Long Concentrates Poems
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In the padded cell of my confinement I think and feel and slide
Down a slope of reason and emotion dressed in gloves and mask
I am rebel but in times of these I learnt to follow orders and abide
Though staying sane other than my normal lunacy remains a task
I am a rubber ball in stagnant motion bouncing back inside four walls
A ricochet master in training who gathers speed in pinball fashion
Take out my slingshot and ponder where when and if the rebound falls
No prisoner restrained by mental shackles and full of uninhibited passion
Immured and isolated as an island's rock I gather humility and gratitude
Because I happen to have the privilege of a home to be locked up in
Play with marbles in my mind sorting memories that have been skewed
Throw socks and knickers from my afar bed straight into the laundry bin
Boredom is just another word for lacking ingenuous fantasy or inspiration
The price of segregation and detachment is very small if one has shelter
With fire place and running water well beyond most people's expectation
When the so called global village is euphemistic for chaotic helter-skelter
Playing darts the arrow of injustice flies straight into a bull's eye's scream
The chess board that revives my tedium contains a set of weary pawns
But I am fortunate to be locked down or up together with my Fairy Queen
My lover soul mate best friend ever who shares my moods from dusk to dawn
How could I dare to complain about my situation of comfort in such quarantine
It's easy to dust the shelves when reading every book before you put it back
Not to mention rather tongue in cheek that I have loo rolls and my own latrine
All I have to do is stay at home and write my poems during the virus' attack
Duress of incarceration with washed hands and coughs into a healthy elbow
But cubital hygiene so to speak will not affect my articulation for any length
I promise sincerely that my words will not be sanitized as I condense my flow
Times could be better but rising to a challenge concentrates one's real strength
02nd March 2020
Quarantine Poetry Contest
Sponsor Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
When God spoke, "Let there be light,"
Nature's response was the Sun.
And in the farthest fringes
of dark space, galaxies spun.
Darkness concentrates shadows,
nothing is quite what it seems.
For yesterday's promises,
were scribbled on dying dreams.
Sol's golden rays of sunlight,
imbues magic to the Day.
And colors cottony clouds,
as Dawn chases Night away.
The Sun's coronal aura,
harbors hope's eternal spark.
And illuminating Day,
golden sunbeams pierce the dark.
We are creatures of sunlight,
that's why we love it so much.
And when basking in its rays,
our hearts revel in its touch.
If you fight with fervent heart,
roar of lion from your part,
perhaps true kindness will impart the vengence of a Goddess staved,
the moon now red with the noon's dead,
in your heart I'm sure is dread,for this rite you were not bred,
many times an oracle told: men from feet made of lead
are mercenaries poorly fed; in countless meadows they have bled,
will they toil loyal,paid by your moldy bread?
So go, my foe of woe,wear the royal robe to toe,
and drink the wine bitter slow,
I am Lord of the sword,a righteous king of the horde,
of many Gods I've implored
to smite this monger to the floor,
not for thirst of the gore
but to have a legend's lore,
to protect a People free with me,before you perish it will be!
The priests posture purely now at the front ranks with faces skyward
petitioning to consecrate,
as the cavalry concentrates hard on their horse's fate
feeling the trumpet's terrible,seething sound,
a wilting wind softly weathers the seasoned infantry's instinct
from gaze to green ground,
while they infer the jarring armor jangle of heavy horsemen,
sufficient to strangle reluctance to prostrate,
a low thunder thumps my ears,my spirit leers across,
limbs like gears I raise my battle axe ahigh,
Tepid tepid rain,from whence you came
not the curving cloud but from the adversary's frame,
the color of the warm rain is the magenta stain
of enemy's brain on my horse's mane,
the Bishop busies as assassin,an orthodox art that has always been,
your Knight is nigh,about to die,
J.A.B. Part Two -
I could write of stellar
skies -- Really I could!
Could write of lozenge
moons~ of over-saturated
beams, arriving and departing,
concentrates of extra sweetened,
totally addicting, poetically
whipped creams:
(unfold, eerie immaterial, cobwebby
tightly creased seams, of long
seeming ever taboo gleams -- )
I could write...really I could!
compose glitter, like diamonds,
a huge, full jar -- Aladdin Stories,
fantastical adventures from romantic
afar -- I could strum a string strung
between, distant star and my near,
dear, sparkly guitar --
rather savor your toffee lips
chocolate licks like a Mar's Bar....
elderly people some
with walkers or canes,
teams opposite each other,
smiling nervously
on one side all blue shirts (mostly all)
on the other green shirts
much chatter and laughter
it’s the beanbag baseball
championship
Maple Ridge at Savannah Pines
chairs line
both sides of the hall,
game space in between
can Maple Ridge keep the trophy
coin toss Savannah wins
a tall, thin green-shirted woman
approaches the red line
opposite
a slanted wooden board
with holes
labeled home run single
double triple out
she bites her lip concentrates
first fat red beanbag
slides off the board
shouts of “You can do it!”
second bag lands on the board
but whoa!
third bag goes into the hole
two bases
both sides cheer give high fives.
excited babble
a miss a home run
a single double an out!
nine innings
walking the “bases”
chairs labelled first second
third home plate
everyone cheers for everyone
seventeen to twelve
yaay!
Maple Ridge keeps the cup
all get a ribbon
and a box of Crackerjack.
date set for another match
dinner with new friends
hugs all around
Maple Ridge residents climb
into the bus already anticipating
the next “championship”
at Maple Ridge
Our engagement started early
One Thursday back in may
I had prepared my speech days before
Anticipating today.
Birds aware and singing
The trees are in full bloom
My lady is sleeping peacefully
Only to be awoken soon.
Breakfast made & waiting
Candles glowing with an apple scent
The sounds of Ray Charles' playing
Everything's right, it's time.
Just then her arms embrace me
Around my torso from the back
She kissed my neck, it tickled
A grin appears I laugh
A look of shock appeared
As I dropped one knee
Her eyes start forming tears
As she concentrates on me
With confidence I ask
" Will you be my wife?
Be with me now and in death,
Living one complete life."
"Yes!!" She said with joy
Hugging and kissing me with delight.
"I've been waiting for so long,
Your timing was just right."
I've written a little something
A verse for you to hear.
This will be my vow to you
So relax, get comfortable
And lend me your ears.
You're the air that I breathe, and the glow in my soul.
You're everything I've envisioned, there is nothing I
want more. With every passing day, and every year
that you are mine. My love for you will grow infinite,
my wife until and past the end of time. I respect
everything you stand for, I'll back you when times get
rough. The bond we share is unbreakable, so yes!!
Love is enough....
Jared Pickett
9/01/09
Asavvy1
As the fog rises from the creek
And dampness permeates
A truck speedily emerges
Shocking mind's concentrates
Out on the porch in this dense fog
Surrounded in moisture
Nature's voices silent apparently
This quiet annoys her
One more truck emerges from the fog
Then a muffled high-pitched
Sound, like a tire with a small leak
I looked around then switched
Through the heavy fog faintly see
Jet plane flying too low
I thought my hearing was about gone
To my eyes a long blow
Then totally out of my thoughts
I realize the fog caused
The plane to fly low and the sound
High pitched that brought my pause
Over burning canefields black soot ash
on an east wind past my balustrade blows,
and big white pelicans the riverine splash
their dive pouch longbills in the shallows.
Windsurfers, sailboats, and rowers in row
pass up and down in their wake across,
and fishermen in the Cod Hole below
sit reeling in their boats off Mykonos.
Beyond my Grecian villa walls of stone
a great bridge does cross the river’s divide,
and the Maroochy water’s gentle groan
concentrates my mind ‘twixt moon and tide.
When the sun is low and the moon high
fly a plague of bats just passing through -
sipping a wee tincture of scotch in my dry
puffing a wee willem on the avenue.
Girl, like The Iliad it’s all Greek to me
and soon a new life and bridge to cross,
but before the two of us become three
I write my postcard from Mykonos.
Beyond my Grecian villa walls of stone
a great bridge does cross the river’s divide,
and the Maroochy water’s gentle groan
concentrates my mind ‘twixt moon and tide
Written: October 1999
MERCY LIGHTS
The justice lights shine ever so awesome
Onto the tops of the heads of humans
Mercy lights those lights quicken the darkness
Lights shown sparkles concentrates
Surpasses speed and sound
Light that overwhelms life biggest browns
Nothing seems anymore
Bright are the shields and swords
And what for why must we protest
Why must we banquet the darkness
God and Jesus is the light
Forever shining in our hearts
Let us allow mercy, mercy's light
07/21/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2018©
“50 Words for Poe: dactyl”
When Terror Fell came
he had no complaints
the joint was jumping
it was do or dare
he offered Her his old pear
the porridge here was so glum
She closed the door
to the window of his cell
and sucked on Her plum
She was thinking, a dangerous thing in itself, indeed,
that next time peaches, not pears would be fun
She’d tighten his straight jacket some
fingers and toes to be free
She’d observe him for a while
there was the pressing issue
of The Others let loose on the run
joie de vivre, gone all bat**** wild
there was still the report to write
an extra dose of Laudanum prescribed
She’d blindfold him and buzz him electric
then instruct him to write poems didactic
delusions of grandeur
fingers and toes playing piano
with the other dementors to be denied
he was manic - full of too much ego and arrogant hurt pride
All in a day’s work
He was safe in his cell
or so he thought ...
counting numbers
the seconds tick by
he'd gladly wait
for Hell's Bride
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/mGYUV76Lhic
“In the window full of sunlight
Concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as
Mellow as the glory roses.”
https://youtu.be/CoA4goulmMo
“Silver dust
lifted from the earth
higher than my arms reach,
you have mounted.
O silver,
higher than my arms reach
you front us with great mass;
no flower ever opened
so staunch a white leaf
no flower ever parted silver
from such rare silver;
O white pear
your flower-tufts,
thick on the branch,
bring summer and ripe fruits
in their purple hearts.”
(H.S. 1886 - 1961, The Pear Tree)
https://youtu.be/PgqHi5HkBRk
"before I am lost,
hell must open like a red rose
for the dead to pass"
For the Lost, out of their cell still serving time in Hell.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51869/eurydice-56d22fe6d049d
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/h-d
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/h-d#tab-poems