Hundreds of ideas go through my mind
But never one at a time
They race through like a tornado
Sweeping up every idea in its wake
It throws my train of thought
Derailing every plan
I try to grab just one
But they always just slip my hand
Where in night, down in day
Clutching one's clay clogged face
Dilly-dallying ditzy dances
Dull, dampened waltz swimming with a drunken sway
Methodical movement of the ditz's drunken daze
Dazed dolphins dance down gutteral gin and toneless tonic omissions
Wringing ring wrung fingers, for the ditz's sherry glass gaze
Caught crooning whispers within the careless candid spotlight
Spickle spittle dawned the dolphin's dance, dominance'n drivel
Deigned to sway within a drug infused haze.
Spluttering with the need of stitches, as burly bone ingrowths
Dappered the damper desolate surface
To drag the ditz's measly hip dips, from the four-lipped, two-tipped,
Derailing and de-tailing,
dolphin intrusion.
7//10//2025
Do nothing pages.
Both nothing and by myself.
Weird, scattered, brain poetry.
Chewing my thoughts as if there’s a train derailing.
Poetry.
Words collapse and they do.
Fall apart like beads scattered, nothing.
Trampling energy.
The sun bursting energy all during my thoughts.
Both nothing and with my friends.
We chatter around while I’m thinking about writing a poem about death.
With nothing except the sound of a trombone wheezing next to us.
Foolish pages.
Do nothing like a moth does nothing.
Just likes light, except we understand death too.
We think we do.
Scattered but it’s supposed to be that way.
Both nothing and having friends.
Bursting as well.
BUILDING BLOCK
Temporal they are higher power,
unveiled to me who are temporary obstacle
that's temporal derailing me for abating power
If this be meant to be compliance unequivocal
God has the triumphant power
Always to turn around man's power
For humanity strong tower
Will fall
When El Shaddai calls
Governmental bricks will fall
6/11/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025
learning piano
train of thought derailing notes
window flower grows
A year through glorious gain
Even though troubles pour like rain
How efforts seems to be derailing!
Shockingly, Jehovah comes bailing
Then thoughts run head so insane
When the Lord stamped it 360 degree
He finally gave you truly the blue key
To cease mourning and verily disagree
With impossibility existence blue guarantee
To find possibility in years ahead off plea
So, entertain luck in grace per luck with joy
"Wishes of yours will be true", says your boy
Be real like always, dear humble friend
And celebrate in thanksgiving with heart
Cum music, gifts, prayers to mainly blend
In each, do forever find such spark an art!
Live Grace to the Fullest
Even amidst raging tempest.
On the eve of 25 December
We expected joy, gifts,
But rivulets of blood and tears;
Gushed over the land.
When Vodka surrogates the lamb;
All in the game are futile
The day is rendered no specialty
Given that the real day is latent
It’s vile to rule the sanctified day;
As archaic or discriminatory:
For the wicked ideology to maneuver
Derailing even the chosen
Carried away by the folklore
Working against Holy Spirit – on the day.
The carnal mind
Powered by the serpent
Implements a Law free strategy;
Where people of their own interests
Succumb to the second and final death!
Her Life is filled with trauma
She hides it very well
Now in to her 50’s
People still can’t tell.
A life that’s filled with pain
the hurt is very real
she tries so very hard
the pain she can conceal
But guilt she’s not enough
Is sometimes so derailing
and constant aching pain
makes her feel she’s failing
She hides the darker side
she smiles when she is blue
her life can be so crippling
and people have no clue.
Her life she lives with meaning
or at least that’s what she tries
Loving all she can
until the day she dies.
Just as my sleep is going deep,
The nightlong foe, my closed door calls.
Derailing my dream state of sleep,
Upsetting it, the closed door calls.
Like cicadas’ continuous clip,
I wonder why my closed door calls.
Making my heart’s wilds me to whip,
With a rapid snip closed door calls.
Who’d come in at such time to peep?
Tired be when night, why closed door calls?
Making my loneliness to leap,
Oh desperate, my closed door calls.
My mind churns and limbs toss and flip,
Is it my estranged soul that calls?
_________________________________________
Ghazal |06.11.2021|
"Lo! the dolphin dotes laughs
My passion is the maritime coast
'Ocean!' said I, 'thing of seawater.'
Oceans dolphins
In a kingdom full of coastlines
Eagerly I looked for the seaway
I crave the marine, more mare
That up bound jellyfish - that unbound jellyfish
I felt compelled to sniff the territorial waters
I am shorn of my catfish
I discovered the riverbanks
Suddenly, I heard some tiding
Rise, fly mighty dolphin up through the skies
And its eyes have all the ponding
Resulting and resulting with my pacific
But in the fact that it was fluttering
I had dreamed of ribs cluttering
Only this and a ameba
The west water whaling
The dry dock smiled
How they were curtailing, prevailing - derailing
I discovered the crayfish
I crave the marine, amidships maritime
Ah, distinctly I was swallowing
Rise, fly mighty dolphin up threw the skies"
11/19/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
It was one year ago
The first poem I wrote
I picked up a pen
In my efforts to cope
It was one year ago
I was in a dark space
Stuck between a rock
And a very hard place
It was one year ago
My lowest I went
I let myself slip
Time waisted I spent
It was one year ago
That I hated myself
So I picked up a pen
In my efforts to help
It was one year ago
That I made a change
Lost in my head
So I wrote on a page
It was one year ago
I thought I was failing
My life was in chaos
Thought I was derailing
It was one year ago
How I hated my thoughts
So I picked up a pen
In my efforts to stop
It was one year ago
No I haven't looked back
Still writing today
To keep me on track
It was one year ago
Now over 200 poems
It's my way to beat
My emotions and show them
It was one year ago
I don't feel the same
I still pick up a pen
In my efforts to change
By Troy Toney
12-7-19
X
another 30 days
spring about to lose her lust(er)
I'm lost and
ill prepared to last
XX
markings of what I have not
carved deep, in thought
four corner posts
unmade sheets,
stripped
a canopy of peace
with every article
re(a)d
meant to be spread
out, on top
enlightened
gods weep at the sight
for they must live to rule
darkness of night
where
one must delve courageously
in the tiny details
derailing innocence
mounting the trinity of angels
in more than mere dreams
***
I admire the view afar
and crave that scent upon my soul
desire wishes to inject me with your poison
as I eat a top your table
enjoying each and every dainty fruit
known of man
(described in ~thirty lines of rhyme)
Might help explain how fruit
full this harmless poetic brute,
(a Methacton School of hard knocks
grad), who sports astute
demeanor with ample
brew netted locks,
vaguely androgynously cute,
his trademark signature hirsute
unstyled wavy hair
tell tale characteristic,
not that I care if anyone
gives rats ass and/or hoot
bummer attire acceptable since
long unemployed and
recipient with meager loot
receiving social security
disability to boot,
nonetheless can while
away unlimited numbers
of wee hours into morning
yea ideally best time to sleep,
but also most optimal,
while the missus thrashes
in bed thankfully mute
unless ya don't count
flatulence she doth toot
disrupting and derailing
train of thought
courtesy trumpeting glute.
Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
WE DIE DAILY
Waiting, hoping, fingertips and noses,
Thorns among roses,
We die daily.
Hands are busy, working, folding,
To have and holding,
We die daily.
Seeds of sowing, reap the owing,
The coming the going,
We die daily
Beauty fading, strength abating,
Time not delaying,
We die daily.
Happily sailing, health soon failing,
Like an appointed derailing
We die daily.
New born crying, another man dying,
Souls go flying,
We die daily,
Wise men preparing, for the appointed clocking,
The Savior’s knocking,
We die daily
Heed the calling, never stalling
Sudden death can come like a rabid mauling
We die daily
Begin believing while you’re breathing,
True Faith is received without the seeing,
We die daily.
Leftover moods hovers over my sea of emotions
As I give it all over to you and yours.
As I hold my cascading escapade in my emphatic empathy
As I behold my belittled diminishing luminance
As you suck the remaining illumination of absolute resolve
As I recall I hated to hate, so I channeled the absolution
Beckoning the predecessor to come back
From the same abyss I perished, I now find you
Now that I have me no more
My gray essence constantly pales in comparison
To that which you commenced to add color
When I was already pale from rescuing my blood from the facade of truth
Now you become my blood and plunge into the same
Is it then my blood that feeds the air around with the venomous toxins
that defiles the objects and reveal the symptoms that seems to befall my beloved?
I am dry, I am not even bones no more.
I stare at the hollow, once an image of creation.
I can’t even envisage darkness in my imagination.
I am falling frail, derailing works in the wake of my fall.
The little glow in the drop as it tears
Whispers with the very last glimmer of hope
I shall rise again, if only you will say something in good time.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.