The Coat of Skins — we borrow here
To keep our Ember warm —
A borrowed House of Breath and Bone
Against the Cosmic Storm —
The Gnostics whisper — not aloud —
For Truth prefers the Shade —
That Light was first — and Matter next —
A Captive — poorly made —
They say the World was wrought by Hands
That never knew the Whole —
A Craftsman blind to Origin —
Who netted up the Soul —
And we — the Spark — in Earthen Wool —
Remember — by a Pain —
A Distant Home — a Purer Air —
Where Knowing is truth Gained —
Salvation is not wrought by Deed —
Nor bought with Dust or Gold —
But waked — when Inner Lamps are lit —
And Secret Names are told —
The Coat will fall — as all things do —
When Light recalls its Own —
And Skin — no longer necessary —
Is gently laid — like Stone.
The clouds have opened their eyes wide
And all blackness wiped off the face of
The earth.
Night’s curtain has been drawn.
The rising birds in one single squadron
Halloo the world,
Winging and swinging through the
Broad lanes of the ceruleans.
I wake and tremble with the coldness of
Netted fishes;
My spirit stumbles upon fresh thresholds
Whiter with the dews of a prostrating day.
I return to my first day when I had cried.
I speak of my vagitus.
Morning celebrates itself,
Its return from a wayward night trip,
And the glory of dawn.
Crows from drunken cockerels
Ring out loud and clear on the spine of
The village,
Saluting the birth of a new-born day.
Dearest Tenser:
Told you I would write you about the weekend.
Pray for them flood peoples and all. But got some news for ya.
She used a chrt to list the men she'd been with. We sat in the dining hall listen to her presentation. It was right before the BBQ.
She went inside and started cooking. Acting like everything was done on tth grill. I didn't say anything when people arived, holding my tougne. That Gal from Dizzies showed up. Dressed like a street thang. Netted jacket, netted pants. "A show stopper one peice", we told her to put Duct tape over the Specail treats cause our men freinds were here. She did it. Got mad when some one said something about it. Well back to thee BBQ. Miss Thang did the cooking. Had Short ribs with wine sauce potatoes and mushrooms. It was good. She cooked the short ribs in the crock pot for six hourss
and smoked a BBQ sauce on the smoker
and and tossed the ribs in
when her company arrived.
Acting like the whole thing was done
outside.
I stood laughing at her
write me back:I gonna meddle into why these pole choose us to be audeince to them.
Sincerly Your Tenser
I netted a word today
spritzing in the back of mind,
examined it from angles:
politically, like stars and spangles
rhythmically, like Mr. Bojangles
spiritually, like sin~ the foolish soul
entangles
--------------------------------
Some writes simply
start that way, a little
prick, a piercing needle,
a little sip, then a bigger swig --
from a simple plan with
a hopping step~ to a stomping, glorious
gig! --
A bee of thought
from silent hive astray
a buzzing syllable
with small fanning wings
jolting every colony senator
with shocking, new contagious
temblor
till the whole damn swarm
takes alacritous notice --
the poet begins an inflating rock...
bursting out joyfully~ his pen verse
singing!
ODE TO MONEYLENDERS
Oh, what designs can one possess
Lending succour to those with naught
Such desperate need one must confess
And how hard one must have fought
When courtesy has no more currency
With those to whom one is indebted
And there is a sad loss of coherency
Then additional loans must be netted
Limited choices never were the best
Yet lenders all may seem attractive
In selecting just one from all the rest
One does have to be quite proactive
Yet each time, the first steps are easy
Later payments getting ever harder
Mounting dues can make one queasy
It can be hunger and an empty larder
Interest becomes the pound of flesh
With debts spiralling out of control
Raw need and sympathy never mesh
As timely repayment is ever the goal
Whether institutional or private loan
More than money may be involved
Property as capital soon sets the tone
And any timely exit is rarely solved
Pleasant outcomes appear quite rare
Borrowing is always a slippery slope
With risk of ending in a pit of despair
And yet for some, there is still hope
It does not grow in the ground
in a bush, on a tree
No animal's beheaded
Or fish netted
It's seldom shredded
Makes a perfect meal
prepared as requested
Symbol of life in the world
Yolk inside egg-white ~ mysteries swirl
The branch that grew on its own
No consideration of where it was sown
Oh, the heights could it seek
To become one that others would speak
Look at this what I have will flourish
Many shall see my example to nourish
New heights and beauty of many branches
All going in many directions
Not seeing the way it was headed
Even the spiders had quit netted
As the branch was about to hit the power line
The workers came by and chopped its spine
Falling to the ground in unbelief
What use shall I be of now in grief
How many times did it refuse to be pruned
Now laying in the dust of ruined
It rained for 3 days,
drenching torrents plunged down
as if a dam had breached.
There was some local flooding
but by and large only minor damage
a lot of litter and flotsam though
‘sky wreckage’ some called it.
The butterfly house was swamped,
its netted walls were ripped ragged
by broken tree limbs,
the seams in the wooden roof
split apart and a wild,
wind-riding rain rode in.
Purple Admirals were beaten down
by the gusting blows,
then drowned.
Painted Ladies were murdered
their mangled decorative forms
no longer cosmetics.
Longwings no longer flew
but in death, swam limply
in the splashing puddles.
A disarray of broken wings
carpeted the deluged floor.
Somewhere in this caged house
sodden chrysalids sway upon fractured twigs;
eventually there will be fluttering wings,
but not here in this ruined shelter
were the air still drips wetly
onto unreceiving
and unmoving antennae.
Elephant trunk palms column, canopy claps hands
Undergrowth glad heart shape leaves spiral
Navigator vines map branches, brace boa banyan
Utile duenna diary with my duties conspiring
Chaperone rope binds silent beside my grand plan
Helpmaster holsters my faltering stride, hips squared
Essential weapon for war against mediocrity
Netted fruit bag binds ideas, ripe inspiration shared
Collaboration binges exchanges evocatively
Oversees growth, buffers fumbles, humiliation spared
Unbias advisor straddles drama, miniscule mosquitos
Raised beyond current, stilts lift clear of silt
Above ravaging river, twig leg log cabin cosy kudos
Guileless sunrise server castrates lumpy guilt
Enmeshed mirror wishes bud symmetrical smiling rose
Mentor each moment monitor prods my furtive dreams
Enlivens rainblur haze, unravels twisted maze
Narrows channel between now and zany zone supreme
Twines possible to present, pours zesty praise
Strengthened, gender invalid, my meridian self esteem
9th June
Carbonised Agenda
"Valentine Fatale"
Pull the violin
strings
from the heart
like a corset undone
there the softest rose,
blood red plucked,
the thorns played
and petals cast
as kitty discard
from the breast
of a Valentine fatale
voluptuously falling
into the open arms
of Love, spilling
over into romance
like a broken dam
ripely held in the
bow of cupid smile
passion full
drawn into
the delectable swim
twirling swirling down
into the warm velvet
like moss, so green
against reflective
sapphire pools,
the dangerous sea seen
like an inviting ocean to kiss,
in such vastness taken,
the lost fast falling
thick panting eyes
mirroring each other
in the dance,
like a waltz Viennese
Love, spilling over,
like a broken dam
fallen, then,
pulled back
into the catch,
netted and tangled up
in the ropes of
Rubenesque romance,
eye to eye
hand to hand,
a burning flame
ripely held in the
bow of cupid smiles,
incandescent
fiery twin arrows,
the well lit,
seduction
(LadyLabyrinth/2023)
Rocking back and forth with a Magellan hat, Lennie prepares for sailing.
Incoherent babbling is heard from the explorer on all fours.
Items of existential curiosity, once seen from afar and distant, are now within reach.
Unbeknownst of this capable ability are those that keep watch, giggles to self.
Driven by wonder, soft thudding perks the ears of the canine companion.
The pain of fence posts cutting through tissue leaves a snail trail on the floor.
Finally making landfall, the little giant scales rectangular glass framed in wood.
Pauses, send deafening echoes to the villagers safe inside, stunned in silence.
Bored of this impenetrable defense, climb further to the cliff edge to peer over the brim.
A village made of logs, glittered snow that sparkles on hand, little people frozen in time.
With a reverse Midas touch, ends the curse of the village with the gift of flight.
Awoken, the God and keeper of the village imprison your curiosity in a netted cage.
12-28-22
An Existential Curiosity
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Only four feet off the ground,
Suspended on netted strings.
They tangled us in a bound
Within our forsaken wings.
Chirping of night time bugs
Sink into our mind, it hugs.
Adorning stars fall in your eyes,
Fulfilling your spirit as it flies.
Fears of frolicking goodbyes,
Leads me in a never-ending trance.
Don’t listen to your mindless lies,
Follow the glory and give it a chance.
Our cruel afflictions raise concerns,
Yet the field of amor seldom dries.
The flower pearl of your life burns.
The power whirl of your strife yearns.
Look at me in the eyes,
This is not a disguise.
Old age
Threatening near
Wrinkles on forehead
Lines on corners of eye
Netted crosses on cheeks
Plumps of fat
On protruding belly
Double chins
Hanging loose
Shrivelled hands and fingers
Resemble those of a cold blooded animal
Clumsy legs
Staggering
Sinking eyes
Dimming
Exhausted brain
Confusing
A complicated world
A bleak future
For every oldie
And it comes only once
Mister Joe, would-be muse,
jangles loose change in his pocket.
Memories jogged and garnered as he walks.
Mister Joe in contemplation,
washes, rinses and tumble dries, what pops into his head,
in hourly cycles, with riddles, jingles and rhymes.
Each wash-up, extracted, pegged, and hung up to dry,
to taunt and flap jangles for him,
for his readers, and strangers who happen to pass on by.
Mister Joe, would-be muse,
casts charms, jangles and sparkles,
to jog in the minds of his readers.
His words cast nets to trawl up memories and serendipity dips,
in the minds of his readers with word play, puzzles and twists.
The catch netted, is prodded, poked, shaken and stirred,
to inspire twinkles, sparkles, hums, aahaa's, grunts,
and perchance, nods of appreciation and delight.
Mister Joe's catch of memories, once jarred and jangled, are returned to reader with care.
For the reader to add jangles to their pockets,
and gems to their lockets and charm bracelets.
Mister Joe, would-be muse, and his reader, now walk with jangles echoing within.
shining desolate
a hungry grand lion snorts
because of the net
~
cheery abandoned
a brutish grand lion vents
he escapes said net
2/16/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.