An aging Senate finds it hard to see,
The choice is between devil and deep sea.
For whom alas to bat,
Who dares to bell the cat,
At stake is the power-packed Presidency.
___________________________________
Happenings |04.07.2024| political, humour
Poet’s note: President Joe Biden was all fluster and froth in the presidential debate. Ex president Trump, his usual bluster, boast and bravado. Both aging and frustrated. But who will stop them in an aging Senate (60 percent above the age of sixty, four above eighty). Who’ll dare to bell the cat, this ditty wonders.
snowflakes falling soon
precipitation a hop
away from ‘morrow
goosebumps like ice under sheets
might wear my sweater to sleep
12/25/2021
Near the curb, by the right of way;
Next to the street;
Over onto the sidewalk;
Where pedestrians stalk;
Twit the grasses trespasses;
A wild pear tree full of fruit
Double down swarming with bees;
Flying round;
No one is picking nor eating them;
Children that go to school even ignore them;
As I’m sitting next up against the curb;
I’m thinking sure, this early morning sure would be good,
To just git a sample a taste of the pears on the tree;
Next to me
8/12/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021 ©
Our neighbour is plumbing Mum's drain
As some drips were causing her pain
But mum is no fool
And his "special" tool
Like Dad's, will just make yellow rain
Steeped in despair like some dimming eventide,
his crimped soul embraces fleeting thoughts beside
the howling, feral rapids
surging far below,
Pondered he once more how life and love doth collide.
A pearlescent August moon of revealing light
suddenly showered rays of sound at his drunken plight.
Thrum of distant, sad heartstrings
he heard sounding in her breast.
He saw hope’s silver plumb swinging near, ever bright.
Acidic tang of unrequited love gives way to utter bliss,
as he recalls the unrelenting joy of her last beguiling kiss.
Stepping away from the craggy edges of the brink
of despair, he relieves himself in the swirling, swelling abyss.
THIRD PLACE WINNER
Written March 14, 2021
Submitted to “Eight Word Bardenesque Challenge”
Sponsored by John Hamilton
THIRD PLACE WINNER
"Hope" Contest
Sponsored by Mohan Chutani
Rob the Plumb Bob
True upright, Honest vertical,
Forthright citizen, If criticized, Unfair!,
Assured in Approaching Life's "Hurdle-cal",
Mich's husband devoted, likewise Lucas's Pere,
Spiritual thinker hardly heretical,
Kind, Kind, Kind, never one to scare,
Moral, principled always ethical,
For the NGA, Rob does contractors snare,
Pro at his roles, family & work, nobody's skeptical,
A well travelled road grows no grass...Rob's scalp's losing hair,
Rob's Icelandic blood belies his manner tropical,
Sharing to anyone in need, recipients just stare,
Always generous even when not economical,
Doubt Rob's convictions? Don't you dare!
Oh, my darling as we promenade
Forlorn deaths of fashions stray
We go on along each way
As our hearts plumb the depths
As we then take a deep breath
We find that all we have left
In our lives is us and the Lord
As we plumb the depths of our Faith
And we receive, as we believe
As we believe, we receive
We are chosen, we are born again
As we walk within God’s unchanging plans
We focus on Him, who is almighty
Oh, my darling as we serenade
Forlorn psalms of devotion we pray
We go on along each and everyday
As our hearts plumb the depths
As we then take deep, deep breaths
And kiss the holy kiss
From our Lord and Savior King
He whom birth us again
We are chosen, we are born again
As we walk within God’s unchanging plans
We focus on Him, who is almighty
A strong tower our soul and spirit rest
As our heart plumb the depths
2/3/20
For Pick A Title, Vol 13 - Lyric - Poetry Contest
Lyric poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh |
Called the plumber – a chronic late comer
the sink slow dripping since late last summer
his low hanging drawers
but one of his flaws
the pose that he struck – Oh, what a bummer.
©1/3/2019
Limericks Poetry Contest
Joseph May - Sponsor
I drove back to my childhood home-for a funeral.
I sniffed around some old stomping grounds...
The "monkey trail" was an overgrown path that led to the baseball fields
The first sign of a dying town is to nick it in the vein.
The trains had long ago stopped running.
I was happy the locomotive had croaked.
You see that metal monster ate my puppy a long time ago.
Just around the block from my home,
we used to sneak over the neighbor's fence.
Pinch a few plums, juice running down our virgin mugs.
Munching away the summer months...
The plum tree is gone now,
I wonder if the faceless "plumbers" are still around.
Anyhow, the funeral went off without a glitch
. The holy man was short. Plump and sweet...
I've outlived a cousin, a puppy killer, and an old plumb tree.
Political Plumb Named Bob
https://www.bing.com/search?q=plume%20bob&form=WNSGPH&qs=SW&cvid=57eca7d81b5e45d999c78ec9abf99ea2&pq=plume%20bob&nclid=223510F8277B1497603ABEB8B92AEE3D&ts=1444561716718
Do you know anyone who fits this description?
There is something that I must confess
When you try to produce much progress
It always will seem to day after day
Destroy everything getting in its way.
Why have people become so obsessive?
With things considered to be progressive
Making everyone think that they must
All political patriarchs start to distrust.
If it does make a dollar for all of them
Any of their fat will they be willing to trim
And give some to us after they do dispose
In my back yard and not have a hard nose.
My message sounds loud and clear to me
Start looking back through all of history
The one who is with most political power
Has lived in highest, tallest ivory tower.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
you are my star
going buy you anew car
where ever you are
you should know
i love you so
with you i have somuch fun
together as we run
you are my
PLUMB
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