TRAUMA IS A WRECKING BALL
Do not forgive them evermore,
they know just what they do.
Tis the aftermath of their wrath
of which they have no clue.
They take a piece of innocence,
a shovel and some lime,
bury it deep, beyond the reach,
fermenting in the mind.
Hidden trip wires everywhere,
covertly Intertwined.
Schrödinger's ticking time bomb,
the trauma left behind.
Do not flinch from experience,
when beatings were abound.
A wrecking ball of insanity,
left crumbled on the ground.
Picking up the broken pieces,
and holding them together.
Owning my ground in normal town
takes strength beyond all measure.
Father forgive us for being forlorn and falling
Father forbid us for continuing in our fractured and failing faith
Father forgive us for being on a Pharisaical frequency, our felonistic fealty
Father be firm in fermenting the old form and forming the new form
Father help us from faith to sight, to stand still and from fumbling and flight
Father thaw the frozen chosen, free the former and ford with the free
Forgive us all for forgetting to forgive family, friends and frisky foes
Father fence in the fiendish of all foes, frown at our flash and Flemish giant holes we fancy
Father forgive the frantic and fatalistic fray, pray tell Father don't falter
Freed from our sins by Jesus our Friend, Founder and Forever Fiddly
Father under Your feathers we can fly freely over the frame of Your fields
Father freeze our fleeting feet, flesh out the futility of fake fossil flack
Father fix our philosophies and our philandering, our fantastic fudging of facts
Father finally [and again] forgive us our frequent fallacies of faltering finitude
I can feel the whine inside fermenting,
maybe it is time to cash in my chips.
A sure sign of cornucopia? Swollen lips.
All at once my self restraint is relenting.
The contour of those toned shoulders,
it’s enough to make my mouth water.
When you’re near my skin gets hotter,
dewdrops gush as my face smolders.
My chest has now begun to undulate,
dizzy and damp I’m left light headed.
Intimate spaces suddenly reddened,
hunger makes it hard to concentrate.
This bruised fist has turned blue-black,
now it’s my turn for a little bit of fun.
I know you know what you have done,
owning my ornery I can’t hold it back.
Overflowing with need I must submit,
I’m going to take what I need from you.
I have no choice but to do what I do.
Jibber-jabber? Let’s just cut through it.
The twigs of March drip,
and dangle ~ late in the day birdsong returns.
Pinched veins leach through uncurling buds,
sap thickens needle
frond and stalk.
Earthworms form oracle rings,
that rise up
from the mud to nurse the wet soil.
Iron skies shuffle their skylights.
fermenting airs soften murk
to tepid mists.
Above the hedgerows
a gloom is burying its ghosts,
At last, heedful wombs
are stirring under thicket,
berm and windbreak.
Violet Grape Purple Envelope
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Contest Judged: 10/4/2025 11:20:00 AM
( 7th place )
In the mailbox, it waited,
a violet grape purple envelope…
not the plain white of bills,
not the business-blue of routine,
but a shade rich as twilight grapes
pressed into wine.
The flap held more than paper;
Its pulse echoed the warmth of a waiting hand,
the secret weight of words
never said aloud.
I lifted the seal,
and the room tilted…
like stepping into a midsummer orchard
where each branch hung heavy,
brimming with whispered secrets
of fruit still blushing in the sun.
Inside, no gold, no check,
just a letter, simple and trembling.
Ink curved across the page
like vines climbing a trellis…
every word a fruit,
sweet with risk,
staining me purple.
I held it close,
as though the page exhaled in quiet pulses,
like hidden grapes fermenting
beneath stone and quiet flame…
a slow transformation,
love softening into molten amber.
Purple envelope
sealed with dried red grape secrets
folded with ferments
hidden like wine in a cask—
waiting to expunge its words
Purple grape-skins torn
the bruises dark, stinking with hate
postponed and withheld—
seething, fermenting inside,
to pop when eyes are uncorked
Fingers hesitate—
lingering on paper's seam
as if it might bleed
mauve ink, staining memories
with bitter taste of tannin
Who dares to open
the violet-purple skins
threaded like tendrils
curled poised to strike the reader—
staining lips and tongues blood-red
The envelope waits
as a bruise waits for pressure—
purple concealing
the truth of what lies within
with promise and a warning
in a cursed invitation.
VIOLET GRAPE PURPLE ENVELOPE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
violet grape-purple envelope
waiting in drawer’s dim hush.
unsent letters breathing deep
holding whispers and promises.
secrets folded sharp as grief,
fermenting like forgotten liqueur.
the scent of longing and fine wine.
Sealed.
A hunter of expressive words, am I
especially those which I came to know
inspire, uplift, or honor God, then try
directing how they flow to tell and show.
From a young age, words were a magic way
I shared my inner thoughts on a blank page.
Then, over time, this urge increased to say
God's spirit seemed to guide me to engage.
So many thoughtful words fill up my mind-
until I choose and mold some very well;
fermenting those stirred in my soul, I find
they seem soon to create a mystic spell.
I know God guides me as my words will flare
and steer so well from just a single thought;
This must be true- I don't know from elsewhere
my rhythmic words of poetry are brought.
Dill pickle hated him so
Because he stank badly
Dill pickle screamed just go
Blue cheese wept thus sadly
When I leave the fridg, bro
I'll stink ever much mo
Dill pickle grew older
Fermenting like a bozo
Then opening his holder
A stink scent deathblow
It was after the times of mules
Irish slave contracts
Inside of the states of minds
Of those who fled from effort
Abandoning life in infancy
Creating devastation
And fermenting grew, cresting above skies
Literatures from slaves
Unwilling to begin Roman tongues
A time before the Republic
You’re ever captivating;
Somber so stimulating;
Liken a hot cup of caffeine;
Such joy you’re phenomenal being;
Production such a darling;
Top notch gentleman so charming;
Grooving N moving
Boiling and fermenting;
The result with yeast production;
Them there your dance moves, keeps on truckiN
You’re ever captivating;
Somber so stimulating;
Liken a hot cup of caffeine;
Such joy you’re phenomenal being;
You’re ever captivating;
Somber so stimulating;
Liken a hot cup of caffeine;
Such joy you’re phenomenal being;
Dancing ta the beat of the drums ya can’t stop
Like boiling hot water you got me hot
Man I am caught
Brewin
Brewing
Like a pot of tea
Brewing, got me hot as coffee
Brewing, saxophone groveiN strong
Brewing, BrewiN, just brewing
Ya! Got me brewing along
BREWING
10/4/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
"Every leaf speaks bliss to me,
fluttering from the autumn tree."
Quote by _ Emily Bronte
Autumn brings enchanting dapples and hues,
with each tremble and each fluttering breeze;
I love a walk to look at all the views,
the bright red, yellow, gold, and orange trees !
It makes me feel like God has been painting,
with strokes of color created for me;
all the trees with sweet vibrant paints staining,
I am in a lovely dream filigree !
The smell of decay a sweet divine scent,
it drifts and is quite intoxicating;
that smell of fermenting I will lament,
the odor of Autumn captivating !
Oh, it only stays for a few short weeks;
but, is magical with its sublime streaks !
Goose, goose, goose... duck!
They say they love and are not full of hate.
But listen to their speeches, with all their beseeches,
and judgemental and condemning ruminate.
And what of their fruits by which they can be judged,
that has fallen to the ground and reeks of rot?
Their causes based on lies, now lie fermenting in historic sludge.
Foolish voters, well now, they win foolish prizes.
And they keep electing their own and complain of their pain.
Yet... the cause of their suffering, the fool Democrat never realizes.
by Martin Braun
September 8, 2023
Too old for the same, repeated, broken records of bad solutions to rehearsed problems.
I see the green of the desert
That overcomes the brown -
Clinging to ground and water -
And with gentle affection -
It might reveal some color
Like a yellow persuasion.
I feel the fermenting sun
Calling out the vultures
That fly with a heart of one.
I sense the black jaguar’s stare -
Eyes that have a thirst for blood
And those teeth - a gnashing lair.
I smell blood in the wind
When death captures its prey
And in birth when life tries again.
I hear the cicadas’ buzz
Drowning in humidity
As thunderheads growl above.
I spy the purple mountains
Blending in with their shadows -
Not knowing where either begin.
They tempt my spirit below
To their crags and lonely peaks -
To secret places I know.
Brilliant start will depart
with storm, tempest fermenting.
Red at dusk fomenting,
brewing, red sky delight!
Cheers folks! Let's party!
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