To observe once is a blessing.
To observe twice, doubly more.
Thrice is pushing your luck too far,
and four times is much too much;
Much, too much to
mourn.
Four times is worse,
four times a curse,
four times so clever in
view and in pleasure.
The fourth time you see
the way things truly are:
the syrup dripping from
the table in such a perfect
pile.
Copacetic in nature,
sweet, sweet denial.
The fourth time you’ll know,
in body and soul, that you’ve
been given a pretty thing only
for it to be taken away.
Do they who feel
As much do think
Do suffer; doubly so.
Yet stronger be.
Raised of that voice
Inborn, heart-deep
Shakes the sensitive nerves
To almost break
(When not faint for whose sake)
In sympathy.
As you think of being dealt a rotten card,
and aspire toward what you wish to achieve,
and discover life is uncommonly hard,
consider - what you give is what you receive.
It's a challenging thought, but, in this regard,
I hope this God's truth, you sincerely believe.
Now, go forth to find that the love you create
will return doubly - it is never too late.
Who I Am - Updated Poetry Contest
Constance La France
I'm a flame glove
His heat kept me warm but burned me
I jumped into his fire, I'm lonely
An overnighter spark
Turned into an uncontrollable blaze and time
I wanted to stop but he kept fanning the flames
One night turned into months and years
One day I looked into the flame and blew it out
I love the catch
A fish, a beachball, a date
Not into finding a lost puppy twice
Doubly not one that barks
Or falling for lust and lapdogs over substance
I remember that first night his flame consumed me
Every inch was an unearthing
But that hooked landscape was barren like a desert
So the mystery of the silence
All doubly quiet
Out of darkness, shines Light
We engulfing sparks
Bright shine out
Energy blight electrified
Live or die
I never die, just regenerate regerzise
I fly back home
I shine, I spark
I am Elohim's My Daddy's Energy Light
I am Life's Light
Sri Lal
A Fire Rises
A fire rises in the pit of the gut—
and I forget myself.
At the grey langur’s door,
I give up. I cut my hair,
dance bare in the Bhadra rain.
Who am I?
I ask myself, again and again.
From the shadows of a mango grove,
two birds sing of sweet
and bitter fruit. Two fires rise—
Between lust and rage
there is no difference.
In the cowshed shrine burns
a fire of loss,
a fire of vow and surrender.
Fire is fire
to she who holds
no thought in mind but one
who rises from ash,
who sends forth
a holy river from his hair—
one I have known since before
I was a whisper on dark water.
Published in Doubly Mad
Time and time again
Time and time again
The heart will feel the pain
The mind will struggle to be sane
Everything will seem mundane
So build the wall around so strong
Even if it takes far too long
The heart can still sing the song
But the mind won't repeat the wrong
The old lessons did teach
The mind it certainly seemed to reach
The heart perhaps caused a breach
They now feel the pain, doubly each
Questions galore, the mind will ask
In the glorious haze, the heart will bask
Checking reality will become an arduous task
Answer: hide emotions behind a mask
The mind is a powerhouse
The mind is a powerhouse in itself
Will put the feelings on top shelf
So out of reach, won't trust hearts own self
No magic, no fairy, no dust, no elf
The magic was created
The heart and mind, both sated
Open, free, nothing gated
Destiny however remained ill-fated
A leap of faith, indulging in free fall
Happiness forever, the ask seemed tall
Shattered pieces, was a close call
The magic perhaps isn't meant for all
The mind starts to fill with doubt
The heart can't figure it out
The mind wants to scream and shout
The heart silently weeps, no one about
When bullets fired doubly fly
Passers by will doubly die
Murder mayhem in the town
Two more victims spiral down
One shot one kill or so they say
Full metal jackets twice today
Crimson stains on every round
Two more victims in the ground
Changes in the law are needed
Congressmen have never heeded
Once we pass it on the floor
Two more victims never more
Now I’m just a simple fellow
And what I like the most
Is a dollop of brown sauce
Spread on me breakfast toast.
You can keep your marmalades
Jams and your various spreads
Just give me a bottle of HP sauce
Cos I’d rather have that instead
Not served in a plastic bottle cos
At times they can suddenly spurt
And before you really know it
You have sauce all over your shirt.
No, served from a glass bottle
It flows in a steady stream
That mixes with your hot butter
To provide a culinary dream.
You can keep your haute cuisine
Because what I enjoy the most
Is lashings of hot butter mixed with
The brown sauce on me toast
They looked at me in horror
Breakfasting at this posh caff
And one of them had cheek
To just stand there and laugh
And then to make doubly sure
Me and me habits weren’t seen
They went and put me table
Behind a large folding screen
I find it rather irksome that
The breakfast for which I lust
Is regarded by so many as a
Habit of loathsome disgust.
No, I’m just a simple fellow
And what I like the most
Is a dollop of brown sauce
Spread on me breakfast toast.
AMERICA, THE CENTER DID NOT HOLD
The center, woe the center
Are we surprised it did not hold
Not even in America
And if the truth be told
When the two twin towers toppled
We were stunned aggrieved and hurt
Long gone the days of minute men
No one to sound a swift alert
With eyes wide open still so blind
We failed to recognize
How much 'covid' would reek havoc
Right before our very eyes
Relentless in its progress
Devastating all it touched
No army couldn't stop it
Even if one bothered much
Still we dallied on so docile
Till an enemy within
Ripped and ravaged through the White house
Bent on murder and revenge
Men compliant and acceptant
Eyes fixed on money, power, fame
No thought for country, without conscious
Doubly dying, soil their name.
-Reta Pruitt
PS (There still are 'men with souls so dead')
-from 'THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY'
So love, I soul sore love you;
Each and every time, I’m much enthralled with you:
I am doubly blued sadden in view;
My hearts eyes are blinded;
My mind is in chanted;
My arms are enwrapped;
I’ve fallen in the trap;
I’m just relaxed, in the love of you;
My heart, beats love my spirit soars;
High above the angels, I’m full of banter;
My mind is set to view;
My whole being loves you;
My hearts eyes are blinded;
My mind is in chanted;
My arms are enwrapped;
I’ve fallen in the trap;
I’m just relaxed, in the love of you;
So love, I soul sore love you;
Each and every time, I’m much enthralled with you:
I am doubly blued sadden in view;
I am that I am;
I am so in love with you;
I am that I am, oh, so I am, I am
I am so in love with you;
7/18/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Cleared of all voices
This forested space.
Left with one's thoughts, and the peace
Of a holy place.
Each, a plume weighing.
And lightened, doubly
Through what, for the living God
Who's heart, solace grants
Is felt, blows and flows, enchants.
Not inappreciably!
Up Early Picking Peaches From His Tree
Eyes golden zenith holds mysteries galore
like a blue streak feeds itself doubly blind
in its wakings an old barn without doors
the farm animals simply do not mind.
Nobody saw, for sure nobody cares
The farmer milks the cows so thirsty is he
Digging for gold he does not ever dare
Up early picking peaches from his tree
Wife a lovely maiden, her love she shares
Farm is not much, twenty acres and a mule
Envy no, he thinks they do not compare
Beside he has a pretty daughter so like a jewel
Nothing like rich man's iron gate horse farm
Farmer lives simply does nobody harm.
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
Aug 11th, 1971
The bird in the tree
Singing so beautifully!
Does not sing for me
And yet, as witness
There’s no doubt I benefit
And am doubly blessed
By the notes that play
In delightful ricochet
I deflect your way!
The
imagined force is recast and concentrated into an inorganic
material.
Intentional,
possessing the owner's future with satisfying
charisma.
The
talisman, as some are known to be, is the resulting
changeover.
Better
days lay ahead of the object holders, who will be the subject of good
fortune.
Prehension
of one's life worth and outlook will be exceedingly
awesome.
Blithesome
accesses the favorable
heart.
Impart
the wealth produced, amongst
others.
Effectuators
are doubly loved for that
realization.
Fruition,
when done unnoticeably, is agape
love.
Hereinabove,
the exceptional natures are
emphasized.
Harmonized
beginnings are the effects of the talisman's
aura.
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