Long Heated up Poems
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HELP ME LORD GOD I DON’T KNOW- -
Lord as I raise my hands this day;
As I open up my mouth as to pray;
Father
I don’t know?
HELP ME LORD GOD I DON’T KNOW
I pray for the people
Lord
I say will you keep them
So
I don’t know?
HELP ME LORD GOD I DON’T KNOW
Lord I have pains
And I have plans
But all my stands;
Are in your hands;
And as I call out your name;
I don’t know?
HELP ME LORD GOD I DON’T KNOW
And I feel so ashamed, that I won’t be able to shine;
That I won’t be able to free my mine
Of all the doubts
Of all the shames
Of all the drowns
My mind is heated up
I’ve lost my loving heart
I need you I need you much…
If I am a sinner
How can I pray for others?
If I myself needs salvation for my soul;
HELP ME LORD GOD I DON’T KNOW
Help Lord,
Help me God..
Hello
I don’t know?
3/25/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
Hot steamy mashed potatoes dripping with blond gravy,
My mouth waters as I dip a spoon into mama’s peppered
corn casserole, a magical phenomenon that no one else has been
able to duplicate even with a recipe.
How had I missed the mountain of sweet potatoes languishing
in brown sugar sauce, with a marshmallow topping? I give
myself a couple of liberal helpings.
I smile at the delectable homemade roll,
which is glistening with melted butter.
Diets can start another day. Not today. Maybe
after all of the leftovers are gone, but not a second
before every single piece of homemade fudge is devoured.
Raspberry cobbler heated up with a glob of
icy cold vanilla ice cream or creamy chocolate cake
with seven-minute frosting? Is that pumpkin pie with
real whipped cream?
There are perhaps better ways to die,
but I can think of none of them.
Christmas at Mama’s house; be still my heart.
"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!
"Twas during the Cuban Missile Crisis of October nineteen sixty-two,
When I was proudly wearing the distinctive Air Force suit of blue.
I was sent to perform an inspection at another Air Force base.
The Crisis heated up and I was told to get home as fast as I could race!
I landed at LAX and waited impatiently for my grip at the carousel.
At last I spotted it and there was no doubt it was mine I could easily tell.
Upon arriving home I told my spouse and kids all about the trip,
And laid the suitcase on the bed and proceeded to open my grip.
My spouse nearly fainted and much to my children's glee,
(And to my consternation) lay a heap of ladies lingerie!
In my haste at the airport I'd grabbed a bag exactly like mine,
And rushed out of the terminal knowing everything would be fine!
Oft, I've wondered what the lady's baffled husband's reaction was,
When she opened my bag and beheld my drawers and some ciga's!
The airline swapped bags and with the lady there was no direct contact.
The episode became family lore and our marriage remained intact!
Entry for Cindi Rockwell's "My Most Embarrassing Moment" Contest
We arrived, it was 7 a.m.
Then I was just a small girl
I still don't know why it made her angry
I will never know why
She bashed my head into the sink
After undoing my braids
My head was flooded into icy cold water
My body heated up with hatred and fear
The visuals of her yanking and scrubbing
Remembering that nobody stood up for me
My cousins and sister
They watched tv in the other room
I was stripped naked, she was screaming
I was thrown into the shower
Still nobody stood up for me
And I always wondered
Why my mom put it in my hair, did she forget
How much my grandma hated hair spray?
Late that night
I should never have told my mother
From then on
Every day I was only fed
Chocolate donuts or fruit cocktail
My stomach still churns at the sight of either
Never will know why she did those things to me
She didn't do them to anyone else
I resented all of the the days that
I was stuck with nowhere else to go
My mother couldn't afford a babysitter
And off I would go, sent to her regardless
The irony is, I still wear hairspray
I love it, and not just because she hated it
I understand now
What I couldn't comprehend then
Hairspray doesn't destruct
Or tear people apart
It is made to keep something in place
Unlike her it offers stability
I may never
Eat certain foods again
And I may still cringe at times
When I see a certain knob on a sink
But when I feel like it, I do have
One thing I do that makes me smile
I will stand infront of a mirror
Braiding my long tresses
I smile and spray
Hairspray
Shower during summer, It is due to convection
by seasonal wind.
Land gets heated up, hot air goes up, pulls up stream from the seas on earth.
Comes in hot summer, settles the dust in the air and cools the high heat.
I woke up this morning,
Blessed to see a new day;
I'm not rich but happy,
What else is there to say?
My hair is getting thinner,
I have bags underneath;
There's one thing I can smile about,
I still have most of my teeth
These ol’ eyes are open,
As sharp as they can get;
The mind comes and goes at times,
But I ain't senile yet
Aches and pains may frequent me,
Sex has slowed quite a bit;
Once the motor gets heated up,
It's difficult to quit
Hard work’s never hurt me,
I'm hanging with the best;
Young folks gaze in stunning awe,
While I put ‘em to the test
I'm so blessed to be alive,
At peace in my humble home;
Side by side with the lady,
That's why I love this poem
Fire hydrants, fire trucks and firemen's faces
After they have been heated up
Chocolate heart boxes, and the prettiest roses
Some of the most fragrant tulips
Ruby jewelry, all sparkly and haughty
My favorite boots, my checkered shirt, my brick oven
An artist once told me without a splash of red, art is not art
I do not know about that, for I favor orange, which is red with the sun
Red umbrella with orange cats, red dog collar, red french fry holder
Valentines, and Santa Claus, Christmas stockings trimmed in green
Best of all, my mother's red stove in the early 60's
Which no one else bought because all other stoves were white
She did her whole kitchen in red and everyone loved it
Pizza Huts, and Christmas lights; all in reds.
Bulls and red hankies, clowns and red noses.
What would we do without red? How would we know to stop?
Keeper of my faith’s flame
I seek, oh God, Your revival fire…
make my spiritual endeavors ablaze
kindling love against apathy’s coldness
as you nourish me with sizzling blessings’ bounty.
Keeper of my servanthood-flame
I need, great Lord, Your might of fiery power
as my dedication is exposed to broiling tests
debilitating me from roasting trials
midst pressures of ministerial challenges.
Keeper of my life-building flame
I come to You, dear Saviour, for holy purifying
to burn doubt, unbelief, selfishness, pride
with my yearning to be heated up from indolence
making me effective in labouring with compassion.
Keeper of my prayer flame
I trust You, Christ Jesus, to keep on igniting my soul
to draw nigh to You with supplication-earnestness
expressing requests’ sighs and needs’ angst
anticipating for answers’ delight.
Keeper of my worship flame*
I exalt You, Almighty King
midst Your heavenly warmth of shimmering bliss
while I sing hymns of earnest gratitude
extolling You with beaming triumph-praise*!
*Revelation 2:18 … These things saith the Son of God, who hath his eyes like unto a flame of fire, and his feet are like fine brass.
March 16, 2022
3rd place, "Pick-A-Title, Vol 29" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 3/27/2022.
Somebody suggested I write the tale using the correctly spelled words because my story (below here in the Homophone contest) is simply too distracting to understand with homophones. Hope you will take a peek!!
When Harry Met Terry
Once upon a time in a wood, a very nice prince named Harry
met in the mist, high on the bough of a tree, a fairy named Terry.
The fairy felt low, for he was weak, and he was in need of some meat.
He bawled, “Woe is me. I can’t even stand here on my own two feet!
My poor heart is breaking, and I’m in pain. The last time that I ate
was days ago. You see, I’m in a haze and do not feel so great.”
I perish and long for wine and ham. Even better would be lamb!
But I would settle for a piece of bread with some sweet berry jam.”
Prince Harry knew he had some mints, some Tic Tacs that were in the pair
of new red jeans he wore. He took them out and waved them in the air.
“Licorice too I have right here!” Prince Harry told the fairy.
“It’s not much, but please do eat. Later on, we’ll dine and make merry.”
Prince Harry placed the fairy Terry on his pale white horse.
Then away the royal with the fairy hastened on his homeward course.
All day long they rode and rode. When the fairy started to groan.
Suddenly, from the horse, both the man and fairy were thrown.
Hungrily, they paced beneath the setting sun and through the night.
They pressed on until morning. Harry’s residence came into sight.
Prince Harry’s wife had supper ready, and she’d made a pie.
From utter happiness, the fairy thought that he might die.
She heated up their food for them. They both had grown so pale!
She listened as the fairy Terry told his tragic tale. . .
of how he’d lost his way and, for food, had not one crumb
until her dear spouse rescued him. At last, his prince had come!