To honor someone’s talent
While excusing certain views
Which the world may deem offensive
Is the stuff that makes the news.
For a well-endowed museum,
With a Costume Institute,
Planned to showcase a designer
Who’s the face of ill repute.
Known for comments that disparage
People different from his type,
Nonetheless, his output thrives
With many drawn into the hype.
Yet the show for Galliano,
With Ms. Wintour’s staunch support,
Raised the hackles of some donors
And those critics got to thwart
What, to me, was recognition
That should surely be reserved
For designers with both talent
And integrity observed.
Sometimes those with too much power
Make decisions which, I’d bet,
Turn the tide to flow against them,
Though they harbor no regret.
—When Art Bows—
Five hundred years have gaz’d into her eyes,
while Leonardo’s hush hath conquered Time;
her lambent secret, veiled beneath the skies,
hath drawn the world to deem her smile sublime.
Within the Louvre’s husht, cathedral air,
where myriad souls have hung upon her gaze,
thy smile arose—and something stirred there,
as though the very light grew mad with blaze.
For hers is beauty steep’d in veiled desire,
a still, inscrutable enchantment’s art;
but thine—O rapturous, ambrosial fire!—
steals through my blood and ravisheth the heart.
Then did I learn what Time had hid from me:
she kept her smile five centuries—till thee.
Dear poetry, my intrinsic ally,
Inaudible voice striving to be heard,
There’s a lifelong pact between you and I -
Crafting lasting legacy, word by word.
I have wild notions and an endless drive,
You mix the inspiration and the muse,
I pen the drafts, you spark them all to life -
You’ve got the final say I can’t refuse.
Respectfully I gracefully accept
The harsh rejection of a ruthless judge.
So when you deem my rough copy inept,
I vacillate but I don’t hold a grudge.
I posit we two share the ties that bind -
Literally I’m tied up to a chair.
Quid pro quo I reciprocate in kind -
If I don’t pen you, you haven’t a prayer.
Dear, you’re stuck with me, even if you try,
Unless you swap my sweatwork for AI!
August 30, 2026
I walked through the valley of darkness.
How breathtakingly beautiful it was.
Gaze of birds watching over me,
I draw a veil molded in ocher clay.
I walked holding my breath.
Unseen, the ticking sound of unseen birds,
I walked through that valley of darkness,
Drawing yet another veil.
I do not pray.
At least not in this moment.
Though my body is feminine,
Inheriting the wild instincts of a seven-generation cat,
Before a swarm of cockroaches can infect me in an instant,
I sense it beforehand and let out a fierce roar.
"Meow!" "Hssss!"
Why, you ask?
The life of the slum
Always cries out,
Even within its depths,
Building its own cruel pyramid,
To attack me—
Someone they deem even less than themselves.
No bi for you
mine soul
no bi for you
mai bodi no bi for you
i am a coveted wife.
covenant for covenant promise go man
deem be mai husband
no look upon me wit ya heart
boi i be no bi for you
no bi for you no bi for you
true
no be sweating for ya skin. You thirst
di lust you feel na real
you're mind thoughts no fit touch me
beware for ya era
be no bi for error
boi, i b sanco, i am selected.
mai king awaits for me
mai king awaits me
i am sanco too
Not for you
Mine soul
Not for you
My body not for you
I am a coveted wife.
Covenant in covenant promise to A man
Deem to be my husband
Don't look upon me with your heart
Boy I be not for you
Not for you not for you
Truth
Don't be sweating at your skin. You thirst
The lust you feel is real
You're mind thoughts can't touch me
Beware of your era
Be not in error
Boy, I B promised, I am selected.
My king awaits for me
My king awaits me
I am promised too
Royal heart soul sweet blue
It's him for me, not you.
royal heart soul sweet blue
it's am for me, no bi you
8/16/26
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026
¦¦¦¦ in the ebb and flow
¦¦¦ my dreams ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ in mind,
Humbly ¦¦¦¦¦¦ you will find
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ a gleam that's true
To ¦¦¦ dreams ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ in you.
¦¦¦¦¦¦ my lines ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ with rhyme
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ deem them worth ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ I think ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ your kindly thought,
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ words ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ fit your taste.
Please ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
Riffle ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ in ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ just a glance,
Give ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ a chance . . .
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ readers who
Tune to them,--may ¦¦¦ be you!
(Blackout of LEnvoi by Robert William Service)
Sugary and luscious things are very dear,
And are, cherished by all --the young, old
Placid and the choleric ones as well, mere ;
So are warm smiles and the words of gold,
That more than touch,embalm and console
The lost ,cold, bold, or a grave ruffled soul !
It is an enigma : things sweet today or now
May turn to aversion or an unbearable aught
Once relished and held treasure all far above;
A nod may convey the true relief long sought,
Like a communion between the souls fraught
With varied feel or the foiled bearing distraught !
A peaceful palm can settle what a free cannon
Sword, or missiles aye undo in battles and war
And the victory chaser is often left still in a stun
Like a twinkling, distant yet sure hopeful a star
Heavenly mercy, love and goodness doth beam
From an honest and true genial smile, to deem.
Keep the eyes and palms in the sunlight.
Lest they deem you a petty thief.
Leave the brain in the blue of the shade.
Lest it overload, then quickly burn away.
As for the heart, keep it locked away.
Deep in a fortified ribcage.
Give the key to a cloud above a stream.
So, nobody can see or hear it scream.
Into a silent oblivion.
IRIS...IRIS
You're a Virus!
I hate your crying
And abhor your whining!
We made a Choo-Choo
You cried blue
When I squeezed your shoulders
To make you bolder!
You whined, "Nooo!"
Halting my show!
IRIS...IRIS...
You're a TYRANT!
I did my best to toughen you up
But, you spilled "all the milk" in your paper cup
When you cried out the single word "No!"
Now, who on earth, would ever know
You boxed me OUT - cold like Tyson
On life's cityscape ring in the world's horizon!
Oh, yes...you did...Iris..Iris!
You SURE did make an Iris..Iris
Out of ME
Forever a tyrant, I shall deem you be....
Imagine you get a brain scan
It perfectly copies everything in your brain
If the copy was inserted into a robot
It would have the same feelings, memories and morals
It would think, speak, move just like you
Would that copy be you?
If you deem the copy to not be you, why?
If a brain scan of someone else's is put in a robot
Then the original person dies
Is the copy now the new them?
“Fleeting visage of beauty is a contemplation of uncertainty” – Quote by Poet
Your ebony hair curls and cascades untamed,
some swirl in the stream of craving squall,
some lace the lilting lattice of lust
on your forehead of ivory canvas,
engraving the contours of evanescent charisma.
I ponder if this is your last fleeting image
I glimpse flicker in the wind to fade in oblivion,
if there is no tomorrow.
Your almond eyes deep as the azure sea
waltz with the melodic waves of fervent music,
eyelids dance with the flutter of beguiled butterfly,
floating in the air of yearning on charming wings,
weaving the wondrous fabric of trance.
I ponder if this is your last dormant dream,
I deem drift away in the wind to wilderness,
if there is no tomorrow.
The buds of rose bloom on your luscious lips,
swathed in the lilac luster of sunburst dulcet dawn,
the attractive allure glints with gorgeous glow
like pearls of dew on pristine petals of pink rose,
shining like a star in the sequined sky.
I ponder if this is your last lyrical smile,
I scribe in my memory as the stardust sonata,
if there is no tomorrow.
Written: May 25, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Sara Kendrick
1st place contest winner
*****************
A single ember soothes the night,
don't need blazes burning bright.
A mild, pristine, limpid stream,
whispers the facts we love and deem.
The smallest seed, in swale it grows,
teaches more than pomp bestows.
No golden crown, no fine array,
just a quiet grace to show the way.
The heart shall find a halcyon air,
cheerfulness is simple, if we share
Life’s wisdom croons in modest tune—
Prosaic, pure in its dulcet boon.
Dismally dashing, clashing cankering, sunken ravines
Braved the batterings of the black, heaving sea
Seized upon the cyclical stream ‘lined ‘long the wind
Yonder b’yond the decrepit hail,
Nailing mine knees upon this hill.
I sang by a bygone cheer, a childish chortle
Honed where, and whence
Mine woes wade with homeward hopes.
Now, where one dare awoke,
a-top such the slope
To sing a song that shall beat at the bulkheads,
of the boats borne below
A sonnet sung to arise with the seeds of the soil
Arise as a rose
Manned with the majesty, the masculinity,
Of the man within me.
So to see the afflicting affections,
Of the sanctity without me.
So to see and reel in the eel,
Of un-static enthusiasm.
So to know, mine might may deem me,
Not the man within me,
A dastardly indelicate dame.
11//5//2026
Soaring so high
fanning the fire
spontaneity angel
of infinite desire.
Sampling the grain
exposing the
straight jacket gang...
love spilling shade
spitting lye and blue rain.
Then they deem you insane.
What they can't control
what they can't contain
they shame into silence then cage
feather and flame
sweet feather and flame.
Feather and flame
golden heart splayed then flayed.
On silver sleeves of stained-glass dreams.
They wish to stain the tigress untamed
what they can't control
what they can't conceive
to blind to see
monolithic egos
of white-hot conceit.
Feather and flame
flying so high
cornucopia of love
Capricorn on fire.
A meteor shower
chandelier cutting the gray
robin egg sky
feather and flame.
Feather and flame
precious petal ordained.
zig-zagging soul
sparkling eye
torn and alone
just another name
on a forgotten stone.
I learned to swim in waters of amoeba
You shout "Regarde!" as I float to the surface
But it's far from Paris in this viscous river
Your hands of guidance turned to scoffs
Trading my pain for stacks of coins~
I no longer hear the crowds beg for mercy
Forced to nurse groupings of septic cells
My chest covered in ripples and blisters
The wet nurse of a generation of youth
Doctor, how come I must be a vessel?
Because my skirt fell above my knees
My womb is no factory of steel
All of this for more soldiers to train
For the crippling economy and labor
Why must your wealth stay tightly packed?
I will never earn my dress of white
Men of our nation will deem me impure
Forever a mandatory mother, never a wife
My body shall remain my own
Free of your legislature~
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