Long Canary yellow Poems
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Near the end, his skin turned canary yellow.
His fingers were as thin as an elegant cigarette.
His blue gem eyes sank just below the waterline.
Above the bed was a picture of an empty crucifix.
Pointing in the general direction of his final breath.
A few nights before he passed, he asked for a beer.
I poured him one into a dark coffee mug.
The old bus mechanic lightly chuckled...
said he couldn't see the rising bubbles.
I re-poured into an elegant glass, fit for royalty.
In the half-light, the amber halos rose to meet his lips.
He never did take a sip.
I had broken the rules but granted a king a pauper's wish.
Jazz Composition
Common Verses Free
French Free Form Overature Jazz
5th 3rd overature
Circles. 2 twice trumpet
Haunting 3rd brass instruction
From further below
Than rise
Chirps measure
Blackbird is the altered blues draw
Birds chirp in a paired 3 verses 3 top measure of 2 in line
Over 3 verses 3 verses 3
Bottom measure of 3 in line circling waters break in flight
3d's in a separated pair
Second pair drifts in to flight
Bottom row
3 b's lilting right lift
3 p's
Inverted taking notes
Hanging for eyes dear last measure
Forty five angled plight swoons seating oft
Canary yellow wings of warmth oil a canvas
The term driver of victory
came to me unbidden, unexplored
I tossed it around in my dendrite chambers
My muse caught it and ran with it
She is amusing, but she has great ideas too
She decided Victory was a race car,
We daringly painted her in our favorite colors.
Hot pink, canary yellow, and outrageous orange.
Victory was beautiful, gloriously bright.
She showed up all of the other race cars
They were dull in their silly primary colors
With wraps from well-known sponsors
We stood beside Victory in our silky race car jackets
painted in hot pink, canary yellow and outrageous orange.
The other cars cried, they were so intimidated.
Let the race begin!
Written 6-04-2019
Contest: Driver of Victory Verse
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Martin came to a cleft in the rocks
The oriole must have gone this way
It was narrow and curving
A sudden turn, and everything seemed to change.
Shrill, reedy music of pipes filled the heavy air,
A smell of musk of goats and their dung.
Invisible cicadas sustained the piper's lament.
Suddenly, he found himself in front of a small but deep lake.
Weeping willows, large copper-coloured beeches
Surrounded by a large pool of azure water.
There was a calm tranquillity about the place
Whilst the air was saturated with a fragrance
Of exotic flowering lavender-like trees.
He heard a splash, and out stepped a young woman.
Her canary yellow elegant swimsuit
Clung wetly to her honey-coloured body.
Damp citrine hair formed a frame around an oval face
That was highlighted by an upturned, pointed nose.
He did not move but stood mesmerized,
Looking into her blue, limpid eyes.
A sweet smile shimmered on her lips.
"Hello," she said in a mellifluous voice.
Her smile was inviting. "My name is Goldie Oriole.
Come, sit near me
And tell me how you found this place."
To be concluded in Part 3
Jazz Composition
Common Verses Free
French Free Form Overature Jazz
5th 3rd overature
Circles. 2 twice trumpet
Haunting 3rd brass instruction
From further below
Than rise
Chirps measure
Blackbird is the altered blues draw
Birds chirp in a paired 3 verses 3 top measure of 2 in line
Over 3 verses 3 verses 3
Bottom measure of 3 in line circling waters break in flight
3d's in a separated pair
Second pair drifts in to flight
Bottom row
3 b's lilting right lift
3 p's
Inverted taking notes
Hanging for eyes dear last measure
Forty five angled plight swoons seating oft
Canary yellow wings of warmth oil a canvas
Females could'nt escape my pain
If she be the one who caused that
well let's say it's because I'm all bad
Not black but an Odyssey
Bouncing back in white noise
Count the scars now a Star shines
A speaker combines the tools
that be boost in my jets
Jax now be falling down in Airstrikes
I swear that girl there is airtight
As awesome as i say you're the perfect shape girl
And your face
Let's just say that God gave you someting to touch my mind with
To make me smile
Just to always be a vision I keep alive here
3 Angels surrounding us when we're together
Always available on a Godline
stay in touch
Gold mines No!
Cemetery's so big
Canary yellow ghost dressed in white mask
I turn the lights on and the blackout
I Jacks land right where I crashed out
May is warm,
energetic, enticing and embracing
singing rhythmic rhyme, melancholic melodies of spring;
in a change of weather flowing on the wispy neck of winds
fall the rain drops, cold and heavy in their spin,
petals loosen and release down to the earth below
a hundred buds open wide to the chilling flow.
The rain dance waltzes and sweeps its playful tango ballet
in the spread of flowerings on the edges end displayed
of cultivated hedges in a damp dove gray sky
revealing the fall of colors in the garden on the fly;
perfumed lilac lavenders and magnolias scent each breath of air
roses bud gently, tenderly exposed, well loved and well cared;
pinks peek out, deep, dark, delicate, intense flamingoes,
reds bleed crimson burgundy, in spicy velvet, tomato throws;
lacey pale orchids hold steady in cherry blossom rush and blush
beneath a stage of starlight dust, faded white pale ivory tusks;
colors of the rainbow slow dance,
a mix of colors given to whim and chance;
blue, green, yellow, orange and red
stretched in a row along the edges of the garden bed;
scarlet claret burgundies, touch the light rays of the sun and shade
with canary yellow saffron burning in amber mellow lemonade;
the hybrids rise taller, gangly stretching up overall in time
where olive cucumber mint, blends pine grass green, lemon and lime;
and the colors fade like distant aerial gavottes
grateful to the sun and rains for what the season caught.
It's the rain dancing in the end of May
nothing keeps the garden more happy and gay.
"Never paint except with the three primary colors [red, blue, and yellow] and their derivatives." Camille Pissarro
One primary color can make me feel mellow
when warm like honey heated up or like rays of a golden sun.
It’s flax, saffron, blond, and canary yellow,
cheerful like a daffodil and bumblebee fun.
It’s bananas too and a well-buttered bun!
The second and vivid primary color
spells energy, boldness, passion and power.
Cardinals make most other birds seem simply duller.
A symbol of love, rose reigns as a fragrant red flower,
while scarlet and crimson sunsets my eyes can devour.
The loveliest for me of these three colors is the hue
that melds with yellow, thus creating green.
Some jewels, blooms and berries are naturally blue.
Splendid is a dusk with the tint of an indigo sheen.
Oh, cerulean sky above seawater shimmering aquamarine!
I’ve long since been gone but now I wish to return, if you’ll let me. I was down the thorny path, in the woodchipper, stuck in time, dancing into deed. It’s no match, a man with a curse vs a man with a heart. Its ten to zero, ones not even fighting. We’ve seen the underbelly of the storm cloud, flashing with scowling bolts of canary yellow. Cried onto the flat pale of the earth. So that the ponds and lakes filled like eyes trying to sting away tears. Mothers and fathers have seen tougher times. You’ve toughed out the times, but I've looked the other way. I still want to hold you until the mourning doves set the stage for the sun. We can watch a movie together and forget that it’s on. There will be peace. When it’s all said and done there won’t even be a hatchet.
Burgundy
My dear Burgundy, I heard a purple, splendid tapping
Burgundy you color my heart, my soul
You, Oh!, so you said only this you’re in trappings red
I crave the crimson, cerulean canary yellow this I dread
And the rubies never overdrawing
And the rubies always daunting
Ever so settle,
I am shorn of my bedfellow
Violet. . .
Burgundy you color my heart, my soul, you’re the water in my veins
Sweet purple haze
Remembering many colorful, striking roses
The chromatic colored cultivating
Arose so illuminating!'
And eyes have all and augmenting
As myrtles came launching invigorating
This and a beryl
I have dreamed of the stems
And so I screamed, 'Is that brown?
Burgundy you color my heart, my soul you’re my flower
Eagerly I looked for the claret the pea coat laughed
Orange bled red as brown embraced them
I stand by burgundy she’s all that…better than any fine vintage wine
8/24/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©