death isn’t some grand doorway,
no velvet curtain pulled back
to reveal a fresh, pink-fisted miracle
screaming its way into being.
no—
death is the bar at 2 a.m.,
the bartender wiping the same glass
for the hundredth time,
waiting for you to realize
there’s nothing left to drink
and nowhere left to go.
people talk like it’s a rebirth,
a clean slate, a cosmic joke—
but I’ve seen too many bodies cooling
and too many hearts going quiet
to believe in any of that.
life bursts in like a drunk lover,
slaps you awake,
hands you a good cigarette,
tells you to run or stay
but at least keep breathing.
death is quieter,
a landlord who finally changes the locks.
no warmth.
no promise.
no infant light crawling through the blinds.
just the slow extinguishing
of the last good flame
you managed to keep alive
in this busted, beautiful world.
and maybe that’s enough—
that we burned at all,
that we kicked and cursed
and came into this place screaming,
because death,
for all its cold discipline,
has never known
the wild, impossible promise
of a single live birth.
Stillness births bliss, a sublime flame,
engulfing feeble form,
with which once touched, we’re not the same,
at peace within the storm.
We’ll share this trick we know,
which is just make thoughts slow,
whence grace begins to flow.
Ego dismiss ~
Stillness births bliss
Womb's water broken,
mind releasing multiple
births of screaming poems:-
Every day has births and deaths,
Not one of them routine,
While most of us are dealing with
The stuff that comes between.
The entries and the exits
To and from our varied lives
Give no clue to an observer
Of who struggles or who thrives.
The baby, just emerging,
Is a blank, unblemished slate,
While the dying must accept that
Any change will be too late.
For the rest of us, we’re kind of like
The filling in the bread,
Our days the sustenance between
The newborn and the dead.
For all those who are violent
They may don't like religion,
They may not believe in God
There was a "mother",
To think her gave birth was sinful!
It’s both a bitter funeral for freedom
and the birth of new crime.
Reborn here now without baggage,
morning shrieks open my first page,
life to journey, burdens to load,
through turmoils on treacherous roads!
nude, small, no riches to engage,
reborn here now without baggage,
if wealth there was, no longer mine,
and those I loved, of them no sign.
memories of past in dark fade,
but wages of sin are still paid,
reborn here now without baggage,
soul’s trial's in new body cage.
can wisdom guide this life from hence?
to break cycle of rebirths thence?
past fortunes I built till old age,
reborn here now without baggage.
N/A
03/10/2021
Dawn poetry contest
Unseeking seeker
16 lines, quatern 8 syllables each line
PS syllable counter
spring highlights birth bliss
gardens beautified by bulbs~~~
daffodils blossom
blossoms waft freedom
midst birds’ chirping symphony~~~
blue jays sing blest life
life's wonders God-wrought*
exploding with buds and sprouts~~~
nature splendor glows
*Job 12:9 Who knoweth not in all these that the hand of the LORD hath wrought this?
April 22, 2021
5th place, "Spring Haiku Chain" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by M. L. Kiser; judged on 4/26/2021.
moon blooms with lanterns
night palls a velvet blue veil~
earth awaits new births
*A 3rd Place* in the following contest (Judged on Aug. 22, 2020)
Haiku – Nature Themes 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Syllable count: 5/7/5
Still mourning dove nests,
safety for tenuous eggs.
Calm dove births her spawn.
The love of my births,yours mine with it.
Necklace of maked bondage,never break down.
Your trust from me,never not left.
The love of my births,yours mine with it.
Come thunder storm,whether go this life.
With your hands,my hand never left.
You do not have to be angry, never rowdy.
The love of my births,yours mine with it.
Necklace of maked bondage,never break down.
Your trust from me,never not left.
Surely tell a reason why?
Under what circumstances?
So why kill one or throw?
Precious are the double gains
Every labour yarns for increment
Never underestimate an increment
Sure you are mean taboo
Ending and slimming twin breathes
CRIMSON MOON BIRTHS DEMONS SOON
There’s a embroil inside crimson moon, tonight births demons out soon
4/15/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2018©
What Doc Jones called "nerves"
was early onset first love.
No cure has been sought.
March 31, 2017
Rabbit tracks in snow,
A runner on his errand.
New bunnies need food.
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