bitter
acerbic, unpleasant
sneering, alarming, unwelcoming
acidulent, caustic, saccharine, confection
tasting, appreciating, fancying
pleasing, tasty
sweet
in the distance it sounds like a monster truck at a drag race
people on adventures, traveling north and south
seeking the wonders and highlights of kansas city
as i sit on my old-fashioned porch
listening to a noisy muffler, safe at home
watching frenzied squirrels chase themselves around trees
the vehicle is heading south, down Interstate 635
people frantically trying to have a rip-roaring time
my english cream heads up the driveway, seeking new things
i bask in the sun like a over-fed lioness
fancying my cushy striped lawn chair
listening to the frantic highway sounds
appreciative it is them, and not me.
silky silence, breathless sounds
soothing and gentle, kindness
flowing beyond the vibrant hues, blessings
whispering in soothing prayers, praising
risking each feeling, each breathe, tremulous
reflections of light, soft dreams
creation sighs, dew drenched tears
devotions, faded, fresh, raw emotions
fancying graces, pleasantries penning
serenity, seasons of tenderness
healing hearts, most important
work from the light of Jesus
far more beautiful than the spring sunrise,
abiding with faith in gentling insights
wonders from above, proving His sweet love
embracing the sincerest
seas enchanting, arising
stirring up heartfelt dreams, imaginings
graceful as verity, gifts of beauty
past imagining, grasping aching praise
enthused beyond words, pulses,
flowing, beating, restoring
Cowboys don't know ‘bout pentameter beat
when their crooning to the cattle at night
As long as the rhythm is soft and slow
makes no difference if it's sad or light
Don't make no mind if it goes dum-di-dum
or if instead the rhythm is di-dum-di
Cows sure don't care what some snooty dude thinks
is the proper way to write poetry
The herd doesn't know the meaning of words
no use in fancying up what you say
To mean what you say and say what you mean
that has always been the true cowboy's way
There's no need for some expensive degree
just to lull all them cows to sleep at night
‘Cause humming a tune with no words at all
can keep them calm until the morning's light
So don't be afraid to write them a song
with whatever rhythm or rhyme you choose
It's okay if others don't understand
as long as the tune means something to you
A Political Opinion
Miracle Man
7/27/2023
Our voices are not yet audible enough,
to tickle the ears of the ones in power.
Those who care choose not to rebuff,
and upon confrontation, they cower.
It seems much that’s worthy is unaddressed,
it’s moved to the back burner for later.
With lining their pockets most are obsessed,
fancying themselves as a great debater.
But our votes had part in their selection,
and we have power to correct any mistakes.
By going to the polls during next election,
we can rid our midst of political snowflakes.
A fact, Most Politicians Are Snowflakes,
in a position, not having what it takes.
It's funny the simple pleasures recounted in life
all manner of wonders reminisced I'll miss most..
though list grows shorter with each passing day
thoughts align in proper time as desires sway
storm bent trees, sunsets, a child's laughter,
and chicken salad on toast.
To be true others may find want of finer things.
fancying first class flight or latest in 'lectric cars,
refined tastes in Nanterre brioche or imported caviars
yet never replace good company a heart brings.
As winter closes, and spring finds its way home,
eternally grateful for all new pleasures won
give thanks warm day's return in rising and setting sun
yet alone, to bygone days my thoughts may roam.
Yeah, there'll always be chicken salad and sunsets..
perhaps a slice of keylime pie or two.
When I look back to a wonderful past,
what I'll miss most
is you.
I stay close to home these days,
my roaming needs seeming to
expire with age, finding more
of what I need in the Silence
of packing; of course, this
worn-out body is far too cumbersome
to even contemplate wanting – like
frayed clothing, now best for rags;
like empty cans for the recyclable:
I wonder how Earth will handle
my re-purposing?~as for my poetry,
will my works know future lips? Be
Whispered and sung, inspiring others
fancying fireside light and chat, within
the warmth of flickering, yet mysterious
shadows? Or will my words, unceremoniously
settle like bird droppings on tombstones,
surrounded by laurels of weeds, a forgotten
chapter? That settles it, I will opt for cremation!
Leaving tombstones and graves for
most politicians, TV Evangelists, and
Movie-stars, needing their world
monuments where the Devil will
easily find them for substantive
reunions....
A journey
in life is a pineapple
sometimes
is yours at times not
life is an adventure
of blue
though in the long run
there is this reward
sweet and lustful
one would even ask
is there any undertaking
that is wholeheartedly harmless?
even fancying letters did
that last time
ah concerning life
even a common
experience is perhaps, so.
Oft-times, I'd sit- so dreamlike in a daze-
though decades had elapsed, surpassing days
they lived next door in sharing fun-filled years;
still fancying them here- and, oft with tears.
One night, I closed my eyes to simply rest.
Before long, deep asleep- I felt distressed
by hazy lights fast catching me off guard
beside the moonlit pool in our backyard.
Two shadowed beings each had waved a hand-
and called my name- so I would understand.
Then, through the circle of large maple trees,
ethereal- they floated with the breeze.
My trance-like state of mind said, no! Unreal!
The spirits of my mom and dad, surreal-
now gliding 'cross the lawn to visit me.
Imaginary, this must surely be!
It was that night, I closed my eyes to rest-
my prayers had sent that vision- truly blessed!
There, through the circle of large maple trees-
dreamt of my parents- waving in the breeze!
July 25, 2021
Premiere Contest: An Interesting Couplet
Sponsor: Funom Makama
Revision of a poem posted: 05/24/2021
We were out where we shouldn't be.
Walking hedges, robbing nests and swinging sticks to whack the ears of wheat, fancying that we might bag a rabbit with darts and slings and catapults.
No harm, save the treading down of stalks through farmer's barley corn.
We were Princes of that land. Fearless, with packs upon our backs and makeshift weapons in our hand.
But the wind then rose in a sudden darkening squall
and we sheltered in a copse while gusts battered low the barley and the wheat and the woods in early evening pall began to scream.
Treetops thrashed and whined a ghoulish howl
and heavy drops lashed knocked-leaf-fall all around.
We took fright at nature's passing wrath.
Much like the fear that rose from heart to mouth
when skipping through Kings Hedges Wood,
black rook stared and stood its path too close
for one so young alone.
Such fear arose in us that all the Princes ran.
They ran for mother-comfort, mother-comfort in the home, mother's gingham kitchen apron by her new lit warming fire, mother's towel rub and hair tidy with her brush and tortoise comb.
Oh, mighty vacuum cleaner, like magic,
you gobble debris polluting my domain
that pervades carpets, surfaces, and air-
leaving behind, a spotless, pristine home.
Oh, vacuum cleaner- fancying you could
direct your sweeping power over Earth-
suck in its choking, atmospheric grime;
eliminate, cleanse- alike my tiny world.
October 5, 2020
Contest: In Praise Of The Ode
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
2. For a Vacuum Cleaner
Rules: 8 lines, 6 words per line
Darkness fancying
Unquiet
In deseribable
Anquish
Stub my toe
Vanquish
Lost my way, nowhere to go
Never forgetting
Unulterable accomplishments
I hold my breath
Nothing left
Intolerable ere
Aggravations Witness
Unquiet
Vanquished
Allotted guess I'm
Anquish...
5/17/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
The circus has come to town
Washington D.C., its prime playground
Congress on the brink of a nervous breakdown
Screaming at President Trump to step down
Donald J. Trump stands center stage
Tweeting and texting with fistic rage
A bull in a china shop, inciting p.c. outrage
While fancying himself a genius-sage
To the left of Trump is former V.P., Joseph Biden
Verbal gaffes all exposed he can't hide in
'Mr. Excitement' can't bring the voters' tide in
He's sure experience alone will help him glide in
Far to Biden's left rants Elizabeth Warren
Her attacks on business, for an ox to gore on
To break up Google and Amazon she'll go to war on
To hell with $100k employee salaries ~ the moron
Our circus is surely a sight for sore eyes to see
And for an encore, we're bringing back Hilary!
Charming in his capotain, and
Christmas-red cape, alongside
His plain-costumed puritan wife.
Maritime tall masts,
Snow-capped spruce,
Blushing-white clouds.
Sailors offload merry assortment —
fancying their Claus-like chores.
Old New York spectates by the shore —
The “blue eye” of the Santa-sea,
Brings old-fashioned fillers
For pudding-plum stockings.
Hard-packed snowbank under their coal-black boots.
Twinkling behind devoted eyes —
Treasure trove of memories to offload to their progeny.
11/25/2019
Based on N.C. Wyeth painting “The Christmas Ship in Old New York”
currently
the current of
my life's stream
is a day dream that
lasts all through the night
but as was
once said one
can't step in the
same stream twice
so older i float in flights
of fancy
fancying that
fantasy is a far
better thing to do
then thinking i know
what's
around
the
next
bend
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