I am strong,
I am in control,
Today is my day —
I wrote this on the 10th of May.
On the 26th, I waited.
Two days before nineteen,
I did not want gifts,
Only love, only care, only effort.
A long wish at 12.
On the 28th, it was my birthday.
The clock struck 12, he did not.
At 6:30, a formal happy birthday arrived,
And it hurt me a lot that day.
I wrote my faults that night:
Overthinking,
Overloving,
Over-expecting.
But today I know,
Loving too much was never a fault.
Waiting for love at midnight was never too much.
My only fault was calling my love a fault.
Pressure, pressure, pressure
Hurts, hurts, hurts
Under so much pressure
Pressure to do the right thing
Pressure to be something
Doing all this hard work
Just for my failures to lurk
Pressure, pressure, pressure
Crack, crack, crack
Under so much pressure
Even after all that pressure
You don't get anything better
Still the same results
Still the same faults
Pressure, pressure, pressure
I felt as small as a winter’s flower
yet as tall as an old oak tree
the seconds dragged on for what seemed like hours
when my world turned in on me
the cloak I wore was of little comfort
just to bridge between present and past
I held onto this and other secrets
no more a peasant but a king at last
by the time I had finished speaking
the crowd erupted with applause
then towards me they were reaching
as the judgment came into force
the mask was meant to protect me
from what no one should have seen
a noose was placed just oh so gently
I thought it was a bit extreme
I sank into the grain that supported
absorbed deep in the fibres below
my legs gave way it was reported
I wriggled until they let me go.
she's wild
she's prickly
distant and aloof
stand-offish
guarded and withdrawn
but i will always love her
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Moans, sleep deprivation,
Groans across our great nation.
Blame all dumb inventors,
Droughts, floods, some mentors!
We'll vanish on timely wings,
Faults saving daylight brings!
Poets to their flaws blind,
No fault in their verse find.
The wild beasts of hunting kind,
Eat no flesh of their own kind.
Drunks may too much chatter,
But none their secrets scatter.
No less than men, women
No seeds can plant to men.
_______________________
Translation |10.08.2024| free verse, poets
The Sanskrit verse:
pashyanti na eva kavayah nija-kaavya- dosham
bhakshanti na bali-bhoojah nija-jaati-maamsam |
jalpanti na eva madyapaah nija-marma-vaakyam
kurvanti na yuvatayah purusheshu beejam ||
Being so awfully insecure
among confident people
seems ridiculous and brittle;
I'm very humble by nature,
it will not take me anywhere:
I'll end up gathering crumbs!
I'm too stubborn, still refusing to pay
for these silly and shameful faults;
I would cry out loud to feel anger,
not sit at a corner counting doubts!
I should blame you instead, dear:
because I'm getting hit hard by reality!
I won't cry on your shoulder, just be forgiving
when I seek some empathy, it's too humiliating;
if a man cries is because is a liar when he swears:
he'd rather carry inside silly and shameful faults!
Admit that you've been constantly cheating,
sneaking out at night while I was sleeping;
you dropped a sleeping pill in my Martini,
snuck out and flagged down a yellow taxi!
These silly and shameful faults
have given me sleepless nights;
don't kiss me to cover up the ugly truth:
it's a parody not as sweet as Baby Ruth!
Not all my faults were mine
See, if you follow every line,
Cracked yearly by life's quakes
After every turn she takes
What did not fall apart
Was recycled, to restart,
Not knowing now or then
She'd fractured, yet again
Basking on bone and skin
A wrinkle forms, o, so thin,
A crevice I cannot erase
From neither body or face
Find me as I am today
Scattered, every which way,
Debris making up my shell
Altogether, a story do tell
From their beginnings humble
To ending all a jumble,
I, not smooth nor fine
Not all my faults were mine.
From people you've been rather far,
Your Entrance Door scarcely ajar:
Guests appear and up dries your jar!
You don't wish to guess what these bar...
Your next caller could be a star:
I should have said A Super Star!
And roads you block against your car
While the journey has not gone far...
Also, you treat with odd delay
Things on which one's trust sometimes lay
I mean your workers you would pay,
When long gone their hopes with their ray,
Completely spent another day...
These are the things a good friend halts
His companion's discovered faults.
Spring is not all about charming beauty.
Like all seasons, Spring has her many faults.
Spring Cleaning, once a chore and main duty,
Lies deeply hidden in my secret vault.
I might as well mention angry weather--
Gale Wind, along with partner, Blowing Dust.
Grit covers all, I would so much rather
hear lovely raindrops than a windy gust.
Cold lingers, at night I can feel its chill.
Altho sky is soft blue, trees remain bare.
We often need to don a warm coat...still,
there's a magic restlessness in the air.
Spring's preparing her grandest arrival
featuring buds of green--life's survival!
January 30, 2023
for Michelle Faulkner's "Spring is Not All" poetry contest
There’s no way one’s devoted lover
Won’t one’s weaknesses and faults cover;
Tell big fools that one is in clover:
Who nears not maps Driver of Rover
From Tunis to far-away Dover
And would in helicopters hover,
All to The Glory of Jehovah!
There’s some chance your devoted lover
Could suddenly say “it’s over”
If you’d fertilized an Eve’s Ova
Or stolen a blind beggar’s guava;
The last: A sure subject of scandal;
Fears that, soon, you’d snatch a kid’s sandal.
I found fate
During my journey on earth
I'm anxious to find the secrets
I feel grateful when
I found love, happiness and fortune
I feel loss when
I found sadness, mishaps and sickness
Sure, I'm to pay
For my own faults
Or carelessness
But l remember many saints and messengers
Died for mankind's
Cruelty and greediness
I regret and I repent
How about you
Man, please stop all those
Evils
For the sake of mankind
And yourselves
Deft tiptoing of enemy feet
Trails progress of this ink;
Such that when one word
I pen I must pose to think.
Usurping hand’s derailment
Detracts my scribblings too;
So when firing thoughts stir,
I lose lucid inspiration's glue.
Weirdest passions do this quill
Assail with craftiest forces still;
Turning minutes of finest Muse
Into dullest bouts the poet rues.
And so what might this scribbler
Do to halt such thievish assaults;
Decadent schemes blunting wits,
Shoving this bard to idler's faults?
I am soaring.
I'm on a high that I will ride greedily until it slips away.
Joy is not something I come by easily, and it's not my fault. If you toe tap to the same tune, it isn't your fault either.
I blame myself because it's easy, but it's far from true. You blame yourself because it's easy, but it's far from true.
I have been put in situations where it was so hard to love myself I almost lost myself, forever. Everyone almost lost me, forever. And it wasn't my fault. It isn't your fault.
I bounced back to find a course and here I am on it. You will too.
I never thought I'd see the day I did something just for me. Today is the day, today could be your day.
So if you're looking for a sign to save yourself well here I am!! Bright, blinking, and neon! You are worth it.
Just promise me, when I fall back down, you'll be there to catch me? I won't depend on you, don't feel tethered. I am not your responsibility. You are not...
No, no.
I am allowed to need someone.
You are allowed to need someone.
I am not weak.
You are not weak.
We are untouchable.
"Holy is the heart that repent of sins faults
Righteous is the one that overcomes
Passions fly social butterfly
Hearts that float artichokes
Grimace pains dirty rain
Apocalyptic grounds remains
These are the ends of times
it's time to unwind
Remembering first we are not cursed
Why? Holy is the heart that repents sins faults, just saying"
Amen!
9/8/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
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