It's raining, it's pouring,
The old man is snoring,
He went to bed,
And he bumped his head,
And he couldn't get up in the morning.
It's raining, It's pouring,
His family are mourning,
He is dead,
He bumped his head,
and he didn't wake up in the morning.
Rain, Rain, go away,
Come again another day,
He went to bed,
Heart full of dread,
and he didn't wake up in the morning.
It's Raining, Its pouring,
Take this as a warning,
Don't be mislead,
And go to your bed,
And head this old man's warning.
I love the smell of dew on the grass, when a new day has just begun. I love to watch the flowers as they turn their heads towards the Sun.
I love to hear the gentle whispers of the welcoming breeze.
I love to watch as it rustles through, the leaves upon the trees.
I love to watch the Angelic rays from the sun as they pierce through the branches of a tree. Creating a kaleidoscope of pretty shapes on the undergrowth for all to see.
I love to watch the clouds as they gracefully float on by, like fluffy balls of candyfloss complementing the blueness of the sky.
I love to hear the intenseness of the thunder, as it rumbles way up high. And the flashing from the lightening's rage, as it fork's across the sky.
I love to listen to the heavy rain as it bounces of the ground.
A harmonious, symphony of notes, with its own unique sound.
I love it when a rainbow grace our sky after the poring rain .
A masterpiece of pretty colours, cupping the earth in its domain.
There is beauty all around for those with eyes to see. Nature is magical, it is captivating, it is abundant and it is free.
Looking over my northern shoulder
at the changing shades of day
a weak winter sun turning twilight grey
teardrops of rain on the window
the gentle sigh of the wind
storm clouds in the evening sky
bring it all back again
poring over unwritten letters
in the solitude of night
a dim lit candle shining star white light
telephone silent unanswered
candlelight quietly dimmed
unwritten letters to no one
start it all over again
I don't want to be lonely
for the rest of my life
and if I love you only
will you stay by my side
Poring over the holy books
Hoary heads, stroking their beards
Calibrating ancient laws for 2022
Eschewing payment, revered volunteers
The shaman speaks of plants to see,
other cosmic dimensions energy.
The Zulu’s stamp dance the ground,
working the earth to a drumming sound.
Smokes from many ashes taken in breath,
medicine pipe presenting the living death.
Monks in high altitude poring colored sand,
a new wheel of time mandala grand.
The Sufi in a poetic conclusion rhyme,
reasons to everything - in its perfect time.
The Runes of Nordic legacies,
and its roots of testing integrities.
The Sangoma takes one to the very edge,
and something closer to the truth is wedged.
Distilled elixir from the Alchemist to turn,
working matter and spirit discern.
Wind carries it in its womb,
natures nursing care and thereof bloom.
Akasha's force due cosmic balance act,
shadows of inner reality fact.
The love that manifests as tolerance,
heals wounds of hearts in forgiveness.
Scriptures of kindled souls and its struggles,
when quickening the heart by dominance.
Pondering prayers and golden fine thread lining,
homewards all souls in absolute defining.
A warm October day finds me on the couch on my porch, poring over magazines which have stacked up for a year. Getting ideas for poems, for lesson plans, for possible future books or paintings. Something catches my eye, and I look up.
There is a glorious eagle, soaring. A sign from God that he has this? I like to think so.
a warm autumn day
my errant eye turns upwards
bald eagle soaring
sometimes punctured passion's bruised blank:
bounty biddings could trace torn tracks
syllabic silhouettes sighing
dark dribbles - spelled sway of motive
fostered feelings foiling
porous pledges poring fractures
perforated pencil moaning
voluptuous sketches sans vying
masticated mind's tamed template
confetti of canvas cruise crave
gaunt geulgram eerie actions etched
moistened mosaic crumbling down crest
passion ain't plea for addiction:
It's a page you sketch choiced motion.
'20:06:12:10:33
Note: of pored passion.
there was a punctured potter
whose wills strained shuffled shudders
meagre muds moistened massive moans
dark traces drooled, gaunt glows
hoisted zeal hankered hampers:
eerie efforts pruned pulpy pesters
lanky labour leered, futility feigned lame
crushed contractions, callous confetti's crave
damp death drilled his plague
sumptuous suck, nosy nectar's crest
potter birthed a son,a generation then another son
whilst masticated malady mimicked, poring pawns
the keener he carved a shape,
soaring swifter contractors come for claims.
'20:05:21:17:26
Note: of punctured potter.
eerie contractions etched
fostering fractured fetch
poring punctured pulses
worn winds wield
felon feigns drooped
hoisting hankering drools
bruised barks moaned
heaving sigh sown
by blitzkrieg enthroned
dark diminuendo dribble
cupping callous cripple
nocturnal nature nimble
spunky shaver severed
rondure creeps revered.
'20:04:04:11:30
Note: Of vying vision.
scurrying around, a bark to hear,
eyes see only, one of five,
paws remembered, your home
felt whole.
lines so romantic, motioning emotion,
blissful movements, clouded by
betrayed promises, your faith
was undisguised.
earnest tears, fall without catch,
relationships severed, voluntary release,
mentally tangible, your touch
could heal.
dire straits, listening, a weakness,
poring through archives, beauty's detail,
a picture found, your smile
wore love.
Black Satin
Clouds of fascism, blocking out the light of diversity
Sheets of rain drowning out the voices of crusaders
Socialist artists with paint brushes and black paint,
White wash over the history between God and man
Enforcers try to use fear to drive the children of truth to dwell in
The catacombs
Declaring themselves to be master of the universe,
Set their thrones above the stars of the Creator.
Poring delusions of security, and grander into the wooden heads of all those puppet who allow their strings to be pulled.
Children of Truth, don’t find refuge in hiding in the catacombs
Be courageous, Shine the light of truth, in the strength of the Holy Spirit.
For there are many who are lost in the heavy black fog, who yarn to be lead to the kingdom of light.
Just as the morning dew melts by the afternoon, just as the grass withers
The kingdoms of the masters of the Universe will evaporate, as the true King’s kingdom will touch down on the earth.
Written by Stephen J. Vattimo
2/11/2020
Heart raptures are often revisited,
When poring over the things He said;
And as a rousing drama replays again,
All evergreen is love's aged domain!
Words of prophets in the mind recur;
The divine tales of each messenger-
How Moses by God obtained the law,
Then merciful Jesus, who had no flaw.
When evening comes quite softly and,
Blossoms His shadow all over land,
When hoot owl and all creation sighs,
Prayers rise to purple satiny skies!
His story is warm as sunshine gold,
And our destiny His word had foretold,
Like fireflies foreshadow the night,
And as excessive darkness heralds light!
He revealed the way to live in love,
In beauty joyful as rampant foxglove!
It's no wonder all of nature sings,
Crypts of saints have eternal spring!
In a kingdom full of cuddles;
'Loving!' said I, 'thing of amour';
My passion is this blessed, crazy muddles;
Heated hot emotions and loins treasures;
Got fever boiling?
Can't control them;
My passion is the comforting lovely
Loving
In a kingdom full of storms
'Loving!' said I, 'thing of sweet.'
The fatherly firm forgiving torn;
In you I’d insist keeps
Covering
I crave the loving, like loving
Loving
I awoke and flung the amour
the fatherly firm forgiving
and the dais never adoring
while I pondered, lover like and poring
the idolatrous intimacy interring not endearing
Much I marveled this warm carcass
Loving
I heard a dear, over fond estranging
That moment my soul grew no longer a stranger;
I saw us in my mind the cuddles
Deep into that darkness caressing;
Soul spread, spirit fed now kissing;
Ever so…Loving
7/13/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Being away from you kills me,
the warmth of your touch,
as you held my dimpled cheek,
against you,
with my tears wetting your shirt-
still lingers there,
as if twere never gone.
You went away ,
taking a part of me with you;
now here i am,
i do not know where my soul is,
perhaps its still clinging onto you,
refusing to let go
.Now leaning on the balcony,
with the setting sun beams,
poring through my eyes ,
my mind`s all in for you;
your black curious eyes,
fixed on mine,
as you held me in your arms,
against the balcony-
my heart always seemed to float away...
Seeing you only makes it worse,
bits of those forever torn 'moments'-
trying to poke their heads back in,
the excrutiating pain as the bits tear through to me,
i can only but bear `em ;
as your messy hair in the morning,
as your embarrassing smile,
as you,.. my dear,
enclose me in painful happiness.
I sat in front of her
Crying
Poring out
An ocean
Drowning in my sorrow
Her first words
Were
Are you okay?
The question I hate
Being asked
And never answer honestly
Because the thought
Of saying I'm not okay
Kills me
Makes me feel like
I'm committing
Suicide
Like if those words
Left my mouth
I'd explode into
A million pieces
And than everyone
Would see all the
Pain I kept a secret
Why couldn't she see it ?
It was her job to
My coming was because
I wasn't okay
Why wasn't that enough
Why wasn't my tears enough
Why would she try to make
me say those nasty words
I hated her
for reminding me
What my true answer
To that would be
I wiped my face
She asked me
Are you okay?
I shed my last tear
And said
Yes
I'm okay.
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