tee-hee, I'm here again, jus' meef
wit' dimples shining, chub-chub cheeks
yous gotsta see my two new teef
(dough dey be dwibblin' lotsa leaks)
me hasn't got no udders yet
but dese is purrfect side-by-side
dey always shiny, white and wet
(and sometimes get my tungy tied)
my bib is stain, dey make me dwizzle
fwum learnin' how to use 'em wight
and when I talk my essez wizzle
(toof fairy brung 'em late one night)
fer sher can't wait to really use 'em
cuz mama says dey shine my chin
how I gotsta bite and chew some
grow more dandies for my gwin …
oh how I wuv dese bwight new tings
and mama wuvs 'em, I can tell …
she always waffs and always sings
when I bite daddy ... make him yell!
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
Let her stay
Let her be the reason you understand why it's important to feel
Bring her flowers, set of all, not just the roses
Charmers and dandies are plenty but please, listen to her prose
Your sad juncture and her healing virtue
The wind will wither away, along with the bruises, the dust and hay
Sit by her side as she listens to her favourite strain
'Light in the dark' phrase would only be so true, had you understood what means to her is just you
When the dullness consumes her, take her out for a walk
Talk it out of her, word-by-word
Let her know you hold her heart
Slowly and carefully, and with love
You let her in and now her home is your house
Your gardens are her solace and your heart is forever safe and sound.
Eight
hundred
indie
fringe godfath-
ers stole thunder from
forty frayed dandies who thought they
were today's trendy
answer to
tonight's tiny fright-
ened finger
toads but in fact were
only dreadnought friends
of the hidden thrifty fudge in-
ferred from a rougher runty third
of the grounded ruddy roundheads
remaining defi-
ant 'til notified not to
be
and
to return to fraught infight-
ing at their always
well funded freehand orgies.
-
Frozen Dreams
Poverty
with a view
Wilderness
in the stew
Icebergs set
aflow
Desolation
row
Every day
a choice
Searching for
that voice
The one
to set me free
And melt
— this frozen dream
*****
This Day Forward
Giving up
on tomorrow
Rechristening
today
The blessings
before me
As presence
they lay
Regret is for
losers
Of which
I’ve been one
But from
this day forward
Today
zero – sum
*****
Door #3
We don’t write
to uncover
what’s right or what’s wrong
We write
to discover
— ourselves
*****
Bottom Line
Writer’s write
as dilettante’s talk
Writer’s write
and poseurs they squawk
Writer’s write
with dandies in tow
Writer’s write
— so others may know
(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)
Once there was a haughty queen
who decided to spend more time on
her own:
here, there, she flew everywhere
followed by a lovesick drone --
She said: "little man, you're not
in my plan...please find a poem
all your own!"
Himself, no good at gathering nectar...after
thought said, "The heck with her!"
Wasting no time, instead of wallowing
in self-pity, moved to the big city, wrote
a book on Hive Theory: how drones are
mere sex objects, sleepless, eyes bleary
With profits from his book, opened a bank
offering no penalty early liquidity -- finally, some
respect for drones, bee dandies feeling hopeless
and weary. Up till then having little other choice
but to serve the whims of Her majesty, often royally
finicky, they began investing their nest-eggs of sweets
for retirement in our protagonist's very successful,
totally liberating, high dividend paying -- novel
Savings And Drone.
Home.
The deepest crevices of your arms felt like home.
It was a place of warmth and comfort
A place where I can nudge my nose into when it is cold from all the outdoors.
It reminded me of a sunset that I can feel close to me
I melted whenever I would push my nose up against your armpits.
I wondered of all the adventurous stories you've gone through
Those armpits of yours.
It was a story of a sunset when I felt it on my nose.
My nose was my eyes whenever I felt the tip of the
words brush on me.
It was moist from all your trekking and warmth from all the talking
You’ve been through the day.
It smelled nice too, like a field of ivies and dandies
Home.
What a place to be when I’ve trudged up all the mountains of life.
Home.
A place where I can be, putting my legs up on the sofa and slouched
You remind me of a place I want to walk through, but it is there.
There for me here in this place I call home too.
I will be forever loyal to you my dear friend.
I like making memories with you and I have plenty to share.
Our little circle keeps on growing - it has no end!
I’m the best thing that ever happened; you could not compare.
I have nothing in my pocket but these old pennies and stuff.
Yet I can tell you my stories that will make you hodgepodge.
I will fight against your foes even if that depicts me being tough.
You are worthy to be called my friend; Thanks for the yummy stodge!
Even if our dandies are differently designed,
I shake things up between us and put magic – Alakazam!
And so people called me “One of a kind”…
I am the best friend you have ever known; sings the best jam.
I will give you the best friendship that no one could offer.
But do not underestimate my sincerity like no other.
Who are these lug nuts?
Who are these featherweights?
Who are these slum bums?
Who are these cretins?
Who are these dimwits?
Who are these bird brains?
Who are these crumb critters?
Who are these sad sacks?
Who are these dullards?
Who are these rum raisins?
Who are these nincompoops?
Who are these louts?
Who are these Jim Dandies?
Who are these meat heads?
Who are these brow beaters?
Who are these fuddy duddies?
They all live in my bones
And sing like Tom Jones.
We are the chosen.
Later, Hosen.
I stood and stared at vivid things
Yellows, white, and neon blues,
From tiny ones, with tiny wings
To graceful giants, in lustrous hues.
There were dandies garbed in polka dots
Others bore alluring eyes,
Some wore shimmering silver spots
As mother nature donned disguise.
Yet for those butterflies I wept,
Their wondrous ruses to no avail,
For in glass cases they are kept,
Collected, killed, and then impaled.
Entry for 'Impaled' poetry contest
Sponsored by Anthony Slausin.
22/7/2019. Placed 1st.
Tee-hee, I'm here again, jus' meef
Wit' dimples shining, chub-chub cheeks
Yous gotsta see my two new teef
(Dough dey be dwibblin' lotsa leaks)
Me hasn't got no udders yet
But dese is purrfect side-by-side
Dey always shiny, white and wet
(And sometimes get my tungy tied)
My bib is stain, dey make me dwizzle
Fwum learnin' how to use 'em wight
And when I talk my essez wizzle
(Toof Fairy brung 'em late one night)
Fer sher can't wait to really use 'em
Cuz mama says dey shine my chin
How I gotsta bite and chew some
Grow more dandies for my gwin
Oh how I wuv dese bwight new tings
And mama wuvs 'em, I can tell
She always waffs and always sings
When I bite daddy ... make him yell!
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Baby Face What's You Thinkin' 2" Poetry Contest, James Edward Lee, Sr, Judge & Sponsor.
(I used photograph number three)
GOD IS GOOD--
Golden ringlets of glory
Other lieges dealing stories
Dark ringlets of gallant
Intuitions sets at ease
Such intuitions speculate God is good He’s great
Gently swells inflate mercy’s grace
Old dandies walk and run about
Other kinds run on and on
Darling little one praise on Praise the Lord our God
3/19/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Row upon row of long stemmed dandies,
Yellow trumpets set to blare,
'Neath them growing, little snowdrops,
Announcing spring is in the air.
Songbirds sing sweet melodies,
As on branches blossom grows,
Life anew, is now stirring
Spring arrives to steal the show.
Purple crocus greet the Sun,
With primrose and the hellebore,
As pretty white anemones
Decorate the woodland floor.
Bleary eyed, creatures stir
Days of slumber passing now,
Time for all to awaken
As winter, takes her final bow.
Entry for
CONTEST 565 ,ANY FORM OR NONE,
ANY THEME, UP TO A MAX OF 20 LINES Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
25/2/19. Placed=1st.
For he who has not folded in his arms
A skeleton, nor fed on graveyard charms,
Recks not of furbelow, or paint, or scent,
When Horror comes the way that Beauty went.
O irresistible, with flesh less face,
Say to these dancers in their dazzled race:
“Proud lovers with the paint above your bones,
Ye shall taste death, musk scented skeletons!
Withered dandies with plump faces,
Ye varnished cadavers, and grey Lovelaces,
Ye go to lands unknown and void of breath,
Drawn by the rumour of the Dance of Death.
all we know are the shards of time
slipping from our minds
standing on the edge,it fades like sand between withered hands
we bleed our youth
we will hear,when their hearts stop beating
she flutters like a brazen butterfly,the ink of our veins seep
flowing like the ocean,within her lies
my dear, to the moon and nether ties
the suicide red skyline
resides in her black eyes
Whoa back Lucy, hang on to your panties
Ya gots to take care, you're one of the dandies
You're famous, my dear
Had quite a career
But ya better slow down, don't overwork your fanny
YELLOW DRESSES
Joy springs sudden and silent
From the simplest of childish roots.
Homebound from work to metro along a city way
I saw today on one of my regular stops
The overgrowth of dandelions from the sun,
Very tall and reaching through the iron railing,
Wind catching them waving happily,
Like angelic little girls all standing tall on tip-toe,
Trying to attract my attention and saying “Look at me,
Isn’t my bright yellow dress the prettiest?”
And indeed each one was beautiful -
It was too hard to choose.
I felt like a god with these tiny saffron Seraphim
Looking for my admiration and recognition:
For their tireless, glowing energy,
Joyfully jostling and basking in my approval.
Sometimes a child simply calls dandelions dandies:
And today I suddenly felt the meaning deepen.
They were in truth all dandies, and I smiled -
I smiled silently all the way home.
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