Best Shapen Poems
Shapen
a channel,
deep with in me-
releasing others to
fly free
See more @ John 7:38
Categories:
shapen, faith, life
Form:
Cinqku
Tremendous anxiety is shading her days
Because the past she's lived has shapen her ways
Both good and bad as she's up and down.
She smiles so brightly only later to frown.
She knows yet is confused and right, but wrong
As she's back and forth like a game of ping pong.
She will love, but later push away.
Always extreme measures taken; this is her way.
I hope in the future she will learn to be content
And stops acting so selfish and irreverent.
I know she'll occasionally cry and need to vent
But I just want her to be happy. This is what I meant.
Categories:
shapen, addiction, anger, anxiety, care,
Form:
Rhyme
Beautiful woman with your heart full of love;
Blossoming flower shapen with God's own hands;
Ever so wonderful I embrace the thought of you;
Channeling expanding my plans of life with you;
And in each measure of time that goes by;
I relive the option that I;
I am ever in love with you;
Tantalizing vessel I'm do view;
Ever presents is my life I want to share with you;
I'll be forever true;
If you were just to allow me
Prettier than the deer eyes, the fawn;
Gentle as the fall's early dawn;
Delicate is your warm and tender grace;
You face as oval as an egg, and yet your sweet as grandma's marmalade;
And in each measure of time that goes by;
I relive the option that I;
I am ever in love with you;
Tantalizing vessel I'm do view;
Ever presents is my life I want to share with you;
I'll be forever true;
If you were just to allow me
Beautiful woman please let your heart be full of love;
Blossoming flower shapen with God's own hands;
Ever so wonderful I embrace you with the thought of you;
Channeling expanding my plans of life ever after with you;
For you see abundantly I love, I love you,I love you;
I really do love you;
8/19/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
From anthology “A LOVE FOR YOU”
Categories:
shapen, appreciation, desire, for her,
Form:
Lyric
A student hunched over a Macbook Pro gone mad with overachievement,
Typed away at a fifty-page essay with aid from sleep's bereavement.
As his fingers stroked the keypad's letters with pace and fine finesse,
The clock struck midnight when his stressing brain had asked for rest.
"I must finish," he said to the self trapped inside his aching tired body,
So he popped his prescribed Adderall and brewed twelve cups of coffee.
Then, his two fellow suitemates had returned from the school's library,
Whose brutalist folding shapen stone held tomes for the literary.
It was a university named after Jonas Clark, where Sigmund Freud had given lectures,
On his first and only trip to America: the failed experiment, according to his own conjecture.
The boy was a psychology and political science student who blended these two fields,
In his work to describe how his government affects the mind, which his paper would reveal.
Then, as the stimulant pills and beverages began to awaken his mind,
Something began stirring in the lights strung in the corner of his eyes.
They were Christmas lights, though colored orange and purple,
And wrapped around the square room in a luminescent circle.
The boy heard a sudden buzzing sound shocking him like bee,
When he looked he saw what seemed to be a giant flying flea.
It was hiding in the lucent trickles of lights that splashed upon the walls,
And making an electric voltaic sound which scared the boy who ran into the hall.
As the boy shut the door in stupefied horror of the bug inside his dorm,
His body began to tighten and tense while his hands glown red with warmth.
He looked up and could feel the fluorescent lights shaking on his skin,
As if each of the photon's strands were tiny shooting needles and pins.
His brain began to beat as if it were to burst through his furrowed brow,
As its very own waves began to blur the vision his eyes would not allow.
Darkness melted over his sight like chocolate atop a marbled cake,
As the boy's mind pushed him into a dream while his body had been awake.
A nightmare had melded with reality from the overstimulated boy,
Whose mind had trapped him in a terror and played with him like a toy.
Categories:
shapen, addiction, anxiety, dream, horror,
Form:
Couplet
Oh! please, please, hear me, listen
See me, shackled to the dirt
Won't you loose these chains, that bind me
To a life, of pain and hurt
Sing me sweetly, to my slumber
In the darkness of the night
As my nightmares tear asunder
The resolve, left in my fight
Help me, hold it all-together
As the reins, slip from my hands
Tears of sorrow, wet the leather
Only You, Lord, understand
If You show me, what's before me
Will I fear the broken truth
Will a wave of hope, restore me
To the glory of my youth
Am I worthy, of a mention
As in awe, of You, I stand
Will you part my sea of sorrow
Smite my giants, with Your hand
All the rapture of the living
Lies, entombed, among the dead
The promise of the Gold to be
Lies sleeping, in the lead
As a candle, burning brightly
Is mis-shapen, over time
Will You hold me all- together
In Your tenderness divine
Though, I Thirst and I am Hungry
In a Soul, that's growing, cold
I'd not sell You, for their Silver
Nor, betray You, for their Gold
Categories:
shapen, heart, philosophy, religion,
Form:
Rhyme
Ashes
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…
How many times have we heard this?
on TV, in a play, in a movie…
Have you ever read it in the bible?
The very book of life!
He that made all things,
you, me and the trees,
is the true creator.
Sadly the high in chair,
stare into the dark willingly.
They are using You.
Those in the seat of power.
They speak Your precious word,
to bludgeon others into their own belief.
Not the truth at all,
But a miss-happen, miss-shapen, explosion,
of warped possibilities all gone wrong,
culminating in a virus that closed down,
the whole world!
Now we watch as our friends pass.
Now we take note,
if not too late;
that people are worth more than money,
that hurting others is a bad thing,
that killing unborn babies is a sin,
and murder is murder…
regardless of reason.
We need to bow are heads,
and know that our prayers…
are desperate.
This will pass, stay inside, God is real...
Categories:
shapen, abortion, abuse, allah, america,
Form:
Free verse
A nymph is squatting inside the center of my spine,
Uninvited yet making himself home,
Sucking the soma from these skeletal cabinets of mine,
Where warmth and wine inside once roamed.
He pinches and pricks my limbs with a stick,
Made of course shapen snow,
Which sands my body with a cat-like lick,
Until I cannot feel either toe.
Get this disgusting little nymph or sprite,
Out of my body please,
I crave for warmth to wrap me tight,
And feel again at ease.
Categories:
shapen, feelings, senses, winter,
Form:
Rhyme
Ere ever I send to her;
She whom I love;
Any of the apologies and explanations of most bittersweet love:
An accounting of those regrets and remorses that I have,
My fooleries and follies and fallacies, fair as well as fell and foul,
That I discharged;
Ere I ever send to her, in epistolary form,
Or else that poetic and psalmic,
Those words of love yet regret that I wish and long most
To discharge unto her, so that her brassed-over heart,
Now encased with bitterest, steeliest, most impenetrable and sharpest
Shapen steel touching me, concerning me, regarding me;
She black of heart with reference to me;
So that her cold unforgiveness might at long last come to an end;
So that this everlasting winter of her hatred, fear, anger, and unforgiveness
Might cease and because spring and summer anew,
For all these reasons and more, I,
On this, the thirty-fifth anniversary of my hardly sainted nativity,
I await her, and her apologetic, explanatory, reconciling and/or
Forgiving remarks,
Her little lovely epistolary lucubrations or inditings of a
Reconciled love,
Because I have a weak and almost extinguished hope that
Perhaps her gift in remembrance of my nativity
(Of which she has more than her sufficiency of knowledge)
Will be the delivery unto me of those remarks abovementioned.
So, though I may pine and long and yearn to send my love
A gift of my own on this day,
So that we might finally see the twilight of this long estrangement of ours,
I will not, not until and unless I see that she hath sent me nothing
And said to me, even less.
Categories:
shapen, absence, adventure, allegory, art,
Form:
A duck slowly paddles across the still water,
Disturbing the reflection of brooding storm clouds
Above. The pond sits close to the top of the ridge;
Precisely round, there are no streams entering or
Leaving to explain its presence. Cold wind keens
Through the mis-shapen trees nearby; the thin sound
Is haunting, a threnody played by a distant piper.
A gust catches the loose board on a ruined farmhouse,
The sudden bang provoking a startled shiver.
Splashing rain against the cheek awakens dormant
Memories, and the landscape turns barren, a
Wasteland, the pond revealed as a smoking crater.
Vision clears. In the distance, a red poppy marks
Where the defiant piper fell, his lament for himself.
Categories:
shapen, death, memory, world war
Form:
Sonnet
Behold, dear reader, a bit about a boy and his battle,
He fought for his family, his friends and all of Earth's cattle,
His world was straddled by what rattled atop some saddle,
Bound all beneath to bare all the brunt as do stone staddles.
A bishop, the boy saw these binds that (most) others could not,
And Earth's saddle-strapped cattle knew not for what he fought.
Nor did the sad saddle-strapped cattle know they've been made chattel,
How pitiful, this cattle, prattling a brattle beneath their straddled saddles.
Paddled, the cattle that dillied and daddled, flacid tails tattled tales told to the rattles,
Shaken by choking yokes shapen snake coils: the saddles that straps our cattle for straddle.
Though choked by the coils of a cobra's yoke,
The cattle knew not of this knotted knit cloak.
For they felt free as does a flame from its smoke,
Woken broke from the womb and broke till they croak.
These broke choked bloaks believe they alone provoke,
Whether or not they choke or invoke luck by the stroke.
They poke fellow folk with spoken tales that do not,
Evoke visions as to for why for this joke should be fought.
Categories:
shapen, humor, metaphor,
Form:
Burlesque
Ancient covered bridge mouth open
Invite in the colorful yellow aspen
Weather washed planks neatly shapen
Sandy road leads into dark interior dampen
Invite in the colorful yellow aspen
Let them dance inside see what happens
Inside your braced solid strength sharpen
Weather washed planks neatly shapen
Stretch planks of ancient times deepen
Our youth bring them forth enlighten
Sandy road leads into dark interior dampen
Damp sand of antiquity new ideas ripen
Let our nation come back enlighten
Trimeric form
Categories:
shapen, history, life,
Form:
Rhyme
LORD I WANNA BE WHOLE MAKE ME OVER
Lord, I’m dirty wash me
Wash me, wash me from my sins
Lord, so dirty am I
Cleanse me my spirit and my soul
Make me, Father cleanse me make me whiter than snow
I wanna be whole, be made o’ver
Be whole cleanse me white as snow…
Lord I am unworthy, dirty by my choices
Lord I am dirty by my world
Cleanse me my spirit and my soul
Make me, Father cleanse me make me whiter than snow
I wanna be whole, be made o’ver
Lord have mercy blot out y transgressions
I want to do your verdict I’m on your mission
Wash me wash me, thoroughly from my iniquity
Cleanse me from my daily sins
Make me ever so whole again
Lord, I’m dirty wash me
Wash me, wash me from my sins
Lord, so dirty am I
Cleanse me my spirit and my soul
Make me, Father cleanse me make me whiter than snow
For you are holy and I praise you your name on high
I adorn you for I want to be your child
Against you God and only you Lord have I sinned
And it’s you Lord only you whom I need
I was shapen in iniquity and in sin did my mother conceive me
I’m blessed, Lord give me rest forgive my future now and past transgress
Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean
Lord, I’m dirty wash me
Wash me, wash me from my sins
Lord, so dirty am I
Cleanse me my spirit and my soul
Make me, Father cleanse me make me whiter than snow
I wanna be whole, be made o’ver
09/29/10
Inspired from Ps 18:38,39,40
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2010
Categories:
shapen, analogy, assonance, engagement, forgiveness,
Form:
Lyric
Measure by humanity, the capacity is overwhelming.
We take for granted the nature which surrounds us.
Gradually reaching the end- by business suits and their passion for currency--
Look around and observe this earth- Sounds, water, trees, birds--all are of great worth...
The extinction of resources allows some to question the future of this once fertile land.
It is our home, but it does not belong to us.
The ego will ignore this truthful statement-- The ignorance of the mind has continued the slow process of reaching the core. Close your eyes now and imagine the earth--We are revolving around circumstances that pull us deeper towards the core of mass destruction--
Unawareness will tragically invade= Questioning the reality of our universe...Waking up to nothing scares me...
The alarm clock is set for dawn. Rediscover the human- on an unknown level of thinking--
personal findings will allow you to plan for the well-being of the civilization.
Actions must then rise above the words. Mis-shapen lines of creativity appear...teaching my mind the possibilities--- Are these words sufficient?
My descriptions are coming from a process called Analization---not so much focused on the process itself, but the characteristics that spurred this explosion of cultural re-invention.
Tapping in on a new experience all together-
I continue to write--but I want to do more! I need an instructor!
I want to expand this feeling! NO RETRACTIONS! Simply inner developments...
A Peace of Mind--SYMBOLS converge...
Am I on the edge of an epiphany?
Categories:
shapen, introspection, life, passion, universe,
Form:
Lyric
My heart covered slush
I was naked before Him
And in all my making in this
He saw before me
My essence my trueness
My heart was open unto lewdness
My stain heart
Filthy is my heart
Yet in Him instilling His virtue
Into me I chose to receive
That which Is the righteous of Him
And in my nakedness
I'm surrounded by His pure virtue
My stain heart
Covered in my heart sins of thoughts
As I wash myself thorough
Within the blood of the Lamb
His cleansing nature substance me spiritually
I am not viral exceedingly chasing my sins
Those my sins now are washed away
In my stain heart
I am craving the righteousness
The pureness of His heart
Heart of His Son's spiritual blood flowing through my veins
I am coming forth submerged in the grace
And mercies of my Lord Jesus
Through my naked soul and spirit
I'm cleanse washed made whole in the name of Jesus
No longer worn nor bruised my harden heart soften
Tender and pure safe and secure I am renewed
In a new shapen unstained heart~
12/4/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2022(c)
Categories:
shapen, analogy, appreciation, beautiful, forgiveness,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The Crowned Dead
The growing of green things,
should concern all of us.
The fires burning in far lands,
can still reach US(a).
There are all kinds of flames.
Not all are hot, some are ice cold.
They drive you to run into the sea,
even as it boils.
Fear of toxicity,
and death by chemical cast-offs,
or delinquent occurrences of stupidity.
The world is slipping closer
to the orbit set at the beginning of time.
Prophesied and foretold,
to the level of awareness,
none will or can be naive.
The plain sight of news,
media playing games,
tiny titans of power...
bereft of might,
and liberty used as a weapon.
The enemies at the door.
Sky buses full of horse droppings,
fraudulent reasons to spread chaos,
further among the peasants...
staring into their TV's for signs,
"They" do not want seen.
What are the number of the sick?
Have you seen the cities of the dead?
They are vacant and made of concrete,
that crack(s) from lack of zoning requirements.
Tainted miss-shapen causes,
to focus not on the Light of tomorrow,
but the darkness of today.
Is this a mirror of what you dished out?
Have you killed others to build your world,
upon theirs?
Beware.
Categories:
shapen, allah, america, immigration, obituary,
Form:
Narrative