Heroically Poems

Ludwig van Beethoven

Melodic ingenuity of Ludwig van Beethoven
raised music to the realm of art, cadence woven.
A piano virtuoso, he turned into a composer unique,
initiated the romantic era in coexistent classical music.

He infused momentum in symphony,
sonorous in the ninth with harmony.
     A few love affairs he had,
     but remained bachelor sad,
lived amidst failed romance in agony.

A romantic, he had a strong personality,
struggled heroically with deafness silently.
Despite affliction caused by leaded wine addiction,
composed transcendent music of designed perfection.

Ludwig Van Beethoven

Ludwig van Beethoven raised music to the plane of art
The power of his composition conveyed the cadence of heart
Fused vocal and instrumental melodies in Ninth Symphony unique
Struggled heroically with deafness though life turned silently bleak.

Your Best Friends Apartment

We sat on the porch of your best friends apartment
Celebrating time with cigarettes and conversation
You sat on my lap; a siege concealed in a kiss
My envy revealed with the feel of your swollen lips

Inhaling your breath like a cold, autumn wind
Those Marloburo reds and your darkness within
Despite all the secrets; freely bleeding from me
You bought every line that your heart would believe

Heroically spoken like words from a pyre
I needed you more, for curves to admire
Raspy alto tones spoke fallacies that day
The echoes of your voice; a dark angel's decay

The goddess within died a little more that night
Teenage love billowing smoke of suburban delight
The heat of the pyre fueling desire inside
A ghost found her voice, with nowhere to hide

I wanted to sway like your hips in the wind
Those cold, autumn nights, and my darkness within
Two agents of chaos in the coldest of nights
Beginning at dawn; the march of my plight

Signs of a Growing Silence

They are testing the sirens
the ones that warn of tornados and such.
No sirens wailed
when the industrial unit blew up
in a ball of fire. Too sudden,
you can here that wind-train coming
but a loose spark in a petroleum tank
should convince us
that we rarely hear death
until the bodies catch fire.

I's going to be a fresh sunny day
but later
strong winds from the north
might take some breaths away
and never return them.

Suddenly out of a clear sky
we hear the screech of ghost trains.
the local theme park has had
an accidental mishap,
some kids are heroically saved
some go missing
carried away by a north wind
that has yet to arrive.

Rebecca Brings the Rainbow

Drizzling drippy dismal draining dour day
Somber, sad, slick, sloshy, slippery shoes
My mood morose, melancholy, miniscule.
Until I saw Rebecca with her rainbow umbrella.

She was marching in the rain, leaving a trail of joy
Slap Slip Slap Slap Sip Slap A happy cadence
An excited, enthusiastic trail of rainbow tail followed her
Snaking around the streets in a heroically happy fashion.

I was amazed and amused by the ambiance of Rebecca.
She had brought sunshine and cheer to a write-off day
She was a terrific reminder that rainbows are brought by rain
I watched her skip and hop, and I wanted to be her happy boots.

Virginia

We sat on the porch of your best friends apartment
Passing the time with cigarettes and conversation
You sat on my lap in a proclamation of ownership
Never once questioning the rings in our swollen lips

Inhaling your breath like a cold, autumn wind
Marloburo reds and your darkness within
Despite all the secrets; spilling from me
You bought every line your heart would believe

Heroically spoken like words on a pyre
I needed you more, for curves to admire
Raspy alto tones in fallacies of the day
The ring of your voice; an angel's decay

The goddess within died a little more that night
Tight lips billowed smoke of suburban delight
The heat of the pyre fed the fire inside
A ghost was exposed, with nowhere to hide

I wanted to sway like your hips in the wind
Those cold, autumn nights, and my darkness within
Two agents of chaos in the coldest of nights
Beginning in earnest the march of my plight

No Modern Man Flees From Books

Which Modern Man longs
For the folksongs
Helped by rusted gongs
Or their lines sing to a throng, 
Very sure that nothing is wrong?

Which Modern Man eats with bare hands,
Because on them unseen sands
And this publicizes with bands,
Heroically skirting lands?

No Modern Man flees from books
To simply keep learning from looks;
To libraries and books
Forced back with hooks!

The Modern isn’t Ancient,
In restraint glimpses the sufficient
He is The Okay with a robbed ambience,
Meaning or feigning its munificence.

Smelly Dilemma Yet I Sympathize Wit You

SMELLY DILEMMA Yet I Sympathize Wit You


I simply sympathize with you
being a hero straight and true
Twist not the spinning tops
Sour aroma burst of fruitless drops
being a hero straight and true
I smell of Angel's food
Sour aroma burst of fruitless drops
Demons eat at my feet as I stand heroically
I smell of Angel's food
Twist not the spinning tops
Demons eat at my feet as I stand heroically
I simply sympathize with you




12/28/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©

Battle of the Flowers

BATTLE  OF  THE  FLOWERS   



After a long soggy 
Thunderously angry  month of weather .
Horrible, with intermittent spells of dreadful.
Seeds in ranks like first-battle soldiers
Prepared in 10cm pots (no peat ).
Indifferent germination meant 
A late transplant to ground inmidsummer.  
June was  too cool to ‘bust out all over‘.
Early blooms struggled heroically in July.
Then dawned August bright,
Which brought nothing to their troubles,
But underlined the lateness and slowness
Like an express train on a bank holiday.
The sunflowers’ big cheeky smiles
Peeped at me through September. 
But faded fast in frosty October. 


1st   May   2021

I Forget

Sometimes I forget.
I forget my stutter
and attempt to talk fast.
I forget I'm single
and imagine my children all grown up.
I forget to wake up
and my dreams remain dreams.
I forget to spread my wings,
but attempt to fly.
Then I fall down, 
heroically pick myself up,
But I forget again,
I forget again.

I Saw You Again Yesterday

IV

Once more I have been given cause to dwell
On that ill-fated romance;
I saw you again yesterday, years hence...was  
It just another casual dalliance?
The affected tilt of your cruel and
Arrogant chin, the high piling of a mass of
Staggering auburn hair;
And often I have wondered, just how did it 
Come about that former calamitous affair?
Spontaneous they say? Personally I suspect
It was all rather contrived.
At that moment when I looked into those 
Unaging, dispassionate eyes,
Still so very black, still so very heroically 
Beautiful,
Although saddened with all the sorrows
Of a tragedy that only he and you full knew,
I found what had always been there and was
Most evident...
I needs not guess at your deeper discontent:-
A blind man's tale of lust and infidelity;
Your abhorrence of those sworn oaths that set 
Sharpened keels upon white breakers of a 
Sapphire sea.
I watched as you raised a hot cappuccino
To those perfect lips.
But what cared he for war and death? He took
His chance, plunged his mouth - and kissed!

Jovial, Unified, Happy Go Lucky Souls

All was well in the kingdom until squirrely
Burlesque queens with raunchy, yet
Candid sense of humors and delectably
Delightful appetites of various natures began
Eliminating unappreciative uptight relatives and fair weather 
Friends who could not empathize and did not care about their show.
Gearing up to annihilate the competition with laughs and giggles, and
Heroically re-build unearned, sullied community-given 
Images into what they’ve always believed to be truth-telling, these
Jovial, unified,
Kindred, happy-go lucky souls were soon
Laughing their shoes off with crazed relief and corrupting
My own self-assured Uncle
Nathan who at 19, 
Often
Portrayed uptight
Queen Viviana, in his weekly drag queen side show,
Respectfully and with love, and a smidge of irreverence.
So let this be a lesson to Drag Queens
To whom we owe respect.
Under no circumstances should Queen
Viviana’s
Wayward Son,
Xisus, be allowed to wear
Yellow tights, garter belt or dress.  Not that 
Zanier things have not happened in the palace.

Unwrapped the Uncertainties

In this massive and tilting world,
Never I considered myself as an abalone
All the birds in the sky
Soaring high
Utterly depicted me.

20 years from now
What had I become? 
If I can see through the looking glass,
An entire display of my experiences
I summonly desire to see
A very best version of myself.

A beauty queen 
who after her reign
Became a worthy of notice doctor
Had been able to inspire others
Conditioned her heart to help heroically
Wore the cloak of prosperity
With equal pureness of soul.

A mother of two twins
Living blissfully with a good partner
Spending every precious moments
Filled with happy thoughts and deeds.
A complete family
Acquired life's finest offerings

20 years is really a milestone
A whole human development
Gigantly gained fortress of success
Refused negatives and delved into positivity

I am a woman of influence
A woman through time
Sharpened into someone beautiful and
Thoroughly unwrapped the uncertainties.

Quietus In Just

It's a wild tourist attraction
    for the stoic opulent mess,
Atrocity in its burning glory,
    joyous and omnipresent,
The fire singeing my wry reaction,
    heroically in distress—
Cowering to their nefarious core,
    until we eat the resin.

Although I'm frightened and rigid,
    but not quite to death,
With all the holiest war torn grief
    pinned upon my breast,
I refuse to taste or even to give it
    a chance to take my breath—
Whatever it is that I've become
    has sworn to thwart their quest.

Everything here ends in tears
    with sorry sullied intentions,
The mighty deception of the night
    would blame its friends for less,
Nobody ever mends their fears
    in yellow-bellied dimensions—
Perceptions of the light will change
    when it bends to convalesce.

So as it stands; crumbling down,
    I'll climb the wheel to flee,
And though they'll grin, so shall I,
    as it rolls into the sea.

Goodbye Letter To a Lost Friend

An effort to understand the intrinsic struggle of those with depression:


Oh reason, 
Guide and comfort me.
Save me from this ghastly parasite,
This hermit who lives in our mind’s recess
Who denies us sleep at night.

Who scratches and tears at our will
Clings to it with putrid bones, 
Leaves us completely helpless
As our body sobs and moans,

Who when you conquer heroically,
But temporarily of course, 
Scurries back to our mind’s dark cavities
Feeling no guilt and no remorse. 

Only to return 
To prey upon our fears once more,
Taking pleasure in confounding us
Because our elation he abhors.

Though our mind erects his dungeon’s walls
It’s instead he that has us confined,
Imprisoned in a greater cell:
Achlys’ state of mind. 

The glint in his eye still reflects
Our mind’s concoctions back at me,
But today’s the final time
He will detain my liberty

Now I break free, 
From the metal with which we are tied,
And my claim to my own thoughts
Can no longer be denied.

No binding chains can match me now,
Not even my own anger sadness or fright,
Goodbye old friend, I bid you well;
I take my life tonight.

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