Long Other than Poems
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PLACED 3RD : Standard Contest
[Poet’s Note : This is a Signature Poem on this Inventory. I loved the song, melody and lyrics, which inspired poem, since I first heard it as a young child. The single was a gift from my Dad, who was a boatswain-rigger, bought at a London flea market. He brought gifts home from different ports, after each sea trip.
I once used the song to design & create a wedding gown, despite its melancholy tone. The creation received rave reviews from a Regional Fashion Show for which it was designed.
The song itself has layers of meaning & different interpretations, which makes it a powerful source of inspiration. I trust this poem reflects that, with its highlight that species other than humanoid (aka merpeople) do exist, with consciousness.]
Shadows mingled with the Light
becoming a ghostly frightening sight
as pictures fell from cabin walls
every ship occupant wanted to ball
Storm clouds becoming whiter than pale
miller said it was winter becoming spring
eyes of sixteen sanguine vestal virgins
ignited Chief Mates’ fires to oceanic sing
Swimming by rocks jutting from the sea
flakes of her pale complexion floating free
with winter waters waltzing whales mingle
I became kind of sea sick drinking beer single
Emerging from frothy wave onto ship dripping
mermaid tail flipping with long locks slipping
they scorned her, warned her, tossing sardines
her wish but to sing along, siren from the sea
Hearts and stomachs expanded with violins
coffee hot in mugs with deckhands wanting
fandango, passengers asked for Sebast. Bach
Captain ordered more kipper, cocoa with brandy
Her eyes blacker than coal, whole was her whiter
shade than pale as Captain drank her sea ale regaling, drank of her ale sailing, drank of her ale, paling, a Whiter Shade of Pale, spawning
[Inspired by Song : Whiter Shade of Pale /
Hagar Schon Aaronson Shrieve (Procol Harum),1967
I am told Hamlet's problem was his hesitation.
But was it really?
Perhaps he wasn't hesitating — perhaps he simply could not bring himself to avenge his father.
Not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t.
Not because he was a coward,
But because he didn’t know how to be anything other than a self-saboteur.
Even when he knew what to do, his self-doubt would win.
Even when Claudius' face confessed his sins during the play,
He was still overpowered by his fear of uncertainty.
Or maybe... maybe he really was a coward.
A coward who sabotaged himself in every way possible.
And yet, I still defend him.
I defend him because I see myself in him.
I am no royal, nor have I endured what he did.
But I am a coward — a coward who sabotages herself, every single step of the way.
Even when things are simple, I complicate them.
But when they’re complicated, I want them to be simple.
Because that is who I am.
I am paradoxically inclined.
I am healing from my pain,
But in the process of "healing," I hurt myself even further.
I yearn for peace of mind,
But I keep inserting myself into chaos.
I crave love,
But I reject it without a second thought.
I long to be held,
But I hate being touched.
I fancy to see a smile in the mirror,
But all I find is a downward expression.
I wish to be heard,
But I never speak up.
I ache for understanding,
But never express myself.
I desire a sense of security,
But give in to every reckless impulse.
I stress about the future,
But do nothing to change it.
I need to breathe,
But the air always gets caught in my chest.
I long to be happy,
But all I can think about are sad thoughts.
I want to live,
But all I ever think about is dying.
I am as contradictory as the moon and the sun—
Torn between light and shadow,
Yet both define who I am.
South Africa
The rainbow paled in South Africa
the end of apartheid has ended, freedom for all.
Not quite, the poor in Soweto are getting poorer.
The difference it now consists of white poor as well.
The new leadership behave like the old one corruption
and shade dealings.
South Africa is practically a democratic one-party state.
Or was democracy and equality brought on too early?
It takes time.
What is there to say when people riot and burn down
the places where they buy their daily bread and have to walk for miles
to buy milk for their children, other than an act of despair.
Big business is doing well, thank you.
But nothing has been done to alleviate the suffering of the poor.
The rainbow state has lost its lustre.
If you wonder why the poor ran amok was the jailing of Jacob Zuma
Despite his failings, he has an African heart, which the new elite, dipped in white culture,
failed to see.
He is the chieftain dethroned and Africa bleeds.
Captive burdens
Of dismay
Problem solve all away
Corrugated spills actions happening
Distorted views memories misshapen
Quantico rehabilitative fathoms
Sway
Complicated positions do not keep me at bay
You get my drift
Stuck in a horizontal position
Cradling the bed
Somber silence immovable body Solace
Asleep Not Dead
Sway
Call kaydence spills actions fashion
Peace talks fail time for military action
Complicated positions do not keep them at-bay
Asleep Not Dead nothing is left other than to pray
2/18/20
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Civilian casualty
All wars are bad, but wars can be stopped
if there is will seek peace, which there is not
the civilians in Ukraine must suffer more.
How many non-combatants are killed in this
Russian versus NATO and the USA we don’t know
but the number of dead seems relatively small
when so much has been bombed to destruction.
It appears to me that weekly, more
Palestinians are killed by the so-called IDF than
Ukrainian civilians.
But this toll is met with silence since Israel has
been sanctified by Brussels by no other than
Ursula von der Leyen in her horrible speech
absolving Israel of any guilt.
But what else are they expect from this corporate
Fascism the EU has become.
My day began with mommy
making beef patties all morning
I helped cutting the veggies for
the curry soup while sipping ginger
beer I remembered the curry for her
special curry goat we were preparing
for her sisters to visit from Trench town
my head spending day dreaming about it
anything other than our family tradition
the Caribbean bakery we were the
descendant no if ands or buts about
granddad made home made gingerbread
cookies while uncles peeled sugarcane
the elders brought raw cocoa from the
Mahogany trees coconut husks hung
sparingly as we drank coconut milk
while the storms brewed over the
shanty town of Kingston the cock
crowed throughout trench town as my
cousins played keyboards and guitars in the
street to the the sweetest sultutry sound of
St Elizabeth infamous Caribbean beat
In loving memory of Dad
Caribbean Bakery 1539 Howard street
Chicago Illinois..
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
My lateness once more has caused me immediate damnation,
and my unstable state, a product of my lost attention.
Overcoming the limitation by doing three person's work at once
resulted to a failed manipulation
of compressing minutes' activities into seconds
just to beat time and achieve punctuality.
Reaching for the door with already aggravated emotions.
In self caution, I knew something was still missing
then I realized it's a stuff I cannot go without.
Oh My God! This means, beginning all over again.
A complication I most feared in a situation like this.
My dwelling place now seem a mansion
as even my bedroom has undergone exaggeration
which at this moment isn't as accommodating
as the habitation I once knew.
Starring at the plain surface of the mirror Table gave no answers
and already praying for the fruitful termination of this trying time,
as I searched among the cosmetic items it harbours.
My next location is obviously the wardrobe
and even with the intense frustration
I was still calm enough to suppress the friction with myself
as I searched each and every pocket of my clothing
which are all hanging in straight vertical position.
And yet, my state gradually reaching exacerbation,
cos' there is no answer.
In milliseconds, my Pillows are in two corners of the room
I prayed for any sort of temptation but not this
as the bed calmly accepts my aggressive search
of my item which suffers an ungodly abduction.
The Investigation continues with a quick scan through my shoes,
and finally leaving the room with no appreciation
which now looks like a ghetto market of a third world country,
a demotion I usually never allow, not until now.
The larger sitting room just increased my retardation
having hope of finding my "Precious" would be mere hallucination
so therefore, I barely did much other than a mere Inspection.
Yet, cannot find its location,
which simply increased the heap of burning coal on my head.
Already tired of exclaiming several holy Indignation
careful flash back and calculations of my previous movements
yielded no results.
"check the Double Seater" was my last thought.
And as I acted in submission to that command,
the invaluable material surprisingly fell off my shirt
My Car Keys!
one drowsy day’s afternoon
by a pond where green leafy reeds swaying in a breeze
the sun enjoys a nap enveloped in a halo, the own glory
on the gentle weaves
a water strider gliding on the water with his long legs;
on a reed leaf a dragonfly sat atop of it and puts the pieces of broken sky
into his eyes larger than the sky to draw a picture of complete sky
the shirr chirrup of a cicada carried by the wind comes by the pond
searching a shade of a tree, but when he couldn’t find a one other than
the slender reeds stand by the everything-standstill pond, flies away grumbling
“no matter how desperate i am, i cannot sing a song hanging on a petty reed!
it’s an insult, it’s a disgrace to my reputation”
then the time, i wonder what’s made him so happy,
attired with all colorful patches of silk pieces garment
comes whistling and wanders in the fields and mountains
that is covered only a color of deep green; and dyes it with
spray of all imaginable colors you can think of:
before being sprayed colors were dry
a hotheaded wind makes an abrupt appearance,
letting colorful leaves ahead of him to raise a fuss
once again in the woods calm and peaceful
surprised by the commotion the birds fly away,
the crickets fill up a vacancy and collect leaves named decay
in the wood; tossing ashes after burning them in the lowly hanging
evening glow and long night’s chilling air
and as chilling air becomes dew the crickets wail forth dirges
followed by the lonely reeds cry, then the season stained with
so many mixed emotions drift away with the cloud;
and as the night deepens the stars fall,
the moonlight reflecting on the water glimmers,
a piece of wind torn by the wind behind goes
stepping on the mountainside path lifting a fluttering funeral streamer
A small bank
When I visit my bank, which is a small rural one
the bank lady who warns me not to overspend
and my wife meets I go for a coffee across
the road, they are both from Congo and have
a lot to talk about
The business in the bank is done, forenoon
the prize of pig feed and grain harvest, and so on
When I am alone, I like to come early
and enjoy the concerned people with no dramatic political
meaning other than survival
the real people's experience that contextualized
not democratic that those who invest in
the future, should it arrive, be the beneficiary
that income should be distributed according to
input, it is not about equity
At the same time, my fellow investors do send
money to help Gaza because they read
the local newspaper that is biased toward Israel
My mother thought a Jew was someone in a fur hat
selling stuff from his cart.
i listen to the whisper of the wind
i try to spot that slight hesitation
the crunch of the snow so soft in its determination....it could only be you
i listen to the whisper of the wind
i attempt to notice that slight spark on the central accent
the slight tap on each stair step so thorough in its eagerness....it could only be you
i listen to the whisper of the wind
i keenly focus on the brief exclamation right at the front door
the barely audible knock on the door so anxious in its anticipation....it is no other than you
the wind subsides and we become the merged gentle breeze
we hold each other in the type of silence that smiles while breathing freely and happily
the quiet endearment of our kisses color our vibe content and serene
two heartbeats are the flowing waters of truth....and there is not a thing either one of us wants to change.....