The Age of Exploration went on and on and on
From Marco Polo to Roald Amundsen
Now it’s left the Earth, gone soaring into space
Deep inside the cosmos ~ seeks creation’s face
sun tan oil permeates Red Haw Beach
toddler in ruffled sunsuit is screaming
young men are watching girls in tiny suits
gritty wet sand oozes between my toes
seagull swoops down and steals a cracker
beach ball lands on old man who does not wake
“Marco Polo!” is screamed from the water
long sigh escapes from my stress-filled body
dark sunglasses hide my curious eyes
I flip onto my tummy and relax
listening to the distinct summer sounds
the laughter and screams of happy children
I passed the local swimming pool
And saw that what remained
Was lots of empty space because
The water had been drained.
Now, I am not a swimmer,
Though I walk by every morn,
Way too early for the crowds of folks
Where bathing suits are worn.
Yet I’m certain they enjoyed it,
Cooling off or doing laps,
While the children played or splashed
With “Marco Polo!” shouts, perhaps.
That’s all finished for the season
And the lifeguards, too, are gone,
Maybe to an indoor gym, where some
Aquatics still go on.
I'm going toward the frightful unknown
carrying the flaming torch of hope,
it's a challenge never taken before:
I've made a new promise often broken!
Where can a disheartened person find courage...
when, in this age, most portray the wrong image?
Many have reached their goal through ugly deceit,
but the honest one struggles to put up the fight!
I encourage you to go forward the frightful unknown
with the enthusiasm of a Marco Polo or Paul Revere:
grabbing the bull by the horns and austerely persevere
in a quest reminiscent of their ideals for the grit shown!
To have a conscience is a choice to do right,
to gather the big harvest without any merit
or sweat is mocking the hard-working people
who plow the field and put food on your table!
I'm dauntlessly going toward the frightful unknown...
proclaiming a humble glory to be revealed by enduring time,
not all wishing it would succeed and earn a king's crown;
any loss wouldn't be a defeat, any conquest would be divine!
If someone handed you a box with everything in it that you had ever lost
what is the first thing you would look for?
Holiest of things that I could never recapture
like the feel of dad's hand in mine
on a warm summer day when all the world was
time ...
A most sacred memory wrapped in tissue
settled deep inside a box safely locked
Underneath my bed a tarnished locket
that wasn't even mine...
The child within me, the one that got away
nineteen and gone too soon
A monsoon rain that September remembers
soaked and filled with longing,
The face of youth
my brother's Marco Polo voice
inside a chlorinated pool
just before he died
Welcome to China’s gorgeous Yangtze River
third largest river in the world
rising at Jari Hill
in the Tanggula Mountains
christianed Quian by Marco Polo
seventeen hundreds renamed Blue River
First Marco Polo your soul - don’t ask.
Shake your noodle until it transcends to pasta,
Twist your noodle, it will only hurt for a while
soon it will become your mother tongue.
Recite the hundred words Italians have
for pork, ham, and bacon daily,
never again just say pork, ham, and bacon.
Imagine that your cheap olive oil is champagne,
Lightly sprinkle your vocabulary -
not too oily.
Tomatoes and cheese’s offer you
endless ways to speak with our mouth full
while still sounding refined.
Say ‘Pizza’ as it were in fact
a much longer word.
Swagger as you babble from the top
of your proudly Italianate lungs.
SUMMERTIME LOST 2020
aubade August, lost
senses of summertime games —
marco polo deaf
8/4/2020
A player, designated It, closes his eyes for a set number of seconds while opposing players disperse in the pool. It, with eyes closed, then swims around the pool, attempting to tag the other players. It may detect the presence of others by feeling around with his limbs, or by sound, calling out “Marco!” The other players, regardless of their location, must respond, “Polo!” When the It player succeeds in tagging another player, the latter becomes It.
(From considerable.com)
Melted plastic only 16 years
It was on concrete round under the sun
While I was shedding tears
What's the use Environmental substance abuse
Midnight see Amenia Marine
Midnight saxophone solo
Sea anemone amethyst
What's the use, Environmental substance abuse
Patina mist breezy
Royal jacaranda ultraviolet sneezes
Achoo bless you
Sinful articles man caretaker of Earth
Midnight seems so solar bright
Midnight saxophone solo
Drum roll Marco Polo
Down rainbows ends
BlackBerry puddle Timberwolves
Spirit Rock jacaranda
Temporal barracuda
7 * 70 16 years
Plastic bags and bottles
Never decomposed lasting for eternity
Pre-kindergarteners elderly grandmothers the populist and politicians say
What's the use environmental substance abuse
12/18/19
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr
Without belching
or hiccupping misty smoke,
the waiting sea
swallowed the setting sun;
up popped the bright
mirror-ball moon.
The quiet sky sprinkled its self
with twinkling stars
as the restless wind whistled
through the terrestrial nightshades.
A colony of fireflies
played blinking Marco Polo
as a pair of stoic owls,
with bulging eyes,
kept nocturnal watch
over the orchestrated night.
your smart hat
your coifed
charcoal brows
your blue questions
about how I’m moving
through the day
have me in hand
reminiscing
making me want you
and reminiscing
more and more
Marco! Marco! He said
No polo, just the voices inside his head
Marco! Marco! That one person said
And asked, “why aren’t you dead?”
Vagabond
I enter parks with such aplomb
A bench to sit and lay at night
With limpid dreams I share with naught
A footloose prince with worn out shoes
What prompts a man to live on scraps
To brave the heat and cold as well
Traveling slow for parts unknown
Nomadic on the open road
As Marco Polo I am bound
To discover humankind
Seeking knowledge ‘fore I leave
And utilize it in my brain
The day will come I’m not too sure
To change my choice and then convert
Until that day this Gypsy moves
And begs a sandwich on his tour
Traveling Light Contest
Sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
September 23, 2017
If dragons were real asked my son
Would I be able to keep one?
He could stay with me up in my room
Saturday morning we'll both watch cartoons
I could take him with me to school
And play Marco Polo in the pool
But what would you feed him asked I?
He'd need to fly high in the sky
If you catch one they get pretty mean
Dragons live in our wildest dreams.
Stones in life strong like stones,
As a weapon,
As a tool,
Shelter over the heads of souls,
Even beyond the Era of stones,
Stones in plenty and in varieties,
Gems,stones,Gemstones,
Rare,durable,colored,long life and beauty,
Weighed and valued in dots and drops,
A dream for the poor,
A desire for the rich,
Crowns without Gems not a King,not a Queen,
Taj Mahal minus Gems not a world wonder,
Ceylon turned Sri Lanka known Island of Gems,
Marco Polo toured and admired,
The Portuguese,The Dutch,The British much cared,
All stones are not Gems,all Gems are not stones,
In stones Gems,
In people some like Gems!
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