In your researcher’s mind protect
The picked title of your project
“How to A New School establish
With not a single cursed blemish”
As a great help to respondent
Brave words: “Do not be despondent”
But that is where it should just end.
Do not, please, try to one befriend
Thesis to be no more valid,
If one, on its account, livid
Or you choose enticement: Evil’s
And project becomes the Devil’s
Please, all questions to be answered
Except the ones I have censored;
Submission Date: Next Tomorrow…
But you could pay to time borrow.
I have no idea what you just said.
I read it all, then I read what I read;
I played it several times in my head.
I thought I followed, but I lost the thread.
Not always the sharpest tool in the shed,
sometimes I feel like my brain’s a bit dead,
a brain-borne illness that’s starting to spread.
A minute ago… but now there’s no shred.
It seemed like a place to cautiously tread.
Maybe an accident? Seems like you bled?
That person you wrote about: are you still wed?
No, that was a poem written by Fred.
Consuming Soup’s part of my daily bread;
creative juices flow when you are fed,
but after reading, I’m empty instead.
Saying the wrong thing just fills me with dread.
Thoughtful, deep comments might give me street cred,
or some pithy maxim, but wisdom just fled.
See, I ain't got nothing; ignorance pled.
I have no idea what you just said.
Signed, a spondee respondent, “Awesome!” ahead.
Good morning dear love, how are you doing this morn
After our pleasantries embrace in early morning squeeze
Let us arise, rise up my darling totally awaken slumber torn
Throw back, throw down the comforter arise from bed and be freed
Go unto the bathroom and do our toiletries
Shower wash up our respondent bodies
After we're done, come into the kitchen
So darling dear I'll fix for you breakfast
A brighten meal prepared by me first
I shall prepare for you the meal
As fabulous a Jesus last supper
I spoon feed you proper
For you are my queen
And what real love means
I will show you things
Henceforth we find together
I'll gently wipe off your lips
As you finish your dish
I'll lean over quickly we'll "kiss"
Good morning breakfast woman
To you whom I am devoted
12/21/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Able to see into other worlds it seems,
the star at dawn or a bubble in the streams.
The psychic nature in its spirituality,
highly sensitive to all motion capacity.
Romantic flashes from the summer cloud,
colorful faraway places dreaming world.
Near water living to sooth eternal space,
then true generosity never runs out of pace.
Natures priestess to teach confidence,
contradictories and its individual sense.
Multiverse applicable by innocent motion,
then every relation has its different potion.
Ascending and descending character of goodness,
retreating from a point of fullness.
Expansive enthusiasm and vulnerable delicately,
demonstration of faith and its important ceremony.
The impractical ideal so amorphous,
discrimination by true virtue is formless.
Verily, the heart that is respondent,
to the many divine worlds is liberated.
Truth that every soul is seeking,
virtue will exalt that while sleeping.
Spiritual attainment is to become conscious,
enfoldment of the soul that is calling us.
Close abundance
calibrated nothing's
hope respondent
God's my promise He's my rainbow
spontaneous combustion
mirror image
Partly cloudy
Hope is promised
parting Red Sea
mirrors shattered
raining Rivers
God's my promise He's my rainbow
ponds that splatter
who is The Rainmaker
He is Creator
is the star giving
He who is the weather provider
the Lord my God almighty
God's my promise He's my rainbow
4/11/12
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
If I only knew why
Fog covers, our future that's to come
Irrecoverable, are the years that have been lost
Optimistically I wish, for things to get better
Non-respondent is what you are, when asked what is the problem
Lifelessness is the state, our love dwells in
Yourself is all you care about
Kindhearted, were my intentions and expectations
Negativity drowning our souls
Emotionally tattered and torn
Willingness, from you to show love has departed
Worthless, is the way you make me feel
Heartbreak, is what you have caused
You chose hatred over happiness, and I don't know why
4/30/2017
Tired of talking too much
I wish to rest my rhymes.
Now is time to give ears
To your titanic tale of tears.
The heart that was under constraint
Needs to be unburdened.
My grief-stricken lap waits for
Your grieving grievances.
You, the only speaker and I, a patient listener,
Numb but nod at your each nuance.
Let my heart beat for last
To eternalise our momentary meeting,
I with my muteness
And you with your long-awaited lyrics.
Dew drops fall from your dark eyes
Moistening your rose petaled lips
That sometimes part in a smile.
I, a tragedian of your tale,
A respondent to your reactions
With a heavy heart wipe my wet eyelashes.
Like a pair of love birds
We look lovingly at each other,
Pine over the pains of the past
And fear of the fruitless future.
Little choice we are left with
But to flow like two rivers
Yearning to meet but to end in the ocean,
Our destination, mingling together.
No saints amongst us write a father’s song,
He writes his own which claims no innocence,
As tones of sadness urge he move along,
His pen now takes the stand in his defense;
Atop the desk where sit respondent’s words,
Are pictures taken of his darling girls;
For them he’d fight an army full of swords,
And let none question love's resplendent pearls.
Though flawed imperfect flesh is worn as own,
And lonely eyes are often blind by mist,
He states emphatic that he’s never thrown,
Not once in life an angry violent fist.
May all now know forevermore this claim –
I’ll fight ‘til death for they that share my name.
Respectfully Submitted,
Phillip M. Garcia, Respondent
Father of Ava Elise Garcia
Father of Lily Belle Garcia
10/29/2016
NOUVEAU
Let's evaluate this word.
I could not sleep much last night,
so I laid awake thinking about my
tenacity in writing.
I think that my need to write is
like having a monkey on my back.
To congregate verbs, adjectives,etc,
is my cocaine.
The only determent from my obsession
is my comment to be respondent to
sometime grievous moments in my life.
However, like the sun vanishes the night,
and the night drowns the sun, these
horrific moments in life do past, and
the birth from consistency is inconsistency.
I collectively gather up those few peaceful
moments in between and melt away into
my encephalon and create with no real
worries of someone liking what I write,
but , it is always nice to know that they do.
Written 2013. Posted on Facebook
A Tyrant's Respondent
If a tyrant has no power;
then tease him.
If he has few followers;
then mock them.
If a tyrant's men try usurpation;
then slaughter them.
And when he is elected;
then escape as far away,
as you can flee;
leaving friends, family, appointments, property.
The only way to save your life is to leave it behind.
Most importantly is to leave immediately!
Those who don't see what you see,
die. So most pertinently
leave behind that sentimentality.
That is how to deal with tyranny.
Completely Redundant
Really would you as a routine respondent?
Want to be consistent as well as constant
Answering question without the intention
Could be applied to a political convention.
To buy might be something you did prefer
Knowing you were for certain and for sure
And what store would you want to buy it at
Regardless of a Republican or a Democrat.
What affect does politics have on consumer affairs?
There are so many things and each one scares
Me to death about what possible outcome may be
And how it has come to create much hostility.
Which trap do you prefer or want to be caught in?
Even if may be a woman or perhaps some men
What to you seemed ridiculous and repugnant
Became the basis for being completely redundant.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Voyeur and Poet
Whhops, meant Veteran
SPEECH IMPEDIMENT JOB-SEEKER
An aged respondent called Smith
Answered the newspaper job-list herewith
“Man wanted as geologist
Great skill at digging out schist
And now and again a large batholith.”
But this geologic skill was a myth.
Because like rock-hound kin and kith
They just wanted a man,
Not the lisping old gran
That they thaw when she gave them a kith.
GEOLOGICAL HUMOUR
A geologist respondent called Smith
Answered the newspaper job-list herewith
“Man wanted as a field geologist” with
Great skill at at finding a batholith
Or sometimes an occasional laccolith.
But his geologic skill was only a myth.
Unlike my geologic kin and kith,
Instead of being a man, she wath a mith -
Ath I dithcovered when she gave me a kith.
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