The vast abundant circumspect
Everything is all,
all is in everything
Major masses amounts
Plethora
Abundance of all
surplus more than many
all is in everything
Excessive over whelming
Unaccenting, beyond measurable
all is everything
masses amounts major...
PLETHORA
8/27/26
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
A plethora of choices, an orchard of hope.
An apple? Take a bite..
that orange purses your lips…
grapes are designed to be hand fed…
lemonade comes from sour …
tomatoes define versatility…
pineapples stay sweet and thick.
Bananas? Meant to be swallowed whole…
avocado raises a faithful toast..
strawberry dreams are the catalyst…
blueberries burst on time…
kiwi smacks you into action…
Alchemy twisting the taste…
old discipline with a new shape.
An orchard of hope, a plethora of choices.
I have accumulated a plethora of junk
can’t we get rid of some of this? asked my sweet hunk.
It has overspilled out into the barn and yard now.
irritating our pig, chickens, donkey and cow.
Where have all the Gods gone
from yesteryear or days of yore
in their way back in the day
they were there to the fore
most were unbelievable
a plethora a pantheon
the rest of them incredible
one for each and all to pray upon
but did they lose face or their lustre
fall from grace mislay their magic
now long-forgotten
it's almost tragic
as no more crusades inquisition
worship ritual or sacrifice
goes to show religionists
can and will turn in a trice
and what was once believed
no longer holds thrall
yet everything in time succumbs
they all rise and fall
it's nothing new
today's will too
Had brekkie at our local coffee joint
Key word is fast but it doesn't disappoint
Two minutes tops
It was teeming with cops
Think I may have heard a plethora of oinks
Outlasting all my friends and some family,
I wish to live to be one hundred twenty.
A plethora of days to write poetry
as my last petals fall, grandkids a’plenty.
I wish to live to be one hundred twenty.
All my parts working, brain, heart, eyes, and ears.
As my last petals fall, grandkids a’plenty,
what an ideal way to live out my years.
All my parts working, brain, heart, eyes, and ears...
Think, at that age, if my life were well-spent,
what an ideal way to live out my years
on those days that go like this one just went.
Think, at that age, if my life were well-spent
a plethora of days to write poetry.
On those days that go like this one just went,
outlasting all my friends and some family.
a plethora of feelings saturated my soul
delicacy is not usually my style
But the magic elixir has not been invented yet
that would help me tolerate meanness
A silhouette of emotions causes all of my sadness to congregate
Tranquility is those who are not empathic I guess
I have always made you whole
But you have discarded me
Broken, naked, abandoned, and afraid
Yet you expect some sort of praise
For invading my heart
Like a pirate on a tyrannical rid
Being with you diluted my life for an age
And lacks the taste of sage
And sends my emotions into a rage
The scales were never equivalent
I always carried the weight
Like a slave to a savage
Nothing about us was ever average
I refused to see that you demoted me
So that you could shine in dawn
So other women would be fond of you
Lord, if they only knew the entire truth
That it was me who planted your roots
And your life is simply fake
All you have ever done is take
But not this time
You will be surprised
When I arise from the ashes
Like the Phoenix
And you will be only a memory
In the chilly breeze….
He left me starving but there was always a plethora of popcorn
mums and marigolds
a plethora of flowers
Delighting faerie
Now,
I was walking, all alone
It is better for me, I think so.
Better to think, to ponder
Could be an effort, in vain
Could be, I do not know.
Sometimes,
I do not believe myself
I am not at ease with the darkness
Creeping inside, with the
Diminishing light of the day.
Still,
Birds chirping, tree leaves falling
I could hear a voice of my yesterday
Mindfulness is always what I am striving
to achieve now, days and nights
Without mind, and a body outside.
And,
Things are obvious and swift
Too swift to grasp to reflect on
The definition is so narrow in defining
The borderline between friend and foe.
A thoughtless mind with an omnivorous body.
But,
Please do not try to infer a meaning out of me
Like my poem , I do not make sense, quite awfully.
I writhe in ambiguity
Though the past would send their best
My will is lazily over-thrown
As I build my own gallows
I hit bedrock--
Yet still, frantically dig with more fervor
My mind is an empire on the brink of collapse
With Regret as my only ally
I threw my aspiration to the wolves
Dreaming is but a subtle luxury:
'My vivid hallucination of deceit'
Pawns have put my king in check
The side of life cries to me
I feverishly run to my grave
My heart is the product of my own dissent
Indeed, my own Intention mocks me
I am a puppet, sewn to these vices
Comfort escapes from me
My anxiety is the sum of a plethora of sins
So, when will I be written out of the story?...
Lately been receiving a plethora of responses
Don't understand the reason for an increase in synopses
It's the same old silly me
Sending smiles for free
That nasty bad dude fate, it definitely outfoxes
I long to see daffodils swaying in the breeze
I love the cherry blossoms sent by spring's decree
The fragrant hyacinth, who Apollo did adore
Her scent is on the zephyr, jealous evermore
Tulips dressed up all in red
Their beauty they do spread
A plethora of colors what joy they do bring
Dancing in the breeze as beauty blooms in spring
-
3/18/17
Golden sun rays reflect in the rain
Flowing in the street as a stream
Tasting mineral water
Falling as dripping tears
In my peach face skin
Walking under
Under a
Rainy
Day
For Rain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
First Place
8-10-2016
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