I, i eye sight you
i sight you, i sight you
i sight you
baby beloved love you
bronzed brown eyes
savor hue
cause i begin to release
mai heart increased
beating feeling di joy.
no fit throway face
~
I, I EYE SEE YOU
I see you, I see you
I see you
Baby beloved Love you
Bronzed brown eyes
Savor hue
Cause I begin to release
My heart increased
Beating feeling the joy.
Can't ignore
8/16/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Corrugated sheet
Pock marked with hammer craters
Bronzed at the summit
Natural beauty
pink lips and no makeup
face bronzed by the sun
sun bronzed burgundy
bearing the thumbprint of god
like garnet sunset skies odd
beautiful climbing
warmed by rich gold rays of life
blithe above green strife
thrilling to breezes
with memories of moonlight
within bluebirds' sight
clematis coyly
attracts stares from everywhere
at beauty in air
There once was a merchant called Stan.
Sold lotion to girl and to man.
He was nice, not rude,
but the beach was nude.
He admired bronzed, lineless tan!
fair skin becomes bronzed
fit body glides in water
longing for her touch
Flowers will dazzle the eye with delight.
A serpent's dream is to suck them dry.
With jaded tongue and Cheshire smile.
To keep the blossoms somewhat safe
, flank petals with eagle and razor blades.
Lay a scale of wisdom before the bronzed gate
Nurture the lamb to keep the flickers at bay.
for “The Stumble And Rise” Poetry Contest-Sponsored by: Jami Patterson
------
there once was a bronzed aussie bloke
drank way too much bundy and coke
danced with the beating drum
then fell hard on his bum
laughed as he said "I'm such a joke"
* bundy is short for Bundaberg rum-usually drunk with coke and is a very popular drink in Australia
She entered the room and his heart as one
then all before distant time mattered less
he was no innocent, and she no nun
to which, much later, they both would confess.
But, at that instant, neither prisoned, cared
baggage they hid inside their faded trunk
for she, was a vision all golden-haired
and he, he was a sun-bronzed, six-pack-hunk.
He entered the room, in her, something stirred
and all before distant time mattered less;
and long before they had exchanged a word
he was, she well knew, an invited guest.
And in the next morning, as they both lay
they were yet to know the price they would pay.
Lord, please put summer on pause...
Everything is bathed in jade and bronzed.
Queen Anne's lace and curbside weeds,
beatified in the sweet, sautéed sunshine.
Everything is sheened in overabundance-
the aspen leaves are jiving on the breeze.
A cardinal is as plump as an uncut ruby...
for two weeks on- when the sun comes up
it weaves a song with lemon drops
is it taunting me or thanking the good lord?
Lord, please put summer on pause
While I'm still enmeshed in bone and flesh
Within the golden foothills I'm heaven bound and blessed
For a long time, the old barn had quite a lean.
When you'd come around the bend, it was comforting to see it.
Blushing and shifting weight in the sunlight.
It was a great loss when it finally succumbed to gravity and time.
If it could speak, would it speak of great sacrifice
or hardship and good times.
Would it converse with antiques and machinery?
or the shadow of a barn cat and a long-retired tire swing.
The old farmer had quite a lean just before he passed.
Don't believe he ever got to retire.
He bounced up and down those dusty rows for half a century.
There was a lot of wisdom and a sprinkle of secrets in that lean...
A quiet ferocity coiled in those ancient-bronzed hands.
He lived through two world wars and fought in one.
He served- fed and cleaned up the messes of the elite.
He prayed over and buried everything that he loved....
The city slag still called him simple and backwards.
There is something noble about an old farmer.
Securing his gate at dusk.
I think of those who left their home.' To fight on battlefields
Unknown.' In mud and blight against Gallipolis heights
At Beer Sheba and on Tobruks deadly plains.' Where they
Lay low; and let those tanks, roll over them front and flanks'
Then arose to put to shame.their foe' These Men
Of the the flats..Of wheatfields and cane.' From harbours
And citys made forever a name.' Reknown for igenuity for
Resilience wordwide.' Steadfast our bronzed battlers who
Took all in stride.' As the bugle notes ring out today in the
Dawn.' I remember.. I remember.' In gratitude mixed with awe.! So today as i face the struggles that come I shall
Draw strength, and inspiration at the rising of each sun.'
And it will remind me.' That whatever is to come? the
ANZAC spirit is my mentor, i vow to hold it to my memory all
My days on earth, until my final hours beneath the setting sun'
New year
Big cheer.
Low gear
Snows here.
Wind blew
Leaves flew.
Team scored
Crowd roared.
Sun tan
Bronzed man.
Warm sun
Beach fun.
Beach walk
Gulls squawk.
Bright bling
Gold ring.
Place bet
Roulette.
Bells ring
Wedding.
Trains late
Irate.
Won race.
First place.
Birds fly
Sky high.
Flat tire
My ire.
Written on 20th January 2025
The parade of endless colors is over,
All the leaves are dead or dying.
Scurrying about like frantic crabs.
Back and forth across an icy-icy land.
Clinging along the fence line of time.
Swirling about cul-de-sacs and doorways.
Like gothic teens with little reason to shine.
...but unchained from their master's paradise.
Unchained from the dance of emerald lies.
Soon these bronzed, arthritic children
will wrinkle into oblivion.
My thoughts of this world lie troubled and profound
As I pause drenched in the golden hues of copper fields
Stretched to the limit of the bronzed horizons that crowned
Beaming with the aspiration of assured hope revealed
As the sun wraps reverently all around
Where old familiars have settled to retreat
I have come where tranquility and serenity abound
Looking for a place of peace
I stand uplifted by a fabled tree of legendary rhyme
That laid its roots sublimely patterned in story
To furrow richly in the swelling soil of time
Gently resting within its landscape’s glory
It grew ever so magnificently
Harvesting the goodness of adaptation
In perfect unison with nature's severity
Relinquished in the passing of generations
Strong and textured with roughness and age
From the scars of hardship it dwells
In its simplicity and synchronicity-a musical page
A soothing lullaby-a song of peace and farewell
And in that golden light I am reminded we must
In a world amid calamity, despair and strife
Find ourselves in this place of calmness and trust
Amidst gardens of hope glowing with harmonious life
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