The bluff, bump and bluster turn
to blunder asunder with hisses.
As ego deflates with a myriad of
mistakes and chaotic miss-hits,
it dismisses an over-inflated sense
of power and influence
down the off-ramp.
If you asked me what beautiful means,
It’s being loved by a strong woman
Empowered, chasing her own dreams,
Engraved with grace on soft moon, beams
A thoroughbred she is strong, wild, and free,
A phenomenon that writes my destiny
In her eyes, amber stars find their gleam,
They are my novel; affections the theme
If so what is beauty? Let me redefine,
It’s her uhm-hmm, an approval I find divine.
A spirit that soars, unbroken, unbound,
A soul that exposes darkness to sound
If you asked me what her strength truly is,
It’s hearing that voice, a melody dismisses
the silence that once held her down,
Opening up a gorgeous, that's beyond renowned
A story of courage, of trials, not left untold
A beacon that chases away the dead of night
Her love, a torch that never grows cold,
Empowered, she stands, a towering light,
So if you asked me what beautiful means,
I'll tell you It’s her spirit, her heart, her everything, in-between,
beside her strength, I found my own,
By her love, I reside in a world I would never have known
Causes that become effects
Whispers that suppress all shouts
Question that answers all questions
Destination that ends all journeys
Tranquility that dismisses all thoughts
Acceptance that transforms all fear
Bliss that displaces all desire
Confusion that unravels all doubt
Actions that revert to words
Words to thoughts
Thoughts to silence
Silence that silences all silence
Unconscious bias can upset one's heart
if kin or friends might shun your written art-
to look upon good poetry as play-
negating words that might uplift their day.
Some think of poetry as silly writes
that jumble words and do not meet the rights
to be upheld as literary worth-
with any thoughtful meanings to unearth.
Perhaps poetic metaphors give pause
and render writers void of earned applause.
Ambiguity somehow dismisses sense;
unconscious bias- inborn to commence.
Most poets may unveil views quite obscure
that sometimes deems their sanity unsure
by those who harbor this unconscious fact-
and hold back ways by which they should react.
We're thankful other poets read our art
with no unconscious bias on their part.
They understand the nuances displayed
in chosen thoughts so artfully conveyed.
In the labyrinth of love, we dance on shards,
An unsafe relationship, where passion guards.
Our hearts entwined, a dangerous affair,
Fragile emotions, suspended in the air.
Bound by desire, we crave the forbidden,
Like a wildfire raging, our souls smitten.
Beneath the moon's gaze, we share stolen kisses,
A clandestine union that passion dismisses.
Yet, in this abyss, we find no solace true,
For danger lurks in every rendezvous.
Deception's embrace, a treacherous blend,
Leaving us vulnerable, hearts on the mend.
We tiptoe on razors, with trembling desire,
Knowing that our love will soon expire.
An unsafe relationship, a thrill and a fright,
We dance on the edge, embracing the night.
But deep down we know, this love cannot sustain,
A foundation of secrets, built upon pain.
So we release our grip, let go and depart,
For an unsafe relationship can't mend a broken heart.
There’s nothing up my sleeve
Nor inside my old hat
But here inside this bag
Is more than something that…
Is not quite typical
For a first date, but oh well
About what seems to some
As a bag from hell
But no that’s not the case
For hell is not the place
That has filled this edgy bag
That seems so out of place
But she is not convinced
I’m now an outsider
As she dismisses me
And my bag of spiders
As unfit for a queen
But that’s not whom I seek
I just want to share life with
Someone who loves to seek
Nature in all its ways
Be it flowers, dirt, or cider
Until then, while seeking love
I’ll bring my bag of spiders
Crystal lures light like our lives conscious
Mortality sends a spectrum refracted
Other side rainbow radiates rambunctious
Eternally by ethics our arc's impacted
Physical excursion learns penultimate aim
Sheltering fellows primes soul fulfilled
Surreptitious assistance dismisses all fame
Caring colours granted greatest guild
Continued life after quick earth fraction
Thrives free of friction or ailments
Citizens immortal link a rainbow sanctum
Embrace death's ever endowments
8th March 2023
Written for Contest:
Break the Mirror
Sponsor:
Unseeking Seeker
The Bible acknowledges it.
The psychologist rejects it.
The atheist dismisses it.
The criminal excuses it.
The opposite of perfection.
Humans fall from their high station.
The result of disobedience.
Evidence of man’s rebellion.
We are all infected with it.
No one on earth can escape it.
We are all affected by it.
Try as we might, we can’t tame it.
It not only affects humans
but also, all of creation.
It is the root cause of evil
and causes natural disasters.
Education cannot cure it.
Psychologists cannot treat it.
Surgery cannot remove it.
Home training cannot correct it.
An educated criminal,
Is still a criminal at heart.
Psychiatrists can treat madness,
but they cannot correct badness.
Governments cannot outlaw it.
Prison walls cannot contain it.
Nothing can eradicate it.
We all just have to live with it.
God has the plan to deal with it.
He gives victory over it.
Soon He will eradicate it,
by destroying Satan with it.
Fair-minded whale playground, compass dismisses
Ceylon sapphire zero horizon echo orchestral chamber
Forge rolling bow voyages of uncharted distance
Cut water instant recovery, oily onyx giants' undulations
Gleefully refuse gravity's hard ground insistence
Halloween door creak elaborate speak, torso of paisley
Gyrations ridicule keel knife edge flow resistance
Harried sails flap before collapse with human impatience
Dugongs admonish monolithic ships gritty missions
Adventure crave creatures flank vessels for playful races
Delight in the chase, never capture small victims
Allure fluid, serene serenades resonate clarinet cadence
October 31st
Seasoned eyes, see both the past and present.
Bookended between times now out of mind.
A tattered soul recalls a steep ascent.
Experiences; a life intertwined.
Understand that time cares not, how it’s spent.
All the times, those of good and those of bad.
The highs and lows between love and sorrow.
What’s known of joy came from being sad.
Hearts rejoicing; in what is tomorrow.
Hope to come, dismisses all that was had.
The toughest of paths; self-discovery,
leads the wanderer to a quiet place.
Beneath, leaves and limbs, silence covers thee.
It’s here with himself; he comes face to face.
No greater bliss than one’s recovery.
This morning is dangerously close to truth.
The sunlight is in bold print,
the figurative blocked out in black and white.
The under-brain
(that sleepy chameleon with diamond eyes),
blinks at a high-rise concrete reality,
eschews poetry for a stark reportage.
The summer blooms and hummingbirds
are not wooden, yet their picturesque
mien and dress
belong in a less brazen realism.
Nothing much flies in more subjective skies.
Beneath an introspective sea
just a few fanciful thought-threads
dangle loosely from misty metaphyseal squids.
The mind must turn to arcane myths
for unobjectified mysticism,
however a short-sighted ground hog
dismisses these inner reflections
as it eats an existential
bright red geranium.
The sense of restriction dismisses all other senses.
She cries in her room, scanning the internet,
searching through the dating sites for her soulmate.
And chatting up cyber friends she's never met
keeps her entertained, with so much on her plate.
And yet, she's lonely, for love's not on the net,
and she's abandoned reality of late.
Feeling empty is a gut-wrenching feeling,
and this fledgling's broken wings require healing.
She tries to numb that hollow feeling with likes
and cutesy emojis of hearts and kisses.
And she smiles as her popularity spikes,
the fact that she's still alone, she dismisses.
The web has morphed into a surreal friend
who is responsive to copy, paste, and send.
But social beings get depressed when alone,
and the web's long-term effects are yet unknown.
Some 47 years ago my mother died
Not afraid to say I cried today yes I cried that day
Am I allowed to say I cried today
And sorrow and dismay
Tomorrow may prey
5 years ago cried again wife died
On the concave
Dismisses the fray
Don't feel sorry for me in any way
Is sadness I relay
Yes I cried today on that day I cried that day
5/11/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Life brings mysteries to us like stars we can’t touch,
much less dream to migrate to (with planets like ours?)
where more life might exist! Evolution’s ‘God’s Law!’
Life’s predestined to tease those aspiring to map
where things are in the landscape of lives that we live.
Know (the reason?) that Christ chose to die for our sin -
for if God’s beyond knowledge, IS KNOWLEDGE, then Grace
too was ours long before Big Bang’s advent! Christ’s death
did not bring Grace we lacked, but said, “Grace IS God’s heart!”
Yes, my mother once ironed all my sheets, briefs, and such,
and I scoffed at such labor, a waste of life’s hours
(if not gift I desired, still not feared fang and claw!),
her intent to show love. Still, I wish to unwrap
such illogical thinking. Who shares when they give
what traditions dictate, what ‘they’ want? Does love win
that dismisses what loved one desires? On its face,
that sounds strange! Do socks long to be ironed? Give me breath,
room to breathe, not gifts found in a tomb. That’s love’s art!
Long Tooth
March 9th in 2021
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