Long Lorenzo Poems
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(It was 1860 when the English poet Robert Browning
stumbled upon an interesting artefact as he walked
through the city of Florence. It was a file of documents
from an old Italian criminal trial, and he would turn
this material into his masterpiece, "The Ring and the
Book".)
The Old Square Yellow Book
It was the kind of day they call a "stallion"
in Florence, with white sun, surpassing strong.
And it was noon. (In June, to be precise.)
The Englishman came strolling aimlessly
(or was it?) through Piazza San Lorenzo.
And, just as now, a market crammed the square
and foamed around the statue's marble plinth.
Here, plaster busts, there, flaking picture-frames,
and Garibaldi portraits (way back then,
in eighteen-sixty, they were giving birth:
Italian nationhood was in the air).
The tall "inglese", drawn towards the stall
which offered prints and books, picked something up.
He shouted "shop", and put one lira down.
The book was his. He managed to ignore
the girls, a-squabbling over tasseled shawls,
those burly porters, drenching head and neck
in Giovanni's fountain, braying mules,
cacophony and chaos all around,
to read his book. His blood knew, right away.
At last, he'd found the raw material
from which he'd quarry one great masterpiece.
One foot propped on the railing, near the step
which leads down to the fountain by the church,
he read, engrossed. Then, with a sudden laugh,
he threw it in the air, and caught it, safe.
What was it? Well, a book - but more than that.
It was the record of some long-dead trial,
some murder case of many years before,
with statements, pleadings, longhand notes. In this
authentic tangle lay a human tale
of fierce emotion, rich psychology,
if he could tease it out. So off he set,
re-reading as he walked, feeling his way,
along the narrow Giglio, then the broad
Panzani. Via Tornabuoni next,
so long and straight, down to the river.
He passed the Strozzi Palace, crossed the bridge
they call the Trinita. When he reached home,
the cool Felice, there was not a doubt.
His whole life's labour lay there, in his hands.
Life is full of Catch-22s. You can and you can’t; You shall and you shan’t; You will and you won’t;
"You will be damned if you do, and you will be damned if you don’t”
~American evangelist Lorenzo Dow
Without the battle of Armageddon
there’s no Kingdom of Heaven,
There’s no salvation
without the Crucifixion,
There’s no concept of good
without the presence of evil,
No light of day
without the darkness of night,
No yearning for Heaven
without the threat of Hell,
There’s no God
without the devil,
There’s no life
without death.
~02/06/22
~Contest: Buzzwords
~Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues.
Uncooked grains of rice caked our apartment.
Dug themselves into my pliable plantar aspect
I welcomed you from the bottom of my being,
Into my soul,
A friend that made me feel whole.
You dreamt of delicious dishes dancing
In the taste buds of those you loved,
An acid trip of flavors meant for those
Whose love you longed to savor,
But never did.
You died just a kid.
Twenty-one years full of
Unrealized dreams and the
Omnipresent discomfort you felt within.
All the while you smoked away your
Smile that I still picture,
No matter the number of miles
I drive deep between my ankles and
The skyline of Philadelphia.
At your funeral I wondered
Of all those years we could have plundered.
Would you have been the best man at my wedding?
Would we have had a falling out?
Would you have found the woman you loved?
There are many things we could have talked about…
As those loose grains of rice
Free themselves into my footsteps.
I pound the ground into paddies,
And flood the fertile ground
With a deluge of despondent tears.
A future with you was uncertain,
But one without you is full of fears.
I am leaving trail of scattered rice fields
So you can find me again, my dearest friend.
The Love song
I woke up early in a good mood thinking of writing a love poem to my wife.
looking in the YouTube, I came across
“The three tenors,” couldn`t resist their beautiful voices.
I was going to find “I believe in angels” by Abba
but first the famous tenors.
Wife woke up told me to turn it off she couldn`t sleep.
I remembered Lorenzo Marcus 1964 I was on a ship
unloading cargo destined for Rhodesia.
Everything has changed now LM is now Maputo
and Rhodesia is Zimbabwe, and it was a good time
for a white person.
So I didn`t play the Abba song as the lyric is banal
and I was no longer in a loving mood
Robert browning and Me (2)
Where was I with that book on Artemisia?
No Internet or Amazon back then,
So I got busy trudging round – then busier.
No joy. “American? We’ll call you when …”
“Import it from the States, you say? (sigh) “Sorry …”
That book to me was life-blood. From dry fact,
I knew I could carve angels. It was packed
with pure potential. It would be my quarry,
I, Michelangelo. But Florence called
(the city, not the girl). My summer break.
I’d soon be very happily installed
in Art’s sweet Heart. That book would have to take
a rain check. There were Browning things to see,
check out the places that the poet knew,
and stand where he stood (absolutely true!)
the day he found the Yellow Book. For me,
this part would be the climax. One fine day
in June of eighteen-sixty, Browning strolled
(the gods of poetry pointing out the way)
the Square of San Lorenzo – and struck gold!
He found a worn old book, and made the sale.
The record of a legal case with pleas,
submissions – this could be his masterpiece!
(A bit like mine, but on a vaster scale.)
So, there I was in San Lorenzo. If
my Artemisia project was on stall,
at least now I could breathe vicarious whiff
of Browning’s triumph. Oh, I was enthralled!
He read the lawyer’s brief as he walked home.
I traced his steps – down Giglio, Panzani, then
across the Arno at the bridge again –
(I caught a glimpse of Brunelleschi’s Dome)
and then it happened. Those poetic gods!
A bookstore on the Tornabuoni. (Time allows.
But what of Browning? Even Homer nods!
What harm, if I just sidle in and browse …?)
The book on Artemisia! Divine!
How many thousand lire? Hey, who cares?
So, I and Browning had our talents (tares?)
He used his well enough. Now I’ll try mine!
Brothers Giuliano and Lorenzo de Medici
were co-rulers of medieval Florence in Italy.
Giuliano was murdered by a rival family.
The assassins were from the family, Pazzi.
They were Francesco de Pazzi and Bernardo Baroncelli.
The infamous event took place on a Sunday
during High Mass at Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore.
This attack happened on April 26, 1478
before ten thousand who witnessed Giuliano's bad fate.
The murder was the product of an elaborate conspiracy.
Executed were eighty members of the Pazzi.
This was a tragic event in Italian history.
I thank Wikipedia.org for information I obtained to write this poem
Living a life for many years,
I overcome sadness with fears,
Because somebody is always there,
Whom I called my “Special Angel”
Her love for me is forever,
A good wife and a good mother,
She is my strength and my adviser
I thank God for her.
Doing my service to the people,
Help them with a smile and be humble,
My mission is to be an example,
To be a good citizen yet stay a life so simple
Blessings are overflowing,
Not with any material things,
But for family and friends,
I considered them as God-send.
All my success and failures,
My special angel always has a cure,
Her heart is strong and pure,
She’s a blessing to me by our Almighty Creator.
(A poem dedicated to one of the nominee for San Lorenzo Ruiz 2012)
The Love Song
I woke up early in a good mood, thinking of writing a love poem to my wife.
Looking on YouTube, I came across
“The three tenors” couldn`t resist their beautiful voices.
I was going to find “I believe in angels” by Abba, but first the famous tenors.
My wife woke up and told me to turn it off because she couldn't sleep.
I remembered Lorenzo Marcus, 1964. I was on a ship
unloading cargo destined for Rhodesia.
Everything has changed now, LM is now Maputo
And Rhodesia is Zimbabwe, and it was a good time
for a white person.
So I didn`t play the Abba song as the lyric is banal
And I was no longer in a loving mood
Spend five hours on Resurrection Sunday
At the cemetery
Left at Twilight Visited my loved one who are not there
Their remains are there but their true self with the Lord
But yet they were laid to rest at sunset
For an instant they were taken and placed in the Father's arms
Leaving us here alive and only crying some
Whoa!!! to those who forget their memory for even the trees Replenishes their leaves
But one day, one day again we will see
See them in Heaven's Glory
Holy-Wholly this is mine Resurrection story
Thanks B to God
For those whom we love
But now there are incased in the Father's arms
We miss you so
We're sad to let you go
But you're in a better place
For to be birth is to cry and to die in Him is to Rejoice
Forever more as I leave this place
This is not your space
Only your remains are there beneath the ground
I praise the heavens
I Praise My Father God
For all that He's done for it is in glory
Each and every one of you lives on
Oh and I don't know if you can hear I love each and Everyone of you
Hallelujah
And may the peace in my heart be still
To God be the glory
BLESSED GOOD NEW DAY IN JESUS Resurrection story
Dedicated to
Joseph Lee Sr
Velton Brown Sr
Lorenzo Gunther Sr
Annie Bell Lee
Carmen Lee Brown Lee
4/9/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2o23 (c)
STILL A BROWNIE
I have always been, since childhood, a brownie
in a girl scout uniform, on my honor. With Kumbaya
and closing Taps, friendships with my sisterhood,
earning pins and badges with integrity. Instructed
by the handbook and stories of the worker brownies,
who toil by night and are never seen by day,
thus answers the why and when -
never let your left hand see your right hand sweat.
adult-size brownie —
don’t let them see what you do
goodness in each right
4/22/2018
But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know
what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret
Matthew 6:3-4a (NIV Version)
Two songs we would sing:
Kumbaya by Songwriters: John Phillips / Richard Weissman / Scott Mckenzie
Day Is Done (Taps) by: Horace Lorenzo Trim (according to Wikipedia)