Elephantine Poems

Tchotchke

Spring cleaning comes and I seek to expunge from every counter and corner
All clutter and dried rose that serves no purpose
Knickknacks and little trinkets all go in the basket.
To be given to those who have lesser or resold or simple lost forever

There it sits on the mantle, an object grotesquely elephantine
Rounded edges so it fits into no corners
Claiming center stage, grossly out of place
Into the basket it goes leaving only a rim of dust in its absence 

Spring cleaning is over, expunged from every counter and corner-
-all clutter or dried rose that serves no purpose
Knickknacks and little trinkets all go in the basket 
The basket goes to the salvation army down the street

I sit and relax after a long day 
Coffee in my hand, eyes fixed on the clean mantle
There it sits on the mantle, the object grotesquely elephantine
rounded edges so it fits in no corners

Claiming its place in the center
Of no value but it still remains
Like the one who gave it
My tchotchke

US Government

elephantine woes
conspiracy of fools
us government

sandras appetite

Sandra’s appetite was elephantine
People gathered at nine to watch her dine
She loved her beef, ham, and duck in a roast.
Also. cheesy eggs, ham and beans, and melba toast.

Breakfast was hashbrowns, bacon, cheese and ham.
Left of the plate was a brown gravy mashed up damn.
Lunch was never a sandwich or anything small.
Sandra weighed four hundred pounds and was two foot tall.

Black Colt Vesper

I lay my dark and spiraled finger 
against pure and corded wildwood,
In the wailing current
of the rich wheels of wilderness,
Before the sonant vesper 
of dreaming by a worshiping colt,
Shielded from sheaths of stone
by a tree marked in enfolding moss;
The flashing tongues of rolling air
in fluent, black, and breathing flesh,
Smoking in its morning cloak
of great, weaving draperies of fog:
Steeled ink, lashed still and damp
against the awning jaws of dawn.
And from the deep comes soaring
the melody of waters roaring,
Suspended in elephantine glory,
in masterly paintings of old quarry.

kingdoms notes

You stole my far away kingdom
didn't say what for?
Said I didn't have the jurisdiction 
to grapple my own crown

The ice resurrects steely bacteria 
will our antibiotics endure?


I feel all elephantine
the piper is never paid 
My foot prints are all asunder
on ancient sanded dunes

My ship is sinking
The troubadour sings
The innkeeper perilously on the cliff yelps
some erratum does he detect 

Awakened Muse

my muse 
springs awake 
from slumber;
in overdrive 
at the crack of dawn.
my mind's eye
wide open; 
my imagination,
a bird spreading
it's elephantine wingspan,
taking dizzying flight.
poetic inspirations
are breadcrumbs
scattering
here and there.
my ink-filled pen 
gracefully skates 
across a blank page; 
a poem was born 
with a faint gust of wind.

Like Wind Chimes

like wind chimes
                the tenebrous fate
of society's downtrodden
               h
               a
               n
               g
               s
on a slender thread
threatening to snap,
     tugged 
          even tighter
               by the elephantine weight
                    of their woes. 

sad, though...

it's sad we don't listen to 
     their anguished c  r  i  e  s
          like we attentively do
               the mellisonant tunes
                    of wind chimes.

how come?


Submitted for...
Simile Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Hilo Poet 
Date written: 08/07/2022

The Legend of the Blue Hills

The blue hills are always there
Always on the edge
Below the sand dune
Clouds
Above
The blue hills are always there
Waiting to be climbed
Crossed
Conquered
They seek to challenge
One's compassion
They are there
Uncrossable yet destined to
Be crossed
Following
The elephantine footsteps
Of Hannibal.
You can reach the blue hills
If you keep 
Moving towards them
Step by step by step
Your march
Your parade
Your pilgrimage
Will reach these mystic hills
Climb the summit
Beyond is the world
And beyond the world are the blue hills
The blue hills are always there
Waiting to be climbed
There will always be more hills
Always 
Always
Always
You can conquer one
Then the next
The next
Next
They will continue coming
Do not fight the mountain
The hills will always win
What is our choice is 
Whether we acknowledge
That the hills are eternal
And stop because we cannot win this fight
Or
Keep walking
Climb every mountain
Because the next one will always be there
See every view
Embrace each wind
And fall in love with the eternal sky
Above the blue hills

Byedon

Blow the Trump card!

Supreme court jestures
wanna mask
a pale blew,
Machiavellian facade

Poker hot as 
an ire red ballot bluff firewall:
Algonquin blue
urn cry
is an ash white buffalo lip stall

Retaining power is the be all,
black robe rigged wishes
for a tabulated election recall

Blow the exhaust horn exit loud!

Voter vent dissipate
that carbon 
	monoxide,
		toxic vapor cloud

Come a new Inaugural morn,
electoral clear sky 
by dawn

Blow the mourn Trump card!

Elephantine exhalation whine
blare pachyderm grumble discard

Hear the bellow ballast blast 
exit stage alt right hard

A fiery cast populi, 
skyscraper cry
		BYEDON 
	will echo proud at last

A win deed breeze
be storm force uttering: “You’re Fired!”

As the BYEDON reign
sweeps away the midnight raze
		     of a dark, cloudy horizon
Pray tell it leaves no 
		     misty mourning pardon

Ponder

Elephantine
Slow motion measures
out of time
in pace
Great go-between
grows notions
in lines 
and space
Eglantine
embows fragrant pleasure
springtime's
embrace
Mezzanine
bon mot for half measure
lying low
in place
Intervene
plover distraction
displeasure
paradigm
about face
Serene
glow sensate pleasure
time felt
with grace


Written 16 May 2020
posted 19 July 2020

''Eglantine'' - a wild rose.

Crushed

He unexpectedly lost the other half
     of his soul. Now he's merely 
    an empty shell, crushed under
    the elephantine encumbrance
          of unimaginable grief.

    The hours are miserably long; 
      nights are infinitely longer.
  He's a thousand shards of glass;
        crushed coarse and fine
            in equal measure.

    The coarse pieces of himself
  he's picked up from the asphalt.
      The fine remnants remain 
         perpetually scattered
            every which way.

       He'll never be the same
     Crushed by grief yet he still
soldiers on with life. Slowly, a smile
  is returning to his face and eyes.
 His wife's memory, his consolation.


CRUSHED Poetry Contest (Winner: 4th Place)
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco
Date written: 06/16/2020

A Bird With Pinioned Wings

If a bird with pinioned wings
             Could speak, instead of sing
                        And you ask it
                      What it feels like
                   To not be able to fly
               It would probably tell you
                    It's just like being
                      Weighed down
                 By an elephantine rock
      Unable to be lifted by a strong wind 
                      When depression
        Wrapped its tentacles around me 
                    Several moons ago
                       I felt like a bird
                           Grounded
                    With pinioned wings
                  Struggling to take flight
                  But by the grace of God
         Both my wings outstretched again
                 I've been flying ever since



MID DECEMBER ,ANY FORM,ANY THEME,UPTO A MAX OF 20 lines 
Spoinsored by Brian Strand (Winner: 1st Place)
Date written and posted: 12/06/2018

Elephantine Dusk

Elephantine Dusk

A herd of elephants stroll step for endless pacing step
Stamp mysterious majesty retreat from their waterhole
Settle for the night marching tusks on silent dust in dusk

Massive majesty blends into the looming dark’s descent
As the moon howls wolf to hyenas’ leopards’ vultures’ call
One massive saffron rise of lunar dawn prepares for slumber

Trumpets announce the silent embrace of nature’s toil on soil
Trodden cherished as snakes have slithered their serpentine charm
A symphony of flutes and lutes on the distant horizontal plane

Another day done a circle of life returned in infinite grace
When a shining orange globe disappears for a few moments 
Alights the horizon of heartfelt messages under an African sky

I am a visitor prey only with vanishing vision and humble belief
Feel so small put in my place a keeper of lonely longing freedom
Imprinted below rising stars of Southern wisdom on my soul

Lie gratitude and the feeble knowledge that memories sparkle
And fade unless I listen to the elephant’s call in quiet composure

18th July 2018

Obese

OBESE

O---oversize
B---bovine brimmingly bulky
E---elephantine enormous 
S---solid stoutly
E---extensively

4/14/18
written words by James  Edward Lee Sr. 2018©

Calliopsis

CALLIOPSIS
(For M.M.E)

My calliopsis,
One beatified breath in me
A rolling ray in my race
Tender softness in my embrace

My calliopsis,
Elephantine influence in me
Dissolving magic in my blood
Thou art my victory and my sword

My calliopsis,
The only strength left in me
The Soprano in my song
The magical sweetness in my tongue 

My calliopsis,
Skeletal framework in me
Veins running my blood of life
Defender and fender of my strife

My calliopsis,
Aphrodite’s touch in me
Bringer of light to my night
Distinctive clearness in my sight

If only I could live this world
A thousand times
A thousand times
And another thousand times,
Still you will be my calliopsis,
My calico,
My callaloo,
And my calla lily.

Bolaji Ramos

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