Oh, meaty mothballs!
as opposed to mothy meatballs
Alternatively - slobbering sloth-balls!
instead of sloppy moth-calls
Stupid refrigerator!
as opposed to dumb incinerator
Alternatively - dirty toenail taster!
instead of wanton whiskey-waster
It's the start of a brand-new year
Let's raise glasses and expectations
And while we're at it
~ improve imprecations!
Categories:
mothy, new year, spoken word,
Form: Rhyme
a learner I sensed the presence
And relentless fashion
Mothy butterfly
Spring has sprung
Lightning flash
Passion rush
Fashion weather
Wing jet in the hanger
Collecting dust
Technologies nature
Distance relevant
1/11/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Categories:
mothy, adventure, destiny, imagery, life,
Form: Free verse
We Kept the Coat as a Reminder
She was gloriously nondescript
Her eyes glazed over with a crusty face
Pink eye? We asked each other
None of us knowing
We are not doctors
She had a headache
But no one knew
We could not have guessed
And we did not care
Recognizing this, she kept silent.
We let her into our Sunday School Class.
Her coat was smelly, mothy, old and ragged.
Two women ran to get their coats before hers met the rack.
I thought they were rude.
No. I knew they were rude.
They have been rude a long time.
Two prudes.
Two rude sister prudes.
The stranger stayed the whole time.
She did not look over at the two prudes.
Not one time.
She left being as nondescript as she came in.
We never saw her again; but she left her awful coat.
We keep it as a reminder to try to be nicer next time.
In case she was Jesus in disguise.
Categories:
mothy, christian, jesus,
Form: Prose Poetry
I had a friend, he was a moth
I kept him in a jar
Now and then I set him free
He never went that far
At summers end, I took the jar
And brought my moth inside
But when I went to set him free
He fluttered off to hide
I searched the house for that moth
Looking all around
I can’t imagine where he hid
And why he wasn’t found
All fall and winter I did look
I think it’s kind of weird
That my little mothy friend
Just up and disappeared
When spring came, I do admit
I was feeling better
Until my mother found the moth
Had eaten her best sweater!
Categories:
mothy, children,
Form: Rhyme
I.
“A hiatus, not a parting.”
I waited until stones gathered
on the mothy carpet of the
living room. Then I stopped,
like mothers and fathers,
the un-watered
Delphiniums window-side.
II.
Laid a rusted finger on
the lip, the dredged ice,
Alaskan wind, a single
prayer before expatriation and
a loaf of pennies.
You don’t know what
opportune means (question mark)
III.
A thousand chests,
the ribs crumbling;
it’s a melody, a syncopation, some
Eucharist pre-hymnal tonal exercise.
We all waited for false angels,
the permanence of grief.
Categories:
mothy, absence, angel, culture, emotions,
Form: Imagism
What burning, tight'ning anger do I feel
Against these petty leaders of mankind.
If anger was itself a thing of steel
How hot would fly the bullets from my mind.
Blast them for their pity-playing ways;
Blast them for their calls to sacrifice;
Blast the smiling lying of their days,
The hate of reason----their man-denying vice.
Yea, blast, and sharply blast, obliterate!
Return them to the darkness of their fate!
Let truth come quick and stick them in the dust
(They haven't earned one light above the ground),
Then let them gum the dregs of powder-lust
And mouth their mothy nothings of no sound.
Categories:
mothy, anger,
Form: Sonnet