Light is the keratin structure
That formed covering my body
Plumage I'm 2 unique bird
Monophonically heard
I concur
Calamus hollow tubular base
I reserve...
(hello), Rachis my soul central solid shaft
Above mine quills
Plumage soft N bold
Contour feathers
~
I spread out my wings I fly
I open up my mouth I sing, high
Generating thrust I steer during flight
I sing, I fly, I cry my whispers are GOOD NIGHT
I TWEET SWEET MELODIES
Filoplumes mine bristles hairlike whiskers
Sensory feathers to feel you in AWE
Feel you in all positions, heaven sent
I soar, I fly complete in environment
I am encased in, contour feathers
Now I'm feeling such, so much better
8/24/26
written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026
the contour of clouds
shapes the mountaintop
into a mystery
Ebony hair cascades untamed,
swirls in longing squall
on your ivory forehead,
engraves contours of charisma.
Eyes flash sapphire sheen,
flutter in yearning air,
enshrining design of dreams
away from wilderness wind.
Rosy patina smears cheeks,
zephyr spreads luring scent.
Enchanting visage of glamour
entices me in reverie.
Luscious lips of rose,
sparkle with lilac luster,
quiver as satin petals.
Your smile I capture.
BIRTHDAY CLUE AT DAWN
At dawn
In the little hours of a crow
I spoke to my pen to rise
Rise from bed to speak
The language that at best I understand
To the form and rhymes; I'm no stranger
Gladly the pen took over the pages
Surmounted all pressure and blunt edges
At the brook
In the hours when breeze was set
I spoke to my energy to arise
Rise from the brook and slumber-bed
To write
Write the words so beautiful to call gold
To the letters all over the world to glee to
My energy took over all the lines and contour
Setting examples for all men that are on this tour
Where then?
Shall the blade of my tongue not peruse
To the dragging of words with the recruits
Who were army not of words in literary world
They'll crumble at the pierce to rise no more
At dawn
Where I write from the reservoir
Words witty so wide on the mount top
Seen everywhere to radiate its stardom
At a time where memory is written; soaring
I’ve been working in farms
With muscular arms
Besides determined tractors
Chiseling out their contours.
They are never the days I play:
My Monday, Tuesday and Thursday,
My eyes fastened on The Soil;
The reason why passersby recoil …
My burnt energy I try to like;
On the soil every Single Strike,
All the seduced watchers in a maze,
My willpower A Shrouded Haze!
I shall keep working in farms
Rogues visit with arms;
Main target The Palms
But soon might try a charm
To one or all of them harm.
she stumbled over her own shadow
on course for one more restless night
a candle on the window sill flickered
bade farewell to the day’s struggle
scented with the fragrance of sweat
it was not so much a nightmare but
a vivid recollection of what had been
as the drenched duvet made her shiver
cotton wool draped over her eyes
made her remember the lashes
from the whip of another encounter
with the truth of her serrated narrative
too weak to talk with the demons
fearful and anxious of an uncertain future
she looked at the corroded hinges
of the closed casement that barred her view
ferrous rust played a ferocious serenade
in tune with the wind unable to soothe
somehow however the dust finally settled
and closed the narrow aperture of sorrow
her gaze fell upon the slender doorway
behind which had to be an outline of hope
when she squeezed through the dubious opening
she dared to question the sun and the moon
settled for the unknown as an act of resistance
and walked out of her life
03rd August 2021
Trees of thickets display different attributes,
the commonness is the cool shade they spread,
and their branches cradle all the birds’ nests.
Flowers frame diverse shapes and colors,
the hidden nectar is the common essence.
All are beautiful, external definition they acquire.
The splendor of the dawning horizon we share,
and immerse in the universal gleam of twilight.
The enveloping air we breathe in equal freedom,
the nights fall with identical darkness on us,
from the stardust we get our fraction of silver.
We’re born equal, imposed definition we acquire.
Evolution drove the diversity in the living,
sculpted the different ethnic landscapes.
We’re not defined by languages and life styles,
our skin may be of different colors and hues,
but we’re all humans with crimson hearts
that pain in agony, rejoice in ecstasy, equally.
Divine essence configures the realm of our soul,
we're not defined by the contrived contours.
December 28, 2018
For Brian Strand's Contest : All Yours (March 3)
I am a story among stories
Riddled with many victories;
I was written in a womb
Now trapped in the tomb.
My body has a voice
Blessed with poise;
Beauty held in alluring contour
That sends even gods on a sexual tour.
I am a black child dressed in grace
That reflects on my man’s face;
Reason leads me like a horse-drawn carriage
In my quest for marriage.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.