We walk hand in hand
Me and who I used to be
Sometimes I feel like I failed her
Sometimes I feel like i could do better
Like I dissappointed her
Tears stain my face
As she squeezes my hand
Reassuring me
That we are in this together.
Should I write of grand romance,
of star-crossed lovers tell?
I've not known enough of that
to really do it well.
Should I write of torrid sex,
hot and steamy affairs?
I'm old enough now to see
that there's no meaning there.
Should I write heroic tales
full of daring and lore?
But what tale could I tell you
that you've not heard before?
Should I write of politics,
get mad and take side?
But most people won't listen
if you're not of their tribe.
Should I paint a word-picture,
delightful imagery?
There's thousands of small poems
on sunset, dawn, and trees.
Should I write a Limerick,
give you the best one yet?
But who could do better than
that man from Nantucket?
...hmm...or....
Should I write of chicken wings?
A bar food mighty fine,
all those great dipping sauces,
but not too hot with mine...
Too much heat buries the flavor.
Alluring, bewitching, captivating, Myra the maid
Engaging, entrancing, enchanting, to the young blade
Her mannerisms and behaviors are most delightful
Words of charming advice, empathetic, and insightful
He brought her home to meet his overbearing mama
She slipped out a side door and rode home on a llama
Confident she could do better than this
A glorious woman who remained forever a miss
All of her life pursued by eager suiters day and night
Never settling, retaining herself, they could not extinguish her light
Things I never knew I’d come to love
Sinking into this old leather chair, I never imagined I’d cherish it so much. Retirement’s first year has gifted me with time—time to sit, to think, to watch. Mediocre movies, once dismissed, now captivate me. Nigerian films, with their unique culture, have taught me so much. Though, I still can’t grasp the slaps and the “Are you mad?” lines. Some writers could do better, and the disrespect towards women is unbiblical.
I never knew I’d love my own company. Dining out no longer appeals like it used to. Making videos of my daily life, once a private affair, now feels like sharing a piece of my soul. What is privacy, if not isolation? I was meant to share my inner thoughts, my poems, my art with the world.
Life has no balance, they say, but to stay sane, we must find it. Helping others brings a joy I never knew. It’s a hope that they, too, might help someone someday. Some days, I feel complete, then fall back into uncertainty. I try to remember the color of silence—silence I never knew was a color.
I have lived various journeys, torpidity with ideas.
During the summer I walked 6 miles and 12 miles back. Intervals for blow jobs, as well as hiding within her cupboard, until her parents were asleep to .
Her parents always disliked me, they agreed she could do better.
I thought it was true love but she effortlessly forgot.
When finally meeting six months later. Holding hands with a new friend, who had friends that introduced her at university parties.
A family meal out, they all said “hello”.
I left immediately to be alone, regretting being with a ****.
Then outside in the rain we argued about my feelings, There was nothing to say, I had none.
We went home together. Her back towards me, being cold.
My thoughts when back to you Kate. In the garage, having sex on a fridge.
We could not afford condoms but used a crisp packet instead.
Caught up in the mediocracy of a life I no longer recognize…
I’m fighting to break free from this trap I’ve built for myself.
Even if I turned and walked away the man that I’d see walking…
Would still be wearing the same wounded soul as the man standing here today.
It’s hard to be satisfied when you watch as the days fly by…
Knowing I could do better than just living day to day.
Yet I’ve spun a web that I call home though I often wonder…
If I’m not the one trapped within it’s threads.
Watching the clock I'm wary of time,
listening to words that mean nothing to me
If I could do better and take useful notes,
then maybe the lesson I could finally agree
It's no good to be different in Sex Ed,
what if I don't plan to date a man?
They don't talk of subjects I care of at all,
and frankly, I'm not really a fan
My BSF, only 16, calls in a panic,
within herself lies an unwanted child
Told to save herself she didn't know,
her late childhood is now defiled
These problems seem unique,
but don't be obstinance
As our schools only teach us abstinence
Prior to ceremony Lily’s future mother-in-law insisted on things her way
She introduced a prenup, and spoiled the bride’s entire wedding day
The groom acted embarrassed, but he lived in his parents’ house
So, he kept his mouth shut, did not even make the peep of a mouse
The future mother-in-law let the bride-to-be know how things would be.
Lily heard the rules of the house, housework would be done on her knee.
Bride watched interaction between her groom and the overbearing mother.
She ran off before the wedding, knowing she could do better with another.
I am not supposed to eat hot peppers
So, what do I crave the most?
I know chili gives me heartburn.
It is my favorite food after hot peppers
Sweets have distorted my body into a costume I no longer recognize.
I reach for sugar most of the time.
And salt.
The other thing I am not supposed to have.
I know better.
I could do better.
But I do not want to, so I don’t.
Homeless Heather
Lived in yet more so outside of a rundown tenement
She would wash her hair in the toilet
She would eat bread thrown in the yard for the birds
She wore to mix map pairs of shoes
Wore worn wholy nylon stockings
Would boil dandelion's crabgrass greens
Homeless Heather
Does in no way feel no way feel better
Has cardboard at the bottom of her shoes for leather
What is the same tattered dress
Has no form of income
We're not in the rundown tenement she lives in the park
Under the bleachers at night in the dark
Squirrels and rabbits have your heart
In morning time sparrows and Robin wake you up and song and verse
Homeless Heather
Could do better
If only she would just arise and stand up
And the community be with love embrace her
Rise up community help her out
4/1/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
You're allowed to think you're greater
That somehow through years of pain you found wisdom
That whatever they are doing they are lagging behind you
But what is the prize of worrying about achievement?
Every step,every word,every action coming from you
A mark is being left all around you and you're in the clouds
You could do better than reflecting that childhood cruelty
There are better places to be and better things to cater for
You being unhappy isn't doing anyone a favor
My love is big and I feel like I have time and so do you
He sometimes persuades me
There is a better way
To handle things
But in a dedicated way, not mean.
Always takes my side
Even against his mother
Used to be a mama’s boy
Now is my man.
Sometimes gently gives me hints
Maybe I could do better
Always right too
Saving me from my impulsiveness
Always has my back.
Against the world
Would stand in front of a tsunami for me
Is my hero
Is my dedicated man.
My husband.
The father of my babies
I would trade him for no one.
Politics are run by children who've never growed up
Cry for their Mommies if they don't get their sippy cup
Us common folk could do better
Than these bunch of bed-wetters
Time to start over with a brand new bunch of coconuts
Politics are run by children who've never growed up
Cry for their Mommies if they don't get their sippy cup
Us common folk could do better
Than these bunch of bed-wetters
Time to start over with a brand new bunch of coconuts
I Could Do Better
I could do better,
When I wrote one more letter;
Feelings would express.
Jim Horn
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