Early in a damp woodsman's camp
seeing sawyers from a logging town
to stop the conversation bogging down
as asked my age among other things
I replied, 'Cut off my head and count the rings,'
then had to be quick-witted and fast-footed
made a bee-line through the trees
so as not to lose my noggin
when a burly lumberjack grabbed his axe
I ducked and dodged his mighty swing
which (in a nonce) saved my bacon (and my bonce)
and them's the actual facts
Your hair smells like the rain,
damp and heavy,
but still so undeniably you.
You sit cross-legged on the floor,
telling me about a dream you had
where we were clouds,
floating somewhere we couldn’t name.
I wanted to ask if it was lonely,
but instead,
I ran my fingers through your hair,
feeling the knots and tangles
like the spaces between us.
Sometimes I need light.
Sometimes we,
sometimes everyone needs light.
In the dark and the damp of rooms,
of feelings, of thoughts
and of our lives that flow,
we need light from the window,
from the open door, from the open spaces
under the open skies,
and then we need some lights to glow,
but from where, when or whether
it will come or not come, we never know.
And for the deepest dark
of our dilemmas and destinations,
of our regret, shame and sorrow,
sometimes the lights of touch and words
we need to borrow.
To light our paths of today
and tomorrow,
so that we can survive
at least within a meaningful light
all the way to the end of our show.
(07 December 2024)
I rig a dream to fill it with all the anguish
my heart has felt in a damp world always weeping.
My worn coat hangs in a closet, its arms empty,
like winter branches sighing, their damp world weeping.
A yearning to run, an inhale of rain, I yield
to a vulture of shadows weeping in damp worlds.
In the silhouette, a scared animal picks its
infant away in gray snow, its damp world weeping.
Under the surface of water, a turtle’s shell
ripples slick and obsidian, its damp world weeping.
I need to touch and feel rich testaments of joy
my emotions not derailed in damp worlds weeping.
@jjote 090624
Attached segregated I touched his warm skin yet
Deceased He was asleep he was non awaken
He was hidden he was asleep under the sheet he slept
His chest no longer rose I placed the side of my face contemplating
Down by his nose his eyes were shut closed
No breath his soul a spirit risen he was in death
Detached segregated I touched his cool cold skin yet
No breath his soul a spirit risen he was in death
1/5/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2024
grey clouds
like shrouds
hover
cover
wind speed
like steed
fright'ning
lightning
thunder
sunder
cryin'
welkin
raindrops
fat plops
muddles
puddles
pit pat
rhythm that
awakes
damp shakes
earth drenched
thirst quenched
God's free
AC
Jumping in the rain
Cloudy boat runs after sun
Shadow is trigger
© Mahtab Bangalee
19/03/2023
A briefly wrung-out sky
is blotched with clammy clouds.
A humid air clings to my chest.
Damp squirrels hang limply
from dripping branches.
Desultory birdsong mops
but not much.
I yearn for the cold slap of sea-spray,
chill cheeks and fresh lips
not this damp-dive-walking
through a moist miasma.
Maybe the day will shake itself free
of its mope?
Perhaps this drizzle will tip over
into a cresting surf of sunlight,
or anything that smacks of a
rolling ocean
that can dry-out, rinse and clean.
Immovable object that you see?
Truly not, if you allow it free.
Intolerable silence you hear?
Try softening your sense of fear.
Impersonal, harsh touch of old love?
Therapeutic caress from above.
Inevitable in taste of grief?
Transitioning stages for relief.
Infinite smell of Autumn decay?
Tumbling leaves in dull, damp, dying day.
I have a frightening mental block,
Poetic reserves lost, no stock,
My mood is down and damp,
My hand has constant cramp,
Imagination not worth a dime,
Brain all mushy, turned to slime,
Fantasy faded oh dear oh dear,
Inspiration none, it’s gone I fear,
Funny, horror, politics, history or love,
Blankly, see grey cloudy skies above,
My thoughts are less than dazzling,
Stop me, for I think I’m babbling,
My poetic sanity is somehow unraveling,
But hey, just made up a rhyme,
Guess all I need is time!
My muse just texted me, she is on a plane back home!
November Intrigue--Five Haikus
Moss breathes dampness, near
shifting blankets of old leaves.
Beds of lichen thrive.
Both pure and pungent,
the air is soul-enhancing,
gifting faint wood smoke.
On the forest floor,
Princess Pine grows sweetly
in pristine patches.
Old stone foundations
and a gurgling waterfall
capture heavy mist.
Dark reeds cross the marsh
to a long strand of young spruce,
vivid and spritely.
On rain drenched mornings
words may feel too heavy
to absorb dense Truth,
May smell too bleached
to taste thin Beauty,
May sound too restrictive
to recreate revolutionary visions.
Yet, absence of words
may sound too drenched
in universal drizzle
to comfort,
to circulate lively blood
for warm interior climate cleansing
Rain water
distilling
tomorrow's more fertile
silent soil
silk skinned soul.
In the fog, odyssey
A cheerful adventurer
Free to be
In dampish autumn weather
Hikes into the hills
Awesome and deep
Watching the leafage sweep
Whilst song birds spill
Into the alone to peep
The only other sound --the break
Of distant waves and warblers awake
The air is raw, with a cold whisper
Many miles to go before any sleep
When sweet dreams come cheap
To a crusading journeyer
Who has promises to keep
cerulean sea
washes away footprint trail
palm trees sway on breeze
A Nature Themed Haiku with Color Poetry Contest
sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Checked with how many syllables
1/24/20
I dread the winter's coming on
The trees without their dressings
I fear the winter's dark, cold moan
Long shadows without blessings
Bare tree limbs are upward reaching
Where the sunlight seems to fail
I hear the sound of great owls screeching
Trees look like witch”s fingernails
I hate the cold that winter brings
Dark, dank weather for each day
It seems as if I'll never sing
Or see again sun's lovely rays
My body aches and hollow feels
Furnace and fireplace are roaring on
But to me they don't seem real
No heat can reach into my bones
Oh, winter will you last so long
With dreary rain and colder mist
Oh, how I wish that you were gone
And Spring would put on me it's kiss
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