Tiny bones form a line, your life line can be used to define time, but the late night presses the back of your neck so forcefully that unfortunately the portions you bring arent enough endore the fortress designed to make you see the upside to your every growing timeline
See back to the spine, thin nerve swerve with the intent to connect you to the land you stand on, hoping no one knows your head is being stamped on the way you try open up the optics to get the blood pumping from worlds topics. Time is ticking and sands are pouring the beach front you see is just a hilarious illustration brought by stress and by noon youre awakened, the earth is still rotating so you might as well get on the band wagon, hopes theres room for your infrastructions.
You've made mistakes they caught you lacking so you turn the page theres no subtractions just and your existence froming all in your mind. Make no mistake youre feeling just fine, the only thing you need is your spine. No solid rod in your joints just human calcium and cartilage, youll be here just walking, just taking up mileage. Have you anything else to design, No you and your spine.
I am a dangerous dream
Lure you in, distract you with my lies, grey
Not as I seem, am i
My skin are scales
Cartilage willed rough and agreed to
Mirror no longer needed
I know what I am
Dangerous dream
Or something to take notice of
Silent request for rescue
Or a lure to an unclimbable hole
Where I sit
Hello...are you coming for the ride?
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight.
It clicks like disapproval down the stairs,
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
At seventeen, I ran until too late—
now cartilage remembers every dare.
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight.
The doctor called it mild, then moderate,
prescribed his pills and physical repair,
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
I miss the thoughtless body, its clean slate,
the kneeling, leaping, dancing unaware.
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight.
Some mornings it predicts the weather’s state,
a creaking oracle that I can’t spare—
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
I’ll walk again, they say, but hesitate
means something now, and trust is what wears bare.
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight,
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once were three chicks: Ally, Babba, and Louise
They wanted to go hiking, but each had problematic knees.
“Oh our knees are so weak,
Oh our torn cartilage” they shrieked.
We’ll go to the mall, rent a Segway, if you please.”
Ally, Babba, and Louise were quite bold and astute,
To the mall they went, in feathery pursuit.
A Segway they hired,
Then, onward, inspired,
To Cheesecake Factory before hiking, toot-toot-toot-toot!
But then the menu appeared! Oh what to do?
Chicken was on the menu, a feathery stew.
Waitress served them chicken ragout
Frightened, their faces turned blue.
"Good heavens!" they cried. “Let’s get outta here. "Coo-coo-coo!"
In the beginning, there was salt.
It hung in the air like unfinished scripture,
gathered in the throat of the sea,
waited for a mouth dumb enough
to mistake thirst for an invitation.
Then butter,
smeared on the void like gossip,
greased the dark’s knuckles
like an understudy,
taught the abyss to melt.
The first sound was not speech—
it was a swallow,
a hush,
a crack of cartilage between molars.
We spoke in reductions.
Grammar dripped from the bones.
On the second day, teeth—
tiny altars lined with nerve—
ground memory into ashable pulp.
Pomegranates burst like promises.
Figs cloaked their apples in lace.
By the third, we named what softened.
We named what burned.
Built ziggurats from rind to rind.
Wrote psalms in onion skin.
The fourth hung hunger in the firmament—
a constellation shaped like mouths
mid-ask.
On the fifth, we forgot the recipe
and mourned it like a god.
By the sixth, we’d tongued every fruit
that offered a rumor of sugar.
We learned:
the mouth is a beast with no leash
and excellent taste.
And on the seventh, we lay full and feral,
belly to sky,
licking
the holy oil from our fingers.
What a wonder this world holds,
If only you grasp it, if only it unfolds.
Look from the heavens to the earth below,
Your debt to parents will forever grow.
God needs but a single drop, no more,
To grant it strength, life, and vigor to the core.
To the faint outline of cartilage so frail,
Soon, a soul is breathed, a wondrous tale.
Then, the child begins to gain its mind,
For some, it’s early; for others behind.
When the pure white world first comes into view,
A piercing cry of life rings through.
Strange, after living so long apart
the things that resurrect the memory of your touch;
a vanilla-scented candle, the taste of Turkish coffee;
or the way flower petals graze my skin so softly;
the feel of waves beneath my feet,
the light of a parking garage…
the aching’s almost too much.
Sometimes I think I see you and set my eyes to follow after;
but it’s just ardor’s chimera, just a cruel mirage,
summoned by someone else’s laughter,
sounding from someone else’s street.
When I close my eyes the hundreds
of miles melt in my mind
to a single point in time.
We can’t see the water lap around us
but we hear its suggestions,
and sighing fold in on each other
like a glowing paper crane
nesting in the waters of the sky.
Once again I think I see your face--
the moon wreathed in penumbra--
And numbly grab a pen,
recording your ghost’s fading trace
in journals of sinew and cartilage.
Come list with me
Cartilage speak softly
Unto me
Your voice touches me
Radiantly speak
Sweets actions
Tell me your passion
Verse love me
With all your word
Speak to me beautifully
Thy words of encouragement
Whispers joyish sound
Versed be mine
7/10/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2023
swollen fluid-filled cavities bruised blue
broken tendons bones and cartilage too
blacken eyes wide and starry misty dew
sunken chest deflated lungs motionless
upon the yielding ground, thee now rest
no more crying, weeping, bawling
descend ye Lifeless hands fallen
what be thy purpose born to earth
have thee obtained thy due worth
why hast thou days been shortened
thy prayers were heard in earnest often
wayward the wicked deeds of man
wanton is his maiden
beings present since Time began
what image be they made in
New update, November 15, 2022
Caleb saw the orthopedic surgeon today. He said that he did not break his femur, but the patella(kneecap) dislocated but went back in place, there is bruising, and possibly torn cartilage. He is sending him to PT for 2 weeks then he will see the surgeon again about the torn cartilage. Prayer healed the broken bone and it is a much less serious injury, but it still hurts, is swollen, and needs time to heal.
Thank you again,
Sara
CHOOSE ME
If You choose my porous bones
to shatter into a
hundred pieces, dissolve
each atom of my cartilage
I will surrender, hands aloft
So that U my Lord and Mistress can
forgive a human race
Let us start afresh
scarlet daisies blooming on
sacrificing sojourns
ferns flapping acknowledgment
Choose me !
to melt into Your Solar Flares
my skin serving those starving eyes
on desert plains, those vacant women
I will surrender to Your flint
sucked into my raw nerves
I await Your choice
to crack my Heart
to do my mission
JUST CHOOSE ME !
Flesh is land I may say; seas are blood-floods; forests are bones;
Physic and spirit of nature, has zones of sand and stones:
Bones support the body to stand, bend, slide, glide, walk and run,
With no bones, can simple body have, in life, any fun...?
Bones safeguard my inner organs; forests do this to land?
For fertile soil and flood-free streams, forests give helping-hand;
Bones care for my blood cells; make platelets; spring marrows within;
Tackling the breeze that go wild, forests bring oxygen in;
Who does store and release fat but bones? So do wild forests;
Vaporizing toxins of decays, gives earth timely rests;
Storing within rich minerals, forest seem very calm,
As men and women with talents lot, are quiet and charm...!
In whatsoever way I look at, forest is blessing,
Bone of this earth, which itself is heaven, is caressing;
As ligaments and cartilage, is my mind-body link,
And so is forest, from whom I, to write these, get my ink...!
13 August 2022
a child collapsed cold in the garden
talisman waved with the wind
violently close to a pardoning-
hardening, molding the kin to her seam inter-winged
horribly marbling volatile harmony
azure veins fold under skin- jittering
gently golden it stings
effigy holding the strings
partially fondling close within cartilage-
pieces now bloom into things-
before following-
thin choreology
thew ending progeny
posed they erode intermittently-
honestly,
iridine progeny,
how are you possibly
watching atrocity knead etymology
skin abound covering, sleeving impossibly
sinew renewed where it feeds on bare faucet leaks
farther it blossoms then seeps something bodily
oddity, pardon me
lovably blue and it bleeds out so audibly
fissure pains bottling
lowly imposingly-
nearing a prophecy
budding up slowly to figurehead modesty
petals all grown out- they shelter so somberly
flay splayed out flower-wise neatly and modestly
peaking autonomy
inky tear conjuring
pink from the fostering
nauseously
cautiously failing to breathe
skeleton cartilage
seven gill slits on head
supreme power symbol
stalks prey up to six miles
sense of smell amazing
species are small or large
sudden seashore scary
SECOND PLACE WINNER
written March 10, 2022
especially for "In Search of Prey" poetry contest
sponsored by Joseph May
syllables checked with HMS and PS
Failure is a razor sharp edge.
Pierces the heart like an arrow.
Cuts deep into the cartilage,
And does separate the marrow.
Fault is prison without escape.
Lacking that someone else to blame.
Tips a scale and records on tape.
Weighs me wanting, snuffs out a flame.
Leaves me alone again at night
Facing the bite of cold steel rain.
Like sleeping under a flood light.
To awaken to much the same.
A time of testing will beclown.
Turns a straight path into an arc.
Pivots to an orbit around,
That moment of missing the mark.
An introspection blade quickens.
Showing a purpose to this pain.
Exposes motives once hidden,
Different from those I proclaim.
Cutting still deeper these gloved hands
Show me what I refuse to see.
That I prefer creating fans
of me and not so much of Thee.
Personal success is legit.
But recall this marrow we share
Conflicts with truth we must admit.
It comes from ancient ilk, beware.
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