Long Dried out Poems
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Seperate distances from falls
Hangups and calls
Dilusional deceitful did wrongs
Covered up lies stories short prolongs
Drained energies like stings from bees
Honey sipped dried out coffee
Steamed stiff tea blown back aught to be
Chased with hot toties rude bodies wearing wrong clothes to mock thee
Could it be a stranger of hate all this time
Sent demised messages in a bottle to waste time
To committ a crime because of their own insecurities
Too afraid to step out vision blurred
Lines masking the real perception who to be
Standing on mountains sun shinning down to see
Uncovering madness mistaken for comfortability
Opened eyes payed for many destinies to see
Vision changed the name on the tunnel
Narrow it maybe a new session concerned rebuttal
Stuff that made no since at all
But since had since enough to Answer the correct call
Sunrise and already the water
is being seared with a glow
as if under a grill.
You can feel the heat building
in the morning air, the sand
still warm from yesterday.
The tide has left the creature
stranded on the beach,
its frilled sail glistening
and rigged with blue tentacles
clumped menacingly beside
its motionless body.
The sun will soon cook it
to a dried out bladder.
This drifting marvel of murder
is now no more than sea phlegm
coughed up on the crest
of a wave. It looks so pitiful.
And yet it still
has the power to inflict
a painful sting. Venom
waits for one last desperate
chance to snare some poor
careless prey.
My fingers seem possessed
with a will to pick it up
to see how it feels without
being stung. I hover somewhere
between head and hand,
stranded by indecision.
Footnote
This is one of a series of poems
that have the shoreline as the
backdrop for the exploration
of meaning in things washed up
on the beach or in the experience
of being in the moment.
Paul
In the silence of shadows over the lea,
where daisies journey unhindered all around,
is buried a sweetheart that dearly loved me,
stop by me in contemplation, make no sound!
Who can ever bring back loved ones who are gone?
what gesture or move can turn back marching time?
happiness, laughter and all the cheer when born,
are now replaced by rings of sepulchral chime.
I stay on and on till long shadows creep in,
what place is good for me when my heart is here?
hopes have dried out and my life’s purpose is thin,
I live on lost thoughts and some dreams that bring cheer!
Sleep, dear love, sleep on peacefully for ever,
let not my sorrow hold you to this domain,
sweetheart, we shall meet under heaven’s bower,
I shall ride times chariot, love to regain!
Death is reality of each life there is,
every bright candle meets darkness in the end,
beyond the mourning there is promise of bliss,
to loved ones in God’s heaven, our prayers we send.
Aldo Leopold recommended
to would be ecotherapists
that we deeply learn
to "think like a mountain"
At life summit and death ebbing
silent scales of health
becoming
and polyculturing wealth
being burned
and drowned
and starved
and dried out
For a monotheistic capital harvest Season
of winterish waiting
To see this anxious
and anticipating balance
of natural patrilinear
and spiritual matriotic
re-spiralstory revolutions
Through forest and meadow and grasslands
recycling
repurposing
revolving
evolving mountainously reliving EarthSpace.
Yet, I also hear a further commendation
to would be singing egotherapists
Also deep learn to feel
resonate
and dance like a river
of Yang upstream toward Yintegral downriver time
of Earth's unraveling
traveling nutrition
tunneling trunk tide
NonZeroZone recommunication
Flow trends predicting new later recycling
resurrecting
resuscitating opportunities
to empower sacred polyculturing health
of Earth's enlightened
multicultural
nonviolently philosophical
ecological
theological
ego-rational wealth
For and of
from and yet also before
future regenerating flow,
Earth Health and Justice
to go
Around again
recommending ecotherapists
river deeply feeling
rethinking
like Earth's spacetime mountain,
true empowering strength
and enlightening beauty
flowing multicultural reconnections.
Death Nature
Oh, how I love nature’s death;
As the season takes it rest;
Taking of its last thread of breath
Alas, climate changes jest;
It’s in death nature floral greenery fades away;
In death nature grounds struck at heart bay;
Death nature’s fallen silence leafs blown away;
In death nature tiny animals run as prey;
And what of those distances;
While also within the instances;
Things are changing,
Rearranging;
Grasses no longer growing its own kind;
Hair whispers also in the wind;
Colorful with fades of browns yellow’s orange chard;
It’s in death nature beautiful the bed death spread yards;
Orchid planted paling segments;
Dried out folding sunflowers knell bent;
Glazed now by such frosty dew;
Dying months approach us what's left;
Death so now suddenly as blue;
Dark in the ways of nature’s death;
It’s in death nature birds, seek sanctuary down the southern ties;
In death nature fathomless, are the insect creatures;
In death nature breathless is the winds that move;
In death nature Death called winter death season features,;
When everything green turns black and blue;
Dark is the ways of nature’s death this is the reason;
Green, no longer drained of color resides;
In this death nature Death calls winter death season;
2/26/20
The year when breathes breaths its last but few,
No time to plan the new based on the past
Wishes and worn memories’ dying cue,
The coming year seems an empty canvas
Or a collage of a few stray patches
From yesterdays-- mere graves of lost out dreams,
Raw choices, feelings fixed with few stitches,
Expectations gone wrong like dried out streams.
Taking a bag filled for the past travel,
We scarce can take off on a new journey,
What the New Year for you tend to foretell?
Based on the past memories, naught any,
So, leave aside what so leaves you alone,
The year’s left you in lurch and all but gone.
____________________________
Sonnet | 09.01.2026 | dreams, memories, New Year
Middle of the road,
or somewhere in between,
Over and beyond,
is where I should’ve been,
Living in the undergrowth
Staying more or less unseen
Now a piece of roadkill,
belly up hasbeen.
As you drive on by,
Spare a thought for me.
Stuck to the highway,
baking in the sun,
Flies all around me,
least they’re having fun,
Getting flatter by the minute,
almost dried out,
A splat of bloodied hair,
unrecognizable beyond doubt,
As you cycle past,
spare a thought for me.
Saw an open space,
with some shiny lights,
Looked quite innocuous,
in dark of the night,
Could hear friendly calls,
from the other side,
Off I went a trotting,
for the last time of my life,
As you see me disintegrate,
Spare a thought for me.
A blinding beam of light,
heading straight my way,
To late I can’t go forward,
or scurry back into the hay,
Absolutely no idea what hit,
Just burst like a bubble,
Ants are everywhere now,
Rejoice! the man with a shovel.
As you see me scraped up,
Spare a thought for me,
By
David Kavanagh
BABU NI SHUJAA WANGU GRAND PA MY HERO- -
Grandpa’s hands were withered, they did shake;
But he held me anyway;
Grandpa’s voice crackle and breaks, but he calls me every day;
>Grandpa’s arthritic knees hurt, but he got down on them to pray
And I say
Did I say
el abuelo es mi héroe;
Grand pa’s e is my hero;
el abuelo es mi héroe;
Grand pa’s e is my hero;
And I say a yo a na na..
Na na a b aba
babu ni shujaa wangu
babu ni shujaa wangu
Grandpa’s skin was all dried out;
Grandpa’s was all so tired;
But yet he’d always made time to play with me;
Grandpa’s still has his car a 1967 Cougar;
He’d roll down his windows while driving shoutin “All ya need to praise the Lord”
Alleluia
>Grandpa’s arthritic knees hurt, but he got down on them to pray
And I say
Did I say
el abuelo es mi héroe;
Grand pa’s e is my hero;
el abuelo es mi héroe;
Grand pa’s e is my hero;
And I say a yo a na na..
Na na a b aba
babu ni shujaa wangu
babu ni shujaa wangu
Grand pa got sick, his greatest wish
Was to be buried by Grand ma
Before he died he said don’t cried
I’m going back home to be by God’s side
>Grandpa’s arthritic knees hurt, but he got down on them to pray
And I say
Did I say
el abuelo es mi héroe;
Grand pa’s e is my hero;
el abuelo es mi héroe;
Grand pa’s e is my hero;
And I say a yo a na na..
Na na a b aba
babu ni shujaa wangu
babu ni shujaa wangu Halleluiah, Halleluiah oh! glory have mercy
Hallelujah
4/5/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
government directives
corruption at her highest pinnacle
scientists are looking to save people
but they are concentrating on all
not just the rich
poverty of spirit is rampant
drought has lasted two months
water table is hard and dried out
rain is a but a vague memory
scientists speak of flowers
no one has them not even violets
food import has been approved
but food is not what we need
the electricity in the air is non-existent
dams are unmoving
water is at an all time low
we are conserving
scientists are begging the government to
drill boreholes now,
to find the much needed veins of water
which might save us from early death
where do we store all this food
the government asks
no one cares
what good is food to the dead
Water is life
we should be concentrating on water
Scientists are crying
storage of food?
Some welcome death
A relief
I look unto the wall I see the health heavy handed pictures level straightly upon the wall I asked myself really I wonder which one of these first child soon fall is a shadow waiting standing over here behind me as he whispers in my ear trying to excite me but now I am truly not impressed because I'm going to be forever
There is a small hill in the valley and a tree stands there alone among the dried out dunnage and I often wonder where is the rain there's not enough snow for the roots of the tree to follow if small withered branches leave no chances as the so few leaves leave and I conspire I admire what little shade I have to see and again I am not impressed because I'm going to be the best live out my life most earnestly and now I passed the test I am going to be forever blessed
I am a traveler lost in the village the village of Earth in this universe and no one can fathom nor even imagine why I must live in this curse and faith is my mission is the only condition that I must rehearse so I gather up all my praise cuz that's all I need that's all I have left these days don't need no material thing don't even need my natural body or when my time is call it's coming in all I'll come running as I latch on to my saviors hand and in this Vision I would have risen to hold Jesus hand and to walk in the New Jerusalem
09/04/17
Written by James Edward Lee Sr