Red sun rising against cobalt blue, spread
Dread that could be running rampant, its truly said
Crows' appearance as such, everyone knows
Throws questions that need answers, I suppose
Meaning is spiritual so it is intervening
Leaning toward a stronger spiritual convening
Call to think differently, no longer crawl
Shawl on, stand tall, face life, lessons learned recall
My coveted letter is C
It creates a chant, so carefree
coasting, careening
caress, convening
With charm, words flow contentedly
C-words, as cordial, candlelight
caretaking, and calm, can delight
charming, curative
are comparative
to the C-words, I care to write
Thriving in the sun she sways inside her garden
each time a fragrant wind arrives from the sea
Her lavender blooms fill the earth with pardon
she bends at will like a tiny bud young and free
She is a rare and beautiful blue moon in my hand
pulled from the ground she sets my heart aglow
when I inhale her, ... then I begin to understand
why she is my favorite rose, why I love her so
Giving always giving, she is the perfect flower
loosely scented in my home she is fragrance
convening with my senses with elongated hour
this little rose of mine, means love & romance
But by grace do I shadow your form
from each darkened night to bright-lit morn.
You're silvery-white in my life's storm
hosting shivery thoughts yet unborn.
Would that my pen divine such meaning,
enflame fiery feelings unbidden
that stun me dumb at their convening.
My emotions revealed, unhidden.
Yet my disguise is opaque it seems.
You cross a transcendental realm –
unspoken vesper in sacral dreams
that never attains its lofty helm.
Someday, I know you will understand
my passionate affection for you -
How my heart bleeds with tender demand,
unformed entanglement to pursue!
My ink is flowing hoping to charm,
My poem an aphrodisiac.
Unwritten rhymes planning to disarm
and attract you to my love lilac.
Though you're beyond my bewitching reach,
I devote this unsung ode to us.
My dear, with unsaid words I beseech -
Let's join our hearts without further fuss.
A POET'S CRUSH - collaboration with Linda Alice Fowler
But by grace do I shadow your form
from each darkened night to bright-lit morn.
You're silvery-white in my life's storm
hosting shivery thoughts yet unborn.
Would that my pen divine such meaning,
enflame fiery feelings unbidden
that stun me dumb at their convening.
My emotions revealed, unhidden.
Yet my disguise is opaque it seems.
You cross a transcendental realm –
unspoken vesper in sacral dreams
that never attains its lofty helm.
Someday, I know you will understand
my passionate affection for you -
How my heart bleeds with tender demand,
unformed entanglement to pursue!
My ink is flowing hoping to charm,
My poem an aphrodisiac.
Unwritten rhymes planning to disarm
and attract you to my love lilac.
Though you're beyond my bewitching reach,
I devote this unsung ode to us.
My dear, with unsaid words I beseech -
Let's join our hearts without further fuss.
Along the Muskerry Light Railway
One can watch the flowers bloom
It will not be much longer now
’Til the old town of Macroom
Arriving at the station
Collecting bags from overhead
To depart I am too keen
After all it is just not
The train letting off steam
The cattle mart’s in action
I better not be late
As a deal on a good Dexter cow
In the next lot I await
A good time to grab the paper
And some salted butter too
The Urban District Council is convening
I wonder what they’ll do
Sods of turf are being loaded
On a cart they’ll set their course
Up the dirt road to Clondrohid
The little donkey’s tour-de-force
I ask for the donkey’s name
“Father Peadar,” I am told
“A good writer he must be,” I said
A decision rather bold
To my lodgings, I head forth
Owned by a local businessman
No need to pay ‘till signing out
That sounds like a plan
My idealistic mind dies on the vine
Day after day I worthlessly define
The rightful place for the needle
The steady decay of idealistic people
Illusions of hope in murky pools rippled
Visions of idealism effectively crippled
Convening in ceremonious empty vessels
Idealists left as outcasts with notions to wrestle
The vine’s journey is not completely clear
Strategical route marred with ignorance and fear
They say culture will eat strategy for breakfast
I’ve experienced nothing more firmly steadfast
As we dance the dance of life…as with each new day all the world’s dancers are convening…have you ever wondered what it is…that gives our dance its meaning?
I’ve had the good fortune to dance in many places and although I’ve never been to France…I’m pretty sure the meaning of the dance isn’t found in where I dance.
I’ve danced at different times…different days…different years…and although that does…the dance…enhance it…I’m pretty sure the meaning of the dance isn’t found in when I dance it.
I’ve danced many different kinds of dances…some planned…some merely danced by chance…and I’m pretty sure the meaning of the dance isn’t found in how I dance.
So what is it then? What gives our dances their meaning as we dance different dances…in different places…through different years….
When we look around at our friends and family…he answer is quite clear…
Yes, finding the meaning of our dance of life need not be shrouded in mystery or myth…
for I believe the meaning of the dance
can be found
in who we’re dancing with.
Hope
Hope and healing
So revealing
Not concealing
More than A feeling
Faith and worth greatest myth
Less convening
Hope and healing
12/6/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Oh, it’s thrilling to hear trilling
As I sit out in the shade.
All that tweeting that’s repeating
Is the reason I have stayed.
For I’m betting that the sweating
To which humankind is prone
Has no meaning to convening
Birds on branches where they’ve flown.
Such sweet twitter as they flitter
Or sit warbling in trees
Makes me giddy; it’s so pretty
That it puts my mind at ease.
Mary the dainty fairy queen
Wearing a pale white veil rarely seen
Trailing after her in meadow dale, light and airy
Floated gently to a brownie’s eyes, name of Jerry.
He admired her smile, the daisies on her head.
The colorful quail leading her down his flower bed.
The north wind agreed to a quick intervene.
Lifting her veil, Jerry saw beauty forever unseen.
In her hazel green eyes, a curious gleam.
Approaching the garden from wild forest stream.
Convening his advisors Perry, Terry and Ned.
Jerry asked permission to snag her and wed.
They caught her entourage without a pail
Her unicorn gave out a tiny wail
Orchestrated fully by that fairy queen
Had the first wedding fairy land had ever seen.
Jerry was smitten. His own idea he thought.
But preening fairy queens are not that easily caught.
She kept her marvelous secrets until her daughter’s courting days
Telling her how to entice the marriageable brownie to stay.
Subconscious
I dream eat ice cream seam stories and dig deep for meaning
Held by my lover her emotional wisdom and joyful convening
Souls are infinite as minds are essential and bodies transcend
Sadness joy and surprise deep inside are my foe and my friend
I'm afraid of blindness writer's block as well as immobile hands
Wish to stir magic potions fly broomsticks and seek foreign lands
Anarchic Romantic Escapist Utopian Republic of Blueberry Picnic
Maverick
08th April 2020
As writers, our life is a book of how seductive our image can assuredly be.
It chronicles how effortless it is, to emerge as seduced off of any significant episode because of the behavior our society is nowadays.
Should we display a mimicry of that novel chapter?
A spiritual crisis will monopolize every hypothesis of our scripted lives.
It will transpose it to be fabricated and that all there ever were, was genuine emptiness.
We will then seize a conclusion in our lives wherever conviction accepts its governance on us.
We shall endure through all that, unearthing ourselves in a crudely lit enclosure, convening at a desk with the spotlight on...
...a blank piece of paper.
2019 November 25
Despite its proverbial might, the Glass Ceiling
Couldn’t freeze the dream God wrote on the page
Where my misery and the sad feeling
That in its ribald rage
Strove hard my priceless dream to delete and defeat
Breathing hard on my neck
Snatching from my outstretched hands the succulent sweet
Destined from my life to break
The jinx
That hitherto kept frustrating my career progress
When its serpent sticks
Determined to undress
My future
Until God’s hands
By dint of their victorious culture
Smashed to smithereens the brands
Whose furnace fire grew cold
Restoring my dream
With a move so bold
Into my hands God landed my career’s ice cream
Commanding the Glass Ceiling to step aside
Convening and commencing the inauguration ceremony
In which my pride
Flew back and grew strong as though a scripture from Deuteronomy
Installed me on the throne
As a mighty queen
Without any further obstacle in my career zone
Enabling me to reign supreme in a kingdom clean and green.
They'll find silhouettes of souls imprinted there.
It's a familiar feeling of of despair.
Like falling back in a chair.
It holds as much weight as words without meaning.
Figures draped in black start their convening.
"Rethe si eno vretineening".
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