we are vines & a tree
choking each other without meaning to.
we both want to grow towards the sun
but we can't do it without stopping the other.
of course, no one will win. we are both taken down
by a landscaper, or a homeowner, we both die.
when the saw grits, we both get hurt
because what else is there to do
but fall & be fallen onto.
Our old house has died
I know...I passed by yesterday
my snow angel yard
now crystal-balled and bird-bathed
the English ivy that held together the red brick walls
hacked down by some psychotic landscaper
I wonder who is living in my room ?
shall I dare enter the door by the yellow plaid kitchen ?
does the callbox still ring in the pantry ?
are there servants now who beckon to its call ?
the curtains are all closed
how dark it must be inside
the cracked pane from my baseball
now shiny new
There was a Time in my life where I tried to undermine
The lies in my mind
Time being spent tryna justify
Asking myself who’s this guy
Time to get rid of the disguise
Now I’m left with this persona
Who lost his sense of self due to corona
Isolated but not at home
Doing shrooms dropping acid
Went from being avid
To my ego collapsin
So when they ask if I been slipping
Yeah I have been
Forced to fight the feeling
Born to write words that cause healing
So I picked up the pen
Becoming an addict
To be a man amongst men
Puttin my heart and pride on these sheets of paper
I’m finna Break the stereotype and become a different type of landscaper
One who cuts and trims the letters to fit better
On this piece of paper
That I call a love letter
“A poet brings a scene to a reader’s mind;
a painter puts the scene in front of your eyes.”
~ Beryl Edmonds*
Poets dip their pens in black ink
Verses are written in the blink
of an eye on paper
But like a landscaper
An artist brushes skies pale pink
Poets use imagination
for each poetic creation
Painters rely on eyes
to see and recognize
Scenes that lead to captivation
*Beryl wrote that quote for me on a comment
she made on my poem, 'His Feathered Image.'
Thank you for always being so gracious, Beryl.
All the festives brilliant colorful brights
Universe pulling earth pulling cared away from sun
Tone changing physical a
Under God's hand
Master painter landscaper all creator
New year resting crust resting earth begins new birth
Foliage turning to dark soul mounder lighter colors slowly dying
Atmospheric changes nature's colors rearranging
Litttle more cooler somewhat windy like in March
Lsaves, flowers some grasses colors change in midst of yearly change
10/6/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Gemini seeks a new job daily
In summer she might be a disc jockey or a landscaper
In winter possibly a substitute teacher or a nurse.
Fall is for growing pumpkins, so she becomes a grower.
Spring is for releasing dogs from pens, so you will find her
at the animal shelter.
If you cannot amuse her,
confuse her or bamboozle her,
you will not keep her long.
Gemini seeks a new job daily.
Every month he cuts and styles your hair
She delivers your paper in darkness when you are not there
He mows your lawn and trims the grass' edges
She plants your flowers and shapes the hedges
She vacuums your carpets and mops your wood floors
She takes care of your children when you're out of doors
The barber, delivery person, landscaper and florist
The cleaning lady, child care specialist, and so many more of us
We take care of what you're too busy for throughout the year
What would life be like without us if we just disappeared?
The birds are chirping
The landscaper is mowing
Sweets floral scents
Waft in the air
School is still out
Frolicking in the sun is still in
The games grown-ups play
Are those familiar to children year round
Our senses delight
In the sublime subtleties of nature
We grin from ear to ear
At the cheer that sunshine brings
Nothing can interrupt this divine setting
Nothing can disturb our countenance at these times
For we somehow believe this will go on forever
Even though we know it will not
I am not a minority poet,
though I have known them on occasion.
Those who write a poem for school
or some brief love encounter
then never to pick up a pen again.
I am a majority forever poet
who writes or tries to write every day
at every chance or opportunity of inspiration.
Hoping to stir the mind and fibrillate the heart
in desire of expressing and revealing the soul.
Sometimes held hostage by some unknown, inner blockage
that releases when least expected but so welcomed.
I am my own poet
writing and rewriting until I get it right.
Trying to reveal the world
as it lives in pain and glory,
attempting to relay life’s wonderfully sad story.
I am the landscaper of emotions
seeking solace and laughter.
searching for that happily ever after.
I’m here and I’m manmade
Industrialization this tool allowed
Take me to day seven
So I can rest closer to heaven
With Him, we’re not alone
Hands and hearts in tune
Father, son and holy ghost together
At long last, make it my first day there
With the pyramids’ whip and poke
We were trying to climb this peak
The rocket is launched
Heaven’s gate closed?!
Take me there on a wing
Fly me there on a swing
I’m a satellite’s rotation
Pull me out of this contusion
Why is this hell we chose
When heaven’s so close?
The universe needed a maker
Paradise needs a landscaper
To speak plainly
So you can understand my thoughts
To translate my dialects
With greater complacency
But, you cannot touch my smile.
You cannot touch my smile
Exhaling from these lips through
Liquid monitors
My words are my heartbeats.
They don’t hang onto cliff…
...notes.
This infinite Victorian ink
Will not be filtered
For you, I promise
…
You asked me to commit perjury
Against a befuddled society
Giving them sense of security’s facade
By becoming one of them
Denied
For I am not
Melancholy’s sheep
Infused with Cloud 9 cotton balls
Urging to be plucked
I am a landscaper
For the herd to walk
…
You asked me
To be your shoulder
But, you couldn’t be my wings.
You asked me to be your voice.
Yet, you remained mute
When two-faced solidarity made me speechless
So, WHY would I NEED to be YOUR microphone?!
When you already pulled the plug…
©Drake J. Eszes
Dedicated to those who continue to make love to the clutter…
Yeah I understand that you can say we are done
Yes I do know that u put up with me for a long time
No I don’t get how you can walk away from me
How you can drop me once I do something with a guy
I never realized you would ever let me go
I thought you’d be the boy that would always love me
The one who I would marry
The guy that I could see a future with
But how can I?
If you really loved me you would have never gave up
You would have understand that I need you
That I love you
You would realize living without u in my life
Is like Da Vinci without paint
Beethoven without a piano
Pointless
My heart without your love
Is like god without a bible
A landscaper without earth
Unaccomplished.
So yes I can understand you got fed up with my attitude
And yes I do realize everyone has limits
But I never thought you’d be the type to limit your love for me.
When all along I have loved you like a mom loves her newborn.
Like an actress loves the stage.
When all along I have loved you unbearably.
OK, maybe he is right. Maybe a cowboy he's not. He is a mechanic, a
pediatrician, an obstetrician, a veterinary, a plumber (wells), a house keeper
(stalls), a blacksmith, a dietician, a truck driver, a farmer (crops), a carpenter
(corrals and maternity wards), a construction worker, a landscaper (fencing), a
teacher, a road grader (keeps roads oven year round), a hunter (hunts stray
critters), a trapper (beavers to keep our water ways open and skunks to keep our
sinuses working), a cowboy (cattle work), a welder, a rancher, a ranch hand, a
cowhand and a_______ I give, I give. He is a Jack of all Trades, but since his
name is Billy I can’t go around calling him Jack, so he will always be my cowboy
to me. P. S. he is definitely not a modern cowboy. No three wheelers, no
pickups, no motorcycles. He did his cattle work by horseback.
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