Long Vestibule Poems
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The Joining was one of subdued elegance. Seileach insisted on the ceremony being held in the Keep. Jessica was beautiful, beyond beautiful, she was exquisite. Her long red hair infused with sky blue Blåveis and white bell shaped Liljekonvall mingling in a beautiful waterfall along the right side of her head. Rødsildre weaved through the intricate braids that Chroí sculpted through her tresses, the pinkish flowers softened against the brilliance of the natural highlights in her hair with a crown of fragrant red Vivendel circling the top of her head. When Joulupukki saw her slowly walking down the winding staircase in the vestibule, her long azureus gown flowing like a stream down the stone of each tread, he was struck dumb. As she passed from step to step, the living hand rail bloomed deep violaceous coveys of wisteria flowers, a gift from Seileach's Forest Elves working in coordination with the Garden Elf. The whole ceremony felt like a dream. He listened as her bare feet tapped gently against the stone of the foyer tiles and crunched as she moved into the sand path of the courtyard where she joined, arm in arm, with her father who guided her from sun to shade and without any reticence placed her hand in Joulupukki's and stepped away. They stood beneath the willow tree and pledged their love and loyalty to one another, and, at length, were greeted by the numerous elves that lined the path winding through the Keep from the vestibule to the courtyard and back into the Great Eating Hall, where a feast was laid out for all of the village elves to join in the festivities.
Many years peacefully passed as the Elfin Clans' Council refined their guidance of the elves of all six clans, each clan developing their own council that took deference to the lead of the Council of Six. On occasion Joulupukki was asked to offer his opinion and vote on a difficult issue on which the council was split. There were elves that were elected to the council who were hungry for power but none could muster the votes to gain control before their term came to an end. Eventually Seileach was relieved of his position as Elder Councilman and Ceridfen took over. Lumi, at the request of his friend Joulupukki became a member of the Village Council and eventually the Council of Six.
Barge Reef
Barge Reef lies isolated at worlds end by chance
Wedges of sharp rocks fill in what ocean can’t
Eighty foot waters roll at a distance out
Waves say hello on cresting white
Coral formed and bleached silent
Created from living life forms
On the wrong side of the island according to the charts
West of Barge is open seas
Liquid wonders that follow the world around
A tumbled dance
Storms pound constantly there creating havoc
Waves take naps much later beneath the deep
Descending back around
Rolling into a slumber as cool brushings over surface
Calm winds take a breath
Ships find their corner of the world in blue
Slip Into delinquency, there, slow to rise
Sun finds the horizon hot
Jellying through mist
Mystification sets in, as it morphs through morn
There, so easy to find a new day in abundance solar bound
Creaking ships never land but crash on Barge with jagged reefs
Sharp coral stand pure white on the vestibule of shards
Sojourning innocently forward
Ambling along with wood debris
To that end, begins in splinters sober float
And with it, seas fold over on the likes of Barge
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist
It was just so wet and cruel
But she could never forget the gist (wasssh)
O’ver lands and cradle lines
Valleys low at shore
That morning, Raine was shocked by the twist
She had to calm herself with a ridicule
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist (swisssh)
Later, Raine was spooked by the bliss
She tried to focus on a drool
But she could never forget the gist (wasssh)
thunder lightening
Rain pour down on me
Heated tried to distract her with a fist
Said it was time to start thinking about the pools
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist
Raine took action like a grist
The mist was like a toxic school
But she could never forget the gist
thunder lightening
Rain pour down on me
Raine nosedived like a white midst
Her mind turned into a vestibule
Raine couldn't stop thinking about the mist
But she could never forget the gist
12/22/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
A Villanelle verse
~
Dressed in almond taffeta,
a salted evening throw
With satin slipper grenadine,
where crystal glasses flow
I dreamt of Tawny Evermore,
her hair a fired flame
And songs now sung and played for her,
shall never be the same
Her cape of velvet after sheen,
upon a braided stair
Past portraits painted long ago,
by artists everywhere
Along a paisley corridor,
its walls adorned in gold
Another haven brings its scene,
as moments do unfold
Upon the sill, a vase it sits,
chrysanthemums in bloom
Their fragrance sends a subtle hint,
about the waiting room
When there within the vestibule,
his hair a darkened weave
With pearly whites so blinding that,
the night could never leave
His name Lord Count de Bullvereen,
the second in a line
So called to pass up brandy for
a large carafe of wine
Reflections of a shining soul
alone for one to choose
Unlike the mirror image found
the polish of his shoes
When down the stair, she did ascend,
perfection in her grace
Such beauty, he had never seen,
euphoric was her face
He took her hand, and with a bow
so gently left a kiss
Upon his own left pinkie for,
on hers he came to miss
She chuckled quite a quiet laugh,
though everyone could hear
As well, the footman with a smile
now standing very near
The count, he turned a shade of red,
as anger soon was spawn
Then grabbed his hat and walking stick,
abruptly he was gone
The footman and Miss Evermore
then grinned and with a shrug
Snuck off into another room
where they then shared a hug
It seems these two were something real,
though silent due to class
But that's okay, their fun was had,
each day that came to pass
He told her this, between a kiss
that her, he did adore
And like her name, Miss Tawny, he
would love her "Evermore"
And one more thing, before I go
that maybe you can't see
The footman, quite the handsome bloke,
the truth is, he is me
~
In the digital kitchen where metaphors boil,
I cast my rhymes into the simmering soup,
Hoping for gold in the luminous toil,
Watching the cursor in a silvery loop.
A notification blooms—a digital flower—
First place! The screen turns into a glowing violet,
I am a giant for one shining hour,
Wearing a crown made of a pristine sonnet.
The poets applaud with binary applause,
My words are like pearls in a silken sack,
Suspended high above the gravity laws,
Without any intention of looking back.
Then comes the speechlessness—a vast, white void,
Another contest, another empty plate,
My rhyme is shattered, a paper humanoid,
Left in the digital vestibule of fate.
The soup is bitter, the pixels turn to grey,
I drown in the stanzas that nobody reads,
Watching my reputation drift away,
Among the respectable mentioned weeds.
I am climbing a ladder made of commas,
Falling into a valley of exclamation points,
Winning and losing, the constant dramas,
Where the screen aches in its digital joints.
The winner is a ghost in a tuxedo,
The loser is a shadow on the wall,
Yet both are feeding the same hungry ego,
In the soup that tastes like nothing at all.
They flocked to church and sang the Christmas carols.
Loudly and proudly, flaunting their Jesus pins, and their pretty children.
Many were annoyed with the shabbily dressed beggar who asked for spare change
As they walked up the hill to their star white church.
Some spoke of him in whispers and laughed in the vestibule.
No one invited him to join them. He was not familiar to them.
The new Samaritan gave him ten dollars for a cup of coffee and a hot meal.
Gladys Know-Everything saw this and reported it to her women. They cackled about it.
Samaritans must be naïve.
Too bad, they thought, thinking this weird man had been taken advantage of.
Jesus saw all of this and more.
He shook his head sadly.
Dropped the ten spot into the hands of a child
Who was walking up with her mother.
She squeezed his hand and smiled,
knowing Him instantly.
YOU ARE MY STYLUS
MY BLUEPRINT EMBEDDED
WRITTEN IN THE SMALLEST PARTS OF ME
YOU DREW ME FORTH
AND MY DESIGN
WAS TO CARRY OUT YOUR INSTRUCTIONS
YOU TRACED OUT MY FRAMEWORK
FILLED IN MY OUTLINE
YOU DIVIDED MY FORM
CONSTRUCTED MY MOLECULES
AND EVERY CELL WITHIN THEM
INLAID WITH THE VAST ARRAY OF POSSIBILITIES
YOUR GLORY THEREIN IS DECLARED
THE VESTIBULE OF MY FABRICATION
MY SHAPING AND TRANSLATION
THE PERFORMANCE OF YOUR OWN
DIRECTION
THE AUTHOR OF MY ORIGINS
YOUR MEDIUM NURTURED ME
IN THE WOMB OF LIFE
BROUGHT FORTH MY BEING
AND CLOTHED ME
MASTERFULLY
WITH EVERY DESIRABLE ELEMENT
YOU COULD GIVE
YOUR HANDIWORK AMONGST
ALL THAT YOU HAVE CRAFTED
YOU HAVE WRAPPED ME
WITH YOUR OWN ELOQUENCE
DRESSED ME WITH THE FABRIC
OF YOUR OWN MAKING
THE SETTING OF YOUR OWN TREASURIES
HAVE BECOME MY GEMS
THEY ARE A PRAISE THAT EXALTS
THE WORKS OF YOUR OWN HANDS
YOUR BLESSINGS ARE WITHOUT NUMBER
AND YOUR RICHES ARE TO VAST TO COUNT
FOR MY DESIRE IS SUBJECT
TO ALL THAT YOU HAVE LAID
BEFORE ME
YOUR OWN WORKMANSHIP HAS
ADORNED
ALL THAT IS TO BE TREASURED
YOUR OWN PENCIL HAS LEAD ME
TO THE DRAWING OF LIFE
THE PATTERN LAID OUT BY YOUR
ONLY BEGOTTEN SON
AND WE ARE THE WORK OF HIS HANDS
Poetry of Providence
All rights reserved 2015
Ps 119:73 Ecc 11:5 Is 29:16 43.:1 44:24 Jer 1:5
to be curried away in green cardamom dreams
is to float in the zest of orange spicy creams.
to fight against urges of curcuma yellow lust,
is to steady the ship and do what we must.
to bathe in the warmth of ginger drop puddles
is to swim for your life in in savory cuddles.
to blend myth in the caves of surprise
is to gather the taste that thrives in your eyes.
to climb into the mist of coriander green hills
is to sharpen the senses with pepper corn pills.
to stoke the hungry fire of a garlic grinning mouth
is to furnish the vestibule with cajun black south
to find your way home on a wintery dark day
is to remember the cinnamon that lit your way
.
When I wuz little
Kidz in school would say
i wuz ugh uh we
my teeph were straight
hair alwayz dude
i were
fashion forward
chicks in the neighborhood
yup
dug me
Three uv them work for
Me
their name tagz read
'ugh'
and 'uh'
and also 'we'
there'z a staff portrait in the
vestibule
after 13 yearz
they still haven't got it
I told them the letterz
were their
staff classification
,)
*y'all know I set that up ;)
I recount the nights of faint, distant glows —
the dimmed party lights of summer —
of silenced streaks of fleeing light, tassels of clouds
adorned in fleeting whites,
on the broad balcony of the west, when the
incidents on the large vestibule of the sun sum up
their lives and times on seasons’ palimpsests.
The wild party closes by the stretch of the twenty-first hour.
Darkness, frightened, creeps in with the stealth of a departing thief,
the coyness and diffidence of an undocumented harlot.
Twilight aids the shut eyes of young irreverent bats;
drunk with summer's furiously spouting liquors,
like the denizens of an unclothed city, they fly low,
with gambolling wings, propelled by unseen strands of evening gales,
shadowing briefly the glints of pimping stars eager to witness the next day’s
orgy.