Long Underscored Poems
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Mostly sunny today, hot
With a high of ninety two
Chance of precipitation later on
Possibility of severe weather in some places
Though the sun shone brightly and skies were blue
Scattered thunderstorms were expected too
An easterly wind gently blew
As nomadic clouds floated through
But later that day dark clouds loomed
A roar of thunder underscored the gloom
The sky lit up with lightening strikes
Water poured down like a broken dike
The howling wind sounded like a train
approaching, speeding towards our terrain
We could hear its destructive fury
Tornado touching down as for cover we scurried
Thunder pealed and skies were gray
Destruction struck that very day
A mighty wind fiercely blew
A deadly tornado had just roared through
contest name: weather forecast
contest by: Joy Wellington
For the love of her I’ll first ask Father God.
Oh! My soul rejoices
I am honored by her help
And ever thankful for her presence
Ahh, a sense of deep reverence
Ahh, a special person in my life
Ahh, seeking Father God’s guidance and wisdom
To a commitment honoring cherish life
My souls so rejoicing
Such a sense of honor underscored
She has a ever blessed honored impact on my life
I thank God for her
For the love of her, thank you God
Such soars my soul rejoice
High on eagle’s wings I fly
Embraced by my Father in the sky
I am honored by her help
A help mate she is
An ever present blessing, thankful present she is
7/22/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Pretty in Pink
Far more pretty than anything
i have ever seen before nor since
Read or wrote about or underscored
You are the flaming grass of winter
Blowing across my neighbors lane
That never feels the same
To either you nor i
When looking up at cloud formation
Wishing we we're dreaming
Of nothing and eveything forgotten
That brought us to this point
Because far to scared to face our future
We we're far more scared to confront our past
For fear of colliding on the marmalade sawdust underneath
the Circus Master's Organ
Scared to death of Mother scowling
And whether she would tell Dad
if in fact you had been good or bad
These are the bygone day's
Of a pretty young girl dressed in pink
Dreaming of a white wedding
I'm a divine catastrophe, an unplanned event moving
through time & space
A wormhole opened & I emerged from a one on one
cosmic interface
Space & time are as relative as any fact, but I know we
exist with all forevermore
I've come & gone at will under pain of death to live a
life of pain that's underscored
I perceive the world from a higher perspective so I'm
able to see & draw the lines
This overstanding is internal guidance within a broken
system that inner stands borrowed time
Rewind the lines to consume the words with a hungry heart
& listen with starving ears
I'll be judged by a constructive God but won't accept the
judgment from any of my peers
Be free of the fear of controlling chains that attach themselves
to mind & soul
You can't be bound if you know you're as free air & it's you
that's always in control
Yours truly an aging baby boomer
long haired pencil necked geek
trademark disheveled characteristics
whipsawed ever faster around sun.
He (best buddy and alter ego of mine)
snapped, popped, and crackled
firstly his crown out cervix
subsequently skinny arms and legs
(I'll spare ye the bloody graphics),
whence obstetrician able, eager, and
ready underscored with italics
to pronounce hosannas
regarding garden variety
generic wrinkled newborn
emerging out birth canal
asthma noggin heralded
scrawny newborn, now celebrating lxiii
plus deux orbits around nearest star,
which birth sported an ordinary
uneventful, nonetheless miraculous
biological secrete heave reproductive tricks
immediately screaming
without assistance courtesy
Gran Prix (now pronounced as pricks)
also envision Dolby surround sound
nsync with spastic kicks
'o mine straggly mostly
gangly lovely bones mox nix.
Within some nondescript building
named The Christ Hospital
location Mount Auburn
Cincinnati, Ohio
(the buckeye state)
record number C57587
gingerly handled courtesy
Doctor James Mackay McCord
(ushering none other than me
into the wide webbed world)
bestowed upon bosom of Harriet Harris,
thy young mother of prolonged labor
as his bony ass easily
slipped out uterine crypt,
whereby with Vernix
caseosa, the waxy or cheese
he appeared made rather dipped
in tallow, thence unexpectedly whipped
minuscule fist ready to bump.
an inner conflict dust brew
within this scribe, who offers ye to chew
(like sweet treats metaphorically) thee do
tee incumbent, when Doomsday clock
counts down minutes few
according Al Gore rhythm
unstoppably ticking,
when life gets turned to global goo
tenderized viz Doctor Zeus
if not Horton Hears Hoo
then most definitely The Lorax
(couching urgent morals underscored
by satellite photographs
showing melting icecaps or igloos,
which planetary sos, sans in extremis
requires joint effort of Gentile and Jew,
plus every other sectarian credo,
dogma, ethos...knew
clear family, and whatnot
to become linkedin with Linda Loo
yes, we moost not forget
Old McDonald with his moo
moo there bovine creatures
agedly hobbling along, or new
lee born, cuz juiced one day
per three hundred and sixty five
(six with leap year -
to appease ghost oh Rachel Carson
imagine dragons festooned leotard
with brand name Oroblu)
or poor ole Whinny The Pooh
eternally stuck in Rabbit's
hole sum Hutch as a queue
doth loosely form dreaming up and rue
mien hating solution
(burning the midnight oil) true
lee trying to remedy plight
of said bear character,
perhaps unstated message being woo
king in tandem solutions to resolve
wretched condition of world wide web
possible by bridging differences
between me and you, and you, and you...
In March 2001, Melania granted green card
asper elite EB-1 program
intended for renowned academic researchers,
multinational business executives
(linkedin with Uncle SAM)
or those in other fields, such as
Olympic athletes and Oscar-winning actors,
who demonstrated
“sustained national and international acclaim”
until...now, when (FAKE trophy wife)...
besieged with WHAM!
The Don whips to defense of
(legal residency status),
sans his third wife
imbroglio finds the president flat footed
regarding spouses' granted citizenry permission rife,
where details concerning former
in vogue Slovak model now cushy life
challenging her right to live in The United States,
the most Democratic nation
plus concomitant abrogation
afforded robber Baroness admission
dispensing hot button issue of CHAIN MIGRATION,
where sentiment underscored verbatim
"Some people come in,
and they bring their whole family with them,
who can be truly evil. NOT ACCEPTABLE!”
The above on record as authentic Trumpian tweet,
hence quoted with poetic license,
a prime example how two
(or more faced) president didst react to un seat
fairness, which November twitter
allowing parents with bearhug he did greet
legal residency of her parents,
Viktor and Amalija Knavs, as Elite
who received figurative green light
despite riding piggyback
Nsync with military beat
ting back pesky atop flimsy green card,
the freedom appetite got whet
scrutiny, and now a ironic Gordian Knot set
tilled and solved making mincemeat to pet
files, particularly equality
for those skeined alive in the DACA net
ready to boot innocent offspring
of supposed illegal aliens on the next departing jet!
"Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces" John Ruskin, 1853
It was just another memory
the aftermath of time and life in brevity,
recovered in the dreams of night
slipping on the imagery of true delights
where two lives lay quietly subdued
holding tight to leftover pieces of me and you.
Some of those memories liveon in bliss
easily tucked away in destiny's first kiss
held fast like a first unexpected experience shared
was it a hit or miss when we paired?
Now, as time has marked our years
who was the first to cry love's tears?
That first encounter was just my arrogance and pride
in retrospect I see, how well I lied
I said I didn't like you and you were just being kind
but your touch clouded my soul and mind,
those little occurrences that too easily slipped
reasured all was well lived as my wings were being clipped.
Pressed in the photo album, notes and pictures underscored
the pictures faded and blurry but still endures
with rose petals brittle, dried and brown
apologies of when I so often played the clown
kept safe and secure, each memories are retained,
only now, can I measure, everything we've gained.
The cards that said I love you
the notes that we'd get through,
a lock from our child's hair
the first report card with an A
petals from her wedding day,
a dried tear from when she went away.
These are the memories that together we recall
when you and I had given it our all
the joy, the laughter, the sadness and the tears
scattered melodies of our rhythms seered
in life experiences no longer here,
sleep restfully, every dream can still be near.
Angrily, rain enfolds the insular rise of lawn undulating.
Anglers dream, envious fishermen, inside looking out urging
apostles, who elope within imaginary onslaughts, hooked unburdening's.
Aloft, thunder encounters lightening's insistent taunt, oracles fearsome uttering's.
And still, each fisherman's innermost summoning orchestrates this untoward
atmospheric downfall, each drop induced, prayerful, outpouring is underscored.
Admittedly many envious housebound inmates seek oceans, lakes, unexplored
although, the earthly torrent interferes pitiless, onerous, rainfall unleashed.
Absent the energizing rays introduced by ordinary sun, undone
are these enigmatic men in rooms, oar less, ship-less, landlubbers unconsoled.
Another day encases them indoors mooning over fish uncontrolled.
A trophy earned, stuffed, indisputably shows offerings untold.
Ah, fishtails energetically rise incensed by objections never unabridged
absent their earnest wives, imagination rolls on winds un-curtailed.
The Alleys of Virtual Municipalities
By David J Walker
I love walking
the rutted roads
Running in
hidden groves
Through
the residential jungles
the rambling
backyard boulevards
dividing the
single file plies of
dirt and gravel
A straight line between
Picket fenced fortresses of
Flimsy privacy providing
Trash truck Sunday drivers with a
A No man’s land-bound with trees &
Treasures found by
dumpster divers
I love listening
To the feral catcalls
in the last stand of
wildland
Overruled by skulks of city foxes
I love trekking
The pioneered turnpikes
On fast mountain bikes
Riding & reading between
the telephone lines
mapped by
XYZ Municipalities and
The vague virtual realities of
An alley’s informalities
I love the
Tell all tall tales
Of what fails to be
Needed anymore
Underscored by
Overflowing dumpsters