I woke up this morning,
Blessed to see a new day;
I'm not rich but happy,
What else is there to say?
My hair is getting thinner,
I have bags underneath;
There's one thing I can smile about,
I still have most of my teeth
These ol’ eyes are open,
As sharp as they can get;
The mind comes and goes at times,
But I ain't senile yet
Aches and pains may frequent me,
Sex has slowed quite a bit;
Once the motor gets heated up,
It's difficult to quit
Hard work’s never hurt me,
I'm hanging with the best;
Young folks gaze in stunning awe,
While I put ‘em to the test
I'm so blessed to be alive,
At peace in my humble home;
Side by side with the lady,
That's why I love this poem
You are beautiful
In and out for real
Stances so pitiful
Can't be a big deal
As long as truth lives
And not been stressed
Than necessarily sieves
The least off time to rest
Growing wings far caution
Could trap wind's strength
Resulted to logical abortion
That could hold its length
Flying high your way home
That brings you near pure joy
Dreamt of a branded Rome
Landed reality "a filmed toy"
You would realize one day
The call to order heated up
Out of genuine concern's play
To be your healing backup
When I was a child, my cousin and I
Joined my aunt to see concerts designed
To expose kids to music and all of its joys,
But only the classical kind.
At a nearby café, where we stopped for a treat,
Hot chocolate was made and prepared,
From a chocolate bar heated up in a pan
With some milk, which we happily shared.
It’s remained in my memory bank all these years
And on some rare occasions, I crave
Such a cup, though I know it won’t equal
That one that my mind chose to save.
Still today I decided to give it a shot
And I stopped at a place where it’s sold,
But my order was met with a shrug and, of course,
Here’s the message that I was then told:
“We’re out of hot chocolate. There’s none to be had.”
I guess fate stepped in to prevent
Me from drinking a cup that could never compare,
In my mind, to the slightest extent.
Nothing but roadblocks railroading my train of thought
A way to move forward has to be on the precipus
My vehicle halted on the road not traveled
Hazard lights illuminate the darkness that surrounds my engine
Unfortunate repairs as I leak black tears
Busted, Mangled, & Torn Apart
I sit parked in the space of my own doing
Longing for the drive that used to spark my...
Plugged into the reflection of what could have been
The change in temperature, heated up my seat of complacency
Once again I am ignited and fueled by doubt
Vroom Vroom....the sound of the beast revived
Vroom Vroom....the growl as it awakes from its slumber
Vroom....the anger is engulfed in bellows
Again! the drive is restored
No longer a swerve but a straight shot
Zooming to the highway of rejuvenation
"Never paint except with the three primary colors [red, blue, and yellow] and their derivatives." Camille Pissarro
One primary color can make me feel mellow
when warm like honey heated up or like rays of a golden sun.
It’s flax, saffron, blond, and canary yellow,
cheerful like a daffodil and bumblebee fun.
It’s bananas too and a well-buttered bun!
The second and vivid primary color
spells energy, boldness, passion and power.
Cardinals make most other birds seem simply duller.
A symbol of love, rose reigns as a fragrant red flower,
while scarlet and crimson sunsets my eyes can devour.
The loveliest for me of these three colors is the hue
that melds with yellow, thus creating green.
Some jewels, blooms and berries are naturally blue.
Splendid is a dusk with the tint of an indigo sheen.
Oh, cerulean sky above seawater shimmering aquamarine!
I am in love with my many retirement hobbies
Passionate about cartooning, painting and poetry
Intensely enthusiastic when I am playing in my art studio
Also thrilled with peanut butter cookies and twinkies
Loving refried beans and salsa heated up eaten on chips
These are a few of my favorite things
My passions have changed through the years
But at this moment, in this time, these are my main events
Sudden was the descent of poetry on me
I tottered under its weight
My body heated up like the sun
A frying egg yolk on the pan
My blood started burning…. burning
A strange madness crept across my senses
Intoxicated as by an excess dose of ale
Or drunk with the vintage wine
Or by some mystical disengagement
I started levitating
Wings sprouted up suddenly on my sides
I reeled round and round
Flew up and up
Meteors flashed past
Stars blinked
Larger celestial bodies stood still
Strange sounds fleeted past my ears
My heart palpitated,
Like the rumblings of thunder
My eyes glowed like fire balls
A shout I heard afar
Over the heavens’ mysterious rim
Muffled though, I could decipher it;
“Welcome to the clan of poets”!
Around me, I saw multitudes of poets
Young and old, their faces blazing
Like a thousand lanterns lit
In that blinding brilliance
My filmy wings burnt outright!
Like Icarus, from the heights
I flopped down to the chasm below
In the scattered heap of flesh and bones
A faint stir …..
…………………..
The feeble flutter of a poetic heart
Before it was finally stilled!!
Shower during summer, It is due to convection
by seasonal wind.
Land gets heated up, hot air goes up, pulls up stream from the seas on earth.
Comes in hot summer, settles the dust in the air and cools the high heat.
It was the kind of heated up August that fried toads
My sisters and I sneaked off to the riverbank
Don’t get wet! Our mother warned us
We emerged ourselves into the cool water
The only animal around was a robin
But we jumped in fully clothed anyway
Knowing by the time we returned home
We would be completely dry
This feels like heaven! My oldest sister said
Corn isn’t going to shuck itself! The baby chimed in
We laughed at our silliness, loving being sisters
Glorying in the relief we had found on this hundred-degree day.
I walked deep into the wilderness
In hopes to get my find
I was looking for some solitude
And a little peace of mind
Then I came across a silhouette
Of an owl in the moon
Right then and there I knew that I
Would find my peace real soon
I took out my harmonica
And I played it through the night
I played some chords that echoed loud
Until they sounded right
Then I danced around in circles
To a hymn called "Tittle a Toot"
And I played that hymn all night long
Till I heard that owl hoot
The night was getting late
And I was felling bold
Mist had made its way around
And I was getting cold
So, I walked around the wilderness
To try to warm my bones
Then I built myself a firepit
And warmed my hands around the stones
5:00am had crept up fast
I was still having fun
The chilly morn had heated up
When I saw the rising sun
Then I looked into that silhouette
And that owl in disguise
Then I started playing my harmonica again
When I saw it blink its eyes
Then I danced around in circles
To that hymn called "Tittle a Toot"
And I played it loud all morning long
Till I heard that owl hoot
at 8 11 a.m. I met destiny by surprise
shadows of grey clouds took over my sky
the sun sizzled out in the rain
puddles of dirty water splattered on my legs
shower water heated up until steam blinded me
I found particles of gravel from asphalt in the tub
a whirlpool gurgled the filthy water down the drain
the towel warmer had made my robe nice and toasty
yesterdays tomorrow, ended today
my brain slushed around in my head
rapid pulse, chilling sweat, I shivered
dizziness made me plop into a chair
I sniffled into a kleenex, avoiding eye contact
tears of guilt and shame wrestled for dominance
locked away where secrets go, safe from peering eyes
the screaming horde shoved their signs in my face
a murderer...me? I died that day, do you know why?
who he was? he pinned me down silencing me with a kiss
you're screaming and breathing now, proof you're alive
I did nothing wrong, I'm just collateral damage
ever hear of precautions, abstinence, condoms
he used the rhythm method, it didn't work
by your logic those choices are premeditated murder
I was victimized, he's in jail, I'm no bodies victim anymore
191 words 24 line 6 stanzas © 9 months ago, Sharon
Porteño winter
when we heated up with love
remains ghostly yet
I walk the heated grounds the sidewalk wales it's boil
summer burns it boils heat
raging is the air heated up to 100 degrees
sweat rolls down my brow
boils burns the summer heat
dripping down my unto my shoulders
ringing wet in sweat you think I've just left the pool
hot as hades
I can't wait until October the month its starts to get colder
6/24/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
THE DEVIL dreads THE INTROVERT
A metonym
of metonymy,
Introvertishly
devilish.
Never gets
word famish,
eruption of moods
heated-up in solitary;
Sudden upheaval
wrecks a show.
Even
Devil quivers,
Pampering
the introvert,
Mute saturation
of ambiance, even
Silence shivers;
Seismic shift...
Outspoken
quietness,
Sullenly silent,
Words token,
somberly sulking.
Raise a dust,
strike our pulse...
what's the fuss?
Carnival of fear,
confusion 'ere there,
Word economy
is his human anatomy.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© March 2021.
We walked along the beach, talking
Our breath smelled like coconut palms,
Our palms grew trees,
We got lost in the forest of our hands,
Hoping not to get so heated up
That we expose ourselves in a
Blazing forest fire of love.
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