Please don't think this poet demented,
so that my reputation is cemented
as a lunatic or nut.
I hope you think of me with pleasure
and happiness, if only a measure -
just the oppo-zut.
The setting
A box with furniture
All appliances
Windows with screens
Bathroom with sink and mirror
Clothes Hanging in Closets
A Garage that has a care within
Bills paid online, Mail comes in a mailbox
Roads that are rebuilt and tared
The setting
Grass roof
Bamboo furniture
No appliances
No Window with Screens
The whole.outdoor as your bathroom
No closets, just in luggage bag
No Garage
Mail in town not near
Paths that are a road cemented
The difference of Simple Life
That there is less care then the other
No structure that don't bind a person
So Simple is far from luxury or conveniency
We are pleased on our own terms
That is the description of a simple life
Mystic matters,
Don't drink the waters;
Polluted in poisons;
Covered in moisture;
From the overt,
Dirty cemented oceans;
Polluted in passions;
Raping the dry lands;
Covered with mittens;
Closed fisted, screams and yells,
Yet no one hears nor listens;
Hush! quiet you're 2 loud ;
Overture, over140 decibels;
~
Caustic highs,
Don't eat the dandelions suns;
May be enough just for heart burn;
Open letters un word;
From overture,
Clean linen washed in mud
Polluted in passions;
Raping the dry lands;
Covered with mittens;
Closed fisted, screams and yells;
No one sees the metaphors;
Leading against the doors;
```All things matters!
4/19/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
1st Poem written @ Omaha's Central Library @ 1:00PM
7205 Dodge St
Omaha, Ne 68114
Grand Opening
April 19 2026
TORTURED HEART
With tortured heart and hollowed soul
and head hung deathly down,
his feet cemented to the floor,
guts spilt upon the ground.
His blood runs hot and cold alike
betraying his commands.
his face the shade of rage and shame,
crimson and cloaked in his hands.
Sullen and silent he will not deign
to speak her name aloud,
as new reality staggers in
neath desolate dark cloud.
T'would not ease the pain of jagged gash
where heart once beat in chest.
Nothingness has no end or cure,
yet lives at his behest.
Embracing endless emptiness
is all that's left to feel.
Combing over memory lane,
forbidding wounds to heal.
City of Wills
Cant say I love you
They say you got to know her
You can't just say she's beautiful
Enjoy the party with your heart in an hour glass
She sings when she talks
The songs of Saturdays and lying on the grass at the park
I love her like a distant horn of a midnight train
She is my heartbeat she is my ghost
The night is forever young and the days are to discover the length of my rope
She is possible in an impossible world
I have wined and dined her I have felt her needs and felt her sorrow
But the joke is on me
Between a foundation and a wheel barrow
If hard work hasn't cemented my soul
Music will provide the power to touch feel and smell her flower
I verse the barren cemented sidewalk
listening to shoes and soles and souls
speak their tired tongues, tortuous
aloneness my name, garden free
solitude my drops of watering
I’m rooted tough against storms
I wave my arms as breezes bring
messages you will not hear
awaiting fertiliser I will not taste
nourishment from glances of the few
still my resilience will aid imbalances
as my core emits survival frequencies
ticks suck my fluid for always He sends
rays of light into my breasted stamen
cracked spaces my choice turf
rejection strengthening spinal stem
away from acclaim I listen clear to
unsung heroes, heroines tempestuous
in concrete fissures of new beginnings
____________________
4th Placement : Standard Contest
Sponsor : Craig Cornish : March 26
They line the streets
In a shanty confined
The cemented floor
A cold refuge
Embracing disgusted busts of energy
Lost in the wilds
A strange world
The Privileged ones…
What can they do
To assuage this continuing distress
About 1.7 billion
Held hostage in
This grueling tunnel
Manifest in varied dimensions
They lack voice
Human dignity violated
Insecure exclusion of individuals
Habituated in marginal environments
Astronomical cost of living
Must be apprehended
Cities and states must be
Built on God’s foundation
Harbingers to this state are:
Scarce basic needs
Unwilling governments
No economic freedom
Weak rule of law
Bureaucratic burdens
Lack of industralisation
Ailing financial services
Contaminated tendencies
WATAMALA
I was 20 and I had a broad smile
But the years passed after awhile
My smile faded into a frown
After time I realized I let myself down
I dreamed of better tomorrows
Without anguish or sorrows
Beer after beer after beer
Trying to drown my fear
Now my closet is full of empty cans
And my days free of plans
But these alcohol tears
Only bring me leers
I'm surrounded by the ghosts
Of the people I loved the most
But it is their words that haunt
Looking in the mirror a face so gaunt
I try to be strong
But everything is so wrong
A quivering gun to my head
And a click, a click, but I'm not dead
The man I have become is a villain
See it's the outline my sin will fill in
But I have to finally admit
That I'm afraid to quit
At arm's length I hold my feelings
Tired of the dread and defeating dealings
I've got a meeting with Death
Every time I'm short on breath
I am 35 feeling unable to smile
And as the years pass I'll be gone in awhile
Cemented to my face is a frown
Because those beers made me drown
All because I wasn't willing
To go all the way
She couldn't stay for me
It wasn't death
More like life
I was on her like children
In a playground
We played for hours
On moms bed
She and I weren't
Yet 18, but possessed
Everything to go all
the Way
Because she wouldn't stop
For me
I couldn't stop for her
The two of us on a
Course, treating it like
A fast moving door
Treading in water like
A junkie on there last hit
wanting each other so bad
But neither of us stopped to protect
Ourselves
When mourning came, I
Was melted ice cream
While she was a hot
Shower, no wonder people
Say "tell us was it good"?
I just smiled and walked
With a nod"yes" and no one
Ever knew how
She almost cemented me,
It was like a picture a
Painter painted
On and on without the
Proper colors
It was me at 18 and her
At just 17 and we gave
Each other a hug, knowing
It wouldn't be our last.
Precious crystals heavenly perfumed...
Raindrops* quench parched lands of scorched scent
Creating refreshing blend with grassy redolence
Radiating hope of sweet harvest against malodorous dearth.
Celestial treasures from cottony clouds...
Raindrops soothe leaves in their anguish for rejuvenation
Softening sun-cemented earthy lawn
While cooling souls and warming hearts
Since showers of blessings are God’s answers to prayers.
*Zechariah 10:1 Ask ye of the LORD rain in the time of the latter rain; so the LORD shall make bright clouds, and give them showers of rain, to every one grass in the field.
January 20, 2026
3rd place, "LET IT RAIN" Free Verse Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud; judged on 1/28/2026
Drink up slowly feel it in your throat,
there is such texture with every note.
Bright bubbles of joy provide a lift
dancing on the air they slowly drift.
Much like a party-ready half smile,
it flushes cheeks so you stay a while.
At least until the end of the night,
when busted favors are out of sight.
Glitter and candy-light on the floor,
a little bit less makes you want more.
Grande alibi that’s always air tight,
cemented by a trick you’ll handwrite.
Luxe celebration clamors meanwhile
remnants remain that will land on trial.
Aboard the ocean it’s toss is swift,
this ensorcelled evening’s such a gift.
Walking to the check to grab your coat,
a scrap of your heart spilt on the boat.
My mind has become a hoarder’s paradise
As I have gotten older, fat and lazy.
All that I gather collects
Along the halls, across table tops
On every available surface.
Eventually only narrow pathways remain
Through the labyrinth,
Pathways I traverse daily
As I shuffle back and forth
On my habitual ways.
This is the anatomy of a mind calcifying,
Layers and layers of thought and memory
Cemented accretions which then erode
Into the walls of my labyrinth.
Somewhere at the center
I know there is a garden still untouched
By the clutter of this life,
Complete with eye bright centaur
Chiron on his grassy knoll.
Knowing it’s always there
Is all the solace I need.
(9/7/25)
Ominous bays of hellhounds thunder in the bleak night
As a shattered glass slipper is found amongst powdered ivory snow,
The glint caught within incorporeal warping moonlight—
Leading to a blue grey corpse, mangled with frozen tears cemented in place.
Hands clenched around a copper timepiece,
The minute hand paused at one past twelve.
The putrid scent of desperation still hangs heavy in the air.
A note, scribbled in vermilion, is tucked within her bosom:
I'm sorry. I was overwhelmed—and so very lonely. She came to me with promises of grandeur. All I had to do was make a pact: be home by midnight, or my soul would forever be hers.
How could I resist? She seemed so innocent, with the smells of childhood lingering—conjuring up all that is glorious.
Besides, you, my dear family, seemed not to notice, nor care, about the pain quietly consuming me. So I took the deal, inked in blood and sealed with a poisonous kiss.
If you happen to find this note, I never made it back in time. And my fate lies within her mercy.
Robert Cabot Sherman, Jr. was an All-American boy.
To his parents, Robert Cabot Sr. and Juanita, he was their great joy.
Gifted with acting skills and a great voice, his career went far.
In no time at all, California's native son became a star.
On television in "Here Come the Brides", he played "Jeremy"
This role cemented his tremendous popularity.
His first recording of "Little Woman" soared up the charts.
Bobby won uncountable teenage girls' hearts.
His burgeoning popularity was totally unquestionable.
Other hits that followed made him a big teen idol.
With all the attention he was getting, there was some strife.
Bobby decided to back away to a quieter life.
Yes, Bobby certainly accomplished much in his day.
At the age of eighty-one, he silently passed away.
Bobby Sherman
(1943-2025)
I thank Wikipedia,org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
She was a child born of silence.
Neglect is formless once uttered.
The tight thin lips, the cold glare
of a distant mother's stare.
Father always disappearing
behind closed doors -
and so, she wrote,
wrote in the diffused nature
of the silently hurt.
She made no noise,
her pen scratching the air
in a sound-proof room
she had built
from cemented memories.
Fame found her,
her works were published
at first here and there
then within the halls
of a public posterity.
When she died,
she entered the silence
lamenting the words
she had not
screamed from the rooftops,
while she mused
ever so softly
in a darkly muted basement.
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