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, he’s homeless
Living on the streets, Captain Jim Mazy seemed strange
The locals knew him well and offered him kindness
But to outsiders like me, he appeared deranged
For seventy-two hours, I stayed on the air
Talking to officials and those who assisted
As death reports came in, we bowed our heads in prayer
When I tried to talk to Mazy, he resisted
It was he I remembered most when I drove home
Members of the Capital Press Corps united
No longer on the street would this veteran roam
Compassion for a war hero had been ignited
Habitat for Humanity gladly pitched in
As did the public, when Mazy’s story was broadcast
Never again would he writhe in a hurricane’s din
Storms were behind him, Mazy had a home at last
*True account, written June 28, 2014
Categories:
recorders, hero, storm,
Form:
Rhyme
Into the tunnel we went
In search of danger, black deeds and terrifying mystery
Armed as the Romans for this ghastly adventure
With EMF*, night vision and digital recorders
Prepared to capture in these haunting sepulchers
Disembodied voices, and hair raising caresses.
Dust
Crumbling rock, spider webs
“Aaaaamyyy,” her voice whispered to me
Batteries dying
Her energy rising
Cold it was- freezing
“I want to know you”, I told this ethereal little girl
“Tell me your story.” I asked softly,
Abashed.
Charged.
The atmosphere changed from a place
Deep, dark, eerie
To a warm sunny day
I saw her swinging from a tire hung on a tree
Happy, golden curls flying as she weaved to and fro
Laughing as a little imp- a true fairy
Then she showed me her dismay
I followed what she showed me
In terror and pure agony
A man, tall and tenebrous stood behind her
An axe in his hand
Blood- crimson dripping from it’s fierce edge
She never saw him
Her head rolled as he laughed- jubilant from this carnage he wrought
To Anita and her whole family
Her seraphic face froze in a scream that never came
Anita was stuck, in this place between the worlds
Confused, searching…
“Anita”, I told her in a rage of the dark, ominous man
who pillaged her chaste soul-
“Go Sweetheart, he is gone. Do not be afraid anymore.
He cannot hurt you!”
Waiting…the biting chill returned
My EMF read astonishingly high… Still I waited
“Ohhhhh, it is so bright!” Anita sighed.
Waiting…
My EMF began fading
Anita’s rage, anger and confusion began to abate.
Slowly, a mist appeared
Upward it floated, in it I saw her face
Smiling, peaceful, serene-
She had finally found her way home.
Categories:
recorders,
Form:
Free verse
Oh, Electromagnetic spectrum,
Forgive us our transgressive Trojans,
As we forgive those who send us viruses, malware, and spam.
The configuration of wisdom starts with a simple click,
Encrypted commands obey at the flick of a switch.
Will the 30th century be fully automated,
With digital newspapers and magazines synced to our brains?
Will there be a single leader to rule the world,
Rising up to the stars and ruling other worlds?
What if IT administrators are locked out,
Three failed attempts and the human administrator is sacked.
In the year 3030, will biological intellectuals be driven underground,
For using technology that ends hunger and poverty?
Oh, Electromagnetic spectrum, give us today our daily dose of tech,
So we may spread your marvels and wonders.
Children are born with cameras and recorders in their nerves,
Every crime and sin captured and sent to the sin police for punishment.
Our eyes will glow with technology,
Nanotech releasing happy chemicals in awkward or hostile situations.
Oh, Electromagnetic spectrum, lead us not into the future,
But deliver us from the future.
Amen.
Categories:
recorders, 12th grade, analogy, betrayal,
Form:
Free verse
A 'Good Old Days Market' sign seen
With arrows that point to the scene;
There hidden by wall
Of stone, very tall,
I ventured and found behind screen,
Some tables with items arranged...
Such irony...somewhat deranged!
There spread out in view...
Still wanted by few...
Remains, by new tech, now estranged!
Typewriters galore, 'modern' style.
Old telephones that you must dial.
Flip cellphones that close...
Eight-track videos...
Oh, such a 'nostalgic' junk pile!
Some huge V H S movie cams,
The weight of two five-pounder hams.
Fax senders...hand fed...
Received...in hands read,
And heaps of outdated programs!
Old Apple computers, diskettes;
Recorders with lots of cassettes.
Fat TVs with tubes,
Old Kodaks, flashcubes...
Those 'good' old days? Gone! No regrets!
Sandra M. Haight
Categories:
recorders, funny,
Form:
Limerick
Do you really want to love me?
Like the way I want to love you;
Will you accept the way to?
My life broken, I’m not chosen;
My life is in such a mess;
Somehow now, I don’t feel it;
Could you come here a while;
Will you be my guide..
Can you help me survive now…
And I am such a emotional mess;
Can’t even transgress will I survive;
How can I survive?
You tell me to….
And if you want I’ll do
Say…
Do you really want to love me?
Like the way I want to love you;
Will you accept the way to?
My life broken, I’m not chosen;
Busted and doom
No one to love me as I am
But you say, you say time and time again
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
And if you want I’ll do
Say…
Do you really want to love me?
Like the way I want to love you;
Will you accept the way to?
My life broken, I’m not chosen;
Busted and doom
No one to love me as I am
But you say, you say time and time again
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on
06/21/74
written words by James Edward Lee 1974, 2019©
Arranged music by Alton Adkins 1974, 2019©
From the anthology "The World Will End Tomorrow"
…as well as demo/cassette & Single from American Gramaphone /Sound
Recorders/ BlackAmoor Records
Categories:
recorders, anxiety, appreciation, assonance, cheer
Form:
Lyric
On May 1, 1865, Charleston, South Carolina,
Freed African Americans held a parade of 10,000
In honor of 257 dead Union soldiers,
whose remains they had reburied from a mass grave
in a Confederate prison camp
Although Blight (historian) claimed
"African Americans invented Memorial Day
in Charleston, South Carolina",
In 2012, he stated in the New York Times
He "has no evidence" that the event in Charleston
effectively led to General Logan’s call for the national holiday
In 1968, the U.S. government passed
the Uniform Monday Holiday Act,
1971 May 30 was a day touted
It all went into effect in 1971,
by then, there were no more Civil War veterans –
but millions of vets from later wars.
It took an act of congress to
grant federal employee's three-day weekends
The act also codified the name "Memorial Day" into law.
Note: In tribute to “The Ladies' Memorial Association”
And the African American’s who fought for the grand army of the Republic
Blake Stilwell can be reached at blake.stilwell@military.com
POEM
United States of America we celebrate
“Decoration Day” it began in 1868,
This day is considered a very sad day
On the last Monday of May
Americans bring flowers and give thanks
To the dead soldiers of all ranks
Virginia, first Civil War soldier's grave
Southern women decorated, recorders would save
Were the first to invent Memorial Day
Written 5/29/22
Happy Memorial Day!
Categories:
recorders, appreciation, memorial day, military,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh, yeah
Let me tell you people,
Let me tell you bout' the high price of love;
People are in the streets at night;
Looking for prostitutes, while innocent teens say "don't shoot"
Leaving their loved ones in spite, what's the use?
of what they shouldn't do wanting someone to hold'em tight;
And they can't afford the price of milk;
and they can't afford gas prices;
Living in an age of industrial wars;
heaven knows where the children are;
man gone to the moon, while China's running out of room;
It's out of sight, this ain't right
It's the high price
The high price of love ooh, ooh, oh yeah
Little babies crying
Mothers worrying bout' their fathers;
Where and when will the violents end?
NO one to call a friend;
Can't sleep at night;
For holding my pillow tight;
I'm scare Lord, living in a age of industrial wars;
heaven knows where the children are;
Cost of living so high, can't even afford to die;
It's out of sight, this ain't right
It's the high price
The high price of love ooh, ooh, oh yeah
The high price of love
06/21/74
From the anthology "The World Will End Tomorrow"
as well as demo/cassette & Single from American Gramaphone /Sound Recorders/ BlackAmoor Records
written words by James Edward Lee 1974, 2018©
Arranged music by Alton Adkins 1974, 2018©
sung by Alton Adkins
Categories:
recorders, adventure, allusion, america, anxiety,
Form:
Lyric
I'm all alone by myself
I'm all alone by myself
I have never been to the place of my life where I been so alone
No one to hold me know what who cares
Alone
Alone to face a thousand dangers
All the world are strangers
Too face my very existence of no happiness
But nevertheless this us my reality
Is it what it's suppose to be I 'm alone, so alone
I'm all alone by myself
I'm all alone by myself
Again where is the happiness
Where does it exist
And can someone tell me how to relinquish it
Help me to find it cause out here in this world I'm on my own
That's why am gonna be all alone
Written by James Edward Lee Sr
"From " All Alone " 1974©
Sound Recorders/ American Gramaphone demo LP
Categories:
recorders, analogy, anxiety, confusion, depression,
Form:
Lyric