UTERO HOLDER OF LIFE
Reddish brown hue
Holder of life
So easy to view
Beautiful
Mother’s hold held, life spoil
She stands tall, fertile
Legs sequoia
Woman mother of man
Releasing’s life’s blood
Eggs embryos
Down her limbs
Nurturer, mother of world
Red river life flows through
The womb monthly flows
Utero holder of life
9/3/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©
"from LIFE DISCERN Anthology "
God in all His majesty
gives us now His tenth great gift
of multifarious joys.
Ghostwinds whistle lilting tunes,
motivating dancing leaves
to make their scuttling noise.
Distant hills are masterpieces.
God, the Artist, planned the blend
of reddish brown and gold.
Mums and pumpkins fill their spots
in front-yard settings bright and bold.
She is sitting,
front legs under her reddish-brown mass.
When I think of her shape
it is always her belly I see most.
The bulging warmth,
the mastication, her on-going digestion.
I'm a boy,
the large cow is my meaty lean-to.
One hot summer afternoon can last for years,
on one such a year
I was resting my back
on her bovine flank's, she did not seem to care.
I really think she wanted to feel me listening
to her giant belly.
A drowsy time took its rest also.
Bees buzzed, but far away.
High flying gees made the sky speak.
Listening to her massive body, I think
I melded into her life. Her ongoing
industrial mashing
of moist clods of vegetable materiel.
The rhythmic digestive process
seemed to me to be almost musical.
When she farted, it was as though
she had turned roughage to water,
and water into wine.
I could smell the spirit of the grass,
and strangely,
I could within my own small form,
feel the mutable mystery of the land
as it churned grain into bread,
our meat to spirit.
As seasons change
watch the dazzling colours
Oaks turn a deep warm reddish brown
Inspiration for deepening the thoughts
tempting and flirtatious heartbeats
Chaotic scenes ensue
Guilt falls heavily
when foliage etch with pain
Pandoras apparitions
Fountains in gloss and glory
Journey drifts through golden fields
Pirouettes of beauty
tangled threads of time
- slips into a masterpiece, speechless
soothing synchronicity harmony
AUTUMN WINTER'S SPRING
Burnt umber reddish brown bronze
Folic tree leaves on the grounds autumn
Chestnut smoky topaz
Cracklings of fallen autumns spring summer camp fires
Springs crickets sings flowing grassed sway in the morning spring breeze
Drops drip, drip, drip water plops the drip, drip drip drops of water rains be
Burnt umber grand ma’s turkey
Reddish brown bronze pumpkin/sweet potato pie
Chestnut smoky topaz golden brown cornbread
Like marshmallows burnt umber
Feels warm furnace reddish brown bronze embracement
Like Chestnut smoky topaz
What colors can do, Embraceable Hues
3/21/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2023©
Seasonal Garden
A white blossom viewed from the side, showing off faded petals.
A flower emerging colors of red, blue, and green, encompassing a spring day.
Midnight blue bloom shading a dark look, the center illuminates.
Pointy petals spread apart, gold tips glisten.
Waves of buds moving through the breeze, sending out a quick hello.
A vine of blossoms sway, growing tall.
Seawater garden nestling below, the waves sway it back and forth slowly.
Floral star shining brightly, granting a beautiful wish.
A Reddish-brown flower different than most, uniquely formed.
Colorful petals in a downward pose, looks like a rainbow.
Swirly petals moving around and around; yellow, blue, and gold highlights.
An Autumn flower changing colors, then falling from view.
Petals from behind, a new perspective, watch as the wind moves it forward.
Wonderous arrangement showcasing colors, floating up and down.
A variety of flowers displayed in a seasonal garden.
bright red~reddish brown
my feeder is your buffet~
eat and sing thank you
Date Written: 8/17/2021
5 Place
Songbird haiku Contest Judged: 8/23/2021
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin Cardinals 575
HIGH SUMMER
End of July
The ridges, moraines,
mountains and valleys,
the meadows and farms of
Upstate New York are a living
mosaic of yellows and tans, vermilions
and browns framed by the forests of deep
Lincoln green which, a month beyond
solstice, mark the halcyon days of the high
tide of summer, when Great Lakes and
Finger Lakes and lakes in between all
shimmer with color and the bees in my
garden all hover like helicopters brimming
with cargo for constructing a base in some
foreign war zone where the color of summer
is a deep reddish-brown, staining the sands
and the streets of their cities with
bloodshed and sorrow
But my good wife and I,
bathed by the sunshine and glad
for our lives, even in an era consistently
subject to car-bombs and lies, listen to the
murmur of a bountiful season, hear it
humming and chanting like the gathering
voices of wind-song and women singing their
devotion to the whispering rhythms of sunlight
and soil, their songs of thanksgiving
pulsating softly, like a new baby’s heart,
like the generous breezes of
a new mother’s breath
He stood there in the doorway
His legs dangled in white shorts
His blue shirt matching the rags
The mechanics used to clean tools
His fingertips yellow stained of fungus
I could barely see his blues eyes
Through the reddish brown colored
Replacing any hints of good health
Clutching a Winston banging on a sea burg
he juggled three scantily clad women
One hillbilly a blonde hick and this
black chick from Cleveland with no teeth
I hardly recognized him except for
he was still giving orders in this frailness
chanting cigarettes for everyone spare
no expense Marlboros Newport's Winston's
I never understood the urgency of nicotine
I watched him light the match pull on the filter
Release the smoke building his confidence up
It angered me I suppose watching him
Commit suicide tossing his cancer meds.
through all my pleading yelling screaming
he finally got it actually taking his medication
putting the trash out beating cancer in the end
closing the shop where his new identity begin
That Hundred-year-old rosewood door,
Imported from Brazil and hung before the civil war,
according to the local folklore,
It was a magnificent reddish brown wooden door.
That adorned the front of a liquor store.
An Old newspaper clipping humorously
describes the terrific uproar.
And the gore when a hundred local women or more
stormed that liquor store they were unhinged
when they ripped down that old rosewood door
After that day never more
did that liquor store open its door
It was a beautifully laid path of moram stones
minuscule ice dust seated on my pink hands
holding yours covered with a three-quarter
thick cotton high neck navy blue t-shirt
Our lips forgot their role as the eyes
got hooked in looking at rows of
the orange yellow pyramids lined
on both sides of the reddish brown path
In a dazzling grandeur autumn in a pose
mild fragrance wafting in the flowing wind
That the tragic hues could be so loud
one wouldn't believe without witnessing
Used gourd skins with Halloween residuals
sunlight seated on a pile of harvested straw
dimples on our cheeks we exchanged our eyes
two bodies rested for a while in a soul
Flapping wings in their southern flight
We look for a charcoal glow from each other
____________________________________________________
October 22, 2020
Still-Life Autumn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Tattoos, tattered tongues ragged clothing ridden hairs undone smelly odor
in disarray dis-alarming did I say uninviting
People judge by outward appearance,
skin color reddish brown, tan red black brown pinkish
language comes out of mouth you can't pronounce
What is it they are speaking out
People judge by outward appearance,
but the LORD looks at the heart.
People judge by outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.
man looks at the clothes on your back
man looks at what you'll got
man discriminates and that's not right
humanity comes in different colors
but the spiritual part is are true self
so when you look at me again, try to remember
it's not about the outside but what comes out of me
People judge by outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.
People judge by outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.
People judge by outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.
2/5/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©
1 Samuel 16:7
People judge by outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.
I picked it up and let it run through
Reddish brown and so dry too
Then I stood and looked around
The long drought had cracked the ground
The wind blew the red dust up high
Into the clear blue azure sky
In the distance the sea rolled to the beach
As the sun blasted the sky out of reach
I love this land god given and grand
Sun drenched and hard in God’s plan
It may be wind blown and red
But I’ll always be a proud Australian born and bred.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Granite, shale, beryl, or sodalite?
Reddish brown or black with white streaks?
One swell swoop or gradually gaining bulk?
Moonstone maybe, from the rainbow goddesses.
Topaz, opal, and malachite would have been racing to the gate.
Showing their colors in a brilliance not of diamond mode,
but ever lovely and ready to take the helm.
Angels on high laughing at the contest of decision. Casting their votes.
Sapphire, sandstone, and limestone showing their best sides.
Assuring all they would be as forgiving and helpful as possible if selected.
The first stone, large as a mammoth or tiny as a grain pebble?
Could it reform, shapeshift, or rejuvenate? Regenerate?
Of all the foods in all the lands of culinary charm
There is but one offender my taste buds can’t disarm
While others may enjoy it, perhaps fried or as pate’
I would rather eat a heaping pile of fresh steamed hay
Some may like it on white bread or in a Shepherd’s Pie
I’d prefer a great big slice of pie that’s made of fly
So be it Chicken, Calf or Cod, not to mention Duck
I would favor meatloaf made from ground up hockey puck
To this day, the only food that makes my stomach quiver
Is the gastronomic venom that’s known to the world as “liver”
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