I wish to undig,
The remains of my buried whispers,
The lingering murmurs,
The gigantic word clusters
The betrayal of my tongue,
stirring hearts with unseen quivers.
Begging for a voice of their own,
Seasons have passed over their tombs.
Yet every grave I open is torn,
Cradling a lifeless confession
As though I'm asking something dead
To be once more reborn.
We are two graves now, love
Two pretty little things
Surrounded by officials
Their lawyers, their police
Must be a party nearby
Drunk dancers over here
Stamp clumsily upon us
Each laughs at their own jokes
We couldn’t care less
We had it all, and more
And many, many more
What they will never know
And never scrutinize
To check us out they should
Guess even vaguely about
The subject they expect to see
But they are unaware
They wouldn’t know the matter
For us they don’t exist
As we for them, so I suggest
To take it as it is
The sun will shine again
Our trees will grow up tall.
For whose sake
states indulge in wars?
Chiefs of realms,
so as to
fulfill their selfish egos
dig their people’s graves!
Beyond two tiny
unhinged-gates,
a cobbled path
paves eerie tones.
It guides one through
its labyrinth maze--
of toppled-over
defaced stones.
The specters grace
the weepin' trees,
with prayers--so they too
can rest in peace.
For what lies below
its caved-in slabs--
with wicked weeds
that pricks then stab.
Ghosts' jewelrys, mostly those
of golden round, within each pile
of shredded clothes--attached to
dusty scattered-bones are found.
Lord, you’ve seen me in ways nobody else ever will, from the inside out, you created every inch of me, my heart of kindness, giving, empthany, sympathy for those who haven’t seen or heard your undying grace, mercy..
You’ve given me more than anyone could ever give me, I’ve searched this life, nothing filled me like you have..
You’ve turned my grave into gardens, only you see my tears in my soul which I hide, Lord, you gave your only begotten son to preach to us, teach us to love, live, lead like HIM..
My grave is empty, I’m here because of Jesus, when I feel empty, I only have to think of you, when I feel alone, forgotten, Lord you lift my chin up to meet your face, wipe away my tears, tell me the words I never heard as a child, “My child, I love you”.
My garden is full of monarch butterflies, turtles, fish, flowers, turtles, my two blessings, my son and my daughter.
Lord, Thank you for loving me as I am now, NOT as I think I need to be..
A million graves
One life but too many
Rivers of tears flowing endlessly
A stench of death in the atmosphere
Can't you see,we are dying here!
Even though our eyes cry endless tear
Flies like bodies drop every minute
Glass like hearts are broken to pieces
Tired of reading these Rest in peaces'
As though stars are granting the devil's wishes
To let as rest in peace
The real tragedy is the death of the living
The ones who can't keep up with all this grieving
The families breaking
The breadwinners losing
One positive case
Ten children starving
A hundred families broken
A thousand sources of income closing
A million graves of people ,Just walking
Dead men walking ?????
Mother, child are you bleeding
Watching the world come down
The doors are locked, the streets are cold
Are you buried in the world's soul
Spiritually entwined
To live until you die
Mother hold my soul
And sew my pockets full of rubies
Take the candy from my teeth
And be please buried with me
Child holder of my soul
Asking help and talking tall
Bury my hands in your eyes
And let the both of us die
Caring earth holding faces
Of those we both hold dear
Hold us close
And bury both
Inside the home
Where we had grown
Mother, child are you bleeding
Watching the world come down
The doors are locked, the streets are cold
Are you buried in the world’s soul
Spiritually entwined
To live until you die.
O’ statesman wrinkled so frail,
Young child sad soul so bitter,
Later a senior prom,
Marriage child later on,
raising a family strong.
Labor force workings hours long,
right to work state isn’t believing.
Elderly now mind a haze,
This world system in a blaze.
Rooted in flesh buried there!
Graves not receiving my spirit.
James Edward Lee Sr.
a BARD POEM
8/20/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Lonely graves
One day
The Lord looked down from heaven
And saw all the graves without flowers
Those with no visitors to mourn
He cried
These are my children
The one who begged on a street corner
The one who spoke to herself
Because no one wanted to hear her voice
These are my beloved children
The one who walks the street to find love
The one who found comfort in a bottle
God then created special angels
Sent them to earth with a mission
To stand at the lonely graves with no flowers
And mourn those the world forgot
These are my beloved children
He told them
Find beautiful roses
Sing hallelujah hymns
And he gave each grave
The name of Beloved
Written in the colours of a rainbow
If the stars shine
And the sun rises in the morning
So long will my lost ones
Be remembered
if the rain were to fall
and the sky were to bubble in clouds
would you return to me
would you clean the wounds of my life
and sacrifice some of your soul for my own
what is it in this world
that hardens our hearts and strangles love
we have died every day among the beauty
yet, we are drawn to the ugliness of sin
to willingly burn in the candle's flame
if i had lived pure
would you give in and carry
me to places i've only dreamed of
caress me as a child and
love me as a lover from your past
bring forth the packets of pain, gather among us
in a reunion of regret, in a sea of solitudes
as the rain begins to fall from the bubbling clouds
washing the dust from our spirits as we rise
forever and forever free
C2023 Thomas Lee Rhymes - April 21, 2023
Shallow Graves
Miracle Man
2/4/2024
Memories, we inter in a shallow grave,
are the one’s we’re better off forgetting.
Perhaps we were wronged and never forgave,
and time’s lateness now finds us regretting.
“Peace of mind catnaps on a bed of feathers,
while anxiety lies tense on ticking filled with straw.”
Tom
No mechanical diggers digging
Standard oblong shaped holes
The only effort needed being
To manipulate the controls.
We dug our graves by hand
And the sweat of our brow
A craft that seems outdated
And no longer any use now.
Each grave was dug to
An Individual coffin’s shape
With an allowance made for
The handles and the rope
No deviation of the sides by
Even the slightest little bit
Ensuring each grave allowed
An almost snug tailored fit.
Beating down the earth
To compact the ground
So there was little shrinkage
Of a grave’s earthen mound,
The relaying of the turf
The floral tributes laid
Mourners final thoughts
Carefully displayed
We took pride in our work
Felt each family should expect
Their deceased loved one to be
Sent off with honour and respect.
No, no mechanical diggers
Just a man’s strength and skill
And a gathering of the villagers
To show support and goodwill.
O how have I suffered such great graves!
I have been pierced by the swords of my kings
Injected with the liquid of their corruptions
They have rescinded my harmonious names
They have plucked away my treasures,
With every good of mine
Possessed unto themselves as stern,
And given them to foreign sons.
For self-benefits they have sold me to them,
And these Whitefaces treat me anyhow
Just like I was a cow;
To implore each their gem
In their own fathers’ land.
I, even I Africa, am replaced for a ring in my destroyers’ hand.
I have thought my kings would therefrom free me
But they yet serve them rather than me.
Woe to they that are presidents of poverty!
Wretched are the princes that pervert my people;
Cursed be the prophets that preach tribalism and nepotism;
And wicked are they that set my peoples asunder!
I visit them in silent repose,
their memories float on whispered breath.
Bringing the delight of days now gone,
I do not feel the sorrow of death.
Here I can still see his loving smile,
feel his spirit fill my heart again.
I see his eyes dance as laughter spills,
and tobacco stains his grizzled chin.
I’m with him once more in darkened woods,
as favored dogs run o’er creek and hill.
The taste of port wine upon our lips,
we’ll drink until we have had our fill.
I return to her comforting arms,
upon my brow I can feel her kiss.
I let all my troubles fade away,
to be replaced with a peaceful bliss.
They’re nothing more than two simple graves,
no different from any other.
But these two hold all the memories,
of my cherished father and mother.
At a distance of two graves
angels do not have wings on their backs
their unrest stirs up the earth
somehow a sunrise is brought closer
for the eternally asleep.
At a distance of two graves
a bunch of discarded wings
today
what nobody needs anymore,
I burn in voices that extinguish
and collect the sky of ashes
of the grass
water
fingers
nobody
makes the cross sign
everyone prays for themselves
and each of them has only one grave
where they are almost kneeling.
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