With soulful eyes he confessed love
in a meadow where the foxglove
grows abundantly and speaks of
endless serenity and bliss~
even though he was flat-footed,
his fair-lady was confuted*
and noble Cupid’s reputed
arrow did miss!
* proven to be false
“Ah! Ah!” cried Mr. Shaw, a museum man of science in 1799,
as he carefully unwrapped a specimen from New South Wales.
It was Labeled: "It's a weird one; Caught in a creek; Dug from a burrow with egg nest!"
Mr. Shaw’s heart thumped with suspicion of a prank or fraud, as he noted what he saw:
It had the webbed feet, a rubbery bill, and the eggs of a duck.
It had a wide flat beaver's tail and coarse thick brown fur.
It had two snake-like fangs, on its hind legs, and small piggy eyes.
It suckled its young with milk, but no nipples were found.
Mr. Shaw looked hard, but found no traces of stitches, glue or bindings.
How can this be? How can this be real? How utterly bizarre?
"Ah! Ah! I know!" God, the creator, has a wicked sense of humor!
Behold! The duck-billed, flat-footed - Platypus!
KEY: H: Heart h: hearth
h: I can see footsteps coming close to me a mile away but if they stand in front of me, the noise will be blinding.
h: I stand flat-footed on my bedboard perpendicular to my body. Beyond my pane, are the viewpoints on life from the many. 'His slants differ from my own.
He constantly reminds me that when he's out of prison, he'll find me and get me.
H: But he's standing right there.
h: But he won't do anything.
H: Why not?
h: His parole officer is standing behind him.
H: But it's a woman?
h: His mother.
H: Oh, making certain that her son stays on the straight and narrow, eh!
h: Ohh! You are a right smart person--she's his lookout!
When Your Young Life Catches You Flat Footed
BarBQ, potato chips Mountain Dew and Watermelon pie
It was a huge celebration of friends on the Fourth of July
There was Tammy with beautiful hair and those dark tanned legs
And Patricia looking so sexy, appetizing, made a soul want to beg
Then ravishing Connie, O, me my, my, those sweet sexy lips
Last but not least there was Helen, that made Greeks launch those ships
Four very beautiful women and each one I had once dated
I wonder if the day would be a curse that was indeed ill Fated
And each one of them was surely there to see little ole me
I did not know whether to be very glad or so swiftly flee
My new wife looked at me, gave me that "you better behave stare"
I was immediately wishing these feet to rush me out of there
What to do next, what to say, damn it, I had not a clue
I was so deeply perplexed, and thus into the house I flew
"Man o man", the pressure on my heart surely hit me damn hard
Like a wise man, I went and hid in my library, writing like a Bard.
Robert J. Lindley,
16 verse Narrative
I Wear My Gun Easily, Loaded Well At Night
I meet my sacrifice with ample gratitude
Although with muted tongue, my ghost sings loudly
That crystal indifference soothes my attitude
None sing romance so damn righteously or proudly
Although never crowned prince nor pauper I be
My fighting sword and armor is polished gold
Sail I my ship and crew across dark, stormy sea
Far north to angry city or so I am told
I left far behind my foolish ideas of white
Knowing that some judges are cheap, easily bought
I wear my gun easily, loaded well at night
Insurance so as not to be flat footed caught.
I meet my sacrifice with ample gratitude
That crystal indifference soothes my attitude
I left far behind my foolish ideas of white
I wear my gun easily, loaded well at night.
Robert J, Lindley, 16 verse sonnet
DEC 1ST 1973
Note-
"" None are as good as they pretend
None are brave as they want to be
Yet all cry out for happy end
Even blinded, as they look to see."" RJL
Just having to be erect
Supported by your two feet:
The posture that is correct
Before one whom others greet:
Bosses who would things direct
While ours are to matters treat…
Punishment for a sitter,
Sitters made to stand ‘bitter.’
You’re a brute - a hitter,
Attention lost some could dither;
They won’t talk nor smile either;
Now, gaps between you wider!
Elsewhere, it’s test of courage,
Long hours of it long carriage;
The flat-footed can’t it brave:
You’d be making one a slave…
For babies a crucial test,
Crawls dragged too long not the best;
A gift for mums East and West,
Babies reward milk from breast.
The trees in the park today
Swaying in the breeze
Saying goodbye to summer
And hello to autumn,
Clothed in their display of
Greens and browns and
Russets and yellows
That drift and flutter
And slide to the ground
To form a soft carpet
At the footpaths edge
That rustles and crackles
And whispers underfoot
To accompany the sheer
Pleasure of walking
Flat footed through it.
Perhaps this is a gift to say
We are starting to prepare
For the sleep of winter.
We’ll be back in the spring
Goodbye for now.
And so the trees in the park
Settle down for their long rest.
I walk that park day after day
And watch for the first signs
Of new green leaves and shoots
That welcomes back the spring
And signals the start of a
New cycle of natural rebirth
And anticipating
Do they dream of vast oceans,
of soaring sea-raised mountains
of wave upon wave of rolling
aqueous seascapes?
The little brown ducks
show no such inclination.
They dabble and diddle about
gently pecking at moments
meandering from here to there
on the silky green grass banks
of a shallow pond.
The in-land gulls
that descend flat-footed
on the lush lawns
squawk loudly of the salty life
far from the safety
of city parks,
but the ducks just nibble
and squabble - paddle
over their petty hours
and if they ever ponder
the infinity of space and time
they peck at that thought
until it drowns
in a single drop of water
shaken from a dismissive
feathered tail.
The bones are loud and heavy
they don't like exercise anymore.
The treadmill chugs along
while vertigo topples unready toes.
Nothing can push these bones along,
time has filled them with concrete,
the rubble of marathons once run.
A young woman sprinting effortlessly
beside me smirks my way
as I stumble through a flat-footed mile.
Maybe she cannot see her future yet
while mine is clearly
painted on a wall I will soon hit.
i am an old man
when i look in the mirror
i don’t see me
a resemblance of my past
but know things aren’t
always what they seem
my skin is wrinkled and thin
i bruise easily
though not emotionally
my arms have spots not freckles
my sight and views are
becoming blurred and vague
choices made in my younger daze
left gaps between
my teeth and memory
i’m guarded about
revealing either one
the soles of my shoes flare
making it easier
to take things in stride
i have arch supports
so as not to be caught flat footed
the Cloud has
nothing to do with
information storage
but more the cause of
hide and seek with the
the sun and the past
i talk to myself
trying to get a consensus
to show i’m not crazy
the conversation
usually ends in a stalemate
and nobody wins
when i retired
everyday became Saturday
i start and finish
everything and nothing today
yesterday is gone
and tomorrow comes to quickly
when i look in the mirror
i see the lines i drew
in the sand and in my life
a resemblance of a past
maybe things are
what they appear to be
after all, i am an old man
A Moment in Time
A moment in time…
Like no other -
No twin or triplet –
Sharing the split second
In eternity’s space
As minutes chase
Perpetual movement of earth -
A meeting of fleeting glances
Momentary held in eyes of seekers
A possibility – opportunities
Running by on flashing silver sandals
Waving
Throwing kisses of solutions revealed -
Another layer of life unpeeled
In blinding clarity
Never replayed;
No flat footed response for the note
Not repeated;
Though time may bear sharp teeth
Like instances cascading torrents
Moves on into anonymity
When purest understanding smiles
In a breath
A sigh
A sneeze
A glimpse
Touching creation’s destiny in a wink,
Grabbing onto golden rings -
Choosing one momentary diamond
Refracted by the magic of the miracle gift –
One moment in time –
An epic told only once.
7/27/20
Based on Whitney Houston’s song - One Moment in Time
I was jogging,
I saw a quack;
I stop and pondered;
What is that?
I thought this, this is wack;
Look at my slacks;
They had gotten wet;
From water I didn't spill nor did I sweat;
And I bet, ya! wondering;
Just what's going on;
Am I hallucinating.........
while still on the trail on the track,
In my wet drench now jogging slacks;
This here unpleasant, wasn't a pheasant;
For you see he poke and peck;
Yet you still wonder and ponder;
This flat-footed wonder was a Duck!!
JUST MY LUCK THE QUACK THAT WAS WACK WAS A DUCK--
yaaaaay ouch yeaaaa help!!!!
4/9/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Flat-footed runner
Makes a slapping, splashing sound
Under the rainbow.
UNSUPPORTED CODE
Forbidden To Me
I groan flat footed
my love
For your witches brew I drank
Those words
you wrote
goblins sink
not me
For your
broomstick's journey
through our house
of no love
crimped
my hopes
Still
I'm tickled by your pinks
Your lips
I phantom
singing a sweet melody
your song
spawning
blue skies
forbidden to me
To my lonely eyes
a sighting of you
a longing
a few words
forbidden to me
A sadness I emit
my love
a groan
from pits of my hell
Yet
lending of your ears
a forbidden apple for me
I admit
... to the core
in the wake
of your forbidden spells on me
I would take a bite, my love
connie pachecho
7/29/17
while shadow boxing
sometimes
i kept on
moving dancing and
a prancing
just bouncing
off the ropes
in my imagination and
suddenly i caught
my opponent shadow off guard
standing flat footed
so i use
the sweet science of boxing
with some
stiff jabs plus
some body shots
back up to the head
then the overhand right
that knocked
my shadow out cold
yeah ten feet off the ground
towards outer space
well
i just kept on dancing.
sticking and moving
popping the jabs with my gloves
weaving in and out
quick-lightning hand speed
toe-to-toe
man-to-man
the sweet science
inside the boxing ring
still, lives inside of me
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