In the mountains, lived a special pup
He was gentle, kind and so amazing
His antics were true, never made up
My meals he was forever appraising
He often seemed to be star gazing
In the hills, where this guy was born
There lived a kitten with dark gray fur
He often felt her exasperating scorn
His life went by so fast, it’s such a blur
He’s the pup my heart will always prefer
In the times when he was so young
His gentleness caused me to smile
Admiration was always on my tongue
For he was a dog who was never hostile
He taught his friends how to live in style
In the moments, before he left this world
He gave a sigh and fell across my lap
I petted his fur, so very soft and curled
Remembering his fear of every thunderclap
He was full of love that I’d happily unwrap
In the mountains, beneath forest trees
Lived a pup who was wild and free
He listened but mostly did as he pleased
Sometimes, he’d sit and scratch a flea
But, always, he’d be right there for me!
Aesthetic expectations, quomodocunquize,
An exasperating farrago of marketing lies,
Conning client desires,
While promising celestial skies.
In the "Selfie Era," so condescending,
Filters sculpting phantasmagoria, never-ending—
Painting a majestic illusion,
Regality of beauty, a fleeting delusion.
"Ageless," a dream that transcends all streams,
Flustering the mind’s membranes, it seems;
Cajoling artists, ripping through pockets,
A glamour tornado that ceaselessly rockets.
Embrace imperfections with pride,
Challenging the conventional tide.
Luminance flows from deep within,
"Mirror, Mirror, let self reflection begin".
amazingly brilliant clandestine divas
effectively foretold general hilarity
ignoring jealous kings
letting melodious nightingales
offer preconceived quality rhythms
soothing treacherous undercover vermin
wildly exasperating yipping zealots
expiring experienced excited and enticed enthusiastic emus
extracted exact experimental explosives from exfoliated flues
exasperating exam-free extraterrestrial expedition views
extraordinary x-rayed exclamations exuding as clues.
I'm a flower
flourished and the butterfly
and Bee say I'm good
Provide I gracious nourishment
sweet am I for I am good
For the nectar in me
Oooh! Oh! soft warm ever
sweet that's good in me
is the goodness of Jesus flowing through me
I'm a flower
flourished and the butterfly
and Bee say I'm good
And in everything
God has made He's made beautiful
Succulent oils exasperating potent spiced flows
sweetened beautiful
If I was a cloth woven by the hand of God
that I am this vessels this covering ever so beautiful
And it is anointing I'm anointed beautiful
And in his hands in His arms I more than wonderfully made
beautiful
I'm a flower
flourished and the butterfly
and Bee say I'm good
Provide I gracious nourishment
sweet am I for I am good
For the nectar in me
Out of His mouth He appointed
HE speaks life unto me I am beautiful
Molded crafted created amazingly beautiful
And in all in all I am ever so beautiful
I am beautiful that I am His perfect woven cloth
6/27/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
There
Are no things..
Page 1:
This startling news
Flying in the face
Of what seems
Obvious..
Page 2:
The innumerable
Exasperating
Searches to find
No things...
My muse is like a carnival,
a celebration of kaleidoscope colors,
a dazzling display of light and sound.
Circling slowly until I feel dizzy.
Will I crumple and fall?
A house of mirrors
with peculiar shapes and sizes
evoking flustered feelings
and contorting my cognitive map.
Which avenue shall I follow?
A tunnel of love where my mind
lingers on the ways emotion
plays with my heart, at first
soothing, then exasperating.
Liberating or beleaguering?
A house of horrors where
I live out my darkest thoughts
and flex my remarkable resilience
to the beckoning of the dark side.
Can I be truly free?
The roller coaster is exhilarating
and sets my mind free again
the ups and downs of life and living
and the fear of death
Is that so wrong?
Titillating tilt-a-whirl,
multitudinous perspectives
twirling one side then another
seeing with curious fly eyes.
Am I, or my muse, to blame?
commuting
fast highway
teeming with traffic
morning and evening jams
exasperating
Written July 28, 2022
We, occasionally, fall in love with the right person
With the perfect, the immaculate or the wrong one
We’re naturally numb
When we fall in love
We’re lamentably dumb
Regarding the emotions circling above
It is scandalous, harrowing and exasperating
When we fall in love with the wrong person
It is cockamamie, bizarre and disheartening
When we dive and die in a quaggy relationship
Taking is a chance is suicidal; it is a noxious hardship
To give up and gamble so much for an ingrate
For a sorry hypocrite who can only fork over a fatal fate
When we fall in love, we search for a superb union, fun
Peace, respect, affection, compatibility, and comprehension.
Copyright © July 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
We want to be quirky, zingy, weird, and crazy
Because interesting, exciting and enthusiastic sells.
We want to be someone who is noticed or applauded.
If we cannot have that, can we at least have one-of-a-kind?
We want to be exasperating, conniving, mystical, and ethereal.
Mystery surrounding us in a swirling orange cloud of joyous confusion.
We are the world's women; we will have to be plain soon enough.
After our children arrive, and we try to fit into society so they will too.
The elementary teachers praise Student C.
Student C is compliant, calm, competent and composed.
She is marvelous, wonderful, a favorite.
She wins awards and trophies, and I mean a lot of them.
Student E is exasperating, on their last nerves.
She is easily excitable, enthusiastic about eels and elephants.
They speak ill of her in the student lounge; she is difficult to teach.
She never places or wins an award in elementary school.
Student C gets married, stays home, raises compliant children.
These children raise compliant, cautious children.
Student E is a visionary, an entrepreneur, a trendsetting CEO.
She develops a foundation to encourage innovative students.
She honors students who have a keen interest in something.
It could be eels or elephants, or it might be ESP and space travel.
Student C’s complaint children try to get into Student E’s school.
They are rejected, for they have not developed their thinking brain.
Of course, they do comply.
They do follow the rules.
They are calm, and they still win the trophies.
Hopefully that will be enough.
Ethereal enigma echoed empathic eel ‘s emotional elevation
Elongated elusive elephant-like Edison expected ectoplasm
Extrasensory efforts of exacting Ellis effortlessly eludes evildoers
Exasperating empathetic eel and elusive ethereal enigma
An only child
Never has to fight to the death for the prize out of a cereal box
An only child
Never knows how angry she can get when someone picks on her sister
An only child
Never has to cut the last cupcake in half to share with his brother
An only child
Never counts the Christmas presents to make sure everyone has an equal number in her pile
An only child
Never knows the joy of giggling with a friend an hour after her parents says go to bed
An only child
Never knows how exasperating a toddler can be when they take apart things in his room
An only child
Never understands what it is like to have to share a bath with another wet child
An only child
is someone I cannot imagine being
Wily and creative in life, terrorizing in death
Understated breathless anticipation prances forth
jiggling quarts of kangaroo cacti exasperating my zany mother
My muse Trixie is always raring to go; she writes while I sleep.
I know because upon awakening I hear a poem often.
The last couple of lines anyway, which is truthfully rather exasperating.
She has favorite words of which I am sick.
Dancing, prancing, twirling, whirling, are some of the verbs she always wants.
Do we have to use it on corpses and gargoyles? I ask.
She insists on her own way, which explains my fear of her.
Does she ever inspire me?
I am wracking my brain, thinking hard now.
My dendrite highway has completely shut down.
I am trying hard to think of the last time she inspired me.
Possibly today when we wrote twenty poems I do not remember writing.
She takes over when she wants. I am putty in her hand.
Not sure she inspires, but she surely runs the show.
She is in charge.
I am her pawn - a peon, a Plebian.
She is blowing the kazoo and dancing now.
Extremely happy that I have recognized her power over me.
Maybe when I awaken from my slumber in the morning
Trixie will let me remember more than just the last line of a poem.
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