Looking out of my window, what do I see?
A picture that’s painted exclusively for me
Endless blue skies, not a cloud to be seen
Wide open fields in every shade of green.
Graceful white butterflies dancing in sync
A medley of flowers in vibrant hues of pink
The sky is full of birds, big and small.
The trees look majestic as they stand tall.
Animals grazing on the lush green grass
An amazing scene behind a pane of glass.
The fear I feel is real
The pain I have to hide
Frozen in a silent scream
All motion is denied
A suit to cloak my cuts
This sacrificial goat
A belt across my back
A tie around my throat
Behind this pane of glass
No one can see me cry
Each day drones on and on
While the crowd passes by
So come a little closer
You'll see just who I am
I'm both your whipping boy
And your Mannequin Man
cat lies on her back,
lounging on the window seat...
a thin pane of glass
is all that separates her
from chaos and sturm und drang
Sporadic raindrops
every pane of glass is touched
till light of day shines
Every building in my view
Has perfect little squares
Of windows lined up neatly
Which I gaze at, unawares.
From where I sit, I cannot see
The curtains, shades or blinds,
The distance meaning if I stare,
Then no one really minds.
And yet, behind each pane of glass
Some lives are being spent,
Each one unique, no matter what
The co-op fees or rent.
The city houses millions,
All with windows facing out,
But we never know what life
Behind those windows is about.
Reflection in a pane of glass
Beauty to behold
Screenshots in my mind amass
Stored within untold
Lips that are so kissable
The softness of your skin
The horses of desire
I have to rein them in
Your sweet Embrace fills the air
Surrounding where you stand
I'm caught up in the moment
Your wish is my command
I'd hold your hand if you allowed
Your fingers locked in mine
The thought you'd even let me
Sends shivers up my spine
I’m an outsider looking in,
No matter how hard I try, I never win.
I’m separated from everyone by a pane of glass,
My best memories are my memories of the past
When I could speak without a shield,
And I could laugh my problems away in the rolling field.
Now it’s all so complicated,
And every day I’m feeling baited
By my memories of the past
That will always last
Everything’s been taken from under my nose,
And now, all I can do is pose.
Smiling for the camera with my fake smile,
Dying inside all the while.
I’m stuck in the past, my heart won’t budge,
And I have nothing to give me a nudge
To stay in the present,
Where there’s nothing for me,
So if you want to find me,
The past’s where I’ll be.
Our world is but a pane of glass
And I have seen the Grim Reaper
Lift a wearied hand with a stone --
With little restraint to keep her.
For in a dream she showed herself,
Boring her terrible eyes in me,
While neither young nor old, or plain
Or handsome did she choose to be,
But bare of foot and draped in gloom
We stood looking across a road,
I noticing how she was swathed
In the black of night where she strode.
A seamless gown, the same fabric
Crossed atop her head like the sight
One would see the Virgin Mary
Sport beneath a starry crown's light.
But her eyes, her eyes, frightened me
As they locked on mine with intent;
As she started coming my way
With all that she could represent . . .
So, I'll reiterate, our world's
As fragile as our very life,
Where many vandals are at play
With fire and stones of brass at strife
To kill senselessly without thought
And deny we have soul and choice
To save others 'fore it's too late
And a scream becomes every voice.
I tucked my head into that pebbles pillow.
Grasping the night would be rather restless.
Your sight crams me, my love and fiery foe.
If ardor was aimed to be creepily hotness.
Grasping the night would be quite restless,
Why does this brisk void squash my bone?
If ardor was aimed to be creepily hotness,
My racked soul cries out for a return prone.
Why does this brisk void squash my bone?
Folded like a shriveled rose's fading petal.
My racked soul cries out for a return prone.
Rotting deftly, accept death with no meddle.
Folded like a shriveled rose's fading petal.
Two days were enough to drive me crazy.
Rotting deftly, accept death with no meddle.
A cracked pane of glass and a train empty.
Two days were enough to drive me crazy.
Your sight crams me, my love and fiery foe.
A cracked pane of glass and a train empty.
I tucked my head into that pebbles pillow.
Written: May 21, 2022
The thief leaves his imprint on the door handle or pane of glass
And he takes your precious treasures and stuffs them in a bag
A child's xbox, your ring of engagement and sells them
They are never seen again and the loss
And a power leaps into his world ,stops him
There is no choice and his imprint changes
He now leaves the same image of goodness
Goes to work, helps the homeless and goes home to love ones
The imprint now is left on souls
The Power slowly and seductively changes him and once again stops him
She slowly and secretly undoes the tie
Her hair falls and his heart leaps as she waits
The warmth catches In his throat and he bows
Thank you as he touches her face and a wisp of hair grazes his lips
Dusting his heart for prints of his past ,his mind leaps to the winds
A refreshing breeze carries the thought to where they go
The lost ring is there and the heart
Can one ever be forgiven to the last full measure
The yard stick takes his prints one last time
She slowly undresses and his mind catches up
The thief steals and touches her lips
my lips brush your fingertips
long after your departure
your place next to me
awaits my embrace
as I bask in your aura
scooting closer to make contact
startling a blackbird at the window
tracing you onto a foggy pane of glass
I submerge myself in your image
placing a kiss on your pert nose
breathing your warm, sensual gardenia scent
laced throughout your ivory damask sweater
cradled in my arm as if a newborn
the dark bird, steward of my recollections, returns
?memories surge, spreading emotive warmth
from my core outward
I tighten my hold on your garment, pressing
my cheek against the creamy soft fibers
snuggling with your fragrance infused shadow
wanting you to brush away wet trails on my cheeks
tomorrow unveils a new day
its skin bursting with possibilities
such as the blackbird returning
?beak filled with nesting materials
hope arrives with the dawn
even as gloom flees my arms
I pressed my face against the thick pane of glass
And stared out into the black of nearest space
Where my planet-home Earth hung suspended
Like a special well-worn ornament on a spruce tree
Decorated with multi-colored bulbs and angel hair
Earth swirling inside webs of gray cloud shrouding
So peacefully, it appeared, she drifted silent there
While I saw visions of peoples struggling to be free
Knowing on us so much of their future depended
Adventuring to the unknown, and finding a place
Where Earth’s inhabitants might egress en masse.
written October 23, 2021
[using a reverse rhyme I often
employ in more recent poems]
your life you can see through transparent like in glass
The sun tone skin burnt like brazen bronze brass
My life is broken like a picture on the table
My heart is hoping to be filled with love we rolling and my soul find itself stable
Who's am I
Where am I
Why am I
Life's transparent
Skin tattered and worn
Broken spirit
Wandering soul unfurls
Who's am I
Where am I
Why am I
Transparent body that is broken liken a pane of glass
8/5/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
ONLY YESTERDAY
Looking ahead through
A dirty pane of glass,
I remember yesterday,
The old man on the bench,
A drenched French
Loaf of bread, forgotten
Beside an empty
Bottle of wine,
Half asleep in the cold
His hair whipping
Beating his face
The rain harsh,
Dripping from his
Bent head,
One shoe was gone
His naked foot
Swollen and red,
He had no bed,
No one to care,
On Planet Earth's realm
About to enter the next,
I thought for him
This was best.
I felt my heart quicken
As his stopped,
And he fell
To the ground
He was found,
For no soul dead
Or alive around,
That was yesterday.
Today, I sit on
The same seat
On the same bus
Taking the
Same journey
To my little shop
On the corner,
Where I greet the same
People every day,
I look up gratefully
And say,
Thank you God
For my life.
Trickling raindrops run
down a pane of glass;
where a lit candle
offers travelers
a glimmer of hope,
on a stormy night.
This flicker of light
lures passing strangers;
promising shelter,
food and merriment;
awaits them within
the warm embrace of
this welcoming inn.
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