Long Noting Poems
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After a wedding reception spent dancing…
hours my rhythm spent pursuing
I decided to look up the definition of dancing…
to see if that’s what I was doing.
The first definition is to move rhythmically to music…
but if you saw the the dance I was attacking…
you’d say how much you loved the music…
but my rhythm was sorely lacking.
The next definition is to move up and down lightly and quickly
but I’ll have you know…at 70 years old I only have two moves
one is heavy and the other is slow.
It seems according to the dictionary I wasn’t dancing
and at first I was appalled…
until I found the word arhythmic…
someone who can’t keep a beat and has no rhythm at all.
Arhythmic…there is was in black and white…I had finally found my answer….
There’s a good chance, the definition continued, someone who’s arrhythmic…will be a horrible dancer.
Ever since I was a child…to be a dancer I would yearn…
but all I ever do is step from side to side…sway a little
and occasionally jump and turn.
People were doing the Cupid Shuffle, the Electric slide, the wobble, the tush push, and footloose (dances with specific moves and names)
but no matter what the dance was called…
I danced them all the same.
It’s because I have no rhythm…at least that’s what the dictionaries say…
In truth there’s noting wrong with how I dance…I was born to dance this way.
It seems it is my destiny once I hit the dance floor…to bewilder, confuse and stun
born never to have my feet and hands move together as one…
The way I dance can best be described as a pink flamingo prancing…
So you best close your eyes…because I won’t let my arrhythmic style…
ever keep me from dancing.
Nobody has a common name; we are named Apple and Broom.
Because movie stars did it, and they are glamorous and rich.
Apple is okay with it, Broom is dour though, full of gloom.
Why not Curtain or Couch? He often wonders or Matt or Mitch.
You think you have a problem? That is noting Waylin Eatstockings said.
He could not change his last name, and horrible teasing made his face red.
What about me? Asked a girl named Panty Waist McNeal.
Your name is a Godsend, a blessing, truly no real big deal.
Broom met Mop, who concurred with what the others expressed.
I am resigned to my fate, she said. I guess it’s time I confessed.
My sister is Sparkle, and my Brother is Puppy Dog Glows.
So Mop is not that bad in my family. My brother is Big Sugar Toes.
What ever happened to Dick and Jane? The old schoolers asked.
They looked through the phone book, deciding it was a big task.
There were Bed Pans and Axe Handles, and other weird crazy names.
I guess the times are wild now, whereas we grew up in mild Thames.
I jot down this simple thought this is what it is I should. . .
PRAY
On a shopping list I part taken of
Of this I insist that I be loved
I jot down this simple wish I think that we should just...
PRAY
NOTING THAT SUBSTANCES
I NEED TO SURVIVE THIS DAY
PRAY
But my spirit needs acknowledgements
and my spirit needs much encouragement
Prayer
Prayer
Prayer
I must talk with you today (Lord)
Prayer
Prayer
Prayer, Pray
I need your thoughts on this matter Lord
God I need to pray
I jot down this simple wish I think that we should just...
PRAY
NOTING THAT SUBSTANCES
I NEED TO SURVIVE THIS DAY (all I need do is just)
PRAY
But my spirit needs acknowledgements
And my spirit needs much encouragement
Needed your advice
Oh, God I don't understand the things of this land or even man
Why? mankind got me yearning for a new beginning and why
I need to survive why my body yearns for nourishment
But my spirit needs acknowledgement
Lord, can I, will you just talk to me,
Can I talk to you
I jot down this simple thought that I should pray
Prayer
Written words by Carmen L. Brown Lee & James Edward Lee Sr.
Arranged music by James Edward Lee Sr. & The Corinthian TM
August 24 2016
In anthology "Purpose" 2016, 2017
Marvel's Fantastic Four: Mr. Fantastic, The Invisible Woman,
The Human Torch and The Thing.
The best memory of the Fantastic Four cartoon characters
that can be best realized, of good measure, was their
live production. Unfortunately, not one episode
is resurrection-able of their cartoon version.
However, that filmed production wherein human characters
portrayed their cartoon counterparts as singularly
different. Granted that there'd be others that
were produced on the silver screen
whereto calls into question
my 'good measure'
ergo, google
ID it to be
a 2005
film.
First off, ...
The Invisible Woman was visibly
fetching and was indebted to
Mr. Fantastic's character,
yet not by definition.
The Thing's character was quick to temper
and getting stoned whenever ...
The Human Torch,
combust.
Albeit, Mr. Fantastic's human counterpart was
misleading as his appearance rendered him
to be fantastic-ally half his portrayed age
and that protege veneer was studious.
The contrast between Mr. Fantastic's cartoon character,
stems from Dr. Ben of The Jonny Quest Adventures
who shares that '60s science-like qualities
whereto Mr. Fantastic bears a streak
of gray hair--defining age factor.
Furthermore, the content of that movie is fleeting other than
the fact that The Human Torch is excessively
--cold.
Sadly, the complete genre of cartoon episodes no longer
occupies my memory banks--blank. Whether they'd
be televised or store-shelved, it'll also include my
children's. Most characters are more noticed
than the show/comic/toy they delivered.
Noting their identifiable names, Popeye versus the
boys' Pac-Man and the girls' Barbie, and beyond
that ... nothing,
"C'est la vie, mon ami/amie."
"That's life, my friend."--> Masculine/Feminine: French translated
As part of our Christmas decorations in the bookstore…high upon a shelf
tucked into a corner…we have placed our Christmas elf.
And high above the books themselves…it is also worth noting
are some Harry Potter candles…that look as if they’re floating.
We have a sign up front to help the children understand
If they find our elf on the shelf…we’ll put a magic wand in their hand.
We show them how it works then say, “The rest is up to you….
can you turn those candles on…with a magic word or two?”
And without much prompting…into action the children spring…
as their parents and I smile, sit back…and watch the magic do its thing.
It’s amazing how wonderful it makes you feel…watching a child with a magic wand…
repeating magic words as they turn our candles on.
And listening to them say, when they return the wand to me….
“Mom, Dad…I turned the candles on…it was magic…did you see?”
And watching the parents faces lights up smiling and laughing…unabashed
as they watch their child enjoy the moment…when they see the magic flash.
One thing we didn’t expect…but something we quickly learned
is all the adults out there…who want to take a turn.
Who, literally, jump up and down at the chance to hold that magic wand…
to say the magic words and turn our Christmas candles on.
I love seeing the children in the store…
their arms raised as they wave the magic wand…
Saying Abracadabra, Lumos, even…To infinity and beyond…
And I love something I didn’t expect but is just as enjoyable to see…
how a magic wand can remind us all…of the child we used to be
As we approached the ice bergs our ship seemed tiny
they towered high above us as we crept into the bay
we could see the Eskimo's and their sleigh's waiting
now we would complete the next few legs with them
Our goal is to reach and set up camp at the North Pole
loading our supplies onto the sleigh's and getting on
soon we were speeding along, the ground very bumpy
clinging on, ducking branches as they whip back and forth
A wonder world of pristine white and hues of various blues
only broken up by the line of trees glinting brightly green
large ravines off to the side, one slip and you would be gone
to a cold icy grave buried forever in this lost icy world of snow
Onwards over the harsh landscape, we need to reach camp
before its dark, to unpack what's needed for overnight stay
light a campfire settle and feed the husky's waiting patiently
cook and eat our food as we share a few beers and some jokes
All too soon its dawn, temperature is -20% we have to break
things free from the ice, before we can eat and pack up
husky's are linked up and ready, what a din they are making
so excited to get going, this is now the final stage before the pole
We fly down barely noticeable trails that twist and wind slurry
left behind us, half a days travel left not too far to go now
some we leave the tree line behind, in front nothing but snow
ice bergs so big you could lose a couple of houses inside them
At last we see the buildings ahead and people pouring out
they will return to their own lands until it is time to relieve us
six months we will be here recording data about weather
and other things, watching polar bears and noting their habits
All this just for some insight and some data that will get buried
as for us well we have the open space, the freezing cold
each other to help past the long nights, day is only 6 hours
18 hours of dark, and fearsome storms that will be our lot
Cut off now until spring returns and the reindeer return
they have wintered far to the south now coming back
they will give birth here on the icy plains of endless snow
and we will return to so called civillization until next year
Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder Poetry Contest //Sponsored by: Crystol Woods
Contest Judged: 8/14/2025 5:19:00 AM
( 1st Place )
Written: August 07, 2025
They say stillness is absence, an empty space between worth noting,
but I have heard its melodies in the pre-dawn chapel where stillness reigned
and still the walls exhaled calm.
I have found stillness and not loneliness---
but in two hands clutching without speaking,
the heart knowing inside out
language would only raze.
Silence is like sunlight before it shines,
the tranquility after I sleep and
the reluctance before "I forgive you",
It grips what chaos cannot express--admiration, agony, dread.
Even when grieving and when at a loss for words,
calmness is at hand and says it all.
So let the world fill with echoes.
With clamor and vivid proclamations.
I will still turn up beauty.
In the lull between storms,
In the hush between instinct and doubt
In the sacred calmness, that hark,
Not to respond, but to understand.
Darkness of night smiles, not fully understanding scenario
However, noting that it is instrumental that she keeps things hidden.
Reflecting neon meterorite glows, outshining a moon who is edging away.
Stars are in hiding, not showing themselves at all on this ominous evening.
Pink neon sneaker lies on her side, covering up crime in gully.
Her crisp whiteness would be easily found if detectives knew where to look.
They would find the body attached to her, too.
The body that is no longer uneasy about her final resting place.
Copper cliff edged in neon pink understands that something vile has happened.
Unsure what exactly, but sends a neon pink ribbon of curiosity to take a peek.
They glow brightly, illuminating the spot, however, disappear by morning.
When the sun comes out, and rescuers begin looking in other places.
Natasha will be going to Rio, most definitely,
Without a doubt, she won 2 golds in Belgium,
At the 2011 European Championships well tall,
In the freestyle grade II event and individual;
Then she set a Paralympic record no question,
When she rode in the 2012’s on horse Cabral,
To score 76.857%, and after that very elegantly,
Took another gold in the freestyle with vocality.
She was born in Hammersmith, busy London,
But when she was aged fourteen months only,
Got transverse myelitis, an inflammation spinal.
Baker was appointed MBE in 2013 for her gaul,
In equestrianism and for noting GOSH hospital.
Strolling along a winding country lane the other day,
I came upon a desolate cemetery in abysmal disarray.
'Twas barely visible, hidden among overgrown weeds and brambles;
Untended over time, it had fallen into an appalling shambles.
I paused at the sagging, rusted gate to gaze upon the forlorn scene;
A trampled sign said it was established in eighteen-seventeen.
My curiosity was piqued about those who were within interred;
The stones were weathered with age, their etchings very blurred.
A misty rain started to fall as I began my pensive walk-about;
Adding to the dreary scene, a raven startled me with its raucous shout!
Did I detect the murmuring of phantoms gossiping about this intruder?
Or was it the sigh of wafting zyphers soughing 'mongst the cedar?
I meandered about the stones noting each epitaph and name.
Old soldiers lay in hallowed graves having won their nation's acclaim;
Pioneers who settled the land lay awaiting Gabriel's clarion call;
Graves of little children were scattered about, adding to the pall.
If it were in my power the mists of time to reverse,
'Twould be fascinating with these long-gone denizens to converse,
I suspect that among other things that they might say,
Is, 'Restore the beauty of this place where we sleep beneath the clay!'