Long Brothers Poems
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Her name is LeiNah;
Pronounce Lena;
She is granddaughter of;
James Edward Lee Sr.
Today’s her birthday;
Oh, No she’s not latina;
But she’s a big dreamer;
A little princess, not a queen though;
She likes singing so;
Maybe she’ll be another Albertina Walker;
A Maya Angelou;
Jamie Grace, or just Aretha Franklin;
Today’s her birthday;
Not her brothers
He’s 2 his birthday next month;
Yes, sometime in March
Her name is LeiNah;
No not , Gina, , Jenamina, Neenah, Ngina, Nina
She’ll frown better git it right
Her name is LeiNah;
Not treena, trina,
Leanna, Kinah, Leana, Pina, Queena,
Even though she has an Aunt named Carprina,
Her name not Shina, Tina,
Call her LeiNah, cuz her mama named her LeiNah
Pronounced “ LEna ” like Lena Horn;
LeiNah her name cuz her Mama says so…
Happy 5th birthday LeiNah Williams
2/8/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Written: June 23, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Robert James Liguori.
Note: The poem is about interrelated art. Visualizing the picture while reading it makes it more captivating.
***************
I stand before the canvas—
the earth stretched wider than shepherds’ strides,
longer than harvest songs,
its pigments spilling caravans,
wild horses scattering sparks,
a child chasing butterflies
to the rim where sky melts into amber.
The horizon folds into shadow,
shrinking when one heart grows narrow.
The brush has balanced it
on a mustard seed,
fragile, trembling,
straining to hold two brothers
quarreling for olive shade.
How can a heart turn narrow,
The strokes seem to ask—
born in camps vast with mothers’ prayers,
raised in tents whose ropes clasp another,
taught to break and share bread,
guided by women who lit lanterns
against the boundless black?
In the lower corner,
iron glints—
a figure sharpening blades
to silence the olive’s song.
But across the canvas,
summer lingers:
cicadas thrumming in amber dusk,
children weaving laughter through sycamores.
Painter’s hand insists:
a heart is made for vastness,
for ardor, for sharing,
for love that endures.
And beneath the final strokes,
a refrain is written:
Let no heart grow narrow.
It was born wide as the welkin,
deep as the harvest,
tender enough
to hold the whole world.
Men and women in blue,
I write this in honor of you.
How you can even leave your
husband or wife?
When a bullet from organized
madmen might take your life?
I have no such courage!
Don't Americans understand?
You are there for their safety!
All of you would aid us right
away, you are not Johnny-
come-latelys.
The anarchists destroying each
wonderful city.
Children die early, a huge crime
and a shameful pity.
Not one professional sports star
ever mentions the innocents' names?
But oh, my, they refuse to play when
a criminal dies, a humungous shame.
The message is very clear to me.
Anarchists, sports stars, take the
knee joyfully to criminal brutality.
My life really does matter to me.
Wake up, Social workers cannot
protect me nor you from cruelty!
America becoming Venezuela,eh,
or worse, Cuba Two?
The blame is in the hands of
those throwing rocks and I loudly
shout " Shame on each of you."
I am no fool,this nation a tapestry
of many nationalities and colors.
You want no peace nor justice!
Just laws your way, total anarchy
And disorder, my brothers!
Martin Luther King, a mensch,
In his grave must be turning!
When watching you loot,burn
and steal....
It has me more than worried,
with my stomach churning!
How dare you burn the Flag of
this country so grand?
As in the Middle East, they
should chop off your hands!
Perhaps both feet, too.
As all decent laws in the USA,
and people's you so ignorantly
eschew!
I have no answers, save this!
Get people out of office who do
support these thugs.
They need far more than a slap
on the wrist.
Arrest them, jail time for sure.
Behind bars they belong, all
these rabid, hate America thugs!
September 4, 2020
2:15pm PST
When I met the tall and amiable Vietnam War veteran,
my shyness showed,
yet, my throat dried and tightened when he softly
spoke the words, "The war never goes away."
All these humanity destroying wars never cease,
soldier's names, faces, their eyes so well-worn.
Their love letters sent home never faded in their
immortality.
The soldiers who made it home alive weren't
given a hero's welcome.
Their nightmares flashing as they wake up
sweating in their sheets in the dark,
yelling for respite from still hearing and
being in the firefight, still seeing the VC,
and witnessing the life breaths leaving
mortally wounded brothers.
Descending into the night's loneliness,
the blue-gray of the t.v. on low volume,
the sobbing of a loyal wife.
Some marriages, families split apart
with crushing sadness,
many veterans homeless on U.S. streets,
such a heartbreaking shame shadowing
over the face of America the beauty.
Surviving veteran's hair becomes snow-white,
war wounds achingly arthritic,
memories of their war buddies still sweetly
preserved in their mind's images.
Vietnam War veteran's reunions as their
bones stiffen, but still salute their brothers
and sisters in arms,
their hats with the name of the war,
the pride of their service.
Many barely out of high school,
with brothers of the same town,
the same state,
so much youth called up,
joining brothers from other regions
of the U.S.
Blessed by God in their fraternity,
their bravery.
The deep red poppies represent their
precious blood.
I remember the 1960's-70's searing
scars in my mind,
weeping for the loss, the hurt in our
hearts over the Vietnam War.
MIA's, POW's,
disappeared as aging families still pray,
still wait.
In the local Veteran's Cemetery,
I met a woman in her eighties,
she was a little confused,
couldn't recall where her Vietnam veteran
son's grave was located.
She told me her daughter-in-law couldn't
bear to visit his grave.
We found his grave,
his name glistening in the dew of
that gentle May morning,
as wrens and sparrows sang on
blossomed boughs.
A chance encounter became such a
gift to honor her son,
and his mother.
To let her know he was not forgotten,
but cherished,
Welcome Home. ~
The Gentle Giant
I can Breathe
How many time have my black brothers and
Sisters divided theirs tears Into Sections
With each drop, with each snuffle
With each tissue: we thread: as we bled to death
The chanting will echoed, the violent will rise
the barricade will followed: then someone will die.
Black Lives Matters: Black lives matters
Are we really free?
Are we still running from the police?
They is no such thing as equal rights
Those are upright and downright lies:
No justice no peace: said you mama,
So heartless said your sister,
I will killed them said my brothers
As I compose this piece, racism is another kind
Of deadly disease: without a lease, without a cure:
As I stay here and listen to
the helicopter circling the neighborhood
All I can think of is bad actions, deadly reactions
Everybody stay calm, everybody stay down
Life isn’t fair,
chanted the big crowd in Trafalgar Square:
1 Corinthians 15:54, 55:
“Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
Death only uses violence:
An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.”
? Mahatma Gandhi
In the beginning
There were Adam and Eve
There was kindness,
and there was peace:
Everyone smiles in the same language
Not everyone hurts the same way:
Goodbye my brother .R.I.P
A time for demonstrating, a time to showed leadership
a time to be happy, a time to be sad,
A time to pull the trigger, a time to seize fire
A time for karma, a time for relaxing while the night calms
Rest in Peace my brother: George Floyd
Racism, George Floyd, riots, injustice, Kindness, Evil
The other day
you asked me my friend, who I am
I replied:
I am you in another body!
Yes, it is true
look, how much alike we are,
no matter what, the color,
the creed
the race
the status.
Look,
I am born and I die
I suffer and I enjoy
I love and I hate, just
like you!
I am a father, a brother, a son,
a mother, a sister, a daughter, just
like you!
Happiness I seek
family to raise is my wish
peace to find I look for,
just like you!
I long
I loathe
I fear
I hope
I bleed
I heal, just
like you.
I believe
I doubt
I accept
I refuse
I laugh
I cry, just
like you.
We are alike
we are the same
we are brothers...children of
a unique father!
Tell me,
my brother
my friend
my ally
why do we have to oppose
to fight
to hurt
to destroy and
to eliminate one another?
Are our seas really that narrow
our oceans that small
our lands so limited to
contain all of us?
or
is it the case that
our hearts are not big enough
and our minds not so wide-open to
enfold all of mankind?
Listen to me, my other self;
it is up to us to change this world we have inherited
with its virtues and vices
history and culture
flaws and merits
and
try to make it
better
nobler
kinder and
more caring
by:
obliterating harmful beliefs
demolishing injurious divisions
destroying detrimental distrust
annihilating racism and eradicating
the erroneous feeling of poisonous
superiority
for
to bring the dawn of a new loving world
a world of acceptance
of respect
of justice
of equality
of love and of
universal brotherhood
thus
with peace in our hearts
liberated we would be from past’s
deleterious tribulations
that
for myriads of years, have kept us,
fighting one another! *
© Demetrios Trifiatis
03 JUNE 2020
* Dedicated to the memory of George Floyd and to all those who
have fallen victims of racism!
R.I.P. for Justice would be served!
Back in ’52 if you did not have two children you could be sent to Korea.
My daddy was expecting a baby with his wife in July.
The recruiting officer stopped him three times in May.
Dick, you have to fill out that last paper before May 31st.
Daddy was sure he was going to be drafted.
He would only have one child when the next troupe got sent to war.
Two would have saved him, but he was only expecting me.
A voice in his head said “do not sign that paper yet” so he didn’t.
On May 31st Daddy was in a pool hall and someone yelled this
“Hey, Stone, you have twin girls!”
Dad thought this was a funny joke.
Someone else came in and yelled the same thing.
He said “I already heard that one.”
Then our mother’s brothers came in to get him.
Daddy did not get the boy he got two identical twin girls that day.
He went to the recruiting center and the guy said “I know, I heard."
He tore up the papers; we saved him from being sent to the Korea War.
In war we see ugly visions
faces of blind twisted hate,
clouds in bitter conflict
dimming loves light.
Armed with the Devil's tools
inflicting mass cruelty,
evil destruction killing innocence
rape plundering
families sanctuaries
peace overturned.
Tortured with pain,
leaving a legacy of hurt
laced with suffering scars,
mourning rivers of tears.
Killing machines trained
without feelings,
sorrow flows humbly
upon fields of battle,
soaking the earth
blood of our brothers
spilt upon the soil.
Drenched weeping ,
love is an angel of peace,
forever living inside
guiding each and every one of us,
finding the beauty in this world
not Hell bent on her destruction,
light of eternal joy and truth
shines always in the end.
plus Doctor Kaunda also says family names
in tandem should not determine,
who to associate with, any more than nap
pulled lying flat hair, but rather character of hearts,
viz each one of every Zambian availing their lap
necessarily if seat space in short supply.
Speaking at a vision
ambassadors promoting peace
campaign fundraising dinner,
Doctor Kaunda says increase
in toto with discrimination,
suspicion, hatred, betrayal, malice, fleece
sing (the golden calf)
re: greed, selfishness, grease
sing palms, and other
negative behavior release
zing threatening opposition
to zeitgeist, and core values crease
and crimp unity if left unchecked.
He has recalled that during
struggle for independence,
people from various
backgrounds humming and purring
worked hand in glove together,
realizing that they were, spurring
above everything else,
brothers and sisters of
one nation hungry stirring
potential for harmony whirring.
Dr. Kaunda says the “One Zambia One Nation” slogan
coined many decades ago still holds
true and continues starring Hulk Hogan
to unite Zambian’s together as one motley crue
clinging as one to solid state craft toboggan.
He says Zambia remains
a beacon of peace in Africa,
that dare not smother
snapchat, nor shutterfly - oh brother
scuttling important all Zambian citizens
should pay obeisance with mother
land maintaining grew ving
peace and loving one another.
People used to think I had some special rapport
A MD-PhD explained that I was a slob to the core
He claimed I did not wash, so I exuded Pheromones
Thus attracting females, with 2 X chromosomes.
It's true some ladies saw me as a potential mate
But the consensus was that I was second rate.
I had a wholesome image, and some people gave a cheer.
But familiarity breeds contempt, and rebound breeds a sneer.
I met men and women who gave me a high five
How could I tell them I felt more dead than alive?
I didn't feel their warmth, enthusiasm or a spark.
Thoughts came slow when chatting, slow like an Aardvark.
My advice to guys who want to drag a net
Here is the secret to being a chick magnet
Have your friends spread a rumor that beauty strikes your heart.
Then play hard to get, the challenge does its part.
If that doesn't do the job
You could try plan 'B' and be a slob
That might backfire, but I'm sure you agree
You don't know as much as an MD-PhD.
Last year I told my Mom I was handsome back in '88
She burst out laughing, my ego did deflate
My brothers get along with me when I'm not a pest.
But me as a celebrity would strike them as a jest.
I envy you if warmth and heart are what you feel
But you should keep it grounded; you should keep it real.
The cost of a friendly smile is cheap
But it reflects something warm and strong and deep.