A sketchbook from back then
was stained with abstract colors
like our ten fingers
why didn't we arrange bright colors back then?
black, blue, and white
mixed together without a basis
I remember very well
how the pattern was ultimately
ruined by the darkness
while you labored
on your own sketch
and I only knew a little about that fetish
We grew like shoots
far away from the colors back then
like a line that had been etched
sometimes we disappeared
I still live with bangs on my forehead
exactly the same as back then
and you still like classic cars?
maybe we've only gone a few steps
Count 20, open eyes
ahh, that's just a coincidence
I still scold Wednesday
but you look good
with those stripes
Sometimes you give in
waiting for me to run awkwardly across
you strummed that music
making me confused
guessing your dream last night
but you were far more confused
because you didn't say anything
Do you still remember
the flaw in my eye?
While I was still writing poetry
I seemed to be starting to forget the calm
shape of your Adam's apple
when you drew black lines on our sketch.
I need butter to be spread on my bread
I need wool worn lies pulled over my head
I need to be able to hold myself high
And see your face when I look to the sky
I need to know that you know that I’m here
I need the truth to be held everywhere
Never should children hold back their tears
I need you to know there's nothing to fear
Buried in your world is your life
I need you to know there’s more than one way to strive
I need to hold a hand instead of holding tears
I need color to be everywhere
Red sheets stained with blood
From once you wouldn’t ask for help
Pink mirror to love yourself
Now no longer said enough
Yellow paint smeared on your hands
Leaving their marks on all your friends
I need your heart to beat with blood
I need your tears to come in floods
I hope someday you find the guts
To paint the world and spread your love.
Casting dreams across;
Florescent skies;
Wonders of clouds up high;
Dawning blue lavender;
Burning suns attire;
Ridden environmental stars;
Majestic rainbows after the storms;
Pleasantries mounting;
Spacious daunting
Burning sundry attire
Ridden environmental stars;
majestic rainbows after the storms;
Dawning blue lavender;
12/10/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
You are tune of flowing wind
You are lighted like sunshine
You are flow of flowing Ganga
You make addict me with your touch
I also need this kind reason
Lonely day and lonely night
Understood the condition of my heart
Try to come near my heart
While you listen my talk
And shower of your grace on me
I also start view dream
Believe on me you are my love unseen
I want a clear view of your
Just try to come in my dream
I am waiting for your view
Fill your color in my life
During the '70's, deep in the South,
I was white but raised black by a black man.
As a boy, I have watched the Ku Klux Klan
on the news—and was frightened as a youth
who felt “black.” In those times, it was uncouth
and a mark of disgrace to be less than
the child of a white mother and white man:
even back then I knew that racist truth.
Two-score years have passed and I’m still confused,
troubled, and unclear as to what or how
I should be: am I white—or “black”? (Abused
by my step-dad, I identify with him now.).
It’s terrible being me. But scarred like this,
(and once raised as black) I now loathe prejudice.
The Color Of Her Eyes
I sent her my all, my very best
Rainbow flowers wrapped in true-
expressions of love and tenderness,
all the goodness she was due!
I sent her, gentle touch each day
An echo of my eternal burning fire-
so hot, so hot it melts the sky,
birthing each day great Love anew!
I hold her, with hands that need
Kind that knows no mortal bounds-
soft petals on this wild flower,
saving both hearts that so bleed!
I hold her, in joy we are blessed
Life sings us a paradise realm-
where each moment fills our heart,
on a ship with Eternity at the helm!
The color of her eyes told me all!
Robert J. Lindley -No date, a rewrite
Note , Very old poem written when I was 19
years old, for my first wife.This morn decided
to shorten and rewrite a few verses.
This is the resulting poem. A combo of the old
and the new-- just as life presents us!
At last she finally has the violin,
that will color her world with music! Her magical world lost touch with the
beauty of music, becoming black and white. The tunes flowing
from the brown violin's strings will spread like perfume, and treat every black and
white with color. To complete her colorful mission, she she needs a brown fiddle, which
is currently owned by a boy. It is only by finding the boy, that the violin's
magic can work.....
We met by chance so time ago
Her heart was young and kind and full of glow
We shared a bond and an interest the same
And from the first moment I met her I felt no shame
There eyes were so sharp and frightenly untamed
Just because her skin wasn’t the same
It didn’t matter much to me
Because she was a friend I plead
I was questioned why she entered my home
And watch her hands she might take something and roam
But I didn’t feel that way at all
People were trying to make me feel small
She soon became pregnant and all alone
I went out of my way to support her decision
Because she had a dream and a vision
I couldn’t wait to see her child
With big brown eyes she looked at me and smiled
I’ve grown to love that sweet baby girl
And my black friend Denise I ‘ll hug against my skin of pearl
when I dream
I dream the
color in you
like sapphire diamonds
sparkling in colors of
shaded hues
then theres crystal blue waters
that have been
parted in two
also there is some
Champagne skies
that holds toasts to you
even some bleeding hearts
pumping their passions
from the morning dew
I see bright sunshine
exposing its hidden
orbage too
For this my Lord
is what I tend
to do
when I dream
dream the colors
of heaven and you
Tribute To The
Father The Son
And The
Holy Spirit
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