It’s not the birds and bees that speak;
O the colorful verbiage of flowers and trees.
It’s not the chirps or the buzz, cheek to cheek;
the waft of rose, lavender, magnolia breeze.
It’s not the high-minded sun, bright yellow;
sunflower’s reach on dizzy-toed stems.
It’s not the ebon chock full of moon-marshmallow;
It’s the intoxication of jasmine and primrose gems.
It’s not green leaves that wave in Summer season;
maple reds, snow-white pussy willows, and cherry.
It’s not the sticks and stones, nor pests high treason.
It is the birds and bees with two legs, making merry.
Smoking toking you must be joking
it's a bust I just don't need an altered sense
of time and space or on choking
a mind-numbing feeling of euphoria
as I am happy as a clam
(thank you ma'am)
for as you two while under the influence
of lethargy-inducing external stimuli
proceeded in search of smokeable weed
a.k.a., a whole lot of pot
a joint venture indeed
the words I heard by you bemoaned
when about to go driving were
'No left turn unstoned!'
Yellow, happy dreams gone up in argon
Dancing dreams in laced clouds rained down to earth
White lights which give darkness a come-on
Youth's dreams, high-minded dreams what were they worth
Sometimes sleep comes upon an aging body
Resting in afternoon's sun-filled room
Wrinkles exposed don't match the clothes shoddy
Just for a rose-colored visit he said then vroom
If only he could have lived up to those dreams
If only he hadn't drunk the first drop
His life could have been filled with rainbow streams
My sun-filled room wouldn't be his last stop
Crayon box dreams can become reality
He passed while I made our afternoon tea
anecdote
anciente
nobless
noted
in
a backward
glance
interpretive
high-minded
imaginings
portraying
the past
with
contemporary
airbrused
articulations
Idealism
versus
reality
In hope
that Quixote
prevails
Disappointed
again
reading the trends
Materiality
draining
the grail
Peer pressure
determines
what happens
Not some
high minded
value or tome
Greediness trumps
what our virtue
holds dear
Self interest
hitting
— closer to home
(Villanova University: January, 2024)
Beyond the Batumi city, i am endlessly unclothed
A.m., rose, i ran out of my bed
Hopped into a vile pleasure Naked and unbothered
Being Naked, i started my morning with dancing and singing nursery rhymes.
Moloch departed for battle, signs in my dreams
Burning of written works and poems, Naked by my window
In the ashes, dancing, chilled chicken noodle soup
Singing high-minded incantations, beneath a blood-red morning cloud.
Naked and making breakfast, amid the morning grins
Children playing in the dirt while dancing freely in front of the window
Elvis under shivering lightning clouds is playing ecstatically in my apartment
Temuri plays guitar while skeletons twirl, oh magnificent Georgia.
Naked watching the sparkling plastic sea to sea
Free of fixed identity
Everyone sees the pacific ocean voyage coming to an end
Falling into the after train misses switch.
God speaks to me,
His scriptures comforting
my tongue and ears –
His living word, a sweet
accompaniment~ we are
lovers, heart and soul
spiritually entwined...
I am reminded of
that rural church, a
primitive bench for two
or more
far apart from the
transcended mockery of golden
cathedrals, with magnificently stained
panels, popes and kings imagining that
it is possible to gild and paint one's
way into heaven
(a cat leaps into my lap – we have been
writing buddies for some time now; his
insistence for a pet reminding me that all
my high minded thinking has taught me
nothing, if I do not interrupt, and commence
with the honor....)
The bigger picture is of a
very young teenage girl
but I have so few big pictures
of that time in my mind.
She was yellow haired
and peachy, kind of ducky also.
After 'little yellow duck'
there was that 'cat canoodling’ witch;
jet black hair
that flew everywhere – raven uncaged,
I gave pagan girl a whirl for a spell.
Then the high-minded pianist,
long on ideals and high heels
(red toenails in bedroom pumps),
too good for me – or anyone like.
At age twenty-three
she, the one called Frances
came and went, heaven sent
but wrongly addressed,
leaving me wishing
I had a little yellow duck to play with.
Soulful man humble
My harden heart
Back to those beginning
Before the all, rise of sin nature
Catalyst so full of self
Ungrateful high minded fall of myself
O’ sore filled man misplaced
Father get me out of this place
From the sands now I stand on your solid rock
A soul filled man in Jesus Christ
/1/2022
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
The Unconcerned
Miracle Man
6/10/2022
Children of darkness,
without desire to flee.
Like nothing’s happening,
continue carefree.
The stench of death,
burns nostrils each day.
Lovers of pleasure,
neglecting to pray.
Shootings and death,
grips our land.
His soon return,
may be at hand.
If this is the day,
actions He’ll rebuff.
Then simply may say,
I’ve seen enough.
2 Timothy 3:4
“Traitors, heady, high minded,
lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God;”
Balances of parallels
Cryptic speeches of silence
Tolerance talent forgiveness knots
Where are the trailblazers now but they cannot walk
Colors blended now and mixed
High-minded hatred apocalyptic
Hatred grows in mynute places
Where are those soothsayers not if they can't talk
~
Negative being (s)
12/28/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
High minded but low brow,
and living the contradiction
of a greater truth
I’m caught between transcendence
and pontification
my pockets ladened
with a traitor’s silver
—in search of gold
(Dreamsleep: December, 2021)
homeless and bankrupt
his high-minded principle
bolstered his spirit.
Goodness
Doing right things
Opportunity knocks
Sometimes when we least expect it
For one’s better angels
Allowing ways
To shine.
Virtue
A welcome trait
For high-minded living
Example for those we know who
Disregard their morals
Skirt the edges
Often.
Ethics
Will cultivate
An exemplary life
Of lasting proper behaviors
If conscientiously
Better living
Applied.
Conduct
Measuring our
Commitment fully to
A better world for tomorrow
And high-mindedness for
More love, justice
Today.
written May 16, 2021
for "Heptastich" poetry contest
sponsored by William Kekaula
Listed #78 on Best All-Time 100 Poems May 27, 2021 Poetry Soup
Copyright © L MILTON HANKINS | Year Posted 2021
Boujee
Red bottom
Luxurious in lifestyle
Heady prideful
Boujee
Whatever
Wuz up
She was proud and beautiful in spirit
She is proudful and beautiful in spirit
So high minded
Set apart
Bogus
Whatever
Wuz up
Red bottom
Luxurious in lifestyle
Heady prideful
Boujee,
Boujee,
BOUJEE
that woman be there is that
BOUJEE
She wore(wears) eye shadow and red lipstick on her spirit
God said why
Be natural
You don't need this
Don't take God body for granted
Be true, not proud don't be lewd
that woman be there is that
BOUJEE
1/30/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.