The pains of my pains ,
Was watching you lying straight
In that wooden bed
Whilst mourning with pain
I knew then
That your eyes are forever closed Mdali .
The pains of my pains ,
Was you leaving me for betrayals
In the hands of whammies and families
So is friends and my enemies .
That was the was my pain .
The lesson which left me with no gain ,
The scars compared none to Abigail.
I cried silent cries for decades ,
Hurdling with my knees
Griplling with my finger nails ,
But still no sign of you or hail .
The pain of my pains ,
Was you leaving me with repos .
Today , it sadens me when I see toddlers .
That angers me when I see mothers ,
This occupies my peace not
When I see others playing mothers .
The pain of my pains
Comes when it rains .
It is then that I see my shelter drains ,
That know it is the end of me,
Whilst neighbors are chanting .
That is my pain .
My pain that echoes everyday when the sun sets
And when the day dawns .
The very same pain that has no prescription
Nor a remedy
And this pain will take me one of the good days
Ponytails
Swishing madly,
Hurdling across the pitch.
Beads of sweat
Spraying in spirals
As fingers point,
Shouting directions
To strikers, wingers, and defensemen.
Defensewomen, really.
Get back!
Push it!
Don't lose form!
Take the shot!
Grazing past the clown gloves.
Concaving the thick nylon.
Back of the net glory!
Now run around like giddy school girls
For exactly 8 seconds.
Now mark your man!
Woman, really.
No whiners here.
No floppers allowed.
What's this look like,
Men's soccer? Pansies.
The beautiful game is proof that
The real soccer men
Are women.
A cup to slake the parch of thirsty lips
Spilled from heart to goblet, with love twas filled
Words penned from the nib of inked fingertips
Bouquet of wine breathed before being swilled
Seductive the taste, fervid the senses
In pursuit of desire's indulgent throes
Breaching love's barriers, hurdling fences
Therein lies proof and pain of ardor's woes
Elation lasts 'til sparks turn to ashes
Afterglow fades and impassioned flames die
Welling to surface, tears moist'ning lashes
Parting's ne'er sweet with whispers of 'goodbye'
Juliet once smiled from her balcony
Doomed in Shakespeare's romantic tragedy
At 11,000 feet, open the door
Right hand, left hand, hold onto the frame
The skies spans forever, the wind does roar
Right foot out, left hand to the strut of the plane
Right hand next out, left foot on the step
Adrenaline flowing, try to slow your breath
Sliding hands further out, get a good grip
Relax, it's not like you're falling to your death
Feet off the step, you're a kite in the air
Push your arch, hold your position
Wait for instruction, jump master stare
He smiles and says GO! This is the mission
Hurdling down, hold your arch, keep your count
Stay symmetrical, now reach. Now pull!
Don't forget to take a look around
Your canopy flies, stay in control
You check up above, the slider is down
Reach up for your toggles to steer
Checking the wind, you spin slowly around
Up here in the silence, there's nothing to hear
You see the horizon, are one with the clouds
There's nothing quite like this, nothing so grand
First flying, now floating, you say aloud
I wish I would never have to land.
What do you suppose a star eats for breakfast?
I have always thought that Cheerios make perfect sense
but then again, they must get the flickering just right
I hear a healthy heart is not ideal for bouts of irregular motion
At any rate a breakfast cereal would be in order
there is no shortage of milk in space
as any child could remind you that certain bovines
have a proclivity for hurdling the moon
Nevertheless the question stands
without reasonable means to ascertain an answer
Manages to stir the side of me that
clings to a line of poetry
debates the proper way to walk
listens to the protests of plants cropping up through the cracks in cement
And dares to wonder then
what stars might eat for lunch
That skin-and-bone-like,
Chocolate-colored veteran,
Fragile personality accession;
Ascends tallest of palms,
Committed to toddy-tap,
As it’s his hereditary profession...!
Driving upward and down,
Like a smart willing monkey,
He reaches the highest of height;
Sitting over the petite petioles,
As though it's a comfort car-seat,
Sets all spiders - meshes aright...!
Clears the now-soiled toddy-pots,
Crops the prolific flower-stumps,
Rectifies, like a surgeon, all clots;
Goes around the fronds gliding,
As though skiing on sky,
Support of nothing but angle-knots...!
Of all measures that attracts me,
Is his hurdling noble gallantly,
From one tree to another,
By way of stem-bridges;
There-from, like a rat,
Or as a missionary-squirrel,
On hard earth he reaches,
As though in water, he ditches...!
17 January 2022
Celebrations shock gatherings cries of the breath;
And clapping of those masking's while holding their crush;
Labor long and hard, while hurdling soft;
Spills the just of juice;
I can't vue it, just can't vue it...
is the Vogon's contest?
7/17/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Our God is bountiful because I am able to write this poem
He provides and is always there in time of need
My bountiful God always blesses my home
Thank you God for life and most importantly my seeds
I would be nothing and have nothing without him
I would see nothing and grasp nothing without him
Because of his grace & glory I am alive to this day
Because of his grace & glory I have healthy babies numero Tres
I've been through things in this life the good & the bad
The happy & sad, hurdling a wall, taking a stand & taking a fall
Throughout it all no matter big or small to God I call
I could spend all day & night going over the powers that he does
Our God is bountiful because...
Scream
I'm hurdling down the tracks
Heading straight into a brick wall.
I'm screaming into a closed tunnel
Because no one cares at all.
I've asked for help, I've begged for help
All to no avail.
I've screamed into the darkness,
I might as well chase my tail.
I've tried to drink, tried not to drink,
But nothing works for me.
I only hear Shakespeare in my head,
"To be or not to be".
The early drive to the glamorous airport
Looking like rubbish
But feeling great
In the back of one’s mind worrying about
Being late
Suitcases bulging
Genial check-in attendants
People hurdling
Over each other
Chill out people, we’ll be there soon
The turbulence ridden flight
Hideous in its plight
Needs must for an amazing holiday
Some might say
I am totally worthy of getting away
The morsels of Mediterranean food
Are eagerly anticipated by all
The olive oil, the vegetables
The vibrant colours on the plate
It was definitely worth the wait
Silvery oceans glistening in the moonlight
One can only imagine the sight
Creatures bathing in the mineral-clad waters
The golden sands between one’s toes
Dreamily awaiting the mermaid’s close
It was heaven to be alive
I need God* and His might
To correct my foolishness and ignorance
While subduing my pride of towering arrogance
Along ambitions of carnal extravagance…
Here am I, staying humble under His great deliverance.
I need God and His power
To prove my self-denials
As I pass through tough and rigorous trials
In hurdling grievous betrayals…
Onward I go, reaching service-triumph’s peak thru His miracle-portrayals.
I need God and His strength
To enable my pursuit toward stewardship victory
In exalting His name of great glory
While proclaiming the Gospel story…
Indeed, I thank Him for fruits of missions against hell’s fury.
Hebrews 10:36 For ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise.
December 7, 2018
I been whispering to my spirit songs of true freedom desires.Imagining a time and place where all things are based on doing right and by choice doing wrong is not an option. The songs I whisper keep me motivated to face reality.Destruction is around us, lies and evil divide us, deception misguide us,Temptation temp us to lust. Working for pay to supply our needs and wants morph into greed for many fueling mistrust. Material and money corrupt us, our daily actions reflect hurdling these obstacles of the reality in which we live yet our spirits bare witness to the freedom songs our hearts are yearning to give....
Are we truly free if any stop working for pay then in turn
are not able to freely obtain the bare necessities to sustain life with
Comfort and Dignity.....
The price of freedom attached to monetary gains.
Enjoy!!!!
Outside my window
Rushing and hurdling with no effort building
I gaze at the foaming waves galloping towards the shore
no aberration to remember, no ambition it could not endorse
as no rock can ever crash the zealous white horse
no shady future to consider
no fears to make it shiver
There’s one aim, one goal
Where greater intentions never fall
to rise higher and reach the glory
to leave behind a rattling good story
Roll in, roll out
No distractions, no doubt.
7TH PLACE
For Eight Word Challenge Contest
Sponsor: Robert Haigh
words: outside, building, remember, horse, consider, future, intentions, greater
Not So Precious Moments
They call
these nameless voices
introduced by
insipient rings
droning on
their piercing voices
shattering the moment.
They insist
on speaking breathlessly
running past the
comma’s
hurdling the
periods
racing toward
some distant goal.
Oblivious to
barking dogs
screaming children
whistling tea kettles
beeping smoke detectors
droningonandonandon
in mantric monotony.
Who imposes
such a penance,
demands such restitution?
What past life indiscretion
could bring about
such karmic contingency?
They call
yet I cannot offer
forgiveness.
Nor will I save the
endangered
kaigiwalligalopolous
by sharing
my credit card info.
Not even if they send me
a picture of
the kaigiwalligalopolous
my contribution saved.
They drone on
as I have set
the receiver down
and walked away.
The dog barks
the kids scream
the kettle whistles
the smoke detector beeps
the pan cakes are really done.
John G. Lawless
© 3/4/2017
Flashlight, my face is a grey smudged blare
Eyes burn red with a savage hunger’s flare
An ancient thirst for the taste of glorious victory
Hurdling over the speed limits set in a false history
Starved as I approach the speed of light
I’m chasing time lost in the gunshot polaroid
When the world filled my barefoot soles with fear
Now the winds carry me above the stratosphere
I’ve been patient in this subterranean river
Seeking the glow of new talent in spite of the deceiver
Flowing unnoticed slow as a snail in the speed museum
In a photo finish for a split second atop the podium
I’ve stretched a thousand light years into the future
To torch with gold a new generation’s winning measure
To set aside all doubt brought on by black stereotypes
To ignite the passion deep within their phenotypes
Your thunderbolt has forever turned the track Greene
An insane bullet out of the blocks into the silver screen
Frankie, if I could open your heart there would be silver
Enough for the golden performances you would always deliver
Janis Thompson’s Olympic Mania - Poetry Contest
30.08.2016
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