Long Wendell Poems
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Strange thought just entered my head
What if I critiqued my own poems
D'ya think I'd really be tough on myself
Or would you detect a slight bias tone
Tried using the criteria of accepted norms
I'd be down at the bottom, no bones
But for humorous verse and originality
Call me Oliver Wendell Holmes
First I followed time honoured patterns
Of poets that have gone before
But that's not what makes a poet of note
Originality is what raises his score
So go ahead and break all the rules
That have been in place forever
Develop your style of creative writing
And be proud of your endeavour
A law firm partner living on Madison Avenue
bought a farm in the country. What a strange thing to do!
Oliver Wendell Douglas and Hungarian-born wife,
would head for Hooterville to start a new life.
Oliver and Lisa moved from their high-rise penthouse,
to a ramshackle farm with a dilapidated house.
Oliver wanted to leave New York City and Times Square,
to live in the country with chores to do, and fresh air.
To be dragged from New York, to a life that is bucolic,
became disastrous to wife Lisa, and quite tragic.
However, she held her husband Oliver very dear.
In this new life, poor Lisa had to persevere.
Douglas bought this farm from a crook named Mr. Haney.
Haney kept trying something new to get more money.
Oliver deals with the absent-minded Mr. Kimball.
He has a scatterbrained farmhand named Eb, but that’s not all.
Oliver climbs a telephone pole to make a phone call.
Neighbors Fred and Doris Ziffel have a pig named Arnold.
All except Oliver knows what Arnold has told.
Our Oliver would get himself into jams constantly.
All these things combine to make a great comedy.
Not for the contest
Lawyer Oliver from New York City
Moved to country farm run down then pretty
Wife Liza, a city girl
Name the year-old pet pig Pearl,
Tossing dishes away, was quite bitty
4/4/2022
On A Lim Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Green Acres
Named for Oliver Wendell Holmes, he makes the rash decision to leave his successful law practice and pursue his lifelong dream of being a farmer, despite having no real-world knowledge or experience, as evidenced by him doing farm chores while wearing a three-piece suit
Lisa Douglas living with her father, the deposed King of Hungary. Pampered by her wealthy family, her skewed world view and domestic ignorance provide fertile ground for recurring gags.
Coltrane with Giant Steps coming downstairs, feeling A Love Supreme after two weeks
King going up the mountain and dreaming as he speaks
Miles said, So What... Kind of Blue
Malcolm, By Any Means Necessary, sees it through
Michael, a Dancing Machine, getting Off the Wall for a Thriller
Ali's Rope-a-Dope and Thrilla in Manila
Hank hammering the big 715
Prince's Sign O' the Times in Purple Rain seems
Your work is yours, so get on up and complete your earthly chores
Hansberry's Raisin in the Sun
Madame Walker with her pellucid vision
Aretha's Respect of a Natural Woman
Maya poetically teaches about a Phenomenal Woman
Claudette Colvin on the bus refusing to stand
Angela Davis' incessant fight for the civil rights of "Hue-Man."
Zora Neale Hurston saw "Their Eyes Were Watching God."
"Ella Fitzgerald Sings The Cole Porter Song Book" is no slipshod
Your work is yours; get on up now and complete your earthly chores
Dr. Sebi confidently professes the essence of sea moss
Dr. Cress-Welsing released 'The Isis Papers' like a queen boss
Mae Jemison is traveling into outer space
Wendell Scott blazed through NASCAR without a trace
Ooooooh! When I say your work is yours...
You'd better be getting up and completing your earthly chores
Millionare Wendell Rand married socialite
Heather Duncan and had a child Daniel
In an expedition to again seek out K'un-L'un
Daniel's mother and father dies in a plane crash
Daniels survives nearly dies on a snow mountain by
Found nearly dead by K'un L'un Monks, revive
Child trained in and is a practitioner of marial arts
Now a man this Daniel Rand
He wields the force of his Chi
Guessing that the heart provides life energy
To a Shou-Lao through the dragon-shaped scar
Burnt on his chest, now his crest
Sort of a trademark
Unconscious attain the power of the Iron Fist
By fighting defeating the dragon Shou-Lao the Undying
Molten heart has been torn from its body
On his chest Danny covers scar with his own body
Hangs on until Shou-Lao collapses and dies
Process burning a dragon brand into his own chest.
Now he's the Imortal Iron Fist
3/22/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
My confusion comes from too much doing. During the news
eating cheese and crackers, drinking wine, thinking the world
needs me.
Or the falling leaves, the days shorter but so much brighter.
How the cloud cover of the canopy has lifted to reveal
maybe God.
The longest continuous democracy may end in another theocracy.
A bunch of voodooists with their hocus pocus blessings
and understandings.
Bombs and poison. Grief. Chiseled, tearless face.
Chants gregorian. Her sad, clear, soulful missives from
the city.
Unbelievable acorn crop this year! Skate on them
like marbles. Last year was a maple year. The ash crop
significant, too.
But not the cherries. Or a single pear. Blackberries
held back too. Sure the towers were a violation, but they came to
hold community.
One stands not apart or alone but an individual within
his or her platoon. Committed to the mission and survival of
the platoon.
Fedex leaves a package. There is or is no anthrax
in it. It is our disappointment as Americans that the world cannot
be trusted.
Yes, New York is the enemy and brother of Kabul. How
does one reconcile those differing communities and be a non-
violent human?
With words. Wendell Berry's words. And service such as
the secretaries of state give, leaving when one's time and work
is done.
Staying in the diatonic. Agreeing first on rules of engagement.
Then engaging. Not stopping the fight or thought or song until the fight
is done.
Strangest thought just entered my head
What if I critiqued my own poems
D'ya think I'd really be tough on myself
Or would you detect a slight bias tone
Using the criteria of accepted norms
I'd be down at the bottom, no bones
But for humorous verse and originality
Call me Oliver Wendell Holmes
First I followed time honoured patterns
Of poets that have gone on before
But that's not what makes a poet of note
Originality is what raises his score
So go ahead and break all the rules
That have been in place forever
Develop your style of creative writing
And be proud of your endeavour
(My apologies to Oliver Wendell Holmes!)
© Jack Ellison 2013
I.
I’ve lost my sense of silence…
I’ve lost my self
So now I hate everything
I want nothing to do with anything
Does this make you sad?
It makes me sad, sure,
And even as I curse even that sadness
I cant not rip it off
I wish to burn my angel wings
The game to me is cruel and dumb now
There is no merriment where there is no place to re-fuel
Buried in the thickets of eyes and ears as I am
Let me be
Retreat and I will learn some other trick
And never ever tell you about it
I will show you, like I do my own tears,
To me in the mirror
But just as my tears that I keep hidden from you
I will never tell you my reason for living
My own intents of love
This I will burn in my own memory
I am tired now…
Of you, world…
I wish not death or darkness
But light and warmth, out of ear shot from all savages.
II.
I was pulling strings of beads--
They were dancing!
I lumbered to a lull,
The lighted eyes raying into me--I shot upwards!
A rebounding blue casket flash,
I slip onto wet pavement as Wendell
Dropped salt spit from his brow,
Patting me tender.
Wendell lived alone.
With the many fresh faces rolling along the lawns
Pattering and clopping against the silent realm of wood,
Piercing my silvering sounds
With shuttering glimpses of the Great Blue and White
There was always a party with Wendell.
Woven in nature’s diagonal rings, as they appear against the sun,
There is some irate lust for human companionship,
Like mad scientists a-muck about the land,
All on differing timetables, differing desires,
Thoug with a thirst for air like me.
Little I ask, my wants are few,
I only wish a roof and home -
a simple one this man will do
that I may call my own.
To within its walls live and age
with a memoir to fill my page.
Plain fare is all I need for me,
a ration a day to hearty fill,
and oft to satisfy a thirsty plea
water my dry lips to spill.
And so granted if I should ask
a cold stubbie or whisky flask.
I care not for gold and land,
nor chattel or title to obey -
just a mortgage and at hand
money enough to pay.
I only this need ask and pose
lest the bank on me foreclose.
My clothes I do proudly wear,
no robes of bejewelled ties,
for king ‘n yeoman are I swear
equal all in God’s eyes!
Nay, I am not of that noble ilk
and need no garments of silk.
I do not seek what I need not
like a rich man’s cars or toys -
my contentment is with my lot
and in life’s simple joys.
A humble man beholden for
if this world favour me more.
Truly not I begrudge no man
his Hope, his Fate, his Love -
I seek truths none more than
the word of God above!
And to behold if it is His will
His grace in life to death until.
Written: May 2018
With special thanks to
Oliver Wendell Holmes.
a strange sort of flow
comes with thoughts of long ago
spews a welcome glow
nostalgia may just soothe
when mixed with lies and half-truths
Hitler and his ilk
less troublesome than spilled milk
like Wendell Wilkes
slavery a slight bother
endorsed by founding fathers
a happy nation
few trials or tribulations
add more misinformation
ignore racial injustice
force the children to trust us
all Greenwood flattened
pretend it never happened
let's not be saddened
forget all those starved and bruised
that story is over used
no big mystery
we’ll sugar coat history
practice sophistry
let's deny the Holocaust
past transgressions should be lost
need new set of rules
ensure what is taught in school
makes nation look good
our kids do not need to know
repeating the past brings woe