Busy…Buzzing…Bumble Bee
Busy Buzzing Bottling Honey
Jumbo Bundled Bumble Bee
With Bold-Brown Buttoned Bottoms
And Billowy Belted Blemished Top
All well-suited for yet another
Busy-Busy Beautifully-Buzzing
Kind of Day
Bottling Golden Malted Honey
For the Bubble-Blowing Honey-Bee…•
Missy Sue makes malted milk shakes
and she savors marmalade,
macaroons and snickerdoodles
and sweet souffles she has made.
Sue is messy slicing melons,
strawberries and mangoes too.
Sue munches seeds and celery sticks.
She mixes meats, making stew.
Milk chocolate -mouth-watering,
sweet and marvelously mild -
satisfies Missy Sue
mainly if it is Swiss styled!
“You’ve been married for 35 years!”
a young couple asked an old couple on their anniversary.
“That’s amazing…That’s so great!”
“After 35 years together…how will you celebrate?”
Then this old couple, who in their 35 years together
had grown old and gray…held hands, smiled at one another
and said…“The same as yesterday!”
“I almost lost him years ago.” The old woman said.
“And we decided from that date…every day we wake up together…
is a day to celebrate.”
“It may sound corny…or boring…a little dull…perhaps cliché
but why would we wait for once a year…when we can celebrate every day?”
We learned a valuable lesson from that old couple…
How we don’t have to wait…
How every day that we’re together…is a day to celebrate.”
Now, after 35 years…we’re that old couple
who together have grown old and gray…
who, when asked how we intend to celebrate
say…“The same as yesterday.”
In case you’re wondering how we celebrated
another day together we have reached…
It was with grouper nuggets, she crab soup…
followed by a vanilla malted and chocolate milk shake
together…at the beach.
What if
Taking a puff of smoke
Do I stop my words for you
Last taste of my drink malted with feelings and emotions
Do I stop my words for you
Under the tree at night when they talk to each other chi cha
Tune of my friends
Do you stop my words for you
In the long drive when she ask I love you
Do you stop my words for you
Death is near count is bend back
Do you think my words for you
Is not called in life that I am a poet...... Om......... Maa
With love all
Jagdish Bajantri
I want a malted milk.
Would it be mean to wake up my husband?
He could also make me a little ham and cheese omelet.
He cooks better than I ever did.
I debate for a few minutes.
Knowing it is a mean thing to do.
But wanting that malted milk.
I have tried to make them, mine are flat.
His are sweet and rich.
I begin making a bunch of noise in the kitchen.
Patter. Patter. Here he comes with the dogs.
Oh, sorry, I lie. Did I wake you?
What do you want? He asks. Coffee?
He makes better coffee than I do too.
That amber liquid far from insipid
Like molten honey but drawn from a tap,
Bitter or dark, the choices quite stark,
God's malted ale, nature's true sap.
Vikings grew strong, strengthened their bond,
Giving them courage for mayhem galore,
A beer in their hand, they pillaged the land
Never quite feeling tired or sore.
The Celts used for curing, Egyptians for luring
Their gods from the heavens bribed to partake,
The English just drank as their water so stank,
Beer their solution to gulp for life's sake.
Wine lovers admit that their glass needs
be sipped
While describing aromas of berries and earth,
No such constraint, nor need for restraint
For drinkers of ale are freewheeling from birth.
So let raise a jug or a frothy filled mug
While watching a game and eating junk food,
Nothing is wetter, more luscious and better
Than a cold tasty beer when expertly brewed.
The corner candy store displayed,
On the counter next to where you paid,
Tall pretzel rods, two cents a pop,
In a glass container with a top.
They were often added to a bill –
Toss some pretzels in, please, if you will –
Or were ordered by a kid who’d planned,
His pennies clutched in a sweaty hand.
But the best was sitting on a stool,
On a Saturday or after school,
With your mom who’d let you have a treat –
A vanilla malted, cold and sweet.
It was served within the silver cup
Which the owner’d used to mix it up
With a pretzel rod included, free;
There was no place I would rather be.
The sweet of sugar, tang of salt
Combined with the vanilla malt
Made taste buds squeal with pure delight
With each and every sip and bite.
Silhouettes of darkened places
Busy going nowhere so fast
But you have to be somewhere at last
Instant eyes microscopic chocolate rice
We now have synthetic blue ice
I believe we come a long way
Places, homes now building the day
It took God 6 days to create the universe
It took God 6 days to create the universe
HE too rested after all love these works
Washed His hands of the dirt
Somewhere I've read
We are just filthy rags
Lighted passenger I'm traveling in a twinkling of an eye beams of light shining bright
Someone forgot to invite all the poor
All the boys and girls
Where they're going to eat and sleep tonight
Hungry for Hunger sake
Wish they had a malted milkshake
I am not promised today
But if I were a gambler I say
But if I talked to my Father
Be on the altar
But if I talked to my Father be on the altar
I'll be back with him instantly no not tomorrow
I'll be with him today I am with Him now even in my sorrow
2/22/14
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2012, 2021
Dimes drop, records begin to drop
Rhythm to stroll, jivin’ to hip hop
Slow to jitterbug, boogaloo to rock
Twistin’ Chubby and rock around the clock
The Platters sing, you hold her close
Eye to eye, love’s first dose
Beach Boys up next, time to surf
Steppin’ on toes, unmarked turf.
Malted shakes, pie a-la-mode
Checker board floors, tempo has slowed
Roadsters lined up, sweethearts in style
Stompin’ to the beat, no one’s idle
Jail house rock and shake rattle and roll
At the hop, then on to the stroll
Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry’s pickin’
Mack the knife rocks, Rock-in Robin kickin’
‘Ramblin Rose’, and ‘Good golly Miss Moly’
Dion’s ‘Run around Sue’, turn around now with Buddy Holly
Step in to ‘Shimmy shimmy Ko Ko Pop’
More dimes roll, keep rockin’ till you drop
The menu: a dozen slick pages.
The venue: wood tables and chairs.
From breakfast to dinner
You’ll never get thinner
With food that a diner prepares.
The choices: from eggs to paninis.
The voices: from hushed to guffaws.
There’s no place instead
I would rather break bread
And the answer to why? is because…
It’s a place meant for every consumer
With the space to relax and to schmooze.
Never fancy or rich
It’s a restaurant which
Serves you coffee, a malted or booze.
You can keep all your Michelin ratings
And those steeply exorbitant bills.
Slap a sandwich and fries
Down in front of my eyes
In a diner – for me, that fulfills.
CONFECTIONATES Hurt Teeth Here In My Mouth Twenty Below
My teeth are bitter cold
Aching so much so
Bit down on a red pop-cycle
After inhaling mint malted butter brickle
Nasal dip tried chocolate chip
So cold outside can't feel my face
What sense does it make
It's below 28 degree
Aching so much so
It's cold outside why am I
This doesn't make any sense
Eating all these confectionates
It's winter, snowing and twenty below zero
Frostbit, frozen lips, hurt teeth here at twenty below
3/18/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
I want a taste
Of the piece of cake
But the frosting now dry logged
Left the top off now the flavors gone
Threw the remains in the washing machine with bleach
Made a malted shake when looking at my blurred image
You want some you wanna a taste
2/7/18
by James Edward Lee Sr.
Dragon’s milk, will I not breathe out flames?
A malted stout, so kind in taste, so brave.
I wonder at its caramel color, glass shines.
Coddling you kine brew, til the last dark drop!
On the scene burning hotter than a blazing flame surrounded by painted walls shield in myth . Faces fraud not dipped in the light of truth . Matched by ignorance unseen by those near hints of fake as I walk flaming with burning truth malted in my gaze but gaudy in eyes covered with pain to shame to lift there true face to day . Glade with lies that trun heads in wonder baffled in mazes of problems made by foolish deeds . Needed something juicy with lips poisoned with dripping venom . Crafty by nature yet burned in blazing fires forces lies to burn down . Walls void near ashes because fraud in blazing truth is tested in laid to ashes . Authentic near golden in blazes burn high near sun hot eclipsed days in light of truths true power . Uncovered in shame seen in light made to see , thought of has a fool to see .
Anima balances Animus
In a dance of fathomless rhythm
The hangover reaches the consciousness
The cherry tree goes on blossoming spree beside the sea
I find myself delving deep with the emotions by her hands set free
In the warmly maternal hearth
Are my malted moments of mystic mirth
Never any dearth in perceiving the coffee cup held up
Anima has at all times been most pleasurably giving birth
To a variety of rain and thunder in an awesomely good earth
Anima is generous in beckoning under her brackish breath
A momentary death underneath is euphoric in its affinitive depth
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
April 27, 2016
For: Anima – Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tom Quigley
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