air a voice of no measure
pairs equitably trifling
like an eighty-six patron
vermiso will win out a
majority in favor
consciousness of her fears are
competently conversant
of artsy quiescency
a plague that ails them
whereby its cure is
not immediate
composure that an artist
overripes her flowery
facial abeyance
tis squarely crafted in stilled
visage interspersing gild
and vermillion splash
ere curtains call emphatic operatta
as Italian corporatist infiltrates
faced causation effects shh
You're OK
By Michelle Morris
12/12/2022
People look at you and think
You're OK
Just because you seem to
Behave in an acceptable way
Just because you manage
To function and exist
People think you're OK
And don't consider symptoms
But, those who are more tuned in
Whether psychic, empathic
Or conversant with psychology
Will realise that you're not OK
Just barely able to function
'Cos most of our issues
Are unseen and unheard
Most of them are dealt with
In the darkness of our souls
Mental illness, disease of
Our modern lives
Is still cloaked in secrecy
Still treated like something
We have to hide
Maybe if everyone
Had a soul buddy
We'd all be better off
Dealing with our OK world
Not just trying to exist
If you're not OK
Please find assistance
You are not alone
And could benefit from
Gentle love and kindness
It's OK, not to be OK
We're all facing something daily
Please be patient and
Gentle with yourself, 'cos
You deserve love and grace
I'm OK, you're OK
Is our modern goal
Let's hold each other high
Allow Heaven to heal our souls
© Michelle Morris, 2022
I am much aware of the previous records you read
Both bearing my mark and my seal
Carried no good, stocked with vile and deceit
But I urge you brothers and sisters
To think harder, coz I’ve been penning for your good
Whatever that spooned you, whichever way you were spooked,
Am back in a new hood
With goodies deep in my cortex, ready to vortex
Complex truth into digestible pieces
Thousand papers and folders, all addressed in
Love, sincerity and in peace
I am conversant with my said forced sense
Out of baseless and disarrayed script
I bear this title out of personal merit
Coz I waited for their approval and credit
And dismayed I was by their verdict
Thousand mistakes recalled in my name
The scandalous seat that I chose to tame
Some said by default, some by floating innuendo
But self-conclave justified my crescendo
Your commitment to my letters
Will my critics’ faction clear
As dignity I behest, all the hiatus I’ll bridge
To just overt my intentions and loud scream my point
That my penning is not by simony
But morphing from Real to Pope Benedict
It is always darkest before the light, they say
And for some of us that is most assuredly true
I almost never see the dawn at the break of day.
I am among those who sleep the dawn through
I sleep away the morning hours 'til nearly noon
And for some of us that is most assuredly true.
Some friends tell me seeing the sunrise is a boon
I treasure my deepest sleep during mid-morning
I sleep away the morning hours 'til nearly noon.
Please do not visit me before noon, I’m warning
For I will be half-asleep and scarcely conversant
I treasure my deepest sleep during mid-morning.
A lifelong practice, I would say it is permanent
Seeing that I am essentially brain dead so early
For I will be half-asleep and scarcely conversant.
Frankly, if awakened before noon, I can be surly
It is always darkest before the light, they say
Seeing that I am essentially brain dead so early
I almost never see the dawn at the break of day.
Written April 22, 2022
Grateful am I to God for America’s great legacy
wholeheartedly enjoyed with freedom-bliss
in my country, regarded as the “Pearl of the Orient Seas.”
Joyful am I for America’s great contributions to my personhood:
my being conversant with the international language
first passed on by the Thomasite teachers to our educators;
then, having heard the scriptural Gospel* for eternal redemption
steadfastly preached by American missionaries
nurturing my faith to reach-out to others, sharing blest peace.
Now, I entrust America to the Lord, with earnest prayer
envisioning her to prevail upon truth-propped liberty
along stalwart biblical constitution exercise
midst sterling dignity as “land of the free”
marked by her “In God we trust” seal.
Romans 1:16 For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.
November 14, 2020
8th place, "2021 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA VISIONARY" Premier Contest
Sponsored by L MILTON HANKINS; judged on 11/24/2020.
A Shadorma
Quantum realms
time-train, Renaissance
jettisoned,
backward leap;
Da Vinci’s studio dark,
I wander throughout.
In he trods
stops and stares and I
am frozen...
“You have come...”
says he, “future one; come, sit”;
conversant sage smiles...
Somehow he
knew I would arrive;
together
we travel,
slipping across the light years;
I am elated.
Oh, how can I love you beautiful,
Reverence
---Alas for you have a beautiful soul;
Reverence
You’re blossomed spirit, leaves you marigold;
Reverence
As I glaze upon your shadow;
Reverence
It’s so very hard to imagine;
Reverence
That someone so beautiful, soul
Reverence
Could ever be ignored;
~So~
---Alas for you have a conversant mind;
Reverence
Equip to stand the sins of the land;
Reverence
And if there’s were marriages in heaven;
Reverence
On bended knee, I’d ask you to be ~mine~
Hallelujah
3/28/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Up, up, up
Is the atmospheric pressures rise
Innermost static zero-dynamic
Winds do cry
As all wing creatures fly
Up down in the midst of the terrain
Smoke fill island mountains
Brown, green, orange ridged volcano
Smooth trim valleys bronze and gold
Down, down, down
As all wing creatures fly
Up down in the midst of the terrain
Into the ground the sub-terrain
Blacken dark caverns and caves
Moles and bats conversant
Dampen cooled caves bears and other animals hibernate
The middle ground is the safest to be found
Ivory blue lines the skies
As all wing creatures fly
Up down in the midst of the terrain
2/7/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
A Conversant has little to say.
Not quite, what I would acknowledge as true,
Some of us have little to do.
Being conversant is to offer knowledge.
Being conversant is to share.
I have nothing more to say.
Some sacrificial fonts are filled
with sanctified water
others overflow with blood and bile
all but for the rose petals camouflage
dare we know the difference
A holy child who in devoice distilled
lest in innocence mayhap confront such sanctimonious alter
collectively strangled by guile
for say not to us such criminal reportage
but prefer to consecrate our ignorance
In dissonance are we worse revealed
and laid sightless to truths encounter
be us then the factious rank and file
conversant only to a fools salted mirage
a dummies page of prophetic words rallying our compliance
A poem is like a candle
that brings human feelings to light:
moving like a stubbled shadow
across the face of tomorrow.
And its rhythm should be inviting:
soliciting raw emotions
from within the depths of your soul;
where both Angels and Demons dwell.
Its language should be conversant:
conveying the poet's message
in a relatable fashion;
emotional and personal.
And it should be free of the lies
that ignorance perpetuates:
exposing feelings, wizened words
oft cut deeper than any blade.
I am well conversant with the the art of war
how can i not?
Other than the fact that each day is a survival on this planet
My father was a freedom fighter
See!
Sovereignty runs through my veins.
Am fortified.
Beauty and personality are my bow and arrows;
Charisma has been known to bring down Berlin walls.
I polish my brains and character daily
Being Smart is something my father would recommend.
Bible and faith are my defender
after all,every physical,emotional,psychological battle in this life can only be won spiritually.
Am fortified.
You standing by my side,and i have never been more stronger.
I am no longer me',its We.
In my inadequacies,you refill my cup
When my maths don't add up,your intelligence save the day.
My missions are no longer 'stand alone',I have a co-pilot.
Am fortified.
I always knew i was born to reign
now with your love as my guide and guard
my walls will never taste defeat
My kingdom shall never fall
Am fortified.
"Thy wit is quick and capable thy rhyme
Conversant with my heart art thou and sly
Thou giveth words where I have never spoken
I swear against the truth so foul a lie
For pride and reputation hath thou token
My beauty's pattern idly sold to men
My Spirit, qui'tly dreaming, now awoken
Cries: 'Draw no lines there, with thy antique pen
Sir, I forbid thee this most heinous crime!
Though people see thee fair and thought thee bright
Thy art is black as hell, as dark as night!"
William Shakespeare (by ouija-board), commenting upon the work of 18 year old William Ireland who, in 1794, forged a great number of Shakepeare parafernalia, including a complete play; 'Vortigern and Rowena'.
This elegant form, called 'eleven', or 'onzine' was developed by the Dutch light verse poet 'Drs. P' (real name Heinz Polzer, born in 1919 and still going strong).
Rhyme scheme: abc bcd cda ee. The lines are usually in iambic pentameters.
a and b end with a stressed syllable, c with an unstressed one.
Check Mate
By Rick Rucker
Were it not for the most curious turn of Fate,
I would never have met The One, that will be my mate!
The chances were, actually, two hundred to one!
Sorting through them, I had but begun,
When seeing her, I merely froze,
She thrilled me to my toes!
Beauty, brains, and a practical sense,
The perfect foil for a man so awfully dense!
Also, she was born in Europe,
With which, I am as conversant as a Western stirrup!
If you tried to find a less likely pair,
You could not find one anywhere!
Which, of course, goes to show,
That you really never know,
Like chess pieces, moved from Above,
We were intended to fall in Love!
As the hour is quite late,
Forgive me, I am going to go check my Mate!
MOSES
MOSES
A man used to love his flesh made to withstand the caresses of his woman.
Desert dwelling wrapped in clothing of the linen type.
His leather sandals were not chapped or aged. He stood as tall as any tall man
the day he died the angels sang. He had prepared his heart to go he knoes just
where his God takes him to Heaven where there is only love.
MOSES. Note, Those that through grace are well acquainted with another world,
and have been much conversant with it, need not be afraid to leave this.
Moses was indeed at Mont Pisgah. To show that he was willing to die. When he
knew the place of his death, he was so far from avoiding it that he cheerfully
mounted a steep hill to come at it.
MOSES
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