No, I forthwith forgiven you as I held the door open to my heart you ripped up
My arms and hands released you from the embracement
For thou I have so forgiven you for what I’ve done and we do
In the truth of the matters we are both sadden by the view
Of the empty room one entering another moves I run forthwith unto you
I applies all is forgiven come here my dear lets reside
you've been forgiven and excused
6/5/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©
His stories were dubious:
brought up by wolves,
rode upon on the back of Great White
across the Atlantic.
Base-jumped off Mount Rainier
wearing only a jock-strap
in winter.
His pals would smile knowingly,
accepted his every wild exaggeration,
for after all
he was a poet.
Claiming to be trustworthy doesn't make it true,
Proving who you are is entirely up too you!
Weakness is misery which loves to spread it's ways,
Strength is pushing past all and all through the negative days.
We all have a story; some harder to hear,
Trust isn't given and grudges are steering clear.
Deception and manipulation is a terrible trate,
Karma doesn't forget and neither does fate.
If you feel it's best to intentionally cause pain,
Continue how you live you are boarding your own plane.
Have You Been with Ben Excused
(Quite A Guy.)
Suppose our personalities we were to transpose;
Would there be tingling throughout all our toes?
When we wanted to laugh learn another way
On our each word have to use a different play?
What if we needed to make a decision
Wondering about exchanging each religion
Different political parties were to inherit
Think our minds could be able to bare it?
What if new styles of poems are now more pleasing?
For writing them still never understood the reason
World of poetry's in state of shock and totally confused
So from thinking at all, they have been excused.
Have you ever felt like that before, now or hereafter?
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
A quiet man,
a good man.
An exquisite artist
in
watercolor.
Self taught.
As a sailor,
he was excused
from chipping paint,
swabbing decks,
or peeling spuds
by lighting up
when the Chief Boatswain
barked to his crew
“smoke 'em if you got 'em.”
Excused,
he put down his mop
his paint brush, or his knife,
and smoked.
Today, thirty years
later, he is dying.
He is breathing through a tube
in his throat
and laying in his bed
at home
waiting,
watching his last
football games
and waiting.
Excused Excuses
Excused Excuses
“Oh Mr. Jenkins NO eye am not rally late eye was in the information commons
looking up the answers to my questions and getting ready for my test please
don't make me say it.” “Yes Mr. Timid tell the class your name your own last
name and say it fifty times.” “Like this just say “I am Timid” and let it go like
that.” “It's just a lesson for you to learn and it will keep you from ever being late do
you want to be late to your own funeral?” There was a quiet in the little classroom
made for fourteen places near the door. Everyone was smiling and hard to keep
from the guffaws for listen gentle reader to what the student had to say. “I am
Timid fifty times.” And then the door slammed and he went away. Every eye was
on the JENKINS man as he was heard to say, “What a delightful lad he will lead
his troops to combat soon.” “What a delightful little man.”And in a hushed and
softer voice Mr. Jenkins said to them “Mr. Timid is excused.”
Excused Excuses