Gumdrops and lollipops
Cotton candy and cakes
Creamy pudding and pies
Double malts and milk shakes
Taffy and licorice
And every ice cream too
Chocolate and caramel
Are half as sweet as you
Categories:
malts, sweet,
Form: Rhyme
Oh, latest iPad, may I hang thee,
From the nearest garden tree!
A Grinch, thou art and nothing more.
Causing me, endless problems galore!
As always, Safari is to blame?
Almost a tune, that puts me to shame.
Why is it I , who is always at fault?
I dream of joyful days of saddleshoes
and malts.
Of humanity speaking, face to face.
And of being social, was of no disgrace!
Typewriters and mail, oh how I love!
This electronic age, hardly hand in my glove.
I miss the aroma of fresh, pencil shavings.
Thus goes, my off the wall nightly ravings.
People no longer look at the beauty of one
another.
Pasty- faced countenances adoring their beloved,
electronic other !
A ghost faced, global society?
Which dreams a worthless vaccine
can save humanity?
I despise propopganda with my entire being.
And on our devices, is all right we are seeeing.
9/30/2021
Categories:
malts, how i feel,
Form: Rhyme
Morning brews sunrise colors-
yolk yellow seeping over
edges; light sterling silver
strung; rubbed linens ironed
across the rim. The creatural
world-a lime olive, sea blue
cup- has a view from space:
mottled tints- mud grey, green. Deep.
Sienna red flames bedewed.
Aged worn cotton tinctures-
the crumpled fabrics' wrinkles
are mountains, hills, cliffs ingrained.
Threads netted- the indigenous
lives captive-evolution.
They tat the stretched skies, royal.
From beats the animus- birth;
sprouting; feathery gardens
open to the sun. Roots plow.
Volcanic lands thrust- beryl
hues are the telluric gloss
of... diamonds. Hope. Pearl flushes-
scents of the wash of Summers.
Peach -brown malts- inebriation
of puissance. Grains reaped, ablaze
in Autumn afternoons. Stoked,
ground into mealy givings.
Marl nectare, fertility.
Corollas of heaven- O'Keefe.
Categories:
malts, allusion, appreciation, art, autumn,
Form: Prose Poetry
What if freezer were covered with windows;
And what if that freezer was filled with
Frozen cakes and Pies
And what if the freezer connected with a Stove/Oven
What if “on call” could make French Toast?
But back to the freezer what if you could have inside
All types and flavors of Ice Creams, Oh! My
Malts, Puddings, Pies Oh! My
Any and all kinds of frozen confections, heck!
What if this freezer was placed in the middle of an African Dessert, Yum!!
Anyway!! Could I have this kind of freezer Hey!
Maybe placed inside this live in freezer a PlayStation 2 ™ wit Cox Cable™ ooh!
(yaw know) you want one of theses LOL!!!
9/12/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019 ©
Categories:
malts, 4th grade, 5th grade,
Form: Free verse
Santa had an alcoholic reindeer
Who couldn't stop drinking warm beer --
He'd drink malts and hops
And popcorn he'd pop --
That gave Santa enough fuel for sixth gear
Entry in "Funny Reindeer Limerick Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Categories:
malts, christmas, drink, flying,
Form: Limerick
I want to live in a Norman Rockwell painting
Where I'm surrounded by the simple times
If you don't know what I mean let me explain it
It consists of front porch swings and Mom's apple pie
Sunday afternoons in Grandma's kitchen
Lazy fishing days down by the lake
Or in a Soda Shop drinking Chocolate Malts with cherries on top
As I while away the day Norman's way
Riding bikes down hills the whole time laughing
Cowboys, Indians, and Pirates all in one day
With sunsets painted red and no strangers met
No secrets kept to wanna give away
Life on parade the American way
Pride in your family and friends
Helping each other no matter race, creed, or color
Starting each meal out with an amen
Picnics at the park, hot dogs and gaming
Potato sack and three-legged racing
Nothing like today's grind taxing both the heart and mind
Which to me desperately needs replacing
With life in a Norman Rockwell painting
Categories:
malts, life,
Form: Light Verse
On Wednesday last week the moon and the sun in a sunshiny space,
Decided to switch places. The moon would stay in the sun’s usual place
Sun would go on vacation, around the world, instead.
People got up, looked at the moon and went promptly back to bed.
No one went to work, no cars were on the road, a gray day it ‘twas.
No schools were opened, no banks, no stores, no wake-up song.
The news did not come on TV because no one knew what time it was.
We all thought our clocks and cell phones were enormously wrong.
We yawned and we stretched, and went back to bed, and we slept
It was so much fun, dreaming of brownies and cake and other such stuff.
What a fantastic time we had, sleeping away while our toddlers were alert and awake.
They were dancing and diving, riding their sister’s bikes, being so tough.
The two’s and three’s met in the driveways and they hopped and they skipped.
They ate chocolate malts, and twirled and giggled, for other’s pottying applauded.
A day they chose to never talk about later, and none of those toddlers slipped.
A Wednesday where sneaky, smart two-year-olds played, completely unguarded.
Categories:
malts, cute, dance, fantasy, fun,
Form: Prose Poetry
As I spend as little time as possible with hard-headed pompous adults
Avoiding antiquated arrogant beliefs, often set in stubborn stone,
Avoiding inane conversations and minds that have not grown,
Consuming sweet drinks, forgoing liquor for cold chocolate malts,
Dousing my hamburger with ketchup, forgoing mayo and salts,
Laughing with purity at stories from those not completely grown,
Who often replenish and restore my ready soul until I make it home,
Spending time with children gives me optimistic, satisfactory results,
If you can’t secure a child related or not, a loving animal will have to make do.
Dogs I have met are furry, cuddly, loyal and enthusiastically eager to please.
I am just trying to explain my own personal in-touch-with-my- feelings view.
Following this lead shouldn’t be unfair to anyone you’ll ever want to squeeze.
Cats are not so willing to please; you will actually become a minion to these.
A loving dog will choose to sleep on your bed, his whole body eagerly pushing you.
Categories:
malts, animal, appreciation, children, dog,
Form: Italian Sonnet
I should have let it go,
theunkind words they spoke
the phrases unjustly, hurtfully said
but you know me...
My mind thinks and mulls the words
over and over again.
They churn like whipped shakes and malts
until they begin to overflow.
Before realized, they spill over
onto counter tops and make a mess.
Cleanup doesn't serve me well
as the disliked stickiness is spread
Soon, everyone around sees and knows
that thing they said -
I should have let it go,
Categories:
malts, anger, friend, words,
Form: Elegy
The place wair I live , is called Astro-sitty ! And I sure can tell u that this place is
Pritty ! This beautiful town is the place of my dreams .
And Moest of the kids here belong 2 the teams !
In this beautiful town , are sum gize not of earth ,
And nun but thair parents , know the dates of thair birth !
The streets here are paved with gold ! And weather controle sattellites
Mean it's never cold ! We found all the munny from al Capone,s vaults !
And all our chocolate shakes have extra malts !...
Categories:
malts, beautiful,
Form: Ballad
If Robert Burns met Patrick Kavanagh
who would smile who would look away
across a field of barley or potatoes
kindred spirits or in each other's way?
The ploughmen poets would adjourn
to the local pub and order single malts
and after a few glasses had been taken
tell tall tales of sowing wild oats.
Categories:
malts, humor,
Form: Ballad
A quaint little store on Mystery Bay,
its cast iron stove stoked with hard woods,
selling fresh oysters and catch of the day—
with local ice cream and sundry baked goods.
Optional clothing whenever low tide,
as the beach sign outside proudly claims,
but summer’s a memory, such exhibits denied,
so we gather inside and sit by the flames.
Tourists stop by, dismissed by old salts,
till asked to regale us of days now gone by.
Each lifts his mug of cold foaming malts,
and each one in turn quickly spins a new lie.
The old boards ‘neath our feet creak and complain,
as we shuffle our way past good friends to the door—
counting the days until we come again,
to part with our coins at the Mystery Bay store.
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Honorable Mention, Submit a Smile, Poet Destroyer A
Categories:
malts, humorous,
Form: Quatrain