September's cold air touches the day
As many flowers drop and go away
The morning sun works to warm the air
As hummingbirds soon leave, my despair
Leaves will bring gifts in many colors and hues
That helps sooth the coming into fall blues
Summer's departure's near as fall soon to be here
She walked into the room without any word, and with familiars eyes staring through her whispering a silent, "Why "?
And then walked past every mirror, hoping her reflection somehow change, become lighter figure.
A little more acceptable to a world that taught to fade when they were born to be seen?
And then she think why did society neglected the darker kids with a fade figure?
Then she stopped and looked at herself.
"I'm beautiful in every way. "
I'm just beautiful in the way I carry myself, ln the way I stand
In the way i represent my self without asking permission to take up space.
Brown skin are natural Tan
Glows with the every kiss the sun leaves upon me.
And my thick hair it is my mink coat, a crown of richness not everyone can afford .
I am the girl
Who learned to love her reflection, the girl who turned her scars into petals _
And the strongest flowers and the ones that“bloom through every season”
tie me to your tongue
as you melt into me.
ever so softly, my sweet,
whisper my name as you linger
in my loving embrace;
feel the warmth of my breath on your face.
chest to chest, can you feel
my heartbeats against yours as we
surge through the pulse
of passion's flickering flame?
tie me to your tongue
as you melt into me.
come closer to me, i implore thee,
let's stay the night under the jealous moon.
as your hungry eyes meet mine,
let me taste heaven in your kiss.
yes, my beloved, kiss me to resurrect
a dormant desire that used to rage
like a hurricane. let our hearts
be carefree as twilight grows feet to run.
tie me to your tongue
as you melt into me.
A man made out of dust/ dirt and clay;
Comes not now through the womb;
His awaited anointed place space;
His entrance through the womb;
From grace, to faith, to space place the womb into a room;
First eternity with the Father, Elohim;
Now spirit birth into a flesh a vessel of mankind;
Concurring energies graced, to faith, in space into womb-man;
God man and womb-man jointly co create;
Humans
9/2/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
she said if you tell me about it
there's a chance i may well forget it
but if you involve me
i most likely will become part of it
and whatever the endeavor
we will most likely see it to fruition
and in one stroke she eliminated Cupid
in one suggestion, she moved into my life
here i sit alone on our park bench
where i used to read her poems
some from the masters
occasionally one from my quill
lost in the sweet remembrances of years
where we stood at the helm together
sails full, in a course set for fruition
alone, yet never alone
where i wait in God's grace
for the veil to drop
and like Lucy waiting for Captain Gregg
her hand to take me from this bench
walk me out of this park
into the forevermore of the fruition we are
Oregon 8/28/26
I wrote your hair into a poem
And it looks like allium
I weaved my words into a tiny strand of hair just to get your beautiful design done
You made me write your name on sunflower ???? when i touched it
Yesterday was a better half of you
Today is a name that stands with you
Every line of your hair
Represent each stanza of my words
Every color you find admiring
Represent the smile that comes to me when i see you
I wrote your hair into a poem
And it looks like allium
Midnight falling on the walls
Shadows stretching often long
Each step feels incomplete
Like the ground beneath is
Wrong
I keep moving into
The dark
Trying not to turn around
But the silence keeps
Pulling me back
While,
Every wall just fades away
Shadows of my choices
Are always right here
calling up my name
They don’t leave
when the sun goes down
They walk with me everywhere
Trying to tell me the truth
Burdening my soul.
While you all sleep away the deep embrace,
The world dissolves in binary’s cold space.
A pitch-black realm, unseen by mortal eyes,
Where Archangel Michael keeps his watch on high.
One strikes two down in judgment's stern command,
While four sweep three in blood across the land.
Order is held, the balance tightly sealed,
And secrets of the dark are unrevealed.
Until at last, with quiet, unseen grace,
The angel slips into his resting place—
Into the Bible resting by my side,
Within its sacred pages, he will hide.
Sunset fades to black
Colors trade names in silence
Sky forgets it's blue
Born into a family created by relatives.
Some folks come with the blood; others
Come with the character.
Family is the name they respect you for
You can walk,
Before you can speak, before you know
What love feels like or what void can do.
Kinfolks...
They're the ones life introduces at a leisurely pace.
Through the hard days, the quiet nights,
The moment you didn't think you'd make it
Through.
Family is the starting line; lineage is the ones
Who show you.
Who Stays
Who lend an ear
Who lifts,
Who love without feeling the necessity, A reason.
Blood can place you in a house, but residence
Builds you a home; names can tie you to a tree,
But demeanor ties you to an individual
Born into family, formed into relatives and
Somewhere between the two, you acquire the
Truth:
The people who choose you are the ones
Who keep you unharmed.
You'll need a vanity mirror..Is my current opine.' Mind you that might change.? As it
Goes.' I'm sure it will..Hold yet you will not
Forestall either it, nor desire, for all lies beyond our human will ' as eons present
And expand..Yet will perhaps; also expire.?
Poet's Note:
Written for the Skeletons Poetry Contest. This dramatic monologue uses "skeleton of hope" as a metaphor for resilience that appears during grief.
Ash Into Phoenix
You ask why I walk barefoot through this frozen forest?
The broken road cuts me, and dancing fog swirls at my feet.
Every step is heavy and cold.
Demons of sorrow and despair circle me.
I thought grief would bury me in the dark.
Then the skeleton of hope rose from my chest.
He wore a gown of silver, with stars on its glittering seams.
He sat beside me, a golden staff in his hand.
He took my hand and looked into my eyes.
"Hardship burns your old soul," he said.
"From the ash rises a phoenix of hope."
"Grief is fire. Let it light your path."
"In darkness, you can still glow."
He smiled at me, at the person drowning in grief, and said:
"Grief is not a punishment.
It is the polish that strengthens your inner self."
And then I stood, because he was right.
you are my rock
the one I fell in love with
till the end of time
nature
wild and carefree
here for thousands of years
created by God to enjoy
beauty
I love poetry
Where else can tragedy
Become so achingly beautiful
Horror made ethereal
Tears like jewels
Fall musically to the floor
Even demons dance to
The rhythm you create
Nightmares shrink
Into phrases on a page
Finding haven in quatrains
Freedom in metaphors
Structure in meters
I escape into this
Fantastical world
Parallel to the harsh
Reality
I can not control
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