For long I worked in varied jobs,
Fending from bosses their dead lobs.
Retired, I find it tough
Getting not a day off
From new boss-- no more like doorknobs
Who demands, better learn
Your daily bread to earn,
Stern, she chases, all my peace robs.
But too late to regret
For having lost the bet,
Me, a harness horse oft called cobs.
________________________
Happenings | 20.08.2025 | humour, husband, horse
cat hisses at dog
dog retaliates growls at
the fending purring
07/14/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025©
Comes our God motherly, motherly, motherly,
Holding us tenderly when we're in pain.
Comes our God fatherly, fatherly, fatherly,
Strength'ning us daily to face life again.
Just what will tomorrow bring causes me worry
With so many tasks that I plan to complete,
And the thought of it makes me feel weary already.
I lay down my head and then struggle to sleep.
Holy Ghost hovering, hovering, hovering,
Spirit of wisdom to bring us God's peace.
Calming the chaos, relieving anxiety
Giving us courage so faith may increase.
With Jesus beside me as friend and companion
I rise from my sleeping to face a new day.
So whatever the challenges him I am trusting.
Through rough times and smooth I will hold to his Way.
God who's so genderful, genderful, genderful,
Spirit and Son now in union as One,
Shelt'ring us safely beneath her warm spreading wings,
Fending off evil till God's Kingdom comes.
To be sung to the tune of – Blow the Wind Southerly
Once a fox was lost in the field;
No shelter, friends, nor food to yield!
His fending hope has lastly keened,
But stood once more when prey he gleaned...
There he melded with flocks of sheep,
Dealing and coping with their keep;
Hardly bids to maintain his guise,
Yet still a fox behind those eyes!
He has sampled reed grass, at least,
Though fox despised such meager feast;
Athirst he was for blood and flesh—
The fox's hunt proved fruitless, fresh.
Then he crept at night, so sullen,
Watched his cozy troupe, heart swollen;
With eyes so wild, his mask now falls,
And all his care breaks castle walls!
He tried to curb his morbid crave,
But nature's call he could not stave;
And within a breath, off he gave—
A savage slaughter none could save!
His lethal claws that pierced through flesh,
His irksome fangs of crimson mesh;
The fox that once ate grassy fare,
Now dwells in dreams of dark nightmare!
The fox reveled, now bloody fed;
All took place as his hunt had led.
The fox is glad, the sheep lie dead—
Away he prowls, new prey ahead...
Why does the longing of lived wax melt clean off your wicks?
Oh, how do you hold a capillary existence fending off the ticks?
Over and over to lay wasted during the cold times, of treats and tricks
Daylight will return beauty to you in magical ways after the season of the sticks
Save your strength, take time to slumber; why be awake to witness the politics?
Pitter patter on rain polished pavements
Tears straggling down window panes
The rattle of ricocheting raindrops on galvanised rooftops
Spiralling eddies in bull's eye puddles
Umbrellas ,shields fending off the sharpness
Of blasts of non-stop water bullets
Insidiously a soft drizzle penetrates
Right through to the skin
Producing shivery limbs
And chattering teeth
Transformed by the sun into glittering diamonds
Which disappear with the welcome arc of the rainbow.
Bones Jones lived all alone,
In a shack on a dusty road.
Long and lean at a buck eighteen,
But carried a heavy load.
He never had a dime,
Or anything else to lose.
Wore a burlap sack upon his back,
And a pair of worn-out shoes.
With his Daddy's old cane pole,
He went fishing every day.
Bathed twice a week in a muddy creek,
Each night he'd kneel and pray.
No one ever called him friend;
And when the locals came around,
He'd take his licks with hickory sticks,
But would never make a sound.
One night his fate would change,
While fending off the cold.
Oh my Lord, underneath a board,
Found a very large bag of gold.
Now in a Cadillac he rides,
As his jealous neighbors frown.
No longer thin, with a toothy grin,
Owns the biggest house in town.
chances less than one in a centillion
we became human not penicillin
born to planet spiraling around sun
swift journey through life only just begun
not capable of fending for ourselves
relying on what parenting compels
'til point of making our own decisions
despite doubt, false starts and some derision
whether worker, lawyer, doctor or star
we struggle to be sure of who we are
we fabricate our own evolution
hopefully making some contribution
through trials, tribulation, perversity
we dance our own dance with eternity
Screwed up eyes and a huge flush
By one fending off a blush,
After the surest glimpse of Her Crush
With an Eve of enveloping lush;
Something in her beginning to crash
Tony to no more escape a tongue-lash!
Her oval face soon the fullest flush,
At which no sensible man will rush,
It presuming to be about some thrush;
The very thought and idea a slush
Of one booking her a suite plush…
Serena is now complying with a hush
Not demanded by imposing lips
Not will her cost a half brush,
If she her lips speedily unzips,
Out letting her anger gush
Or her tongue steadily slips…
A Serena already edged out by Rival
With some ambition in her arrival.
How shall I deal with this wandering mind?
Meandering through a meadow of ideas,
Seeking truth among noxious weeds I find
Since early childhood I have been curious
Always sifting through my brain’s cogitations
Accepting new concepts; discarding previous,
Tossing thoughts like a machine’s agitations
Chewing on choices of words, so indecisive,
Practicing precise grammar with conjugations.
Fending off debaters who are often derisive
Debunking theories that sound far-fetched,
While trying not to be obnoxiously divisive.
How far should an agile mind be stretched?
Let it go unchallenged and it becomes static
Drifts into rumor, relishes meaningless kvetch.
I choose to allow my mind access to the attic,
Considering all the randomness that intrudes
To avoid, as much as I can, becoming dogmatic!
"It’s 2022 some of our Caucasian brothers and sisters;
Still thinkN like them, their ancestors
I’m indentured renounce demented
Whipped, cut almost raw to the bone;
(Mentally-spiritually unwrapped;
Shot N tha back;
Git yah! Knee off mine neck;
Been sheltered now left alone;
Fending to myself;
On my last breathe a runaway (help us Lord);
Beaten and dismayed ( MY NAME IS MR. ? not boy );
CAUCASIANAL OBCESSION FOR UNEQULITY-
A slave just tryN to make it in modern day?
USA"
2/16/2022
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
How we spend our time says so much
Working, playing, musing … as such
I tend to spend mine yearning to touch,
While avoiding the bane of unwanted clutch.
Each day I make some elaborate plans
About how to spend my twenty-four spans
From dawn to dusk my mind will advance,
Sometimes I even make room for romance.
Other times I simply while-away the day
Indulging in the most frivolous foray,
Letting my inner child with abandon play,
And fending off anxiety that comes my way.
When you’ve arrived at the age of eighty,
There’s no longer any reason to feel guilty,
Or try to be pretty, and certainly not dainty,
You just restrain yourself from being flirty!
written January 25, 2022
A load of unfixed weight,
We ourselves sum up or rate,
Sometimes pegging it to a kilogram,
Under lesser stress to a gram;
Either a chosen or entrusted role:
Office with files taller than a pole …
Going ahead to father another baby
Which one must not skip in budgets not the lady
Plus Grand Pa long roaming The Earth,
Not wanting to end a Methuselah Birth!
More burden fixing back enemies’ sandals
Than fending off neighborhood vandals,
A gown releasing to a hated sister
Than a dozen to an outsider, a mister;
A lingered chat having with the proud
Than one’s way elbowing though a crowd!
When I sing I sound like a prehistoric creature
Fending off attackers, defending each metre
A scary old fellow
As I screech and bellow
So beware my friends I'm a ravenous eater
Mockingbirds Are Noisy and Aggressive
By: Miracle Man
July 19,2021
Sunshine peeking through a mottled sky,
painting a picture on parched ground.
A Mockingbird intermittently flutters by,
and from its repertoire a familiar sound.
A mate remains busy preparing a nest,
our red honeysuckle, is their spot of choice.
Fending off trespassers, not to be dispossessed,
while sampling me with its singing voice.
When a squirrel leaves a tree and is aground,
the Mocker dives and pecks until driven from sight.
With the male mocker you don’t fool around,
it makes the squirrel chatter, from affright.
It is said that an adult male mocker,
can make 200 different sounds.
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