Fish out of water;
Are birds with wings?
That fly in the 2nd firmament”;
Worms crawling on the ground;
Are men laden postured, horizontally sounded
Liberated in prayer ;
3/16/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2026©
Postured wherewithal's
infant eyes give parental praise
we gleam togetherness
I had a dream about you last night. I was alone on a dark night and you came to me as a firefly. I knew it was you because you were the brightest.
— Crystal Hudson, Dreaming is for lovers
FIREFLY
like subdued moonlight
postured on crestfallen branch
glad gleam of firefly
embrace the sentient light
don’t hide in a pickle jar
3/10/2022
Firefly Tanka
Sponsor: JCB Brul
The sun, drab green
The moon too quiet
Earth's cities wept
Looting and riots
Mayors postured, spoke
Their message 'woke'
The sun raced away
Moon's light gone gray
Dedicated to My Son, The Bedtime Kissy-Keeper Giver
Like a virgin to stressed messes surging,
I struggled with bridges on parental ridges
when I wore both mom and work britches.
Young years adhered pleasure steered twitches
but grown changes sewed pressure stitches.
I changed to a day and night striving
female getter-doner; an energizer twit-nit
who conquered to-do lists into done bits.
I became every weekday employee,
pay postured towards green seen garnered.
I was more a get-byer than I was a
future green funds keen accumulator.
Nightly, I morphed into dinner’s meal cooker
still dressed in work time's pantyhose stress.
I dreamed of a pajama seamed frame
before next becoming a kitchen mess cleaner,
homework tutor, tub time clean scrubber and
loving night-nighttime book reader.
I found no awakes take was sweeter
than my child’s beddy-bye kissy keepers
and prayed my son’s most precious styled love
would counter the stresses that I was made of.
Let us not singular sinfiltrate our
over dosed mind measures
of all our predisposed socio-patterened
downfalls we have domesti-inherited
from our DNA dumb nulls un an
appreciated elders of **** ascent
beings of a post/past anointed anomalied
bereavements pushing presumptive
present tense postured atrocities
future follied fornitude frenzies to
cry contain those all ever after brazen
generations to live sideways in tune
to ever realize a coaxial junction
a dead conscience to staid to survive,
to sly to reveal and to nominal to be normal
to contain/re-contain those all ever after
gonad generations. Maybe a sideways pill pattern to
open me up before xmas, a corpse closed purpose
concentric of nerve present equal-eulogized
venture void with empty filled shakers of self.
Golden Arches Aches & Pains
Written: by Tom Wright
2/27/2016
Postured in leisure under retirement’s tree,
With wee view of future or how much I’ll see;
I lip sync the lyrics of a perpetually sad song,
As days appear brief, my nights become long.
Presently fettered to pain from head to toe tip,
Beginning with shoulders, spreading to my hip;
It’s made restful sleeping become quite a chore,
Golden years are fast becoming some I deplore.
WORDS DECRIBED THIS
THEY DID NOTHING TO
DETAIL, WHAT THE EYE
REALLY SEE'S
I POSTURED MYSELF TO REDEFINE
EXPERIENCE
I POSTURED MYSELF TO DESCRIBE
WHAT WAS BEFORE ME
IT MAKES EVERYTHING BEFORE IT'S CREATION
INFERIOR
IT'S ARROWS POINT TO ALL DIRECTION
AND THIS ENCOURAGES ALL TO WANT
WISH AND DISCOVER
FOR THE SAKE OF CREATION
IT FILLS CAVITY'S
AND TRENCHES DRY SPACES
IT STANDS STILL
AND GOES PLACES
IT IS TIMELESS
AND EVER GOING
RELENTLESS
AND AWE SHOWING
IT'S AMPLIFIED AND WHISPERED
DIFFERENT AND STRANGE
IT'S RIGHT IN WRONG PLACES
IT WHY THINGS MAKE A CHANGE
IT'S HOW WE WILL DEAL WITH TOMORROW
IT WAS THOUGHT OF YESTERDAY
FROM NOW ON IT SHALL BE SPOKE OF
AS IT WAS HERE ALWAYS
Mastered Puppets
Of the voices thrown and never shown their cries travel well
A starving sewn with a bitter bone of their life a quiet quell
With larval lips that are losing grips where echoes only dwell
Their smile drips as they use their fingertips in a yielding yell
Left alone with a grunting groan their silence slaved to seal
Ruling the hunger zone a thirst on throne with a musty meal
Voices held captive and anguish adaptive with souls of steal
Their reality refractive with dreams inactive they still congeal
Mastered and strung with a tangled tongue they begin to pray
A heart hung and death unsung, wounded words they convey
With tears they wash as the sorrows squash their moral display
The sounds that swash in their postured posh soon fade away.
June.18.2018
Ventriloquist Poetry
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
Members of Minority Groups
Discrimination applies to members of minority groups;
Should apply to handicapped and someone who stoops;
Indians here first,
And by us cursed;
Maybe poor postured President with eye lids that droop.
Jim Horn
You can take my place at Whte House any time.
Eager to do things,
he does nothing.
Postured to rule alone,
has only his legs to slash
Africa bereft for long
of needles and threads
to sew together costumes
to keep cool, warm, safe
in winter of their own life
and bind brotherhood thing
looked at 19th century fly
observed 20th century fly
and now the 21st century
with its legs off the runway
its wings postured ready
for high altitude flights
may surely bid another bye
as the century flies away
Vanessa throws the shot put, track,
In the F34 classification, wheelchairs,
And is a wheelchair racing coach,
For English Athletics, also an activist.
Whilst doing the job she received a call,
From Alison O’Riordan a throwing coach,
Just after she’d survived a breakdown,
And having deteriorated considerably.
Vanessa suffers from the condition,
Described as Ehlers Danlos Syndrome,
And also abnormally postured Dystonia,
Such that she’s now in a wheelchair.
But Alison’s text was bold yet friendly,
“When are you coming out to have
a throw Nessa?” because Alison here,
Believed she could teach Vanessa all.
Vanessa had only joined the club,
Of Haringey Wheelers to get fitter,
And also so to improve her health,
But not to land feet down in Rio city!
Born on June 20th in the year 1977,
Vanessa now studies hard at university,
At the University of East London, UEL,
Examining sport and exercise science.
She hopes to follow on with a masters,
Or maybe even a longer PhD, loves talk,
Which she didn’t have the chance to do,
When she was younger, a young adult.
Dark is the soul of a man who was crazy
to let a pure love pass on by,
his fear of commitment, his immature ways
brought regret, and a tear to his eye.
She was the perfect one, destined to flavour
his days with a grace rarely seen,
they were as soul mates with nothing but sunshine
to savour, and dreams to convene.
A lifetime of fantasies, nothing was real
for this man disinclined to know love,
he postured and played, he pretended, he posed,
he was scared of this gift from above.
The lesson he thought he had mastered so well
came to nothing, it went up in smoke,
he courted her, loved it when he made her laugh,
yet this man was the butt of the joke.
Now he's lonely again and he thinks he'll be fine,
but he's stuck with the same old despair,
will he ever be worthy of this woman's love,
will he find the prescription to care?
He still remembers her beautiful voice
and the way she made light of his woes,
he hopes she'll forgive him, tell him he's a fool,
another chance? only she knows.
Dark is the soul of a man who was crazy
to let a pure love pass on by,
his fear of commitment, his immature ways
brought regret, and a tear to his eye.
She was the perfect one, destined to flavour
his days with a grace rarely seen,
they were as soul mates with nothing but sunshine
to savour, and dreams to convene.
A lifetime of fantasies, nothing was real
for this man disinclined to know love,
he postured and played, he pretended, he posed,
he was scared of this gift from above.
The lesson he thought he had mastered so well
came to nothing, it went up in smoke,
he courted her, loved it when he made her laugh,
yet this man was the butt of the joke.
Now he's lonely again and he thinks he'll be fine,
but he's stuck with the same old despair,
will he ever be worthy of this woman's love,
will he find the prescription to care?
He still remembers her beautiful voice
and the way she made light of his woes,
he hopes she'll forgive him, tell him he's a fool,
another chance? only she knows.
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