Best Swarthy Poems
As last surviving acorn,
I hang about all day.
My skin is smooth and swarthy
Beneath a chic beret.
Horse chestnuts call me puny
But I don’t really care
For Mother shared a secret
Of which they’re unaware.
She said ‘Son just be patient
And hold your head up high
For one day you’ll have branches
That reach up to the sky.
The birds will serenade you
Throughout your lifelong days
And you’ll provide a shelter
For squirrels in their dreys.
Though wintry winds may batter,
We oaks will stand our ground
And one day, little acorn
Your splendour will astound.’
So now if others mock me
And label me a joke,
I chuckle, knowing some day
I’ll be that mighty oak.
18.04.20
The Last Acorn Poetry Contest -sponsored by John Lawless
The Smeaton Eddystone's architecture
First lighthouse protecting navigators
Light blinking, pulsating, luminously
Loud foghorn resounding resonantly
Guides shipwrecked mariners vigilantly
Or swarthy seafarers incessantly
On oceans perilous, tempestuous
A sailor’s salvation eternally
09~19~14
Jan Allison
Contest: The Lighthouse
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Form: Rhopalic verse
~awarded 1st place
Playing With Fire
Afraid for your miscreant soul
While the Devils licking tongues of flame at your heel
With oh so dirty thoughts
Afraid for the flesh
As you are lead to the pits
All the torture there in of your imagination conceives
Be pleased, to afflict on someone else
Swallow your morals
Like a sanctity pill
A Eucharist aspirin swilled down on holy water
Fear the flesh you stalwart middle class
While the upper-class
Enjoy what you cannot
As you wallow in the resistance of sin
And narrow your life to acquiescence
Puerile in such judgements
Of fickle moralities pleasure
Live a life unlived
And all its pleasure turn to guilt and reprieve
Salvation will come
When it ends
Ascend then, the Jacobs Ladder to heaven
Never knowing what it meant
To kiss with abandon
But rather, suckle to demon lips
All those desires in their fetish of flesh
One last look at the skin you left
Untested
Resist my swarthy middle mass citizens
And ply the trade
Of your own oppression
Condemn me, I dare you, to some raging inferno
Where the appeasing of your righteousness
Knows no bounds
In another climactic prayer for torture
I will play with the bonfire
Rather than mess with poor dripping candles
I will stand proud and defiant
And declare that I
Am Human
for Christie
Oh what a tangled web we weave,
ever haunting in devious wombs...
tattered voyagers embarking to the confine,
and by nightfall, swarthy leather pants
whip and crack like the white flag
blowing and tearing in a cold snap.
On ebony sails the ravens are perched,
pecking at threads that dangle
from dusky cloths which follow
a foreboding path among the charcoal seas,
with only a pale, crescent moon to light the way.
Heavy weighted winds we will travel;
with no need cast anchor to rest, for
even under the darkest of starless skies
we will navigate through any storm.
Whirlwinds of ships
encircle endlessly in a carousel of waves,
each riding their horses in a cynical unison,
Captain yell fire, seize fire, aim... and fire again.
On the ashen deck the posts are split,
the ocean floor reverberating while
fingers trace softly around her lips,
saturated in sweat and tears... hope, and fear.
In our time we've marked our authority,
through scorching suns and frigid blizzards...
on ebony sails we headway forever
to our home beyond the sea...
TRACKS THROUGH TIME
The Sand and pebbles of this stoney
way
Once made a shore on warm Jurassic sea
High dunes in desert, by great ocean bay
Now heathland slopes and barrows that we see
These tracks between the heather fronds
touch light
Cross pine tree hurst with gorse in blossom gold
Once paced by tiger, brazen eyes burned bright
And swarthy hunters skilled in ways of old
O’er neat home gardens - flowers bloom in line
Where thrush and warbler each a sweet air sings
Within a span of geologic time
Great pterodactyls soared on scaly wings
Our world, perceived by some: in dire decline
Goes on with little care for our brief lives
Yet we may play a part in its design
At least as wardens - lest it be our shrine
“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills,
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien
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Place of Redemption is Darkness
unpetalling - - solace space unfolding
I sail drowsy dim seas without boat
or oars, conversing with walrus, whales
treading liquid tar silent, unseen
in distance a dog barks as I empty
bladder into ocean
underwater cables run fire
Darkness, Cloak of Protection
alchemy distilling gross, grime, goo
a thousand fingers unfelt sew broken
pieces of Life, loosen hooks, nooses
Angels of Death appear, wings
midnight blue, gathering loose threads
snapped nerves, false cues
I hear a night ‘plane flying passion
Here Crow visits sea darkly shining
untouching cast charming spells with
silent cymbals, unscathed holds sound
I covet cup of cold black coffee, unsmelt
swarthy, spilling on night waters —
hiding eels, oysters find their feeds
blankets have no feel, weave
unraveling, I perceive spindles
Coelacanth swim inquisitive incognito
individuated spirits shine poking
examine my tired flesh, as velvet
phantoms we attune to F o r e v e r
black cat runs sky, corrugated quarks
shatter moon smiles, its rock tumbling
rays on rippling nipples, navel upturned
circles spiral gene keys like piano notes
Place of Attunement is Darkness
no stagnation or pothole sidles, earthling placards, test tubes or empathy labels
shimmering umbra behind stars fall
dust upon midnight water smooth
gloom to-fro about unpaid karma
prison cell was scribbled with charcoal
I shout my name, nobody hears or cares
Humming, droning, buzzing black
holes beckon like blackboards with
light language — I recognise Cosmic
sound activating Heart, fall deeper into
b l a c k o u t __>>>
alpha kisses omega as breath leaves
returning in baby gurgles upon a
Bermuda Triangle ~ dog sniffs backyard
Darkness ignites laughter untasted
observing I pay Tolkien tribute, tinkling
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GOLD Placement Poem : Allpoetry
May 26 : Prompt :
What may you find in Darkness |
Confirm no AI
Third Placement: Premier
Sponsor : Seth Pina : May : Your Favourite
Thank God for black on black bigotry,
oh the sweet dark chocolate they left for
me.
Thank you for their eyes did not see
swarthy is the beauty I seek.
Thank you for my brothers misery, because
precious dark chocolate is in love with
me.
The bright of her smile the light of her
eyes the contrast so deep.
Her ebony face her curly locks eclipses
the sun with angelic majesty.
In the moonlight her beauty is of
sparkling gold, God she's my sweet baby to
honor to love and hold.
Oh the folly my brothers, for when she's
in my arms I dream of a sweet princess,
royalty of long ago
Her kiss the berry so dark so sweet.
Her honey sweet waters streaming replete.
I am your shining knight and the spoils
of war you will keep, on bend-ed
knee I will not harbor a diamond, ruby or
nugget of gold, my swarthy princess
you intoxicate me so.
In your bosom please don't let go.
Thank God my brothers did not know.
While the water’s whitened waves
Flew forth fast in foamy sprays
All amidst an airy act
Blowing, blasting, beating back
Seeing swarthy, seaward sailing ships
Onward o’er the ocean dips
Upward, downward, driving days
Seeking harbors, havens haste their ways
The ships sail sure in stormy seas
Calmly coursing comes a breeze
Now softly sailing, slides the ship
Muffled, mellow, made my trip
Bristling yet beguiling winds are
driving snow sheets through the dark,
and, secured by brick and lamp,
I draw a comforter to my breast,
one woven by humanity.
I sense that each quickening gust
is pulling through the loom of time
life's many multi-colored threads.
A hickory brown is borne to me
of ships defying depths and dangers,
carrying dreams and heartaches.
Glistening now--the lucent blue
of fertile, percolating minds
genome maps and software.
I feel the orange of affection,
hearth and smiles and homecomings,
the warmth of song and story.
The blinking silver of fantasy,
visionaries, piercing sterility--
castles, stars, utopias.
Here is a filament of frothy pink
comedies, dances and levity,
play and spontaneity.
The looming strands of swarthy black
necessities, death, and armies,
relentless in their marching.
The golden promise of sacred texts,
altars, candles, hope,
encoded and translated.
Emerging, the green of recent growth,
rites of spring and passage,
learning and inner progress.
With such a large and lustrous blanket
in which to sink, like a new-born babe,
I'll toss some folds to you, as they will
easily stretch from here to there.
Seven swarthy swimmers
Sailboard so silently
Surfing stormy seas
31st July 2016
A Refugee
He had been given a lift by a Lithuanian truck driver
to a little town in inland Norway where the winter
starts in September and is cold and unforgiven as its
inhabitants. The truck driver had given him money
for coffee, and cigarettes.
Not dressed for winter this swarthy unshaven Levant
perhaps Iraq, a flotsam from a war caused by black
stuff that came up from the earth and cursed them.
He walked into the railway station had a coffee but sat
So long a guard came and told him to leave.
In the waiting room, he felt strange, sweated needed air
went outside to cool down and collapsed, pneumonia and
lack of nutrition an ambulance arrived people gathered
Around, bloody refugees get everything for free someone
in the crowd murmured.
Das Don doth debilitate democracy
driving a collateral wedge
deliberately dividing differences
collaborating, collapsing, and collaring
disparity amidst ever
increasing homogenization
extant within contiguous United States
across world wide web for that matter
attested by increased
spike among multiracial
amalgamated enclaves, individuals mixing,
where preponderance of melanin
generally affecting predominance
regarding increasing swarthy
naturally copper toned skin
across vast majority of heavily
Caucasian populated areas predicted
to become minority
according new statistics
located at webpage
https://www.brookings.edu/blog/
the-avenue/2018/03/14/
the-us-will-become-minority-
white-in-2045-census-projects/
predict the nation will become
“minority white” in 2045
which genetic assimilation
also harken better angels
among us to herald
interfaith marriage represent
according to hyperlink-
https://www.npr.org/
2013/04/10/176802652/
til-faith-do-us-part-
the-price-of-interfaith-marriage
close to half of all marriages
in this country over the past 10 years
(this cited for the year 2013,
which mostly increased since).
No doubt, the commander in chief
buzzfeeds into this inexorable trend
disquieting, horrifying, mortifying...
especially white supremacists
decrying, lamenting, threatening...
innocents abroad, and/or naturalized citizens
taking cruel dull liver re: to heart
acrimonious, caluminous, jealous, ferocious...
hazarding, kindling, tweeting
inevitable demographic transition overtaking
North America, and teeming masses
(particularly whose skin color,
perhaps fifty shades of brown,
albeit I hereby posit as
forthcoming second, yet
nonpareil gilded bronze age).
Relatively insignificant disparity
(within schema, asper genus/ species
*****sapiens per se)
people comprise greater similarity,
versus starkly disparate contrasts
between each other,
nonetheless oh bomb men able
enthuses, maximizes, trumpets...
every opportunity to spark
altercations, conflagrations, exhibitions...
animals veritably tearing each other
satiating human blood lust,
where coordination, integration, union...
welcoming brother/sisterhood, tolerance,
versus filleting, fomenting fracturing
mosaic boosts ego
inherent narcissistic tribalism!
EBONY BUTTERFLY
We all can fly
With powdered colored wings
Different you and I
But we're of the same being
BUTTERFLY
Look at me
At my mastery
See the beauty within
And surrounding, ever holding me
Is the many colored wings
Fluttering, embracing, holding me
Above this cruel, cruel world
FREE THO I BE YET THEY JUDGE ME
Colored I be yet different still I fly, I'm FREE
God has made me, Jesus died so I fly away
EBONY BUTTERFLY
So I'm not bright nor fluorescent I shine
Soaring heavens float in earthen skies
I'm dark but yet I shine, I rise
Pretty to the eyes
Radiance creates I'm taking flight
How can you try and criticize
While viewing me you taught out lies
Many are those colored wings
Fluttering, embracing, holding me
Above this cruel, cruel world
Only one creator, we're His creatures
From one cocoon we're all chrysalis pupa
Does it make it legal
For you to disown me
For cause my colors and pattern not like yours
You floor me, you shoot me down to the floors
Cage me up cause you won't share the flowers
Fluttering, embracing, holding me
Above this cruel, cruel world
EBONY BUTTERFLY
So I'm not bright nor fluorescent I shine
Soaring heavens float in earthen skies
I'm dark but yet I shine, I rise
A many are my colors bright
Beautiful my color too is... right
Golden tan, bronze, brown, brass, charcoal gray black
*****, dark, pitch-black, jet-black, coal-black, ebony
Sable, inky, brunet, obsidian, onyx, raven, slate, dusky
Be it I'm atramentous, melanoid, stygian, somber, swart
Or ebon, ink-like, piceous, livid, murky, shadowy, pitch-dark
Starless and sooty swarthy I AM did I mention black
Maybe the world would love me if I were a moth
EBONY BUTTERFLY
So I'm not bright nor fluorescent I shine
Soaring heavens float in earthen skies
I'm dark but yet I shine, I rise
EBONY BUTTERFLY
Soaring the heavens float in earthen skies
8/05/18
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
8/05/18
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
That little drive ~ filled ~ waiting cars
just others, counting "lucky stars"
Paul did it right, not many marrs!
Paul also was this small town's cop
to just curb violence, drinking's flop
so many years can use you up!
One time Paul came on 911
a possum ventured in our house
the cupboards clutter was its run!
A blanket in his swarthy hands
he grabbed the possum taking heed
down to the River ~ they'd proceed!
One time when I was in a wreck
he came to fill in his report
I'd broke most all, except my neck!
He knew the guy ~ a careless sort
who owned the town, riches resort
a stop sign never quelled his sport!
Paul vowed to catch the guy at bay
and parked nearby this guy's outlay
it just went on ~ til fateful day!
The guy turned over in a ditch
taking the light pole with its wires
the 911 not called, no switch!
Don't tell the town its favorite boy
had met his match
through his own play!
Our town's "nice guy" in every way
Paul made it by his real concern,
not harnessed by the upper class!
Paul gave his best ~ until the last!
Paul Cash expired 4-26-2010 this year. There were so many in
attendance, that the town had rented the High School Gym, cars
overflowing, the town shared its heart that day!
How many nice small town guys do you know! Not trying to be #1 at any Super Sport!
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The life of mature minds
is aid to all silly clowns
adorn life and silently binds
and blooms each face and efface each frown.
The bluster of emotions, floods down
the mind and sheer delight glistens
on lips, and insipid nature drown
in delight, and to each incertitude silently listens
The drops of blushed desire with tinge
of fantasy and wild ecstasy drops
from minds abroad and bring
the sole being some consolation and passively props.
The restlessness of the soul
and uneasy hidden fears
and slow down incertitude rests all
and dim blur eyes literally tears.
The unreasoned thoughts perplexes and retards
and swarthy leaden eyes fails
the brimmed tear eye silently guards
but full emotioned, to visage dribblingly sails.
The mortal gazes at psyche as an urchin
with wild surmise and feel puzzled
to things unknown and admire with chin
up, full gape wide and blank eyes dazzled.