There are strokes that come from various
sources
These strokes can be words that turns to
strikes
There are words that hit harder the first of a
pugilist
And there are words that calm the nerves like
a balm
We are all wordsmiths mastering our trade with
strokes
Some of the words uttered carelessly have caused
wars
While some carefully grafted words has ceased
strife
History has an array of predilection of such
issues.
We carefully and judiciously use the resources
of the word we have.
(Written on the 8th of September, 2026)
I walked into Dobb's library
I didn't have what life took
so there wasn't much left for me
except to search for a new book.
I sat down in an enclosed place
for ten minutes hoped to forget
the savage past grafted on my case
entangled in a strangling net.
I opened a computer screen
Then a lady sat beside
I sensed something sight unseen
A tear in the force had opened wide.
A short librarian had seen all
She gave this lady a look of scorn:
so intense it could burn the wall
I felt aghast, how could I warn?
I came back there in July
The new book shelf was getting old
Saw the librarian, my fierce ally
She looked unwell, in a dazed pose.
A library is a safe place to be
No bad guys have reason to go
But I brought one in with me
Did it hit a friend who'll never know?
You don't antagonize the wolf-like pack
With a heartfelt look of intense scorn
They'll take revenge, they may attack
I steel my heart, can't afford to mourn.
Now, I don't know for sure
Can's collapse that quantum wave
But in my mind that scorn endures
when icebergs surface, who can save?
a
strange
but creative
process
so
pertinent
a
rembrance
grafted
to
a common
starting point
accomplished
as
an efflorescent
measure
of
implicit
&pervasive
uncertainty
absorbed
expanded
& ingrained
Time does not change --
distance and consciousness
does. Things can work for
entirely different reasons than
thought. Man has many grafted
bibles. To some, Science is a
truer messiah. Love, then, par for course,
to the same mindset, is a mere figment.
Man conjuring up what he believes he
needs – thinking what he imagines
he cannot exist without.
My well-searched opinion,
Love is not Love until it is clarified, rendered
a unifying reality. Released from the palm of
Ego Driven Grip. Freedom, a double-edged sword.
Possessing both lengths of good and evil.
Shadow 10/18/25
The golden leaves of her,
amber with fiery, spirited show.
Beautiful preserved resin,
adoring him.
Hidden passion,
The dance, poise, deft
under shadows dim.
Canopied beneath times lair
to rest for lengthy fallow.
Fractured, curled hope takes flight
Chanting whispers assistance
Spinning beside cold airs plight
Sunshade kisses eyes first glance
Canopied beneath times lair
to rest under heavy harrow.
Her golden leaves for gray, umbra
mewling a spirited show.
Beautifully graced and grafted
facing him.
Falling passion
chances, serenity, sable
under shadows dim.
K
The day arrives with its light,
The stranger hides in the night.
Its tendrils linger within a chamber,
Sometimes trailing us in our slumber.
I seek the light, but the night pursues me;
Each day is a walk across a turbulent sea.
I tread along the paths of the Divine,
Grafted firmly to the Vine.
My chamber is a meadow of shadows,
Awakened by the cries of the crows,
This reveals what is unknown,
It’s a mysterious zone.
Alone in my room,
Oblivious to the lurking gloom,
I break free from its weight,
Embarking on a journey to Zion’s gate.
July 14, 2025.
We live in time,
We coexist with the unseen,
Or rather, the unseen coexists with us,
We are on a journey guided by our souls.
Time nurtures us.
We blossom, and at times we struggle with our existence.
We incorporate the grafted pieces,
Shielding the light of our souls.
We live to fight,
Pulling ourselves from the clutches of darkness.
We journey toward redemption,
Learning from our rises and falls.
Nature speaks to us;
It wants to aid us in discovering ourselves.
It seeks to assist us recover,
Living is a gift unwrapped by time.
April 22, 2025.
Strong, resilient, iridescent
Trapped in folds, they are translucent
Culture cultivate grafted right
Pearls don't sparkle they reflect light
Mollusk secretes nacre layers
Wild pearls fetch prompt giga payers
Placed right they are prettiest sight
Pearls don't sparkle they reflect light
Implant good in delicate soul
Ego, pride, hate, lust can play foul
Turn to true source to be moonlight
Pearls don't sparkle they reflect light
Kindness, faith and love are virtues
Rare, admirable true values
They attract source and return bright
Pearls don't sparkle they reflect light
I had thought no God could hold me
the way your hands do.
I feared the image I was created in
But if you were carved from the same stone
that made me,
if the same hands that grafted my heart
designed yours,
then maybe he did once hold me sweetly,
kiss my face,
and bless me that I can be more than my anger.
I feared the image I was created in,
until I saw it created you.
The world inside of me
Is huge.
There are trees with twisted, open branches,
Like a thousand mom's,
Reaching for a hug.
There is music, and art, and
A tsunami of words,
Sent down stream,
To be plucked and absorbed
Like the most fulfilling
Breath of air.
The world inside of me
Is huge.
There is a tender heart,
And a healing soul
That wishes he could
Raise the dead.
There is also a secret place
Where a million dreams come to rest.
(A dream never fully dies...)
These dreams spin around
Our conscience
Like the earth,
Spinning on its axis,
Rotating around the sun.
We rotate and
Gravitate towards
Each other too.
Like the thousand prayers
That are grafted from
Person to person.
All of them have a purpose.
But somehow it means more
When I can pray
For my sis.
Here I sit at the table of The Lord
with emblems to the elect grafted in -
my old faith in God and mercy restored
by the love in he who died without sin.
I sojourner, in the walk to the truth
cleansed by the holy waters of baptism -
to beseech, if not by your own reproof,
to rise again like Your son has risen.
For soon you saints in Christ the hour will come -
all who tarry in His tabernacle,
and behold the King of all Christendom
in he who no grave could hold nor shackle.
The Word made flesh who in last dying breath
had lots cast and died a criminal’s death.
Written: October 2010
Broken stem of a flower
Grafted in the rain shower
Placid Frozen desired passion
Roots of grounded lasses
Everlasting stand before the sun
Petals a blooms before The Shining of the Sun
Dawns the Moon
Cascade fully blossomed blue realignment in June
1/27/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
You're clothed in the nuanced expression
of variety, in the unique alchemy
of weave in proximity to the bridge
of wear and wearer at Gaia's boutique.
Where light and shadow dance together
in exquisite harmony.
The creatures run out to the day to be seen as material
witnessings.
The rustling of leaves in the wind, the patter of rain on.
the ground, patterlings
a g loved fit of symbiosis in alchemy gauze
of secure medicinalings.
The laughter of children playing,
and the sweet melody of birds' wingmanning and.
bopping the swaying, surrounding the displaying.
Knitted in comfort of scene like an Uonion.
Umbrellic extension of womb.
A closeness grafted in our canvas of
muse as color and hue,
swatch to match of ensemble curl ie qued
swirl of
coffee cream heart to the batch of daily brew,
togetherness stitched message,
A tip of the cap to you.
Come one, come all
To hear the family call
We count every head
Reminiscing about our dead
Play our games
With important names
Casting out the slain
Who wants only gain
We decorate our leaders
Wealthy little feeders
Our birds have open mouths
Right under their spouts
Pestilence are fixtures
In a poor man's mixture
Orderly houses crafted
For God's only grafted
...saints
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04-10-2023
Two becoming one.
with hearts of purity
Grafted together.
With your stem of Beauty
Together producing new buds
Deeply rooted
Intertwining with Love
Thorny days with rain
Sadness when petals fall
Yet, the sun will always shine
As our love grows together
Entwined forever.
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