we knew at dusk that the day of the dead was officially on fire
a skeleton couple rose up from two different pyres
the audience was startled in place as they began to dance
they were soon surrounded by lookers, Old Emma and Lance
They had been married over sixty-two years, one onlooker said
It was a fine evening to watch them, on the Day of the Dead
They did the tango, the Watutsi, and a chicken dance too
Their keen dancing did not stop until a quarter after two
They were best friends in life, we knew they’d be back
This was said by Lance’s best man, he called himself Mack
My wife is gone too, but she does not dance any more.
We felt sorry for him, we could see he was sad at his core.
The 50’s people are in a diorama
behind a Perspex window,
for the most part they are cheerful,
they cut grass with push mowers,
swim in circles in above ground pools;
by and large they are not serial killers.
The museum is new, colorful and shiny.
The 50’s people wave mechanically
at all on-lookers.
A young questioner asks
why the 50’s people are not all dead?
A reasonable question
which the handler deflects
with a long tale about purple dinosaurs.
The kids are getting bored,
handlers usher them into a cafeteria,
where two 40’s people linger over
a tasteless, sanitized meal.
Youths rib poke each other and sneer.
The two 40’s people have no diorama
they have forgotten how to make one,
worst still, their handler died
the same year Barney went extinct.
We were both operating together,
vibrating at an oscillating frequency -
short-band radio signals reaching
no greater than brief steps away.
It was love, but it was also that infinitesimally
narrow gap between heaven and hell.
A bulbous red on/off button,
the size of a large tomato or small planet,
kept our brains alert
to any nuclear explosions
that might otherwise have destroyed
those thin strings of real intimacy we could
have accidently blundered into.
In the end, slips of the tongue
led to neither truth nor lies,
only figures of speech.
Friends and on-lookers
watched as we turned off
all the early warning signs, one by one -
then to no one's great surprise,
we were done.
Trees, cars and Elon Musk
The branches of trees on the avenue
Was stretching upward this morning
To be a decorative tree is not easy
Standing still looking leafy
Once they had been mere sampling
In a forest of other trees, feeling safe
Protected by tree too old or crocked
Stand under a tree and hear a murmur
They agree electric cars has no fumes
But older cars are better lookers
My car swell with pride she 28 to day
A self-driving AI long before Elon Musk
Said he had invented a driver-less car
Sing a new song the divineness
of it all the rapture of the coming
hour the sheer need for abundance
created so bountiful throughout
this wondrous beauty a subtleness
awakening mere virtue while the
mild mannerism moves in delightful
colorful hues dancing between glorious
stain glass windows while weeping
willow trees sway cardinals perch
as the eagle soars the sky a wonderful
hymn springs forth beckoning my soul
as fear anxiety sadness sorrow drowns
my soul sings loudly over the mountaintop
I hardly recognizes her today assumption
the beauty within shines as warmth
compassion kindness blossom's in the
hearts and minds of on lookers flowers
bloom as I stroll pass wisdom shakes
emptiness is mortified by my edification
a proud peacock absorbs my purity
I am angelically lifted by harmonic
melodies vibrantly shaking my tail
feather simply singing my new song
Witten by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
She swam so beautifully captivating
the sky mesmerizing the rivers
edge she panders about with such
grace owning her own dreams she
caters to fulfillment honored by
her beauty moving with strength
confidence as on lookers watch her
sun bathe in her blackness adorned
by flaws made her even more
brilliant this wondrous creature
before us raved in the glory of
self assurance a masterpiece of
essence created by God as she swam
over the gleaming pond bowing her
head beneath cool waters shaking off her
tail feathers the mere wonder revealed
How dare you spit upon his garb!
This peaceful bredda who by nature only loves,
When you should have been his Rasta queen
Your ghastly behaviour drew a scene
And I- woman just like you
Hang my head in shame
As you defile our name.
Selassie-I know seh di Rasta man took a deep breath
To honour his philosophy,
But like a lamb to the slaughter,
he was reduced
In front of the whole community.
He sought calm in his Rasta chant
Swallowed his pride,
Turned the next cheek, and with human dignity.
Yet that pouncing Jezebel
Delilah,
Demon picknie,
Shameless femininity
Minimized her king,
Cared nothing that he is masculine.
She is no empress
and certainly not a Ital-dawtah!
She mocked and cursed him
Bullied him and sullied his character.
Vilified him as the on-lookers magnified
Scorned, mistreated and humiliated.
But when upon each other their backs were turned
The fury in the lion roared
And in that moment, he went against his Rasta chant
And knocked her out flat on her face.
I won’t apologize for feeling appeased
For you are a disgrace to the female race!
My joy surrounds me with character
beauty essence I bow to the on lookers
I dance to the sweetest sound all over town
of lovely joyous Caribbean tunes melody
opens my eyes just one more time mon
for old time sakes erasing 1984 I don't dare
remember buildings burning screams wails
sirens panting being badgered breathing in
this wondrous earth free from identity theft
hatred forgiveness evolving my nature capturing
my senses I'm blessed to be me no one
could ever become this brilliant queen
covered in chiffon and lace torment
dissolved by gods wrath upon all those
willing to bring harm my way above a whisper
I seek solace moving about this world
a new existence a new creature
incorruptible by 1984 wingtip bathe
in my identity criminal groups marvel
through the smell of my perfume I am
comforted by the holy spirit camels
carry my sparkling rose' my presence
devours all manhood I am beautiful
Death
Passing
Loss of life
Physical realm
Finished endings time
Departure from this life
On lookers say their farewells
Passing onto the after mass
Quietus dispatch cessation primed
Euthanasia terminate soul lives on
1/25/2024
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
ETHEREE
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Total # Syllables: 55
Total # Lines: 10 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 33
1/25/2024
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
She was trying to sell her house and she thought it would be easy
Until she noticed what was in the yard of her neighbor Mrs. Breezy
Into her front yard Breezy had plunked a mooning pumpkin man.
Gawkers and house-hunting lookers drove off as fast as a human can.
I've just given birth to my calf,
My cute little baby giraffe.
He fell to the ground
With a gushing sound;
Nearby were on-lookers and staff.
I must say that I'm very proud!
So giddy, I could laugh aloud.
To see how he tries
A plan to soon rise-
With trying, then falling, he plowed!
Half-hour had gone by, then success,
The clapping applauded his stress.
So wobbly, but fine-
A great thumbs-up sign!
My calf, I bent down to caress.
The humans who cheered at the zoo
For my baby boy who came through
So quickly to stand-
From this- are they banned?
Not standing for months is cuckoo!
Look at that old bird
Hopping and clapping
Dancing and spinning
Whirling and twirling
The lookers were young wrens
No wait
More like crows
Hoping she would falter, fall or fail
She did none of that
She knew her heart
And spread her wings
And flew
Red moon rising scanning below
Seeing all, keeping secrets close
Nothing in the night it won't know
Red moon rising
In a haze just slightly morose
To caws of a lone calling crow
Clouds sweeping to briefly engross
Hue in the sky of a fire show
Giving lookers an eerie dose
Wonders along with eyes to grow
Red moon rising
She was a mean pushy broad
Who thought bullying was a reward
Until she met her match
When she was slapped then snatch
On-lookers then stood and applauded
He was a man of many parts,
most of them didn't function too well.
Born extraordinarily, labeled ‘disabled,’
he lived a life of boisterous solitude.
Friends he had on the periphery
of a wheel-bound existence, lovers
were distant pen-pals
mostly gals.
Folks that are put together differently
have no enemies only on-lookers;
maybe a few care bears -
those who care in the usual distracted way.
When he died
the funeral cortege was long.
At the service, none dared say a thing
‘wrong.'
Yet he was just as flawed as us,
difference being
his weaknesses were mostly on the outside
revealed unbidden,
while ours are mostly hidden.
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