Dust on the Ground
Written, August 11, 2026, For Poetry Challenge: One-Syllable Words
Rules: All words should be one syllable.
August 10- August 16, 2026
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The cold night sweeps in,
the stars hide; the sky dulls—
wind hurts deep,
and dust coats the ground.
Pain is a wide cut,
weighs the heart—
with more beat,
tears fall slow,
while eyes weep.
Hope sparks bright,
warm lights rise—
hands stay tight,
dreams lift, then drift,
and fade from sight.
Light breaks dawn,
arms reach out—
peace moves soft,
home leans near
love finds its way—
and stays true.
Give me a taste of two feet on the ground,
let’s go get dragged by the undertow;
I want to sit and taste the ocean’s sound;
Break apart whatever has you bound,
I’m all revved up and I’m ready to go;
Give me a taste of two feet on the ground;
With palm trees in a salt breeze drowned,
island time is a serpentine bandolero;
I want to sit and taste the ocean’s sound;
Stuck laid up maybe I’ve been clowned,
then again there’s a force to my flow;
Give me a taste of two feet on the ground;
There’s sugar sand on this campground
and waves trying to grab my big toe;
I want to sit and taste the ocean’s sound;
My soul is owned by the sea year round,
living on the Gulf Coast you already know;
Give me a taste of two feet on the ground,
I want to sit and taste the ocean’s sound.
we were not raised up
we were pushed down
we were told lies
we were left on the ground
we were labandoned in a forest
to never to be found
but we put our bones together
and we turned our fate around.
Jessica
The world is not in pause;
It turns round and round,
Our feet on the ground.
A spinning top,
It doesn't wobble and stop,
A gifted miracle we don't fly off.
4/24/2022
I wrote this down full of heartaches and blue's feeling you too. Out of word's to say,out of thing's to do, don't let em get you because you know they want to. You tell it well as your story is told, holding ground where we all were profound. With word's to mince we will dispense, greatest story ever told living to tell. Saying out loud Proud and free,be yourself just like me. As our journey goes further down a glorious road,back on track,a path where we we're formed, standing firm on the ground.
On the ground golden brown leaves AWAITS WINTER TIME BREEZE-
Golden dead brown leaves
Fallen unto the autumn grounds
Coming soon winter
It’s yet autumn, so is the breeze
Flying blowing in winter
Ending the times of autumn run
Torrent, moving breeze like a blowing cotton sun dress in June
Golden dead brown leaves
12/18/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
OCTOPOEM POETRY TYPE
Daredevil Jim always let it be known,
first time succeeding most times is blown,
and his theory is right
for on his first flight …
Jim should have left skydiving alone.
The airplane descends
gradually in controlled flight
as craft lands safely.
There was blood on the ground
beneath a special man,
a man who promised life
but had to lose his first,
a man who walked common
as an uncommon king,
beaten for living by example,
killed for us -- because of us.
Blood splattered on the soil
while he suffered,
blood caught in a simple cup
while he was dying,
blood smeared on crossed wood -- forever.
The red blood of the Son seeping into the earth,
the color of death [and of life] never forgotten,
it came to pass -- and it must be,
He has chosen the path for us...
Sacred blood on the ground.
I look forward to Christmas
The snow and the man
The misseltoe giving
and faith for the fan
That joy's for the moment
that carols praise high
When faith for the Father
means prophets gone by
And lighter side's wishing
for hearts to be kind
When better sides given
their lives for the find
That only at Christmas
will wise men be found
When the wind's set on living
with men on the ground
A lady's bed is of feathers
Cowboys sleep on the ground
A rich man sleeps with the ladies
Poor men sleep all around
He rode his horse from Montana
Stopped in old Santa Fe
Saw her raven hair and dark, dark eyes
It was his lucky day
He took her home to Montana
Raised two sons strong and sound
One of them sleeps with the ladies
One son sleeps on the ground
3-20-20
Contest: Strand Choice L
Sponsor:Brian Strand
Blue sky patches of white clouds
They are slowly drifting by
A Spring thaw brown patches
of grass
Shadows are seen upon the ground
Different shapes and sizes seen
One looks like a huge dog
Another like a bird in flight
Then huge circles spread outwards
The shadows on the ground
A sunny day brings them out
They stay there all day long
Until the the sun begins to set
Next to where I work where they make electric cars
Where they used to make gasoline powered cars and trucks
near where groves and groves of orchards once grew
The small birds now nestle their young like penguins
in the Antarctic on the ground just because they are more afraid
of the polluted air than of the natural wildness that
once was.
Or maybe it was I who never took notice of their plight.
The Shore birds such as plovers, terns, avocets and sandpipers
of which I never took any time to notice much.
How I consider it so strange to just notice them now.
Almost like a Michener novel.
Blue blue like a Wallace Stegner novel, an angle of repose
some angle of least resistance that occurs when you
are trying to relive the guilt behind all the engineering
terms that built this one and holier than god
parade that built itself up to carry all of life
And the moon and the stars above.
And all with beautiful magnificent writing.
For some reason.
Peace!
mind under control
here i sit not giving a sh-t
(t-rump'd this morning : )
trying to describe unpredictability
randomness...irrationality
the real and or the imaginary
the stuff of life
central nervous system and mind
logics matrix of mathematical digits
the balance is real
dimensions....constants
context...content
fractal scales
reality frequencies
(visited an old fishing spot today : )
stan sand
bugging sunshines
an aquatic, insects melts
at the old popsicle
5/9/19
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