Proofed Poems | Examples

Intercession

Palms touché in clarity.
God’s touched by intercession.
Lips proofed in sincerity.
Palms touché in clarity.
God applauds your charity.
Be thankful in concession.
Palms touché in clarity.
God’s touched by intercession.

The day a poet didn’t die-II: The witness

She’s at it again.
Wasting my ink
staging yet another death.

I draft her crimson melodramas
with third-hand metaphors
as she sips on ‘hope’ like tonic 
laced with rust
and wears ‘moor’ like thrift-store perfume.
I thread her June into 
forced sonnets (poor things),
before her gin drowned the meter
in proofed regret.

Even a pen gets impatient.

Sometimes she pauses,
as though it might save her—
I rooted for her to mature
but talent won’t bloom from 
immature theatrics.

Still, I ink her curtain call—
the curse of being a vessel.

Washed Presumptively

Went down to the river
each time I sang
and washed presumptively
the flesh of kin
down, down, down
with knees bent
unfolded and rent
circled the floors
each time I sang
and raised the roof
and arms in praise
‘tis not enough to say
‘tis a start not lame
to accept His holy name
into your heart
down, down, down
in the burial tub
not shamed nor shoved
but proofed
Went down to the river
he did…he did
and brought his kids
each time I sang
and didn’t know
the refrain
my brain is too small
too weak, not all
that good a matchup
for the King
for the smiles He brings
when the robes are light
and they bring up all
onto the wall
certificates
down, down, down
to the store
not three but four
digging up the old old song
for just a while
my child in a frame
the whole world gained
NO…that is not it
it is for such a time as this
a family close knit
one returned to church
God gives back
threefold
folding my knees
holding my heart
down in the river
remember who parted the sea
remember who walked on the sea
kin came up from the water, free

Aussie battler Assange'

Prison proofed man.'
This hero is Aussie Assange.!
Innocent as charged.)

Flying in the face
Disgraced FBI..' never us!
Australians rising now.!

Freedom convoy 2024

Theres a gathering in Britain now, the concerned are active
They are determined and how.' To show to the world a
Healthy example.' In the balance is all freedom this is not
Just a sample.' The eugenists genocidalists are going to
Meet real faces, real humans; out active.' On swiss streets
Just well balanced humans, many intelligent and clever.'
And scoros can't buy them out 'thats from never to never.! Lets
Just get our minds, active and apply reason with logic.'
Alsol I think they won't let us down!!) As they bring this time a tonic!
All the proofs and writings, all the records of it to switzerland!
These warriors are sound! Though some facts will leave you soured, for in 1975 I have found.)
Gypsies could be' held as the slaves of any Swiss person
Check it out.' Read the Bible counter and count the lies' they are
Spreading to the world, no more falseness or running its time.' decide!
Pray! 'and to stand is the solution, and all' spread the news!
Wide and far.' Be prepared  gather, to hear the (One voice) air some
Views.!
Through whatever, means they are proofed? Are they are getting tested?
I offer you' take the time; and freedom to choose.!

Cherubim

Away now pure soul

This world of strife and pain
Like a loose noose enclave
Untamed maned unashamed brave hailed praised 
In the depths of your disdain 

A new life with insight
With strife proofed frames
And a burnt bush cane
To fight through sinister nights
Till their darkness burst to flames

May your name be proclaimed
May your joy be the stain on the face of the shamed and wicked enslaved 
That are chained 
By bitter guilts crocheting their quilts that causes their light to wane

Away now pure soul, upward and away

Year of the Cat

There’s a song you might know -
It’s called “Year of the Cat.”
It’s an oldie, but really quite good.
It was co-written by
A once-neighbor of mine,
A cool Englishman named Peter Wood.

With his wife and dog Bill
He lived on the 9th floor,
Blasting music well into the night,
But he sound-proofed his walls
And helped tune our guitar
So we got along really all right.

I’m not sure if we knew
At the time that he had
Earned some musical praise and acclaim,
But the time Cyndi Lauper
Appeared on our floor,
Then we knew he had some kind of fame.

Sadly, Peter is gone, 
Dying by his own hand,
But I hear his big hit now and then
And I’m proud I can say,
Thinking back to that time,
That I really did know Peter when…

Wayward Sold Nor Brought-

Wayward, where have all the before;
Gone!
and how long shall we go on;
Accepting those that don't accept us;
And why must we continue to bear this cross;

be it loss;
We catch up;
Our powers gone;
We belong;
Before all the have and have not away we go;
Proofed and sought:
Freedoms never sold nor bought?



7/1/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2021©

I Dont Know But Should I

I dithered , dathered circumspect

Picked up winded said mantle clock

Winded yes , but yet did not set the
time correct

For i was myself beside ,
disconnected still stuck up 
caught up 

Fretting festering over the  
ensuing arguments and pending
postmortem

Am i in shock 

Should i be in the dock

Should i be called as both
witness for the prosecution
and defense

And do i should i have a case to answer for

Crimes both present my conscious
cohesion thought bought and paid
for future proofed

Aloof and soley based on half truths
and recriminations

With social D.N.A thrown into the
mix for good measures

Always a pleasure never a chore
unti all we are left with and know

Is even if or when a clock is 
winded up

Unless it's time is set correct

It's use and job is deemed
redundant pointless

Reduced to merely ornamental
circumspect evidence

In the trial of the century

Unpunctual Following

If there were no times 
We would mime in dark of blind 
Proofed sea brine as lime 

-November 05, 2018 Chattogram

With Him As Your Constant Guide

Leaves of love piled on a plate
Slices of the times we’ve shared
Sprinkled with the salts of fate
Start your meal of life with care.

On the side a crust of bread
Proofed with patience, edges brown
Folded napkins, prayers are said
Blessing all who gather ‘round.

Life’s is like that salad plate
Built with layers from HIS hand
Comes with love, wisdom and fate
Everything that HE has planned.

Question not, but just enjoy
Both the salad and the ride
Each can fill your life with joy
With HIM as your constant guide.

America, the Beautiful Embarrassment

1st amendment atrocities
Secondary nature

Pound for pound
They scream above holy lungs
Of righteous contradictions

As humanity continues to dry-hump “social” media,
Their sedentary psychiatrist

Judgmental lip smacks
Chapped from the arrogant vowels
They spit
Another syllabic lyric
Within our home of the “free”

Our 50 stars become 50 irrational assault rifles
In order to become bullet proofed
From infantile validation

We embrace rusty excavators
Crushing on Bones wearing red sweaters & silky moustaches

While MBAs & Bachelor Degrees
Fight in Spartan-tempered mouth-offs
If a dress is blue or gray

Donkeys & Elephants become consensual orgies
In the name of desperate prayers
But, neither will raise taxes in the name of God

For church & state are separate
Until dollar-store woven baskets made in China swoop in
During Sunday mas(k)s

Stairways to our imaginary heaven,
Its railing removed by forced epiphanies,
Replaced by “angelic” archways
Made of Kardashian silicone
And rose-tinted ascension

Yes, we can.
Yes, we did.
Yes, we fell.

We. Must. Change.

©D.J.E.

Yelling Through Pinecones

i watch the sunrise
unbuttoning the stuffed pouches
of thunderclouds

soaking
imagination
with dry-drunk dewdrops
becoming bubbles
blown through
ringbarked
jewelry

worn 
by the roots 
of rhinestone rapids
growing in
spider
webs

trying to catch
a flying_fox

there has always 
been a silent 
soft echoed
beauty

dancing on the tides
from down
under

perfect pirouettes
showing ligneous dustdevils
proper form

forming
Dead-Sea
chiseled
respect

healing ones
inner folds

unfolding miracles
tucked away in moonpedicured
moments missing myriad music
marching in eucalyptustars
shining smiles upon licorice
chainlinkisses

in my minds eye
blackroom sound-proofed
in blacklighted boughs 
creating windframed
wisdom

seen with the hearts
meshed monocle
revealing purity into 
eternaluminum sliced skies

painting 
memories 
throughout dimensions 
of a multi-faceted
prism

watched
from verandas 
of  velcro vicidreamt
sand
waking
up the sleeper

still
nowhere 
near you
but
closer
than we've
ever
been

Shot-Gun Wedding

An angry Father, that wore a frown
has watched the rise of the devil's moon
While pacing, he's worn the carpet down
They arrive at dawn, and none too soon!

Broken curfews, her virtue at stake
The stakes are high, but the daughter dared 
Dad quickly plans a wedding date!
No explanation or sage to share

They are ushered in, without a sigh
Their vows would choke the most aloof
It clouds the starlight in their eyes,
and shoots the moon, un-bullet proofed!

This patriarch must take a stand
Holy wedlock was in high demand !


__________________________________________________
11/17/15 
Carrie Richards
Submitted for "Trashed # 4" Contest: Sponsored by Broken Wings

When We Were Young

When we were young
Our bodies were supple and soft.
We were wrinkle free and blemish proofed,
Most appealing to the aloof.

We have aged and we're not so young,
Our bodies aren't as soft or supple.
Acquired wrinkles and a few extra pounds,
We're less appealing to the opposite sex.

We've been replaced by the younger,
Half our age, and certainly less wrinkled.
They bear no age spots or worry lines,
And hold less love in their heart for life.

Tossed aside like an old worn sock,
Needed a lot for those daily walks.
Must be replaced with something new,
Maybe a pair of those new Sketcher Shoes.

©2014 by Lee Christine Brownlee

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