My team had just lost a volleyball match and I realized my water bottle was empty
I was filling it up when I said to my friend next to me, my whole team's kinda depressed
He responded, ya I saw their faces and they all looked mad then I saw yours and you were your usual self
This touched me because I work really hard to be positive and it's showing because my friend said that's how I usually am
I was the only one on my team that wasn't sad, I was smiling, goofing around and talking to everyone
By Phan Tan Hai
Forty years like a dream—
shaking off the dust of distant roads;
a faint trace still lingers,
tea-scent deep upon the lashes.
More than sixty passing years,
books read as countless as forests;
once hearing thunder split the peaks,
the mountains broke—fragrance filled the sky.
Returning, hearing the wind breathe,
sweeping through lifetimes of ignorance;
each page of Nguyen Tho’s words
stops mid-flight, as birds listen to the sutra.
Long miles walked without weariness,
the clouds of Tu Luc still drifting;
copying sutras in mist-like lines,
fragrance steeped into the slender strokes.
— March 2017. Respectfully offered to Venerable Nguyen Tho Thich Tu Luc on the fortieth anniversary of his ordination.
The form wants a number for my pain.
I think of stones in a pocket,
how many before you notice the weight,
how many before you sink.
How do you sleep? she asks.
Like a house with all the lights on,
I want to say.
Like someone waiting for news that never comes.
The questions are small boxes and I am trying to fit the ocean in them,
one teaspoon at a time.
Are you fine?
The word sits between us like a closed door.
Behind it: rooms and rooms I cannot show her,
rooms without names.
In the parking lot,
I see others walking with their own hidden stones,
their own lit windows in the middle of the night.
We are all trying to measure what cannot be measured,
the weight of water,
the color of silence,
how it feels to be almost drowning
while still knowing how to swim.
Caverns of patterns,
Awaiting your return,
A cliff at every turn,
For you to fall and burn,
Slipping into your pattern.
It repeats until you discern,
There's a reason for concern,
Earning a new lesson,
Life is in constant progression.
Filling the cavern again,
With every little win,
Catching the pattern in motion,
Slowly filling through devotion,
Allowing a new path to open.
One that you have chosen,
A choice in the decision,
Thinking with precision,
Creating an incision,
Letting new patterns dig in.
Living consciously,
I see them repeatedly,
Caverns of patterns within me,
Created when I couldn't see,
Keeping me from being happy.
Between truth
and falsity
In the cold
empty darkness
— lies a poem
(Dreamsleep: January, 2025)
sits well and nearly out of reach unless.
A spell is when it's open dirty, but is closed.
Oil soaked around the bend the elbow is.
The smell around the bushes how they do.
A little stunted here and there you know because.
Oil-soaked, where gas is sold, soaked coal oil rags.
Patches on the asfhalt black translucency.
Pumping, pumping, pump the moving evening dress.
One cut above the knee becomes her considerably.
The motel in the lobby by the pump the awning shows.
A woman pumping gass beneath the moon is full.
The window shows her face, it really can not be it is.
false teeth
prosthetic arms and legs
diapers
wigs
grenades
expired passports and licenses
human skull
ribbons
plastic bottles
papers by the ton
glass
Styrofoam that never disintegrates
food scraps
filling up landfills one item at a time
Do you know
many things
understanding
not one
Portending
your weakness
pretense
on the run
The trash bin
of knowledge
refills
left unchecked
Pontificate
dirges
spout off
— to infect
(The New Room: July, 2024)
Does anyone have the conception
that I'm disconnected from reality,
so fearful to face more hardships?
All I do is filling up spaces with words,
they fit perfectly to make me feel easy:
it's awful to be judged with contention!
Am I someone so selfish to be derided by jesters
for choosing a hideout from the internal chaos?
Who praises himself to be a perfect in all he does
and says has achieved none besides foolishness!
Most of us adapt the mentality of the unwise,
thinking that the quicker we climb the ladder,
the better we reach our status to earn a merited price;
should all take an unexpected turn, we'll pull our hair!
Does evrybody blame me for filling spaces with words?
they have lifted me in dire times and helped me cope;
and the few who couldn't, committed suicide by the rope:
I thank Heaven I still breathe life and travel more roads.
In the labyrinth of my heart, I chose you without seeking happiness or filling a void,
There was no plan in this slipping into the snares of love.
I truly fell in love with you because
You showed me how to cherish and see love catch the echo.
I found you beloved, when even you didn't believe in your own light,
I fell in love with genuine laughter and with eyes that, without words, said everything.
But the moment you started to put everything before "us,"
You tore my heart, I felt it come out and be trampled.
You stole the definition of what we shared,
Our wall of glass easily gave way, turning into thorns that pierce my soul, and you hold the hammer.
You chose this path of destruction, dragging us with you into the abyss,
Even when I begged you to reconsider, even when I screamed for you to stop.
When something breaks, it doesn't fall all at once.
It's a slow, agonizing descent, each tiny shard stabbing the chest repeatedly.
And maybe that's why you feel the collapse before it happens,
For you were the sculptor, and my heart—your work, endlessly shattered.
Grey
Today the sky is grey
Yesterday the sky was grey
and so was the day before
Nothing less and nothing more
I would rather less
I would rather more
A clear sky
A warm day
The sun shining on my face
A deep dark clouded sky
A chill in the air
The smell of ozone filling your lungs
The rain pelting your skin with the force of a bullet
Drenched
As if all surrounding area was encased in water
But no
No dark clouds
No clear sky
No sun coming to say hi
No thunderclap or lightning strike nothing to differentiate the days gone by
Cast not your tears below thy eyes
Let them drip within my soul
For let these drops reach into my heart
I will comfort thee and hold you
Sorrow does not become you
With your face of glittering gold
For shame upon them who makes the cry
Reasons I know not why
Place your spirit upon mine
We will move together through time
My heart breaks with each teardrop
Let us find our happiness over time
Gaze into my eyes and cry no more
Let us fill our cups together
With Joy
O Lord answer me
when I'm tested may you name
be of Jacob's God
protect you may he give you
desires of your heart may
~
all your plans succeed
Fill my heart O' Lord that your
plans so succeed so
to enlighten us brightens.
up of our souls shines on souls
9/21/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
PSALM 20:1,4
Filling a Void
…..feelings like
disappointment or
fulfillment, mistreatment or
kindness, loved or
neglected
are clear moments that
teach me
to step back, cope with my story
……and sometimes,
life story is just terrifying limpid, and
some days, I
rather
collapse and back away
at that point, I
lean in
to this bold expedition….
withholding
my endowed giving character to
a few
freeloaders
Nothing
is insurmountable
bounce back from injustice
filling a void, shield my heart
simply
Cease-Giving
blindly
A spell, a well soaked rag
sits well and nearly out of reach unless.
A spell is when it's open dirty, but is closed.
Oil soaked around the bend my elbow is.
The smell around the bushes yes they do.
A little stunted here and there you know because.
Oil-soaked, where gas is sold, soaked coal oil rags.
Patches on the asphalt black translucency.
Pumping, pumping, pump the moving evening dress.
One cut above the knee around the tree.
The motel in the lobby by the pump the awning shows.
A woman pumping gass beneath the moon star light.
The window shows her face, it really can not be but really is.
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