Smiling down on the speckles of sand,
already the warmth is fading.
Dreaming of brilliant
stars to appear
as their mother rested on waves.
At the height of graceful magnificence
her soft chrome glow diminishing.
One last show
she would provide
before she went to bed.
She reached her arms to the skies
and bid her children "good night."
Sinking slowly,
hesitantly,
into the darkness,
she painted the heavens with hues,
magenta, tangerine, and cyan she had bestowed.
A tinge of violet creeping softly in,
bleeding unnoticeably, one into the other
until a rich ocean blue had been made.
Movements of life
slowed, blurred,
dreams wriggled deep into minds,
darkness blanketed
the land with its quilts.
And Earth slumbered once more.
The dank cold chill
stills the dawn
to forlorn quietude,
as the day hopes
in vain for
summer rays to
lift eyelids awake
to a warm break of day.
Shorebirds huddle
out of the shadows
to catch the glimmer
of weak light rays
that trickle onto
the sand flats.
Syrupy waves ripple
the lake's surface
trying their best
to make the best of
the frigid situation,
with the scene
blanketed by the cold.
Yet the lakeside chill knows
its reign is short-lived,
with the lake's vignette
hanging-out
for Spring's relieving
high-five touché touch
of warmth.
Howling Wilderness
windswept
bleak treeless plain
white blanketed mountains
permafrost hardened ground, I am
alone
hope
flowing
abundance
unbreakable
embattled walls cease
perish with loves embrace
under unfathomable
beauty blanketed in moon's glow
I fall into blissful surrender
serenity serenades through your voice
heralding a scarred heart's resurrection
trails of bright cosmic dust scattering
streaking the night kissed horizon
wrapping around trembling arms
scents of vintage leather
rain soaked petrichor
two hearts in sync
interlaced
become
one
it comes alive, stirring the soul
waking the spirit to a world
painted by snowfall’s gentle brush
like a white canvas, the first steps
across the blanketed path
leave imprints of hope, imprints
revealing what it means to see
silence at war with nature’s breath
it laughs at the hurried steps
of a heart rushing past
autumn’s light as she breathes
her caress, against the sun
who blends with the forest
to calm every ache, each storm
beyond the music of the leaf’s
quiet fall, the dance of fall
silence, she weeps through it all
her pen soothing away the sound
interfering with her muted breath
These are my early poems, or juvenilia.
Analogy
by Michael R. Burch, circa age 19
Our embrace is like a forest
lying blanketed in snow;
you, the lily, are enchanted
by each shiver trembling through;
I, the snowfall, cling in earnest
as I press so close to you.
You dream that you now are sheltered;
I dream that I may break through.
Published by Borderless Journal (Singapore)
Keywords/Tags: Early poems, juvenilia, college, analogy, embrace, forest, snow, lily, dream
If only I could hold you,
Even just once more,
The feel of you so close,
I'd cherish and adore.
Being blanketed in comfort,
The kind only you bring,
It's a unique aura of solace,
I'd enjoy more then anything.
Feeling you in my arms,
For that one time more,
I'd hold you tight to me,
How my heart would soar.
I still remember the feel
Your skin against mine,
I could never forget that
Its truly beyond divine.
The feel of the love
We shared back then,
It'd be a grand treasure
To hold you once again.
Paralyzed by an unexplainable grip
Left side blanketed in weakness
Levels off brimming with dread
Countless questions lingering
No answers just hoping time helps
Waiting for silence to soften the edge
But the static still crackles in my head
Hands shake like awakening memories
A battle my body won’t let me forget
Counting the hours in shallow breaths
Tracing the fault lines beneath my skin
Between surrender and restless defiance
I wonder if balance will come crawling back
In the beginning…
There was a tree
One day, a single seed fell upon fertile ground
A falling leaf covered and caressed it tenderly
Sunshine and rain brought it abundant nourishment
the wind blew soil and debris that blanketed its cradle
In due time, the seed sprang to life, and a sapling grew
It matured under Mother Nature’s constant care
Until it stood tall and proud in the morning light
Then, One day, a precious seed fell to the ground
And the cycle repeated as the years rolled on
A cycle with a noble beginning that resisted an end
Nothing stopped its noble pursuit and appointed purpose
Then another and another seed fell; many seeds fell
and they continued to fall until…
A forest was born. all because
in the beginning…
There was a tree
The book contained their history—
Years of servitude and plenitude,
Years of gloom and bloom,
Years of darkness and redemption.
They were bound by the chains of the unknown,
Seeds of anguish were strangely sown.
The land was the footstool of malevolent spirits,
An enigma blanketed it.
It was a battle of the seen and unseen,
A war against malicious forces,
The sages searched deeply for answers,
Sojourning to secret chambers for redemption.
Hope gradually wore thin,
And the courage of valiant hearts began to fray,
Their steadfast minds were steadily pierced by defeat rays,
As a deluge of recalcitrant assailants descended upon them.
A rebirth came with the arrival of the sages,
The spirits of the forest were summoned,
They joined forces with the elements of goodwill
And defeated the malevolent spirits,
Chasing them to the abyss of nothingness.
Pride filled the heart of the new ruler,
Who boasted of the sovereignty of his reign,
He disdained the Divine and the watchers,
But one day, darkness suddenly pervaded his palace.
He was gone, and so was the book.
February 3, 2025.
Dry mouth, air crisp, the snap on my skin,
Room dark, curtains drawn, I stay within.
Dare not check the time, I bury my head,
Excuses keep me warm in this bed.
Yesterday’s troubles left behind,
Today, my heart’s strong, peace of mind.
Coughs and cold, sugar in check,
I rise with courage, no turning back.
Pyjamas tight, it’s a lazy day,
Perhaps a prayer to clear the way.
Outside, the world waits, blanketed white,
And though I can't see, I know it's right.
He is Within Me I am HIS LIGHT
Below the silver White blanketed coverage Skies
Nothing but darkness round
I received in my eyes
Yet in the darkness in the blackest sky
Environmentally a speck of light life I so shine I am the impediment of energy is bright
Within Me is a Divine Light so Though the skies may be silver dull and white
My sorrow is left in the night
I Rise abreast above the nest
I look down as I'm surrounded by my Father’s energy
For He"s within me
And within me is He
For I am one of His lights
12/31/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2024
A beautiful
Scriptural reinforcement:
Matthew 5:14-16: "You are the light of the world...Let your light shine."
Psalm 119:130: "The unfolding of your words gives light; it gives understanding."
John 8:12: "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness."
Written: December 11, 2024 For contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "Cheers to a fresh new year and a fabulous opportunity for us to flourish!"
_________________________________
In the forest where the trees glow,
Shimmering stars shine, a stunning show.
Mesmerizing marvels in an idyllic, calm flow,
Cheerful gifts gathered gently in a row.
Blanketed children in wonder and cheer,
Gingerbread cookies, sweet flavors near.
Iced in crimson, green, festive atmosphere,
Sprinkles of joy as Santa draws near.
A sleigh with bells that jingle and run,
We gather as families, our hearts are full of fun.
Celebrating traditions, our spirits as one,
In the warmth of the holiday, we bask in the sun.
Shimmering ivory pearls in moonbeams,
Gentle lullabies that soothe all our dreams
Chalked memories drift in a crystalline stream,
In hopes that our love will forever gleam.
Though jaded vials may drip with despair,
We find elixirs of hope in the air.
Sick veins may quiver, dreams still ensnare,
As impending fate reminds us we care.
Bare branches and frosted limbs,
reflect how we both feel within,
it seems these days, our love is all but alive
Her smile is warm, but her shoulder's cold,
just as the sun still shines below zero,
and it seems these days our love is all just a lie
Words that escape our trembling chins,
cut as sharp and deep as winter winds,
and our quivering hearts can't quell the hate
When common ground is blanketed with snow,
it freezes seeds of love we've sown,
and it seems our frozen hearts are prone to break
And still our frostbitten fingers won't let go,
so the sun still shines below zero.
The morning slaps me awake
with a frozen windscreen,
keys in hand, scraping frost like
I’m chiselling through someone else’s mistakes.
My breath hangs in the air,
a ghost of myself
mocking the effort.
The cold flirts cruelly with my cheeks,
leaving them raw,
only for the radiator’s blast
to burn them out of spite.
The heating bill waits in the wings,
a villain in this pantomime.
“Put on another jumper,” I mutter,
as if wool could conquer capitalism.
Blanketed, I surrender to films
where faces blur into
a tinsel-coated déjà vu –
different eyes, same dialogue,
happy endings so loud
they drown out my cynicism.
Stupid Christmas songs screech
their hollow cheer,
and I let them.
They’re easier to hate
than my own thoughts.
But the air is so fresh
it cuts clean through the noise.
For a moment,
the world feels lighter –
even the weight I carry
shrinks to something
I can hold in my hands,
turning it over like snowflakes,
watching it melt
into the brittle calm of this season.
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