Long Hard(a) Poems
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A young man attended a Wednesday Night Bible Study and the Pastor preached about listening to GOD and
obeying the Lord's voice. The young man couldn't help but ponder, 'Does GOD still speak to people?'
After service, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message.
They talked about how GOD had led them in different ways.
It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home, and he prayed; ' GOD...If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey.' As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, GOD is that you?' He didn't get a reply and started on toward home. But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk came. The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of GOD, and how little Samuel ran to Eli. 'Okay, GOD, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.' It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.
As he passed Seventh Street , he again felt the urge, 'Turn Down that street.' This is crazy he thought, and drove on past the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street .At the next intersection; he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud,’ Okay, GOD I will.' He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi- commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed something, 'Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street' The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat 'Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.' Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk. Finally, he opened the door, 'Okay GOD, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will
The Menacing Stranger At ShopCo-'Tar-zhay' - A Narrative Poem
One day at a dress shop,
I met a man selling shoes,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some hushes.
A fence, also known as a receiver,
A mover, this an individual who knowingly buys stolen goods.
Now secretly selling now to later resell them for profit
So dishonest?
"Got any shoes?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No hughes here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely dresses,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some guesses."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally beautiful,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call dutiful,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit tall.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty cool.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the dress shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearten,
"I can help you I believe."
"Shoes, hughes, you shall find.
Lulus JACQUELINE CHAMPAGNE FLORA dresses,
guesses, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to ShopCo 'Tar-zhay' .
So to ShopCo Tar-zhay I decided to go,
In search of the hughes I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling rings,
Barbies doll in many shades.
There were even stalls selling wings
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather tall
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all cool.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some hughes!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some dresses and shoes.
"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the hughes she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.
As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?
Lulus JACQUELINE CHAMPAGNE FLORA dresses,
guesses, you can't get at ShopCo-'Tar-zhay'
Ha! Ha! Ha! the man laughs
4/5/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Mr. Willie At CREATURES NORM AND WILD - A Narrative Poem
One day at a pet shop,
I met a man(named Mr. Willie) selling cockatoo,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some cuckoo.
"Got any cuckoo?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No cuckoo here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely gecko,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some Caballero sparrow."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally energetic,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call epigenetic,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit happy.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty strappy.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the pet shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe says Mr. Willie."
"Cockatoo, cuckoo, you shall find.
Gecko, delgreco sparrow, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to CREATURES NORM AND WILD Market.
So to CREATURES NORM AND WILD Market I decided to go,
In search of the cuckoo I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling rings,
Cats in many shades.
There were even stalls selling wings
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar sales lady,
She seemed to be rather happy
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all strappy.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some cat nip!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
On the end cap by the tuna and cat/kitten mattress.
"But how did you know?" I asked, Huh!!
"Do you want them or not?" she did say. What!!!
Silently, the cuckoo escape flew passed. Did you see that...
Then vanished before I could pay. Hey!!
As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?
MEOW! You see the cat also ran off out the door
Hey……………
11/22/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Get Up
The further I run into love I lose more and more of me
Seeing the water run off the rocks and not understanding the rain
Knowing that life has not aided the thoughts that I think
Endless breath can you keep a secret of do I keep quiet
It’s so lonely in here and I just want a confidant…
Looking out at the time of day it’s not day anymore
I close my eyes to see the light and its rays calm my soul
The heart rate lower as I sink into my chair of realization
Too close to emptiness and too far from declaration
The music soothes the fear that has taught my feet to run…
Grassroots grown in the topsoil of pain coach me
But how can I be what I will be if I continue to be what I was
Nostalgic hemorrhages touch the cool sweat running down my back
Coercing me to look there in the crevices of yesterday to see you
Find time to gather your senses and plan for the birth of yourself…
The road is paved and path is determined before you were born
Yet, so few minutes of the day has time except for desires just awakening
Panting for the light where seeing and knowing is life ever more
Paying so much to receive so little, not tired, but frequently desperate
Loneliness did this and when will I get the courage to open my mouth…
So blessed, but no one warned of the cost of the blessing
How hard a task to love beyond my love which is insufficient
Let me die so I can live for leaving me alone kills me
Why do I believe in the thing that abandons me so often
Only to reenter and cause me to believe yet again, O fool!...
Get up. Get up. Get up I say! You are not what you have become
LIVE! Yes, I said LIVE! Get up and speak to the Universe
Call unto the winds and declare unto the earth that you are alive
So much buried inside of you and so much waits to accompany you
Love found you lonely; not dying to self has found you lonely
Peace can’t understand you and hope exhausts herself with you
Weary man the world waits for no one, but God waits…
Yes, He waits to grant you your inheritance, so you must Get up now…Get Up!
Andra Westmoreland/2014
Vae victis! Her quick eyes spy out the field.
Reconnoitred, the foe's dispositions have been noted,
quantified, assessed. The forces of order
and tidiness, in neat array,
perfect their alignment, await onslaught.
The sentinels stand guard:
A pot of jam, a jar of marmalade are emplaced
on the strategic salient of the dining-room table.
In battle-dress, knives, forks and spoons,
the infantry, have been fully mobilized. Now battle!
The moment's silence is conflict's omen.
Certain of the issue, she advances,
knowing all order is as brief as day,
while primal Chaos ruled
when all was void.
She crawls towards an unwary footstool,
a defenceless lone straggler near the door.
This, with one fell blow knocked out,
her target would now appear to be the oak sideboard.
With a sideways reel, the feint is over.
Blitzkrieg is launched on the dining-room table,
the heart of enemy operations. She tugs
the table-cloth; a pepper-bomb descends,
inducing heavy sneezing fits
(didn't they outlaw biological warfare?)
Thus repulsed, she makes for the paper-stand;
papers, magazines, ordered by number, edition or day,
take heavy poundings till they lie scattered,
littered on the floor.
The main assault no longer brooks delay! She tugs again -
the infantry charge down.
They miss the mark but make a hellish din.
With head well positioned for cover, she tugs
a third time, and with a mighty splut
the jam-jars teeter, topple and tumble,
and tumblers crash down with deafening jars.
With jammy hands, the victress daubs the walls,
and in triumph commemorates her feat.
By the shindy wakened, Father stalks in,
his face like that of Jupiter tonans
before the fatal blow.
Her sunny smiles pierce the dismal gloom -
O double conquest! Did Gaul, cowering
to the gore-drenched blade, love Caesar,
the British tribes, defeated, bless Agricola?
What smiles leave hard a little tear
makes tender as a lamb, and Dad,
a willing captive to her wiles, gives in -
surrender unconditional.
And Mum?
She'll do the mopping up, of course!
Recently, after a long battle which cancer…a battle that lasted years…
our friend’s daughter’s lost her battle…which brought us both to tears.
Cancer! How I hate that word because from the moment the battle begins
no matter how hard a person fights…sometimes cancer wins.
There is no right way to cope with death, despite what the experts say
we muddle through our sadness our anger…sometimes we wonder why we pray.
I don’t know how her parents will ever accept their cherished daughter is gone
I wonder how from this moment…they ever will move on.
There isn’t a person among us who has ever taken a breath
that hasn’t had to deal with loss,…and try to cope with death.
I’ve lost my mom and dad and other family and friends
It’s a basic fact of living that someday life will end.
At first the memory is fresh and the sadness can paralyze
then slowly one day out of the sadness we come to realize
that the one we lost would not want us to remain sad forevermore
and we try to go on living as we once lived before.
It’s as if when death infects us, in an instant, overnight
our world that once was filled with color, turns to black and white.
Then slowly with the help of family and friends the healing begins
and one day, if we are blessed, the color seeps back in.
And we’re able to store our memories with all the memories of those who depart
in a place I like to think of as the cemetery of the heart.
It’s a quiet, solemn place that in our heart has no parallel.
The final resting place where our fondest memories go to dwell.
Where we can walk among them any hour of any day
so the one we lost forever is never far away.
I know this may sound corny, this belief I am revealing
and I know it’s no consolation for the grief our friends are feeling
But when the burden of their grief begins to lighten…when their healing process starts
I hope their fondest memories of their daughter find a quiet place in the cemetery of their heart.
Yes the Catheolic's will have their day, so do the Protestent and the Baptish and also
the Christian's are all subject to see sad day's. Yes-yes happiness is an adjective de-
scribing a feeling that becomes seen on the faces of all that celebrate Christmas in
their own way. In their own way, face's tend to hide just what is going on in their lives
as pain or some tragedy has happen, and now all the commercialism of this particu-
lar day (Christmas) is more convind and the more serious picture is doctrinated in their
minds. Some mother's on this day may find it hard, a child is gone and somewhere even
walking thru the crowded malls, there's still an emptiness that the pagentry of the holi-
day's doesn't miss the heartache or a good gesture of kindness want replace.
The story tells us in our bible that he's the sacrificial lamb of life that shall die for the
sinner's you and I and even the great new's of the Messiah, born in Bethlehem can not
stop the flow of tears when the Catheolic's, Protestent, Baptish and all the many different
religious folks realize they had killed the son of God. "Sad day's of Christmas, Jesus you
are that gift that bring's gladness of everlasting to the real reason this mad-mad world of
envious and child-molesters and all kinds of truculent people's that have turn your birth-
day to a day that they tried to implicate into the wicketness of their own sickness". So
Mom's and Dad's this Christmas season if for whatever reason you are sad this day, rem-
ember Jesus loves you and from the richness of Heaven did he come, he comes to reunite
from the seperation. Mankind he tells-us, "I am the truth and the light, no man can come
to the father, less he come through Me". With every tear-drop there is prayer, and with
every sad moment, he's the atonement of joy and with hug's and kisses, "he is the Lamb
of Gladness!!".
The Fast Stranger At Barker's Cake and Pastries Shop- A Narrative Poem
One day at a cake shop,
I met a man selling cats,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some diplomats.
"Got any diplomats?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No diplomats here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely chips,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some onion thrips."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally impatient,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call abortifacient,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit fast.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty overcast.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the cake shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."
"Cats, diplomats, you shall find.
Chips, onion thrips, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to Barker's Market.
So to Barker's Market I decided to go,
In search of the diplomats I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling cats,
Crisps in many shades.
There were even stalls selling bats
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather fast
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all overcast.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some diplomats!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some chips and cats.
"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the diplomats she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.
As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?
3/5/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2019
Feeling great, feeling happy, feeling keen,
feeling snappy, better than some years.
The other side of the table cannot stop crying,
fully concentrating on his sadness.
This could have some other counselors feeling badly,
but I sense crocodile tears.
Chuckling within, marveling at his talent. It is a fantastic day!
I think as we sit, he and me.
I have tried all of my tricks, none of them have worked.
He is sniffle-crying, gives a little twerk.
Silently jumping for joy, dancing and twirling away,
on the other side of the table, is me.
My feelings are fine, they are smarter than I,
almost on fire. I am not a bit blue.
He is giving me the eye now; a tiny glare is beginning.
He is determined to ruin my day.
I sit here writing, waiting for his list of ten
good things that he likes to do.
He wails and he whines, but I do not react.
So he gives a deep sigh and picks up a pencil.
We write in silence, this drama queen and I.
We write fast and hard, a race for us two.
He was probably goaded into listing some things by my intentional
lack of interest. Totally trained in outwaiting children, I plan to win.
I explain that he has to stop listening to the
green monster inside his head.
The worst scenario entity that tells him
he is a bad boy and should be dead.
I have spoken to his mother six times today.
She tells me he likes to come up here to play.
We sit in silence, he and I. Him thinking of every
worst scenario, and me feeling like a spy.
I talk and he listens, and there is a breakthrough.
But the second he gets settled a tiny bit down,
He begins wailing and shrieking, to try and get out of math class,
for he does not like to round, multiply, add or divide.
I can relate, because I detest math, I have an unnatural fear of it.
And so we dance, he and I, almost daily, and ......
Always during math class.
That is Some Hydraulic Brakes
One day at a food shop,
I met a man selling cakes,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some hydraulic brakes.
"Got any hydraulic brakes?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No hydraulic brakes here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely marbles,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some barbels."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally cunning,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call stunning,
The great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit slim.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty skim.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the food shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."
"Cakes, hydraulic brakes, you shall find.
Marbles, barbels, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to Barker's Market.
So to Barker's Market I decided to go,
In search of the hydraulic brakes I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling cakes,
Apples in many shades.
There were even stalls selling rakes
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather slim
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all skim.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some hydraulic brakes!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some marbles and cakes.
"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the hydraulic brakes she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.
As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?