Lemon cakes for my parade.
Tea with soft dreams of hope in spades.
Violet dances wanting to sing.
Harmony in seven days I welcome my shadow Side.
Doom averted crimson dawn avowed.
Yellow Sparrow and my Blue Jay flying toward the horizon.
Two hearts sing random dancing and rays of bliss.
The moon bows to the rising sun.
Our hearts are one.
In darkness I escaped death and found My Lord.
Unconditional love is real.
She will always be in my heart I will see her in the next life I guess.
Slavery displaced many folk..From time lost in some old mists, it has been certainly no
Joke.'
Now in the present we see forever wars
Under the 'engine of not for profit?' Maybe
You are not real sure.? As ai frames some
Future.? In the fogs of the here and now,
There are to be slaves, of conveniance.?
For those born native..And those being 'imported?' The similaritys strike me; both hard and how.' There is froth and fluff and
Bubbles from many a billionaire,
as true conveniance, became a station-wagon or tent
Or the nearest
bridge somewhere, somehow.?And
migration is the answer? un-controlled
Or lawfare type, then there is all the self
Righteous verbal garbage, as in a weeks old
Salad sort; in a force-fed hype.'
If you are in your seventies you might remember
the movie Babes in Toyland that came out one December
The movie stars were in an enchanted forest with diabolical trees
Tonight, on Halloween, I could not help but think of the likes of these
Because down the lane where the party was twirling by the hour
Was a haunted house that had come alive, and had a super power
With a witch-like nose, she had a snarl, a sniffle, a sneeze and a sneer
I am not so brave, so began to shiver and shake wanting not to be here
What is wrong? Queried the house in a persnickety, evil, mean way.
I could not stop my quivering feet, they decided to not stay.
But try as they might, they could not move, let alone run away.
The haunted house held us down firmly on that terrifying day.
the clock tower held her hostage
she knew there was a message
aren’t you asleep yet? called her mother
she was quiet, feigning sleep
knowing it was not going to happen tonight
At that sacred hour when the light concedes,
And the sun, a tired monarch, slowly bleeds
Across the horizon's wide and waiting stage,
The world turns over a new, dimmer page.
The shadows, long and languid, start to creep,
And lull the noisy, waking world to sleep.
The sky, a bruise of amber, rose, and rust,
Surrenders all its certainties to dust.
A final, fleeting, fiercely golden flare,
Then softens to a hush in the evening air.
Our voices, once so bold, now fall away,
As thoughts too loud for daylight start to sway.
A loneliness, a quiet passenger,
Sits down with us, a familiar visitor.
And in its company, a ghost of romance
Waltzes on the air, a single, saddened glance
At love once held, now just a fading hue,
A part of day the night has swallowed too.
This is the sundowner, more than just a drink,
A ritual upon the mind's own brink.
A pause, a breath, a moment held in glass,
Where what has been and what will be both pass.
A reckoning with all the light has burned,
And all the truths the darkness has not learned.
A sweetness in the letting go, the fall,
Suspended, in the quiet, after all.
19 years on this earth.
Lord… I thank You.
But even that feels insufficient.
Because if I’m honest,
this year exposed me.
It exposed my pride.
My insecurity.
My need for validation at times.
My fear of not being enough.
My fear of being too much.
There were days I felt strong in public
and completely empty in private.
There were prayers I prayed
that I didn’t fully believe.
There were sins I repeated
after promising You I was done.
There were tears I wiped quickly
so nobody would ask questions.
I’ve smiled while breaking.
Encouraged others while doubting myself.
Spoken faith while fighting disbelief.
And still, You kept me alive.
Nineteen years.
I didn’t always honor You with my thoughts.
I didn’t always honor You with my desires.
Sometimes my flesh was louder than my spirit.
Sometimes I wanted what You said no to.
Sometimes I resented the waiting.
Sometimes I envied others.
Sometimes I questioned Your timing.
And yet You did not remove Your hand from me.
You let me see another year
with breath in my lungs
and purpose still attached to my futile name.
Black snow.
An empty moon.
A lifeless vessel trapped.
A cold heart held by red tendrils.
It burns.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The pond froze so suddenly that a duck mid-quack
found its bill glued shut, an absurd ice sculpture.
Mrs. Harlow’s terrier, mid-leap, hung suspended in the air
like a fuzzy comma, punctuating nothing.
The streetlamps blinked, then hardened into amber icicles—
even the wind gave up, curling into itself for warmth.
Old Man Greeley, halfway through shaking his fist at a squirrel,
became a monument to irritation, his mittens stiff with frost.
The children, though, were the first to notice:
they pressed their tongues to the icy slide at the park
stealing the cold for themselves.
He’s been on the lawn
Every year…for 40 years
A four foot tall plastic
Glowing, snowman
I sat with him yesterday
As he looked a bit down.
Asked “what’s up old friend?”
He sighed, slowly spoke
Asking “where are all my friends?”
“There are no angels across the street
No bells chiming down the way
I haven’t heard one Christmas carol
Or seen one silly Christmas sweater”
I hesitated to tell him
The Grinch had actually
Stolen Christmas
Or at least held its joy hostage.
He flinched when I told him
“some even take offense at you”
Because of what you symbolize,
What you stir in the hearts of children
Reawaken in the hearts of alleged adults.
My neighbors are trying to figure out
Why I was sitting on the lawn
Singing Frosty the Snowman
Loudly and somewhat off key
A quiet soul, a gentle hum,
Not beating on a boastful drum,
The ego's whispers overcome,
Judgment wisely held, fingers numb,
Just simple words, on lips outrun,
Understanding sought, all work done,
Mistakes are faced, not forgotten,
The rightful path, so finely spun,
With open heart, all are welcome
Sharing kindness before one`s numb,
A field of grace for everyone,
Imparts his glow, beneath the sun.
Tanned physique
straight hair
my pasty flesh and
limp side-locks did not share
A bronze, chiseled adonis
was the look to emulate
but sunken chest and poor muscle tone
complemented my frizzy pate
Yet one advantage held I over
the muscle-bound crowd
Acknowledging the whistles of the crowd
~ My head, and heart, I bowed
Former Lady Of The Night;
Holds Darkness now she is Radiant Light;
She shines ever so bright;
She throws down the darkness;
Now she embraces the light;
Beautiful is the lady...
- the woman who shines ever bright;
Graced mercy forgiveness;
Once shady
Former Lady Of The Night;
Holds Darkness now she is Radiant Light;
9/27/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025
By Poet "A mother's love is never ending, always with a gentle hand."
With a gentle hand,
our life starts off being held and rocked.
As we grow and learn,
life will grow with us.
With a gentle hand,
we are told no many times.
Sometimes we learn,
sometime we do not learn.
With a gentle hand,
hopefully we get straightened out.
In life one day we will need to take our baby,
with a gentle hand.
You wore truth like a tailored suit,
Smiling sharp in the evening light—
But lies stitched seams I couldn’t see,
Till silence screamed through every night.
Your eyes, twin lanterns in the dark,
Once held the stars I swore were real.
But stars, it seems, can flicker cold,
And hearts can kiss, yet never feel.
You spoke of “forever” in soft-spun lace,
While weaving webs behind my back—
Each word a thread of false embrace,
Each step a crack along the track.
You touched another, lips untrue,
With hands that once held all of me.
Did guilt not whisper in your spine,
Or did betrayal set you free?
I drowned in questions, bitter rain,
Searching for reasons in your flame.
But fire only knows to burn—
It doesn’t care who speaks its name.
Now silence sits where love once lay,
A ghost beside my coffee cup.
And all your truths, once sweet as spring,
Taste bitter in this shattered cup.
So take your vows and glass-made dreams—
They break so easy, don’t they, dear?
But know the cost of what you’ve lost:
A love that held you—without fear.
Verse 1
For some time, have I floated—mildly adrift.
One killick holds me—not too deep, not too swift.
Though life threw waves, to force me down—this slightly rusted metal had held me.
I thought I would be safe… until other anchor bound.
In the anchor—turned weight; the drowning became fate.
I fight the surface, the struggle, the search.
The air—thick with sadness; no breath, no lurch.
The killick kills… then wave swallows.
Verse 2
I hold the key… that could allow me free.
A simple lock—I ignore and block.
I thought the anchor made me drown… but it was my mind that pushes me down.
Blissful ignorance, in blue-black Sea.
The ignorance—and fear—force weight on my key.
Why I choose to be weighed, by the tiny killicks attempting dismay…
When did they pile? How long, since I've smiled?
Maybe we accept it… and throw this heavy key away.
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