Letting go of the encasement of amber.
You are now free to explore physical things.
Letting go of the muddled emotions.
You are now free to explore clear precise feelings.
Letting go of the paradoxes of dualities.
You are now free to explore unified mental dimensions.
Letting go of the fear of dark dreams.
You are now free to explore in the light.
Letting go of the babblings of languages.
You are now free to explore rich deeper sounds.
Letting go of the tangled past relationships.
You are now free to explore clean open connections.
Letting go of the out of control causes.
You are now free to explore effluent effects.
Before the guns and bombs were made
the clubs and fists were swung
names for numbers now we trade
the senseless turned all numb
crumbled blocks broken down
create, destroy, rebuild
a three ringed circus paints a town
the crop gives up its yield
when fields demark a hospital
operations carry hope
what's kept for some is lost for all
descent, a slippery slope
the yoke is held on common ground
the round encasement smoked
logic is stuck on what was found
when starched and staunch men spoke
to quote with quaint eloquence
will mask whose fate was sealed
an absence of benevolence
when truths have been revealed.
By: Katie Davis Written on 6/29/22 Revised on 10/28/24
Anger, burning hot enough to melt a calm mind.
Anger, boiling, steaming like a volcano shaking the earth ready to erupt the pain out of a blistering soul.
Anger stewing, building way beneath. Trying to contain thyself in a fragile encasement.
Breathe. In and out.
In and out.
Just breathe.
Don’t let it simmer and seethe for worse is the actions that are done in anger.
In and out.
In and out.
Keep breathing, keep surviving.
Anger that is like a trick candle that is thought to be blown out, but the flames keep on returning and can burn down what is built.
So be careful.
Anger in all.
As it is the way with me, I have the car prepped by individuals whose love of the industry has acquired a rather peculiar name, "Grease Monkey."
I have no understanding of vehicles or their inner makings of their encasement under the hood the concepts of an engine. Repairing a flat tire, or locking the keys in the car, whereto, I leave it to AAA for its resolve.
Now the picture is made clear, the vehicle industry is one subject matter, when it comes to my person, I have little to no interest.
Now we're heading back to the Bay Area, and the four of us have some great conversations, lots of laughing, funny incidences in housekeeping.
I drove up to let all three off at Derek's place and waited in my car, as Derek went to retrieve his car. Jane and I shared some new news and there was no mention of that store incident, though it dwells in the back of our heads.
Derek drove to my driver's window, and I said I was going off to work, and I drove away and off to work I went, as they got into Derek's car till I was unable to see them.
Fleshly vessel, lay incasket
Upon their death, though
Instantly, they are with the Lord they“soar”
Our God’s embracement ;
Their newencasement ;
Renewed, renew whole body made ;
Now that there in the presence of God saved ;
Hallelujah
Epitaph
8/24/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Oranges encased in Orange
Grape clusters gather together
Minions purple encasement raisins
dancing in the sunlight dried out
from lack of rain
Red apples sweating crying tears in vain
Grapefruit red inside
Red are those the apples that read
My fruit of my heart my soul does know
Oranges encased in Orange
Red worms read their last rites
Before being eaten by a fish
Fruit sadden vegetables beets bleeds
Grape clusters gather together
Minions purple encasement raisins
dancing in the sunlight dried out
Red are those the apples that read
My fruit of my heart my soul does know
Oranges encased in Orange
12/8/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
orange devil went down to reserve a clown
he promptly found confusion in stereo sound
first time in the dreaded basement of hell fire’s encasement
clown in entertaining mode flashed devil a warning code.
mo one else likes me halfway this much.
soI have decided to stay with my friend Clutch.
it’s your opportunity to go up levels, orange devil said.
no, clown replied. I am glad that I here, truly dead.
clown taught orange devil a lesson that significant day.
attitude is everything, please leave. Honey, just go away!
devil decided to open his closed up horizons too.
began leveling up, toward the sky and land of the blue.
Poetry words a moment
Contemplation unwords everything.
Contemplation seeks the light
seeping under the crack of door,
Where the door is our real
and light is the all.
That ancient door,
time beleaguered,
with no latch,
Leaks light from the other side...
the bright of grace
slipping through thin cracks
in the encasement of our now.
With the all of light our wings,
and the real of now our leg chains.
I cut open my chest and laid it bare
for all to see.
A blanket of darkness
resting within
caught most of the attention
followed by a lump of acidic regret
underneath it.
Then a smell of subtle peacefulness
rose from the open encasement
which reminded you
of the flickering flame
hidden in there
making all else visible to the eye.
my moment of peace, completely at ease,
the maths is done, my journey has begun,
the value of money, was there any?
house I paid for, and my luxury car,
results of my toils like serpentine coils,
slithering down rusty road I have known,
do not call me priests, saints or atheists,
they interest me not! now? not the least!
here is the moment of final revealing,
to reach God, one does not need to be kneeling,
breath by breath life’s every truth comes through,
the flesh is as false as shadow it throws!
do not hold me with tears of endearments,
let me go! hold me not in love’s encasement,
call me not sobbing with voice so high,
nor recount my days with anguish and sigh,
I see divine glow of the distant lights,
I have no more thoughts, no more desires,
let fleeting life put out its own fires!
is this destination gate? much feared death?
I am at peace! I surrender my breath!
Premium contest winner(8)
Written 29/04/2021
our last thoughts poetry contest
Unseeking seeker sponsored
Rhyme varied
Your voice is like a song bird, trilling Spring with praise
Tantalizing me with melodies you render
Each dulcet note you sing is a meaningful phrase
Spring may be fleeting, but your songs, I surrender
When you sing to me, I could listen without end
You are exquisitely sculpted, regal splendor
You are a romantic sonnet that must be penned
A letter declaring love, and I the sender
Such beautiful vocals from song birds is a gift
When I hear them I will always think about you
I wish I could croon like the melodious swift
and fly away with you in Springtime skies of blue
As long as birds sing, it’s your voice I will hear
Encased within my heart, my love will have no fear
The question itself begs interpretation,
The word 'where' concealing so many implications
Is this 'where' a physical place, or state of mind?
Perhaps it's with a higher consciousness aligned?
Boston, London, Paris, or Rome? Cairo, Lisbon, Moscow, or Gnome?
Were you abroad? Were you at sea? Were you in space? --Or just at home?
Perhaps you were in Timbuktu, or basking in the ambience of Xanadu,
Sailing away on pink Chablis, sipping winter-blossom chartreuse tea.
The word itself is a siren, inviting by utterance unimaginable peregrinations
Of connotations, demarcations, gesticulations, imprecations--divinations!
Fathomless depths, layers of meaning, shells of encasement, particulars
beaming:
'Here' is in 'where,' and so is 'were.' Were you here? Where? Posibilities
teeming..
Not to mention 'Ere' and 'Rhee:' Ere you were here, where were you, Rhee?
Ah, Rhee, my bold, my courageous, my daring--yet compassionate Draupadi.
Now ere I bid this poem adieu: Where were you in the 70s is the question.
Hmmm. I can't really say. Forgive me, please, this slight indiscretion.
soundproof glass houses
surrounded by svelte deer
their only hiding place
amid roaring mechanical monsters
they graze on the green elastic shrubbery
and chew the somber apples off the ground.
Soon a blanket of white dust
and the impression is lost,
the impression of nature.
formless
open
energy
catapulting
its
thought
through
the universe
sparking
light's
instant
entryway
to
the
intersecting
slow motion
crash
of
DNA
its own
universes
beginning
both
the
cause
and
the
effect
it
informs
from
within
and
without
its
new
encasement
of
beating
pulsating
flesh
Conception; Poetry by
Susan M. Walker, 2014
I chanced to hear no sound of wind
In this starlit night ago,
But I accept that we are weary
Inside the windows encasement,
When long is the passage of my insomnia
But with what intent are life’s desires
When all we want is to rest,
For our will relates to the capacity of the mind
Waiting forever to sleep;
But we lay here long with insomnia
Come and ponder the moonlight
In the wind as it rattles the glass,
While slowly creeps the morn to daybreak
Outside the windows encasement;
Longing the passage of insomnia
please share your thoughts with me in the comments section :) Feedback is very important.
Thanks, Mark
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