One moment warmly expressed.
Next, coldly hushed up.
So does memory at last
That, Time-bound, pack in.
Pages of life having turned
As one book so lies.
A hard cover! Author's name
In gold lettering.
I felt strange staring at this family cemetery
was I supposed to be here?
I tried to call my sister back, but she is eight.
She was skipping and singing.
What do you think? She asked, proudly.
We had gone further than ever before.
I was not sure we were still on grandpa’s farm.
“Come see!” she insisted.
It was an old headstone
The lettering was almost washed away by time
I could barely see the year,
I gasped when I saw the name
This had been the name of my invisible friend.
She had played with me for years
before my mother told me she was make-believe
Now I knew that she was not.
I stared at the faded lettering
Was she an ancestor? Who would know?
I heard her voice whisper in my ear.
“It has been a long time!”
I ran screaming from the place
The headline read: “Low deposits and fair repayments!”
The offer of a lifetime, the promise of a lifeline for you and those you love.
But “deposits” aren’t just in money when we’re low in depositing care,
“repayments” still reek of capitalism when many don’t see their “fair” share.
The advertisement seared in bold font and burning lettering,
reminding us to always want more – there’s nothing worse than settling.
Writing organizes my endless thought.
Worth disappears when considered unclear.
The writing lettering is a threat brought.
Writing organizes our endless thought.
I deem that human form is all I've got.
Understand every coin has two sides here.
Writing organizes my endless thought.
Worth disappears when considered unclear.
Written: May 09, 2023
I watched it emerge
from out of the fog, monumental
in size, a sheer cliff face of steel
moving pass me, almost
quieter than my breath
but for a whispered wake
running from its bow.
Something this big
should have made
more noise.
A black hull bore scars
of scrapings and rust bleeding out
of fissures along its length.
The fog seemed to oil its way,
its shape looming large
then slowly growing smaller
as it slid down river until
it dimmed and disappeared.
In that moment its passage
was a mystery, a brief apparition
of something beyond the dimension
of ordinary things. The quiet
of its passing, the dark bulk
and beauty of its presence
was magnificent
and overpowering.
It was like a shadow cast
by a mythical beast
coalescing out of history,
infiltrating the mind then
dissolving once more
into a place somewhere
hidden in its magical past,
suddenly brought back
to this world
with its registered port
written in rusty lettering
on its stern - MONROVIA
Domeniko Theotokopolous found fame
El Greco was a taken name
He loved lettering
thinking thy made.his paintings sing
I want to say something about cursive writing (this might seem random).
I’ve seen articles saying that cursive writing is a “dead art,” that computers have destined it for oblivion and questioning whether cursive writing should be taught in schools now-a-days.
But if you plan to go to college - relearn it and practice it, because you’ll need it.
Random hot fact. The first time you have to handwrite a multiple-question essay test - where each answer requires five hundred to a thousand words (a written page) - handwriting, in block letters, is unsustainable.
Your hand will literally cramp up - dog, you’ll suffer, your essays will suffer and so will your grade.
Writing in cursive is faster than block lettering and with a little practice, it’s effortless.
My sister told me this once, and this morning, as I watched other students, one third of the way into our essay test, grimacing and flexing their aching hands - I just smiled to myself.
Yeah, you can thank me later.
Captivated as I’m immersed
in your writing
Shocking my senses like it
were lightening
Spending hours reading is like
its a fairy book
your organizing of syllabus
is all that it took
Linguistic vocabulary dialect
phrasing style
Expressive uttered content
language while
your deliverance of wording
lettering is observed
Your narratives wittiness
in your work is reserved
Interpretive collection only
reflects in your ink
Far from conservative the
themes make me think
Weaving a powerful thread
through your lines
Impactful experience for
each reader by design
Artistically creative with
your energy and flow
Reading so realistic with a
faint dream like glow
In your simple structure you
open us up to much more
Awakening one’s emotions
from your honest candor
10/1/22
Writing
I heard a clerical, documentary developing
Eagerly I looked for the deed
Read, read!
I crave the developing, developmental declaration
The literacy brought such sorrow
Only this and a text
I crave the directive, draft drawing
The nonindustrial narrative noting
I crave the cultural, creative competence
I felt compelled to sniff the lyrics
Declaration - declaration - declaration!
Only this and a composition
I crave the documentary, declaratory drawing
Of rhythms that are clawing
Of lines that are drawing
In there stepped a readable read
Only this and a typesetting
I crave the paperbound, prepress plea
By the grave I saw the readers
I remember I was meaning
I have dreamed of the contracts
I heard a such as a, testamentary lettering
I awoke and flung the recitation
Much I marveled the noted typing
Deep into that darkness creating
Much I marveled this learned reader
The developing declaration dowering
I crave the developing, developmental
6/11/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
Mossy vines camouflage decaying headstone
Thus hidden and fallen into disrepair
Foliage ever swallow so it cowers
Deeply weatherworn lettering embraced there
Threads of piercing light filtering through windblown
Limbs surrounded by trees, ferns, and wildflowers
Strewn mounds of decomposed fallen trees below
Cool nature's spirit aspirating showers
9/28/2020
Writing Challenge - Decay - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
i'm wearing
a t-shirt
that
reads
"so far
this is
the oldest
i've ever
been"
it's a little
darker
then
sky blue
with a
soft
white
lettering
letting all
who read
exactly
know
what it
means so
i've decided
not
being a
fashionable
being
to buy
six more
of the
exact
same
shirt
so i
can
not need
to think
oh dear
what to wear
today because
they are all the
same
and so
hopefully
years and so
many
years
from
now
i will
be
eventually
found
dead
and all
will read
that this is
truly
the oldest
that i've ever
been
Formerly, dear,
my books like velvet-dressed
put aside, perfectly straight.
Last light flickers
dusk bids, “God bless,”
as I gently turn on the night,
the antique brass polished,
and symphonic-lettering hooks
harmonize in the gentler time
before the internet.
Roses flourish in crystal vase,
cranberries and ivy vines contemplate
the corpulent beauty of day’s end.
A table round in burgundy gown,
intricate lace cradles intimate thought.
My chamomile tea relaxes on lyrics bound,
stacked red and brown dust jackets burning.
I write and write and write.
In the end sits
my inkwell and quill,
a magnifique glass illuminating his name,
my spectacles
and a flowery letter to my kin —
all wrapped up as I go to bed,
in the romance of Victorian daze.
10/15/2019
Me sweetheart gave me a shirt
with lettering
“how to pick up chics”
I dressed to kill and put on a wig
wore a stylish hat ,I looked like Fabrio
this was better than the dating page
no calling and no waiting
I wore me shirt uptown
surely I would get me a pretty one
I stood by the deli
where the young ones mingle
I dropped me hanky as instructed
oh boy, let’s see who picks it up
one came over and handed it back
“ you may need this if you sneeze’
well that was only just one subtle try
another one came along and who scooped it up
‘oh sir, you dropped your bib’
‘you may need this if you burp’
two down, I hope there’ll be more!
an older lady came up to me
and said “if you want to get one
you have to be young”
“look at me” she said “I’m not young”
but I would certainly like to know you”
“I too am looking for someone”
“one that will be kind to his honey”
“when you are done at this deli
I will follow you out”
but may I have a tissue before I sneeze’?
she did sneeze and her hat and wig fell off
she was me sweetheart looking for a rooster!
my
love
aborted
what of this
mind contortion
mental abortion
slide a little closer
tell me of your closuer
sculpt me another poser
pedaling all my words
lettering into herds
fabricating sound
chains unbound
through
the galaxy
shove me
into
my love
?
Sorrow drowns on dry land
Standing at a distance,
staring at staggered lines
on a rock face outcropping
buried deep beneath
an ancient rose garden
Corroded iron bars
chained and bolted,
left for dead as brittle petals
find a funnel cloud forming
and dance in a whirlwind mosaic
Disguised bold lettering
of forgotten fonts curl and peel
as bark from a crying birch tree
waits for spring
so it can start anew
Sunlight smears blue sky dreams
in finger paint colors
designing the moment
in portraits of a heart – this heart
basking in your glow
And as your smile approaches
the earth rejoices, pine tree party hats,
hibiscus streamers wave
as a happy ending reigns
at the conclusion of this poem –
with the deceptive title
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