Long Molder Poems
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January 26 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Exodus 26-28
Key Verse– Exodus 26:1 Moreover thou shalt make the tabernacle with ten curtains of fine twined linen, and blue, and purple, and scarlet: with cherubims of cunning work shalt thou make them.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY TABERNACLE MAKER
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your righteous measurement
Thank You for beautifying the curtain of my commitment
Beyond the tent of my accomplishment
By Your graciousness for my eternal achievement's fulfillment.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your set order
Thank You for building up my spiritual border
Beyond the sockets of my vision as human beholder
By Your help, rearing me up along Your fashioning molder.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your perfect workmanship
Thank You for blessing my sincere followership
Beyond the testimony of earnest worship
By Your pillars of truth upon Your leadership.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your reviving altar
Thank You for burning the pride of my heart at war
Beyond the ashes of my hypocrisy for worldly star
By Your lamp of holiness, drawing me to You when I’m far.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your ministering office
Thank You for binding the garments of my consecrated service
Beyond the lines of my devoted diligence as a novice
By Your compassion, bracing me upon Your standard edifice.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your tender mercy
Thank You for bestowing to me Your clemency
Beyond the chains of my confession and repentance-fervency
By Your forgiveness You grant with love’s persistency.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your secured enclosure
Thank You for breaking the rings of my worthless treasure
Beyond the vanity of my carnal leisure
By Your sanctification, cleansing me from iniquities’ pressure.
January 26, 2023
There she is, rainbow hued, hazy viewed clues.
The whistle chimed waves clear her unspoken throat.
Pardon Lady's wispy tension, a molder of falling sand.
A maker of details form the reality of dreamlife.
It is not man-made, it's spirit.
From one withheld, on a roof full of heating.
It's the heart vision, it's her only heart vision,
The only seer of the whole.
The sea dragon's bucket of snails
make it through the tunnel portal,
and we all gather through.
There Lady then goes,
off to the Wizard's shell. He's cloaked in
red and white, the colors of woman and man.
They're both pleading, seething,
kneeling beside the shelled faces.
Sparks, that near cover her wreathed, flowered, dress of sea flowers.
As iridescent pyramid easter eggs rain down.
Armored in bright lace, the rhythms of twirls and braids shall
claim pertinence to the deep blue whale's song, the whale clothed
in water, salt, and Lady's most hidden dreams.
A Wizard Whale's Lady, protected with beauty.
Zero point with no ego, no confession to claim.
The breathed memory between her salty fingers
lights a candle to rebirth her soul.
Hello my little fellow,
long lost pearly weeping willow,
I've come to find my ocean.
My voice adorned with sight.
I flew to and from her, a maker of undone.
She was veiled in white memory,
a blanket of weight brushed off her.
A flaming moment floating in her watery hoping heart.
Sunk under sun drenched waters,
gazed shackles flew away.
Exceeding through three door frames,
not separate from the grey portrait of a sculpture.
Tightly knit and finely tuned,
with heavy chisels of confirmation.
I will spit if I have to, and then I will cry after.
For I will only listen to my bloody heart.
The emotions are blatant, the tuned in
question that purge's forth,
is more meaningful with an identity gone.
But we are never lost,
we are dreaming in the ocean's Wingdom,
the Angel's castle cloud held tight.
Love,
Alyssa Couture
into the world comes a brand new life &
regardless of whatever consequences brought it
the little one now breathes this air
the little one now feels the chill
the little one absorbs every stimulant
every single iota of experience
pours into the eyes
sucked in by the little ears
all in the attempt to understand
all in the attempt to survive this place
outside the womb.
the parent
the prime caretaker
the one seen by society to be the best of all
worlds
the one who has stood between the child &
the concrete below
the one who initially says that they will love &
care for this new being,
this is the person from whom all the bricks are
brought.
for the wall begins to be built when the molder begins to
carve this little one into what they could never be---
when the molder begins to draw perfect little parameters round
the body of the little one---
when the molder begins to abuse with doctrines
when the molder begins to instill upon the little one
a worldview that is known only to the molder &
the wall begins to be built.
the molder takes the child to its gatherings
mingling, showing off the little one,
talking of what the little one might be like when they are
older,
how the little one might very well
follow in the footsteps of the molder.
and with each brick of certainty
with each brick of dogma & willingness to submit to the world around
them
the wall towers above the height of the still staggering little one
who, while still trying to attain the art of walking, eating &
cleaning up after itelf,
now has been closed off to the rest of the world
before it even had a chance.
A POET LAST WISH
Thou my day spent like,
The sun in sky.
Shined like a diamond in
The diaper,
My life thought pored out rays,
A solider thought about going
And not coming.
A king that has not been crowned
Ah! Ah!! Ah!!! It is only when
Its down you remember the sun.
I the creator of images from thought
The creator of symbolism from mind
The molder of life’s by my writing
The molder of conscience by images
If I could write my own part,
I will not be gotten
If I could see the days to come
I will be remember now, but late gotten
Tell my children, children, children, am a poet.
The hero that was note given
Part poet
I have not fought any war but
Human conscience
Now my heart heavy after
Death I am a hero
REASONS OF WRITING
It is written after reading biography of so many poets that it is only after dead that they are remember. So am saying that I should be remember when am alive or tell my children. It is the wish of a very body to know the extend in which he/she has contributed to life. It is also the wish of poet to be remember when they are still alive. Dedicated to all poets. Place of writing
Igonigoni in Abi Cross River State Nigeria.
MESSAGE
1. One importance is not always acknowledge until they are gone, A poet wants it to be turn aside to be acknowledge when still alive.
2. That they should be remember now and tell his children, children, children that he is a hero but he has not fought any war but conscience.
For Timothy Lee
Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
Let me nestle close upon your shoulder.
Being next to you is my perfect place.
Sweetness, as our fingers now interlace
I feel your kisses grow fiercely bolder.
Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
My Valentine, my eyes touch your sweet face.
I submit my heart to you as holder.
Being next to you is my perfect place.
Your true love is mine by Heaven’s good grace.
Our gold love glows more as we grow older.
Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
You are my every day, my secure base,
And I, your soft committed beholder.
Being next to you is my perfect place.
Valentine, I cherish our loving pace.
~ My heart is your clay and you, its molder.
~ Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
~ Being next to you is my perfect place.
FATHER CREATOR OF ALL AND MANKIND
Beautiful, Father
Heavenly, Father
All faith in Him, All faith in Him
All faith is His
And His way is the way, today
Predominance
Ahh!!!! Oh! Holy presents
Giving divine
Creator of all and mankind
Your blessed assurance
Yet gives me courage
Wonderful, master Savoir Jesus Lord God
I want to be your............Father
Beautiful, Father
Heavenly, Father
All faith in Him, All faith in Him
All faith is His
And His way is the way, today
Predominance
Ahh!!!! Oh! Holy presents
Giving divine
Creator of all and mankind
Your blessed assurance
Yet gives me courage
Wonderful, master Savoir Jesus Lord God
I want to be your............Father
Beautiful Father, Heavenly Father, Father creator of all and mankind
Molder and shaper, creator of all man
Beautiful Father, Heavenly Father, Father creator of all and mankind
Beautiful Father, Heavenly Father, Father creator of all and mankind
5/14/13
written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2013, 2018©
from anthology “ AMBASSADORS WORSHIP CENTER “
#cherryblossoms
no more cherry blooms
but now hens and chicks tell me
time never slows down
#lotus #tanka
from mud the lotus
rises to meet air and sun
its blossom follows
the path the lotus has honed
in wisdom showing the way
#ginseng
another year older
memories molder~
buying ginseng tea
#pagoda #cinquain
ancient
the pagoda
keeps its place within time
and cherry blossoms unchanging
it sits
#bonsai
how many generations
have cared for you
now shall I
#geisha
moon light shadows
and the rustle of silk
geisha
# samurai
daughter of the samurai*
your story still carries to us
in the song of the wind
*The daughter of the samurai Jo no Sukemori, Hangaku Gozen raised an army in 1201 to help overthrow the Kamakura Shogunate, but was defeated and sent to Kamakura for execution. The Minamoto warrior Asari Yoo saved her life and married her.
Let green not your wonder red,
Less your square, that I blue.
Though I now orange fifty hexagons,
I have grey, and have, rhombus.
Shapes, though divine, colored things;
Some have brown as old again.
And it turquoise not always scarlet,
Pastels, or fortune maroon the grace,
Or the rectilinear, or the line dot;
But order and the truth,
With the polygonal passion,
Gives the molder weight and fashion.
If hue then tint hear the story,
First, paint you to be tan
That you never blonde till now
Either whom to shape or how;
But be yellow as soon with purple
When pink hear that this is she
Of whose hue it was sung,
She shall color the old wall young,
Build the dog-nose wet age at brown dawn,
And let olive green hide decay,
Till she be the heavens gate why
All the sphere for prism may lie.
Can art exist without sentiment?
Can it debut without a concept behind it?
Can it breathe into a soul without it?
Can it truly be art when its meaning is not or shrouded?
First things first – what is art?
It’s experience and skill is its counterpart
Yet more simply, it’s something thought as beautiful
But beauty of itself is merely dull
Something dull, needless to mention, is devoid of a soul
Therefore we must consider the writer and the written as a whole
The artist and the art, the molder, and the clay falling apart
The potter and his soul that led him to buy the material from the mart
So the creator has a soul that exercises will
Otherwise nothing would be created – all would remain still
Only those with souls create things that thrill
The eyes of spectators, even though art has no soul but is real
There was an ugly duckling,
Isolated herself in a stream,
Unable to show to the world,
As hidden as a treasure in the wood.
Everybody laughed at her,
Pitied, Insulted, and judged,
All she had to do was cried,
But forgave them, she really tried.
That time she made a dream,
“Someday, I will be like a queen,
To be known and be respected,
To be treated fairly and to be accepted.
Many years had passed,
That once a shy ugly duckling,
Spread her pretty wings,
Become a proud swan celebrating.
Transformed to be what she wished for,
Praised and considered youth’s molder,
A professional and a dedicated teacher,
Nothing is impossible, believe in God and say a prayer
May 2, 2023
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