May we be blessed not to wait for that perfect moment to come…
but everyday to make it part of our plan…
To take whatever moment we are in
and make it as perfect a moment as we can.
Postcard perfect- a picturesque town
Where the locals come to wind down
A hidden gem, a park of simplesse
An oasis, heavenly, it's beauty bequests
An art form to behold, a sculpture; nature's showpiece
Serene and tranquil in the heart of the city
A stream lined with a plethora of trees
Every color showcased upon their leaves
A vast variety, Each the opposite from the last
No comparison, within it's contrast
Harmoniously standing together
A strength against stormy weather
Surrounded by majestic abodes
So grand, each and all, becoming stories told
A backdrop- regal mountains- not seen before
Only Nature could compose such a musical score
The apex of an orange is the same,
a philosopher's allegory for humans.
In a world of metered verse and rhyme,
orange is an unlit shadow-show on Plato's cave—
pock-marked, blind, drying rind, lying in wait
to find its rhythm, sway its way into acceptance.
Slow dance on the walls of interrupted light,
hiding what's outside—inside itself a growing need
to see where sunlight is born, know itself in reflection
and know the name of a new day is Dawn.
No matter how perfect a form in the dark,
there's no substitute for a citrus kiss of vitamins
when the stone rolls away from an opening
to reveal the orange sun rise.
~ A Sonnet in Iambic Tetrameter ~
Remember when we idolized
Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, and Shoeless Joe
They seemed so great back in the day
Personas perfect, A-OK
But that was when the news was not
about their doings off the field
When little boys could really say
their heroes, golden swords did wield
Knute Rockne stood for God and right
Jack Dempsey punched with all his might
Ted Williams’ drives went out of sight
Grown men could even take delight…
But then OJ, he went to jail ~
Bruce Jenner was no more a male
If I loved me like God loves me
There would be, no ill-fated negative self-esteem
If I loved me like God loves me
In the jest of it I’m juz fine by myself
I would speak it out aloud, also alone or in a crowd
I just be His BELOVED EVER Proud
And if I loved me like God loves me
Imperfections would be perfect, a blessed gift
So I love me now as Christ Jesus does
With open arms I embrace myself
Out of the Father’s lips He speaks, He so loves me
And I so too do love mine self--Amen
12/8/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
Girly hedgehog is so feminine and fine
She should have suiters falling down in a line
My hair is perfect, my smile is a delight
What is wrong with these boys? They simply aren’t right!
Maybe you are too perfect, a butterfly suggests.
I agree! Throws in a wise robin from her perch on her nest.
You mean I am too good for all of them? Hey! That’s probably true!
So the stuck-on-herself hedgehog was now happy, not blue.
I'll tell you a story
One many have known
It’s really quite gory
To summon this poem, set the tone
On my own
Freestyle is my pleasure
Words straight from the heart
But to learn is a treasure
To perfect a new art
To get it right from the start
So here I am trying something new
Words slowly being penned
Concentrating soo much, my thoughts set askew
The left column guide, my poems’ only friend
To get this verse right, right up to the end
Now here I am, in the last mile
I hope I’m doing this right
I start to smile
A challenge I took upon first sight
To prove a sword strong, but a pen, pure might
09.03.2022
Quintain (English) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
I see too much never ending hatred.
Life is not meant to be wasted.
Love surpasses all offenses.
Let it shine through your actions, let down your defenses.
Nobody is perfect, a new day is a gift.
Use it to be the change you want to see, to support others, to uplift.
The past is buried, no longer alive.
Everyone wishes to find true gladness, and their dreams revive.
No matter how much I plan, things don't always go my way.
God has the final say.
Live in the moment, the present, don't waste it away.
Be kind, relax, unwind.
The truth after the storm, a light, you will find.
Take control of your mind.
Don't let previous mistakes keep you behind.
Laugh and enjoy those you love, stay in this moment, don't waste time.
Grateful that you are mine.
As I sit here, looking at the sun shine.
No longer afraid of loneliness.
For I have found true joy, priceless, ever lasting happiness.
It was perfect, a room with a cute view.
I opened the window, oh how birds flew.
Tuscany's vast landscape, everything new.
It mattered not, we paid promptly our due.
The Renaissance culture was born right here.
Miles of vineyards grew on a hillside near,
Verdant fields grew in a tier upon tier,
While oak and cypress purify the air.
Below the fragrance of delicious meals,
Prepared by chefs catering our appeals.
Delicious samples from all meals on wheels,
We gorged divine pasta and paid our deals.
Please don't blame us if we knew we'll return
Work hard, our second honeymoon we'll earn.
Emboldened metal torso dusts her in pink Himalayan flecks
Her mahogany neck persuaded to turn in his grip
Rendering fragrant dark bite from her deep spice chest
The two infused together perfect a harmonious marriage
Her mahogany neck persuaded to turn in his grip
Seasoning lamb's tendered flesh, in a glistening delight
The two infused together perfect a harmonious marriage
Chef, shaker, and grinder bow in sumptuous applause
Seasoning lamb's tendered flesh, in a glistening delight
Refined palate and palisades of sharpened cutlery adorn
Chef, shaker, and grinder bow in sumptuous applause
The curtains drawn, lights hushed in reverie and sighs
Refined palate and palisades of sharpened cutlery adorn
Rendering fragrant dark bite from her deep spice chest
The curtains drawn, lights hushed in reverie and sighs
Emboldened metal torso dusts her in pink Himalayan flecks
to make beautiful sounds pass the lips from recollections,thin&frail,figments of imagination ,particles of memory to perfect a thought,a fleeting impression.... to leap to freedom from the vague ill lit rooms of posterity into the sunlight of the moment. ...those illusive ephemeral transient,short-lived just in the moment happenings .. does inspiration flow from memory's sieve to fill a line,...do you see a fly-away image,drift into the mind's eye then rest ,and remain in this ethereal domain,momentary ...and then berths as memory stimulates
BIO MODIFIED – CONCEITED IMPOSTER
Conceited
A poet a playwright, an actor and dreamer.
I love my reflection, a challenge, applause.
I’ve thought of a screenplay, a sit-com and novel.
I feel I am perfect, a genius, appealing.
I fear I’ll be wrong on all three of those feelings.
I’d like to write music, to sing and to dance.
A resident of dreamland, I don’t have a chance.
Imposter
31st March 2020
Bio Modified contest
Sponsor - Dear Heart
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, meditating and drifting away to the lullaby of the ocean. The waves gently clap against the shore as the seagulls take to the sky forming letters of the alphabet with every flap of their wings. The clouds are dim white puffs in an otherwise endless azure sky. The sun’s amber halo is setting on the sea as the gentle wind meets the swaying palm trees and the rhythm of paradise is all around me. A small sailboat is gently propelled by the wind, another dreamer journeying the sea. The ocean breeze, its briny breath, leaves a hint of salt on my lips. As the waves roll in with their bubbling froth, a trail of seashells is scattered at my feet. Each shell was perfect, a sonnet of the sea, echoing a tale of the creature it once sheltered. Out there in the vastness of nirvana, the ocean is alive with infinite motion. When I close my eyes, wanderlust dream is the passport of my imagination.
When I visit my grandma, I'm pampered all day.
She considers me perfect, a heavenly child.
When my parents are with me, I have to obey.
But when Grandma is tending, I'm free to run wild.
If I break all my crayons or make a big mess
Or demolish my gifts, no rebuke do I hear.
If I truly am awful but cry and confess,
There are cookies to comfort her sweet, little dear.
If I fall from a swing or get hurt in a fight,
She takes care of the wound on her poor, little lamb.
If i put on a mask and then give her a fright,
She just chuckles and says what a rascal I am.
It's a day without rules for this angel in pants,
So I try all the things that a naughty child should.
You can have all your wonderful uncles and aunts.
Give me Grandma to hug me and spoil me for good.
She reads stories at bedtime and tucks me in tight
And she always remembers the date of my birth.
Though I don't always listen or do what is right,
In my grandmother's eyes, I'm the best child on Earth.
Looking into those blue eyes divine,
Pleasantly aware that you are mine.
Made for each other, that’s you and me,
As perfect a match, as we could be.
With personality and grace combined,
Where else could I possibly find
Someone for whom I’ve more affection?
How can I fault my own reflection!
Rhymer September 2nd, 2016
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