Muddles Poems

It’s In the Numbers

Two plus two equals four...unless it doesn’t.
Every young student learns the rules… as taught them.
Higher education muddles it all…with complex theorems.

Almighty God’s Son

He visited Simon's mother-in-law, who had a fever.
Did he do so because she was kin of his disciple?
The elderly needed care. He knew this as a healer.
Wasn't their psyche more than their physique what made them ill?

A lesion in reason and logic rots the mind, like rust.
Depression, delirium, dementia, and rifts in moods
Loss of autonomy, grief, loneliness, and lack of trust
Optimism fades like a waning moon, and pessimism broods.

He knew these puddled muddles. Was he a psychoanalyst?
How was he able to read each mind like a telepath?
Wasn't he, for-bye, a universal philanthropist?
Was he not the zenith of extraterrestrial math?

Innocence, like crystal clear streams, flooded from his person.
Wasn't he, after all, the Almighty God's precious son?

Damp Day

grey clouds
like shrouds

hover
cover

wind speed
like steed

fright'ning
lightning

thunder
sunder

cryin'
welkin

raindrops
fat plops

muddles
puddles

pit pat
rhythm that

awakes
damp shakes

earth drenched
thirst quenched

God's free
AC

Dross

All that glistens is not gold,
Of that, you can be sure
The wedding ring I'm wearing
Does it have a gold mark?
I don't know anymore.

Fake is the in word
We now ask, what is real?
Real looks wrong
Fake looks right
It has a look and feel
Of real

Sadly it isn't
Natural is hard to find
It isn't natural
Fake is not kind,
It is all pretence
That muddles up your mind.

Water tastes like water,
It is not champagne
Although fake champagne,
It can taste like water
In this phony name game.

Faux fur was: I think,
A fake that I understand
I disagree with animal slaughter
For the benefit of man

My skin belongs to me
It is genuine, real
I don't need another skin
From an animal kill.

Fake has a funny taste to me
I find comfort in authenticity
It makes my heart ache
And brings tears to my eyes
When I can't see the reality
That the fakeness hides.

Family Tree

The roots of a family tree run deep for they were planted long ago.
generation upon generation have nurtured and watched that family grow

into a tree whose strength and beauty is impossible deny.
into a tree whose myriad of branches now reach high up to the sky,

There is also no denying how the formation of that tree
has been shaped by many blessings…and much adversity.

There is joy within the tree…happiness in every branch and leaf…
no matter if they’ve grown for years…or if their time upon the tree was brief.

There is sorrow within the tree…for representing every grief…
there is a branch that has been broken…there is a fallen leaf.

When a branch has broken off..or a leaf has fallen from the tree…
It may be difficult to remain hopeful…it may be difficult to see

how that family tree will ever be the same without the portion they brought to it…
and even though it’s heart is broken…the tree somehow muddles through it…

For a family soon discovers…
how new growth on the tree is conceived…
cultivated from the remnants of its broken branches…
nurtured from what remains of its fallen leaves.

Deep Purple Breaths

Yesterday I unscrewed the top of the
homemade huckleberry jam you gave
me before you left for Lisbon. 
I took deep purple breaths to fill
my light pink lungs. 

It was such a necessary experience;
the vision of you in my mind’s eye
atrophies each day, the Atlantic 
between us casts foggy shades on
my eyes and the crystal clear memory
muddles like a lake after heavy rain

The anxiety of asking you a question 
when I have no idea what the answer 
will be, but have every notion of what 
I wish it to be. It’s a 60 pound backpack
4 hours into an uphill hike, so I resign
my curiosity and just tap the Portuguese
postcard nailed to the wall beneath 
the light switch every time I leave the house. 

and hope that you would do the same.

Silent Street

My father passed a few years back, and he keeps appearing in my dreams, always on the same street and roughly the same dialogue. The poem/story has no real format. Just my feelings on it. Thanks! 

 Silent Street 

On streets where past and present collide, holograms ride delta waves
You sidle up, gate light and easy, mid conversation
I Parse the rhetoric for glimmers of acceptance
But again benign, drivel muddles the way

The one sided blather on photography labors uncontested
Your catalogue, a thorough exhibition of you
Fitting. Buried emotions etched in celluloid 
Reveling in silent shame, feeling a camaraderie
of sorts

Time is short, so silent I stay
Ears hinged for signs of accountability
A modicum of responsibility
And so I wait...

The pipe store beckons, it's almost time
Fading into the night he says We'll meet up later
I know we will. So Maybe, next time.
Till then, in silent space, I standalone. Apologies unrendered.

Dem Bones

Some float,
move on the diameter of a whim.
A few articulate between joy and grief,
others are hinged
so that ears can hear each other.

Most are scaffolds.
One hollow bone hums in the throat,
it channels the smoky music
of sub-conscious saxophones.

A few are honeycombed for memory
and procreation.
One is a cave for old mind-muddles,
it has a window view.

All the others
are flesh garbed trombones
that slide in and out
to unlock our whoopee cushions
with their skeleton keys.
© a day ago

Story of My Life

Why do I continue with this book
the chapters either deadly dull
or all the action occurring at once
in an overwhelming cascade of events
that muddles the mind
too complex to keep up with
impossible to sort out the storyline
rendering me confused and stupefied
A tedious and tiresome tragedy
The plot painfully predictable
yet I persevere through every page
pensive, apprehensive for the conclusion
that I’m certain will be formulaic 
utterly forgettable
I’ve given up on others 
under similar circumstances
returned them unfinished to the library 
donated them to charity 
It’s futile to have faith it will get any better 
in the second half
yet I can’t bring myself to capitulate
to wave the white flag of surrender
and cast it aside
I will see this story through 
to the bitter end
because it’s mine

Committee Buzz

The air is thick with words.
They flutter and beat
About my ears
Like a thousand moths.
A proliferation of pontification
And pedantic pomposities
Numbs my mind
And muddles my thoughts.
Details, details, details!
Minute subtleties and
Nuances confuse, confound.
I feel the urge to shout,
“Simple! Keep it simple!
Give up the cluttered verbiage!
Give us advantages,
Disadvantages,
The points we need
To make a decision!”
The words retreat into
A hum of beating wings.
I smile vacantly
And think of something else!

Poor Me

Sitting here without internet bundles,
With no electricity am using candles,
Nights are too cold without cuddles,
I'm in a life which's filled by muddles,
Future plans have turned into riddles.

I can't even tell if am broke or sad,
Whether am of sound mind or mad,
But maybe am another village lad,
Who's being mistreated like a cad,
Always chewing me daily like cud.

Doing it while knowing it's wrong,
I chose to pretend and play along,
Hoping that this won't go for long,
Because this is not where I belong,
I've visions of emerging here strong.

                      © Kelmwa

Finding Freedom

I've sought all concept for mitigating puzzles. 

I poured my heart and soul into getting rid of muddles.

We were entwined in the tangled bushes.

When you've gone, nothing to speak about.

And there is no silver lining, but there is a gray doubt.

I was not enticed by the last beats of the falling drums.




Written June 15, 2021

All Yours (Jun 19) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

Fish N the Lake Won'T Eat the Worm On the Line-

the fish in the lake
does not want to be catch caught
he won't eat the worm

Splish splash fish muddles
blown bubbles you can't eat me
I won't eat this worm



4/17/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021

Sight Unseen She Doesn'T Know Me Yet Nor Do I Know Her She Shall Be My Future Wife-

It's in the air through your soul and Spirit 
But you would never hear it it muddles it jumps in my heart
I think it's love and love I know it's in my heart
My mind's conscious my spirit launches
So in my heart it flows it starts it stops
I love her, my future wife
I do not know who she is
She doesn't know who I am
A new heart
A future love
I am in love
Yet butterfly
Whomever you are
My future angel my love
Where are you?
In my head she flies so ready you're a flower 
You're steady but you would never know how I really 
How I feel only me and God will reveal 
if it's true and if you
You will never know that I love you so 
you will never know that I love you so


4/20/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©

Season's Greetings

Cloud lifts
Haze drifts
The drowsy earth looks freshly cleansed
Bone   chillness   can   be   truly   sensed
Light dew
Bright hue
Fine view

Rain falls
Wet walls
The sun goes hiding behind clouds
Drops drip as dark aura enshrouds
Muddy puddles
Water muddles
Crowd huddles

Snowy flakes
Frozen lakes
Sashaying in robes of white array
Winter's cold breath blows me away
Ice  skating
Skis waiting
Snowmen creating


01.08.21

For Joseph May's "Trinet" contest

• Short Muddles Poems
• Famous Muddles Poems
• Best Muddles Poems
• Read Muddles Poems
• Long Muddles Poems
• Muddles Quotes