Best Sea Anemone Poems
Jehovah's Witness' Door Pamphlets
Pious
Fly-ahs
Catholic Church During Halloween
Scary
Mary
Scrabble Night With Missionaries
Wordy
Clergy
Preacher Owning at Dungeons & Dragons
Master
Pastor
Our Holiness the Dalai Getting a Text From His Ex
Lama
Drama
Sea Anemone Makes Amends
Moral
Coral
IT'S SAID A FEW HUNDRED MILLION YEARS AGO
I WAS LIVING IN THE SEA
I HAD NO LEGS TO WALK
I COULDN'T EVEN TALK
I WAS JUST A SEA ANEMONE
A SINGLE CELLED CRITTER IN THE PRIMAL STEW
DIDN'T SEEM TO BE GETTING ANYWHERE
BUT THEN SOMETHING HAPPENED
I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT WAS
BUT IT MADE ME COME UP FOR AIR
I MUST HAVE LOST MY TAIL BETWEEN THE SEA AND THE SHORE
AND I FINALLY LEARNED TO WALK ERECT
I GUESS YOU COULD SAY I'VE COME A LONG WAY
TO GET A LITTLE COSMIC RESPECT
SOME MIGHT EVEN SAY I AM CIVILIZED
BY THE WAY THAT I KNEEL TO PRAY
BUT WHAT'S IMAGINATION IF IT ISN'T INSPIRATION
IS THAT HOW I GOT HERE TODAY
THERE'S A THOUSAND DIFFERENT TALES OF CREATION
HOW DO YOU KNOW WHICH ONE TO BELIEVE
SCIENCE TEACHES EVOLUTION
RELIGION TEACHES ADAM AND EVE
I DON'T CARE IF THE WORLD IS ON A TURTLE'S BACK
OR A SUPER DUDE SAID LET THERE BE LIGHT
THERE IS SOMETHING HAPPENING, SYNAPS ARE SNAPPING
SO I'D LIKE TO GET MY FACTS JUST RIGHT
GODS SO PROLIFIC YOU GOT TO BE SPECIFIC
WHO'S GONNA HEAR YOU PRAY
JESUS OR JUDAH, MOHAMMED OR BUDHA
WHO ANSWERS PRAYERS TODAY
I DON'T BELIEVE THE BIG BANG THEORY
IS HOW I LEARNED TO PROCREATE
AND I THINK IT'S KINDA FUNKY
IF ADAM WAS A MONKEY
OR IT WAS SOMETHING EVE ATE
WHILE CHILLING IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN
SOME OLD SNAKE SAID STEP INTO THE LIGHT
IF YOU WANT TO HAVE A LIFE YOU GOTTA BE A WIFE
SO HAVE ADAM TAKE A BITE
OH WHAT A STINKER, HOOK LINE AND SINKER
ADAM REALLY SWALLOWED EVE'S BAIT
HOW WAS HE TO KNOW THAT SHE WAS JUST TROLLING
PIMPING FOR A SNAKE
NOW HE'S GOT HER DEEP INSIDE AND HE CAN'T GET AWAY
SHE REELS HIM AND WATCHES HIM PLAY
THE BETTER THEY LOOK, THE DEEPER THE HOOK
MEN WILL NEVER EVER GET AWAY
HAS IT BEEN THAT WAY FOREVER
BY A GOD THAT IS SO CLEVER
IN A GARDEN'S PERFECT WEATHER
IT'S A LOVELY ENDEAVOR
I DON'T MIND IF I DON'T GET AWAY
BUT I'D LIKE TO KNOW TO WHOM I PRAY
sea anemone
produces own eggs
and sperm
needs a good kisser
[*Sea anemones breed by liberating sperm and eggs
through their mouths into the sea.]
THIRD PLACE WINNER
March 18, 2021
For Constance La Frances “Haiku” Contest
Dreaming of Beaches:
and days by the Sea.
Dreaming of Grandma,
playing with me.
We played by the ocean,
and buried our feet in the sand!
We ran from the tides;
and those memories are Grand.
We searched for buried treasure;
and what did we find?
The greatest treasure of all;
was spending the time.
As the tides were down;
What did we see?
The grand Starfish, and Sea Anemone!
We found sunken ships and tried to catch crabs.
We threw rocks in the Ocean, and strolled hand in hand.
We played until sunset;
watching the sun melt into the Sea
All along laughing, my grandma and me.
Finally in darkness we headed home;
Counting the stars, down the boardwalk we'd roam.
The lights on the ships are so pretty to see.
Thank you grandma,
for sharing them with me.
written in 2004
Just
growing
with the flow-
flowers of the
sea
*sea anemone
sea anemone
clown fish hides in tentacles ~
not an enemy
On the Beach, Translation of Etiemble’s poem: Sur la plage by T.
Wignesan
(The end-rhyme scheme of the orignal : abb(b)a, cdcd, efef, ghgh, iijj,
klkl, fmfm, nnhh)
How good-looking he was this spy
all studded with sea-shells,
that the sea disgorged on the beach
(that the waves buried on the beach ?)
at the very moment we departed this world!
Anemones for his eyes,
a clam instead of an ear,
a bouquet of algae for haïr.
Long, hard, white and similar
to those statues of salt,
for every tongue a cuttlefish bone
whose caress rough and dry
awaited only a venomous kiss.
Clothed only in sand whose fever
and the shock of our death
had turned to wood our lips,
we called into question the treasure :
« English ? – French ?- Nazi ?- Who knows ?
But Young, Oh ! yes ! Drowned, that’s for
sure ; doubly drowned : the mouth open
for the ultimate gulp of green water.
How tenderly you leaned forward
to seal the ancient eye-lid,
that a tear, born of your needle-eye,
heavy, colourless like stone
trickled from his mouth : the honey
suave !- « Oh ! the sea anemone flowers,
there, unfolding their double rainbows,
bubbles of rubber easily stained ;
look, I killed him ! » « Fool, I said to him,
admire with me the prodigy,
and the proud perfume of his body
the body of a deceased still faltering. »
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
‘Krasue’
(A woman’s head with viscera hanging down from her neck.
She paralyzes like ice-cold lightning).
Where will you be tonight when the moon is shut?
Woman hater, where will you be
when the womb of your soul is shut tight?
Krasue will chant these lines over your stunned body,
her incubus birthed in you.
She will keep you pregnant until
your male belly bursts.
Then she will come out of you,
and the moon will open and shine again,
but not for you.
~~~~~~~~
‘Mae Nak’
(She's a female ghost who died at childbirth
and can extend her arms).
Mae Nak loves you.
She wants to carry you in her limbs
to the birthing couch. There she will
stretch her arms to the dawn.
Mae Nak loves you,
but you are a ghost to her,
she sees only an endless umbilical cord.
She believes you dangle at the end of it.
She believes that one morning
she will hear you mewing like a kitten
at her door.
Until then she lengthens her arms
like a sea anemone at a watery reflection
of the morning star.
~~~~~~~~
Nang Mai
(Lady of the Woods’, ghost-fairy related to trees).
Texture and grain are her domain,
but she will appear
if you are near her spider woven eyes.
She harms none,
but she can break the ties
to your own self,
make you see the mask
you’re wearing,
then she will send you home
weeping
until you break a thousand mirrors.
~~~~~~~~~
We met over oysters and scallops in the French Quarter
of a mismatched ether.
She sent pictures - her in a mirror, beside a mirror,
partly hidden by a mirror, naked under glass
(I still have that one).
She liked to reflect and be reflected.
I admired her self-regard, her low-minded succulence,
Her high-handed high-heeled slipperiness.
Raw fresh oysters and Dom Perignon for breakfast and lunch.
Scallops seared in butter on a crostini and a
Sauvignon Blanc for supper.
This minimalist diet kept her svelte, prim, and of course
most improper. I thought of her as a swim without a swimmer,
splashes of her revealing her lovely lips, and they were indeed
lovely,
red but not scarlet more a sea anemone rouge
as it fades to a pink laced coral.
The camera may garnish but it cannot hide
that kind of salty lusciousness
caught fresh every morning.
I likened her to a glistening slickness to be sipped or guzzled
Her words slipped through you like Gaelic eels.
Her neck undulated as a dolphins caress
as she swallowed her catch and zoomed.
I confess to an occasional shame-faced queasiness;
and then oyster and scallops are best consumed
over the internet where too much of them
cannot sour the stomach or tease you softly
with a squirmy aftertaste.
Yet I still imagine her in a mirror again
her teeth as pearly as pearls, yet snip-snip sharp
and as pointy as stiletto’s rent through a fished-up
filet of heart.
Melted plastic only 16 years
It was on concrete round under the sun
While I was shedding tears
What's the use Environmental substance abuse
Midnight see Amenia Marine
Midnight saxophone solo
Sea anemone amethyst
What's the use, Environmental substance abuse
Patina mist breezy
Royal jacaranda ultraviolet sneezes
Achoo bless you
Sinful articles man caretaker of Earth
Midnight seems so solar bright
Midnight saxophone solo
Drum roll Marco Polo
Down rainbows ends
BlackBerry puddle Timberwolves
Spirit Rock jacaranda
Temporal barracuda
7 * 70 16 years
Plastic bags and bottles
Never decomposed lasting for eternity
Pre-kindergarteners elderly grandmothers the populist and politicians say
What's the use environmental substance abuse
12/18/19
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr
Sea anemone’s tentacles toxins kill
But the clownfish has a special skill.
Poison immune
Will return soon
Bringing food to sea anemone, regular drill.
Radical glaze raw silk easy peasy
Chanterelle timberwolf stalking sheeps
Sea anemone royal purple raven
Tree nesting spring monsoon
Show time passings loons
Flying salmon mirror on sea glass
Northwestern Alaska environmental image
Beautiful
1/30/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
She was plum perfect
Sweet as apple pie
A lavender rose
Hearthstone
Boiling warm glow
Dew drop Olive garden
Warm Glow tulips in the spring
Such a sugary woman
Soul so very sweet
Her very essence chocolatey
Chanterelle strawberries
Sea anemone oceans breath
That woman that girl cotton in a candy
So sweet chocolatey sweet
She's yum, plum perfect
2/4/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Best case scenario -
my fame walking on two legs
wearing a golden helmet
(I made a bowl which I hammered
out of a lump of copper in workshop-class
aged 14, not good,
but all is golden now, for he who comes after me
has written an autobiography
that has left-out most of my failed handiworks).
He speaks from the empty shell
of a hermit crab. Distant stars love him.
He continues restoring my poems
long after they have crashed
into brick walls.
Or, he may come as the woman,
the one I have been seeking
in that frosted window of a past life,
She who I can only recall
when drunk on Blue Nun wine,
a Liebfraumilch that knits
all star-crossed lovers together
as they write themselves
quietly out of history.
In that almost land
my beloved unveils herself,
waits for my mind to open
like a blushing coral
sea anemone.
On the other hand,
he who comes after me
that man who watched my life
as if my body were at the bottom of a cliff,
he who also goads me to tinker with words,
converting them into land-mines
that sometimes maim.
If he shows up after my life
then I am going to haunt him
because he deserves to be scared
of a guy like me.
I am muse-walking,
~~ writing a poem.
The phone rings -
it’s my pal.
Something my mouth says
makes us both laugh.
At the same time,
one of my hands
is searching for the image
I was just about to find,
before the cell phone fractured it.
"Yea come over I’m doing nothing."
I am almost touching a black cat
in a dark room,
almost see it evaporating
on the threshold of nowhere.
We exchange ‘see-yer’ lingo.
Alone again,
my mind reverts to being
a heat-seeking sea anemone.
Sadly, the unfinished poem
has turned into a small owl,
perched on a thin tree
in the Andes.