Fines Poems

The Axe Grinder

He hones his purpose on a stone whet of spite,
Edge kissed to gleam in the dead of night.
Relentless is the echo tuned to hindsight.
Endless in the knowing his cause is right.

His grip is firm, his whetstone flat.
His purpose honed to revenge in tit-for-tat.
The axe grinder, can't ever get over that.
Old grudges are ground in, with spittle spat. 

The sparks fly from grinding wheel.
Spun to remove the scars in steel.
Caught in armor on the leg and heel,
Of the foe that stood up from their kneel.
 
Sharper minds cut cleaner truer lines,
In wood chips, slivers, shaves and fines,
Cut deeper deeper in, to find the quick that binds,
The grinder to the hurt and pain he mines.

Great Receivers

Quick cuts
Shows guts

Fast feet
Cuts neat

Jumps high
Runs by

Good fakes
Smooth shakes

Knows routes
Runs south

Sure hands
Wide span

Knows plays
Speed pays

On time
No fines

Great shoes
Blocks too!

In bounds-
Touchdown!

Two Kinds of Life

I’ve seen the world change, transform in sight,
My country has taken on so many a plight.
On one side, poverty’s face is shown,
On the other, prosperity has grown.

One side gleams with bright faces, full of cheer,
On the other, life trembles, caught in fear.
The rich walk proudly, the poor quake in dread,
Like wolves chasing prey, they’ve fled.

The strong push laws aside, trample them down,
They’ve legalized their wealth, in every town.
They stash their riches, send them abroad,
Planning their escape, making the law their fraud.

Cut wages, take mothers' dues away,
Taxes and fines growing every day.
Some chase titles, lost in the quest,
While others wander, just trying to rest.

The good spread their kindness, hearts so bright,
The bad hide their wounds, concealed from sight.
Why must a young life be taken in vain?
Why must they hang, filled with sorrow and pain?

We lie in the fields, shot or hung,
No matter how much we try to run.
The cause of it all lies in the deceit,
And the wrongs proclaimed from the podium's seat!

Feed the folk, this rulings a joke'

Andrew Cooper farmer of the land, of Croyde Devon; in old
England decided he'd plough some fields again? as the sun was shining through the English rain, yet some eco-loonies including a judge? hit him with fines and orders and they don't want to
Want to budge.' O K he remted it to the relic's archialogical
Whatsama-thingammy..Cant deny it' and  he took a fee' twenty
Years went past, now surely he can till? again.? At last!! No
Mention of a clause; or legal waiver, .' I'd say to farm again is
His right and favour.' Old England will benefit' the people all
Round need the crops to go into the ground.' A balance is
Great between preservation and farming.' Yet this is an
Imbalance. And most alarming in a time of Brexit and
Challenge of change a nations interest are more relevant
And this injustice must be changed.! Give ear to reality, and
Allow the wheat to grow, as in ww2 the fields need to be sown i am with Andrew.! (the Coope-rman)of Croyde Devon,! may he live long and hale to continue farming that land.!

Progress?

The birds will still fly, and the fish will swim,
But things may never be the same again.

People may smile, but some cry inside,
As others shout loud, far and wide.

They destroy the land, in the name of progress,
With claims of no harm, but we see the distress.

The windmills, the solar, the lithium mines,
They shrug their shoulders, and pay the fines. 

For the "greater good", our land will die,
It's someone's big dream, but no one knows why. 

It's time to look hard, at the powers that be,
Who will it benefit, is it you and me?

Is it really progress, or are we making it worse?
the results could be incredibly adverse.

Driver's Beware

If you're operating a motor vehicle look for signs 
Especially, if you don't want to pay ticket fines 
Don't drive all that fast or all that slow 
Especially, if you want to get to where you want to go
Because accidents happen when you drive too fast or try to pass 
And by driving too slowly you might get bumped in your ass

Said me to I

you must take the time to rhyme,
the design is divine and you will find
it aligns with the original minds
of before times when afore lines
were written/signed and mined
for stage binds and weaved vines
intertwined with the twine of dimes
nickels and pennys deepening fines
as greasy grinds gripping wine stines,
snipping lips with widely-eyed shine
sipping moonshine as they dined
behind locked door were blinds
which burglary was a dyne
like a katabatic slope incline.

Missed Statement-

Mission statement 
broken promises 
miscued satisfactory
guarantee Mount
 of courses

Major pangs pains 
Tranquil mission equality
Misjudge guided path 
Lost on the road 

Fables lies and stories
 yet I'm told 
Guarded yet misguided wonderful
Sheltered yet home

Homeless covered yet naked 
How do you accept this
Prodigal Son has come home 
isen from his lie down 

Horizontal thoughts 
In a vertical vessel
He struggles with himself
 in life's lessons 
       ~~~~~~~mission statement 

He carries the weight
 the guilt the shame of tens
 maybe thousands of generations before him

Shown the light in his eyes 
Yet do shine his heart is solid 
And soul flickering 
But yet they fines careless 

Is the thoughts of the thoughtless 
As the mind's wrinkles thesis 
Floods The valleys overflows 
The dry land I believe for you

 I believe for Elohim my bloodshed 
is not a worthless 
Cause for you see
 Jesus Christ died for you and I and all

Hallelujah

6/18/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr

Where are you?

I am here
you didn't show up
death is not an excuse
I will put more coins
in the parking meter
if I have too
until
I run out of coins
then run out of tears
	why oh why

tickets and fines
	who cares?
		

my purse is empty
I have run out of breath

Lee Anderson M P

With integrity under fire recant and
You'll be labled liar.' There are riots
On the streets now' parades about
The middle east, sad-guy just counts
Up the fines, he gets from, his u l e z
Low down feats, its not because he's
Muslim..' or the mayor that gives them
Room.? Just one thought an earlier
Britian never lived within such gloom.'

HE SO FINES A BEAUTIFUL DAY-

He so fines, Beautiful so souls the days are fine;
Heavenly Father as wonderfully kind;
And His parentage is mild, ever breath is mind;

Adjourning love supply, He’s ever present always abides
Lovingly, assuredly He so inside, inside He is within me He’s finds


1/18/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©

In a fix , outspoken, and fearful too

    Your index is still in grip than your appendix.
    Your words are still in repulsion of mirror, consciously.
    It does kill, I think, both ways. indecision as a pill cutter and anti-cutter
    Three subjects wide ruled lines, even though 
    the very first one did not melt, so far. 
    Yet, these days, they do come again, as long-lost sun lights. 
    Once a study table with a glass top, used to believe that. 
there was a student.
sweating to study, 
harder and harder in watching lives, passing by, finetuning and fines and dues. 
and tuning in the farthest try than in nearer sigh, 
happening democracy in the pressing opposite
cramming the fine paper space in an obscure awkward offset
Where words fall short to heed or hide 
or make a duo in understanding altogether. 

Looking inwardly, I am too
Or else, it is better to let go
Truly it is far better to let go 
than to hold back a strenuous good bye
That should end at least half an hour ago
Peculiarly, blossoming at the doorstep, once again!

The Man

In shackles, the angler stands accused,
His reel now silenced, dreams diffused.
Caught by the law, his freedom at stake,
No fish to take home, just fines to be paid.
An unlicensed cast, is the price he pays.

Sweet Child - Wujue

Sweet child/ pure heart shines
Soft voice/ love song fines
Great gift / true bright star
Bright smiles/ leak gold mines

Heavy Right Foot

Heavy Right Foot

The clatter of the letter box
And post on the mat
Sends a shudder of fear
So I cuddle the cat
My hand shakes 
And my heart beats fast
I did something wrong
In the recent past
I know they are coming
Handcuffs and fines
Cart me off 
For serious crimes
My foot too heavy
On the pedal of fun
And like a speeding
Bullet, out of a gun
I did the worst 
A driver can do
Eighty miles an hour
Curse my right shoe.
I shudder and shake 
Never broke the law
If my licence they take
Will I get parole?

David Cox 17/02/23

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