I never got to teach you Maths,
Or English, or to drive.
I never got to pick you up
From school when you were five.
I missed all the nativities,
Where your angel wings unfurl.
And never had the chance
To call you "Daddy's little girl".
I never took you to the zoo,
Or gave you piggy-backs.
Or helped you to appreciate
The world of QI facts
I never helped you through the painful
Years that girls go through.
Nor did I get to be the one
That came to your rescue.
Despite me missing all these things
You turned out pretty good.
And I love you to the moon and back
Just like a daddy should.
The Real Christmas
From Black Friday to Christmas Eve,
presents to purchase and wrap.
Office and family parties, visits to relatives
platters of food and gallons of alcohol.
Trees dressed to the nines in dangling baubles
and twinkling lights.
Continuous Christmas carols blaring from radios
and loud speakers.
Wreaths and decorations to adorn tables,
night stands, credenzas, book shelves.
Lights hung in strings so large that rows
of houses look like runways for planes.
Inflatable Santas, snowmen, reindeer and nutcrackers
compete for space in yards.
Nativities, pageants, plays special music
consume congregations.
Is this the real Christmas?
Or perhaps it is-
A silent night, two thousand years ago
in a dimly lit cave.
A babe wrapped in woolen clothes
lying in a sheep’s feeding trough.
Only shepherds and loving parents
in attendance.
An infant destined to change history.
The future savior of the world.
Alternating with awe and amazement
Belief breathes blessings, brilliant and bright
Calming, creative and colorful – so calm
Dreaming of dainty, delicate delights
Endlessly eager to eliminate evil
Friendly and full of feelings so faithful
Graceful, giving, glorifying God
Hopeful, heartening, a happy heart
Inspiring imaginations and insights
Joyfully jabbering with jaded jests
Keeping kindness with a keener kaleidoscope
Loving, living, laughing, lighting lives
Making music, melodies to make merry
Noels, nativities and needs being nurtured
Open odes and olive branches offered
Promises of peace, prosperity and praise
Quiet and quaint quotes on queries
Reflections and reminders of rare rhymes
Silent sounds, silvery and soft
Truths and talents tempting all to be thankful
Ultimately, using those in unbelievable unions
Visiting vibrant thoughts on velvety vistas
Wise and warm, welcoming worthy souls
Xerically xenogeny brought to xerophilous
Younger in years than in yawning yarns
Zestful zealots who live in heart zeniths
''A'' Forms, New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
POEM TYPE: Abecedarian
2. angel
December 8, 2021
Cheering multitudes shanghai.
Hearty thanksgivings sphere.
Rainy seasons harbor.
I ntroductory thanksgivings canvas.
Spiritual nativities sail.
Thanksgivings curtain wall of love in the air.
Minor constellations season moon and sun witness.
Annual thanksgivings celebrate giving to all.
Sacred seasons holiday birth of our Savoir our Lord
12/14/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Nigeria, the Soul of my Pride (Part One)
Nigeria, my country, where mournful of pledges aren’t reneged?
Indomitable she would have maintained, if crowns aren’t clowns
Gyrating on the mishaps, wearing wan gumption—unwelcome!
Ears do attend; but eyes haven’t yet seen what watery mouths do speak (of).
Roasting are to rich physiques, as paupers’ plights mount on their rotten.
Innuendoes of yesteryear ‘nattered’, nativities’ woes unforgettable.
Atrophying (now) are the little legacies her founding fathers had raised.
Nigeria my country, where true sons and daughters’ tongues sip in her bounties; sobbing,
Some are endlessly praying and raising their voice to hearings and their words to readings.
....
6/4/2014
Having held the crystal ball of what love should see....
Beyound these commercial bouquets be roses; boxes with
Chocolate some hallmark card devised as their corporate studio
Somewhat surprized, there aren't another ninty-nine holidays
That they can sell but give them time they'll push it, past the house
Around her world and eighty days; crawling, through your cyber space
Risibility is thus from a distant view swathed their babies, playing in the sand ?
Shifting, nativities his panacea's paradigm: All about her globe love gazing deeply of, lucidity.
Creedence aligned along the corridores of passage
Which usher in through the portends
This Autumn's door....
Such colourful banners a latitudes sprinkling
Flowering waters of repose that still echo
Inside, these sanctuaries walls
Guarded by the sentry whom stands at their gate
The entrance unto the destined temple
Of the blessed, as eternal Soul....
Silver and gold adorning nativities scene
A sacred reminder of divinities call
To have and to hold such prophetical promises
Profound, laid afore this starlit altar
Treasures as verse whose words do echo
Atop the tumbling of her organs keys....
Assembling choirs their Angelic voices
Proclaiming these melodies in harmonic chords
Whileas the infant smiled, and gazed into the future
***********************************************
..In, through the Autumn's Door ~
Christmas at Sea.
Once I was kicked by a mule, as I was remonstrating,
a dog interfered and bit my ankle. There is something
deeply embarrassing to lose arguments to animals.
Guayaquil, Colombia, I hadn´t gone ashore for fun but to
buy food stuff for the crew. Since it was a few days before
Christmas and even our Moslems crew liked something
extra. It is difficult to get into the festive mood when it is
hot and I had been bitten and kicked, Jesus was born in
a barn which is a good place to be a cold winter night as
animals exude good warmth. I marvel of the nativities of
Joseph, a finer man than me; a person unsung through
times. Chicken for Christmas, not pork, in every mess
hall there were a coloured trees, since the Islamists do not
drink there was peace on earth; I forgave the mule and
the bloody, yellow monster of a dog. And silently the old
tramper ploughed the sea on her way to Jamaica, where
the seaman´s priest would invite us Christians to sing
psalms and hand out little presents of socks and gloves
knitted by kind ladies back in Norway.
Credence aligned along the corridores of passage
Which usher in through the portends
This autumns door....
Such colourful banners of latitudes sprinkling
Flowing waters of repose that still echo
Inside, these sanctuaries walls
Guarded by the sentry whom stands at their gate
The entrance to the destined temple
Of the blessed, and eternal soul....
Silver and gold adorning nativities scene
A sacred reminder of divinities call
To have and to hold such prophetical promises
"Profound," laid afore this starlit alter
Treasures as verse, whose words do echo
Atop the tumbling of the organs keys....
Assembling choirs of angelic voices
Proclaiming these melodies of harmonies chords
While the infant smiled, and gazed into the future
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In, through the autumns door ~
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