It's almost half past three
time to cosy up for tea
kettle's on the boil to brew
tea for two me and you
with egg and cress or
cucumber sandwiches
with nary a single crust
(they were all donated
to the National Trust)
it's after forty to four
shall I be Mother and pour
I know you know Pekoe
the table's set quite daintily
two for tea you and me
and we can sing my song
'Lapsang Souchong'
I LONG
YOU LONG
WE ALL LONG
FOR OOLONG
unless you're feeling more Darjeeling
blossom of baby's breath
soft white
gorse crusted yellow
weeping willow
rush patterned lace
pasture in pastel green
buttercup daisy
comely cowslip mingle
&mix in fellowship
swaying pelts of grass
with purple vetch
& ribwort plantain clover
scabious burnets
butterflies & bees
scent the woodruff
briar brambles
in hawthorn sprawl
dogrose so tall
seabank of scattered seaweed
Alexander’s leaves so green
& feathery fennel aniseed
fat hen so vibrant
shoots of vimen
in Lamb’s lettuce
wild radish cress&chive
majoram &sweet cicely thrive
seabeet chard survive
wild parsnip
& tansy to savour
stinging nettles so green
Traveling cosmos in a star-crossed house at rest
She watched for dreams, catching only the best.
How the house was motorized is anyone’s guess
She traveled around the stars, our friend Ma Cress.
Mystically she was in tune with another world.
Her hopes and dreams were not unfurled.
But we were in awe of Ma Cress for sure.
Her dream state was decidedly totally pure.
Maid of Honor’s Posy
Wearing her fuchsia gala dress
She walked the aisle and went ahead
With fresh posy as thick as cress
Weird fantasy popped in her head-
I’ll be the bride
Man by my side.
As wedding song took its progress
Plans unfurled like unwinding thread
First, to ask him his home address
Then dating path, she hoped to tread-
Get more posies
From crush, Francis.
June 19,2022 1.41pm
https://www.howmanysyllables.com/syllable_counter/
8.8.8.8.4.4 /8.8.8.8.4.4
Totals:
64 words
80 syllables
377 characters
For Posie Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Fragile as alabaster white dry as your sin
so sweet I want to caress to cradle and suffocate.
I feel that dry course texture of alabaster
and sin, the skin you are in, I feel the sand in my teeth…
The tang of its bitter taste the smell of parchment
dry as desolations rage, I recoil at the touch of your alabaster skin.
I feel the bones without and within brittle as suicide of time you sit with that sinister grin n that hellacious light in you inner eyes, spin!
I figure you are the one to be waiting before the son with the blade as sharp and keen slicing your alabester skin.
Slicing away your dry fragments of sin I keep it all in the dry rot of my mind the turn of my stomach
I want to cress and suffocate…
Your candlelight…
The lies that the eyes tell, that watch me caressing your delicate skin all alabaster and white dry as stone and l...
Fragile as alabaster white dry as your skin
so sweet I want to suffocate all, within!
as fragments of you drift
over and around
like the sand
thought
the hourglass…
Alabaster Skin
Watching the first light
of a Mechanical Dawn
cress the filigree
of a divinities detonated forms, LIGHT!
Breaks cold & precise
The passing of morn
Processing the binary of life
The stains of tachyons
The helix of soul
Heliosphere of fire, fine
Blown into space held by gravity
Faster than the echos of matter
Held by strings tired to all
In creations call
Seeing the afterglow of a nuclear blast
Suspended in the aura of the aftermath
The Mechanical Dawn brakes the theories
Of starlight Drive
The engines divine
The life in binary code
The spiral of soul
…in a mechanical dawn!
flowers of iron
I rust
flowers of glass
I shatter
flowers of Jade
I lust
flowers of crimson
I tower
I watch the rays of the sun break
over harshly the glade
I pick you tenderly, cress you gently
I crush them upon my face
I drink the nectar
I suck the pollen dry
I watch the sun pool
in the cool noon
flowers drop
fall into the pond
I lick the stains of the dried rain
the milk of the beast
the winds come from the east
flowers of iron
thorns of glass
stems thick riddled with Jade
pushing In pure endless earth
I wash over you
the petals of a delicate hue
you a raw power
of earth and rebirth
godly creatures
flowers of iron
flowers of glass
flowers a wash
in the harsh rays of a dying sun
jaded thorns prick
now it is done
now for bitter rains
now it has begun
I am
beautiful ugly
For Ugly is my sins
God made me beautiful;
But I've gotten dirty
with
with in my sins
But Jesus comes
My Lord came and He washed me
Wash me clean
My God has made be beautiful and clean and whole again...
I am
beautiful ugly
For Ugly is my sins
God made me beautiful;
But I've gotten dirty
with
with in my sins
But Jesus comes
My Lord came and He washed me
Wash me clean
My God don't make no mess
All my sins has caused me to cress
Fowl, dirty, and spoiled my sins has gotten me on the roll
So I had checked myself, repented be4 I wrecked myself
Jesus has wash me whole, not I'm white as snow
God made me beautiful;
But I've gotten dirty
with
with in my sins
But Jesus comes
My Lord came and He washed me
Wash me clean
My God has made be beautiful and clean and whole again..
I am whole, again
I am wash and renewed in Him
Halleluiah,
Selah
and
AMEN
4/9/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Visions of unity lesser amounts of discord and cruelty.
I envision 2021 USA above the rise and not sinking.
My visionary burst of New Year of blessed hope.
I see a calm, we’re all in awe.
With raised arms all colors, forgiveness at the cress.
A cure for Covid a giant prayer circle missions birth some more compassionate hearts.
I see in my reality United States of America more united.
I see in my heart of hearts new independents, new liberties.
I see in my mind’s eye rampant dancing in the streets.
I see in my soul Jesus coming yet evermore, closer.
I see Him maybe parting the skies just before sunrise as the light of the world.
Every knee bowed, all tongues confessed.
Mankind, humanity knows not the time Jesus comes back.
But alas, most of my vision for 2021 of United States of America a new blessed hope.
11/10/20
2021 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA VISIONARY Cash Prize Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: LMILTON HANKINS
Free verse poetry
Blossom of baby's breath,soft white gorse,crusted yellow, weeping willow rush patterned lace pastures a pastel green.Buttercup,daisy&comely cowslip mingle
&mix in fellowship swaying pelts of grass with purple vetch & ribwortplantain, clover in English rain.Scabious,burnets buttefliesand bees hawthorn and scented woodruff.Briar brambles sprawl,in dogrose so tall above harts-tongue The thinking eye,the abstract made visible a spatial convergence ,now liberated.
Imaginary ,incomplete feelings,beacons of vivacity,profound and positive.Intense inner sounds,a polyphony,the poet's soul,unfazed&free.Seabank with scattered seaweed & feathery fennel in aniseed;Alexander’s leaves so green this tender cusine.Welcome wholesome fat hen,vibrant shoots the vimen in Lamb’s lettuce in Jack-in-the-hedge in wild radish,cress&chive,where majoram &sweet cicely thrive.Seabeet,and chard also survive.Wild parsnip the confectioner,tansy to savour.Stinging nettles so green,peppermint oil pick-me-up, in coltsfoot syrup cup.
The mist hangs low. No panic though,
no cause for distress, just mustard - and cress
adorns the forest floor, no roar, just the soaring
of woodcock, no shock of the dead, just the red
of poppies on man made redoubts, moss covered,
with Plovers eggs,undiscovered, in its secret places.
No traces here of the primal fear of a generation lost,
oh, what a cost that I may bask in the afterglow
of a warming sun whilst row on row
of bluebells chime and rhyme with nature,
now restored to dappled light in forest deep
and birdsong comforts those who sleep.
groundsel
forget-me not
my pretty spurge
mere fools parsley
sowing thistles
a
dead nettle
leaving such
bitter cress
a scentless mayweed
in a field of pansy
O scarlet pimpernel
a dan-de-iion
black
as nightshade
a common poppy
speedwell
my wild radish my fat hen
penny crest
in a sheperd's
purse
You came in a beat up old blue Landie
with tales of sleeping giants on your lips.
It was your first night in the cottage
when the Wye was skipping over stones,
dividing the spiked water milfoil
with sacred Pumlumon Fawr sunk into the sunset.
We watched a heron draggle
in and out of the water crowfoot beds,
trusted we’d see muntjac or wild boar tomorrow.
Look, there’s a kingfisher, jewelled above the otter’s holt
and later a dipper, teeter-totter,
near the yellow-cress.
Watching frogs collared by ripples
we wish for a grass snake or polecat.
Skipping past horse-tail and great willowherb
you trace the sand martins with your miniature fingertips
while I collect peppery chives from the bedrock
and turn my once carefree soul to my stomach.
from 'Scratching The Surface' 2019
https://amzn.to/32GSMGl
A Vegetable Story
Broccoli, Spinach, yummy fresh Garden Peas,
Cabbages, Winter Greens, Cauliflower Trees.
Runner Beans and broad, Mange Tout so Francais,
Curly Kale, Crunchy Sprouts on a cold windy day.
Onions, Parsnips, Carrots and tall Welsh Leek,
King Edwards, Purple Turnip, ready next week.
Corn cut off the cob with sweet Barley Rice,
Mash up that Swede for a treat savour nice.
Tips of Asparagus are one acquired taste,
Into the soup, don’t let them go to waste.
Vegetable Squash with Butternut and Pumpkin,
Tearing Sour dough bread, ready for dunking.
Please don’t choke on a strange looking Arti’
Exclusively reserved for a Vegan style party.
Try some boiled Beet and a large slice of Yam,
Fennel is soporific, a bit like I am.
Parsley and Cress make a simple garnish,
Spring Onion and Celery, very Saladish.
Going to the wood, picking wild Mushroom,
Beware some are poison, Stomach-ache of doom.
Lots of choice for a Veggie style life,
No need for meat, no need of a knife.
Don’t want to preach, so my voice is on mute,
That’s all from the Veg, lets start on the Fruit.
The glow of the dying sun
Colors the city pale orange.
Only a moment the scene lasts;
Turning to memory so foreign.
The orange glow cress tulips,
Lending them a vivid hue.
Only a season tulips will last;
Wilting until their next debut.
The glow that fills the hearts
Of lovers in embrace;
“Forever” they say it will last,
Until lovers knot unlace.
Why must beautiful things
Fade away and die?
Leaving taunting memories
Which will fade in time?
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