Not built off rose colored rhymes
Rather filth fire and the rot of time
Stories whispered too dark for sleep
Smoky muses begin to slowly creep
Art of the past and possible emerge
Electric waves through fingers surge
Sleep cast aside in favor of medicine
Rinse repeat but never ever rescind
Originally cultivated from hardness
Enough room for love and fondness
Inspirational roots come from depth
Backstories cast in darkness’ breath
Forged steel from abandoned sins
A poet’s soul wears a tattered grin
I pray Grace upon you
I have faith in you
I believe in your dreams
so far they're true
Your comforter is ALWAYS
ALWAYS with you
Jehovah Shammah
OUR Lord is always present
ALWAYS
8/19/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2022
delight in the giggle of a star girl apparition
black holes dance in constellation's face
madness personified brings mysticism to life
I stare at rhinestone sparkles in awe
wondering when night fairies will appear
I transformed Iowa’s meadows and forests overnight
Changing her children’s delight at first snow to fear of the cold
Gloating and laughing, I introduced some to frost bite.
What did I care if their pinky toes fell off?
That’s enough, my husband said.
What did he know? I whirled away, flicking him with ice.
I was not finished for I did not want to merely be a blizzard.
I wanted to be the worst snow blizzard in Iowa’s history.
I slickened their streets with the blackest of invisible ice.
I allowed icicles to drip from the roofs of their houses.
Their snow was piling up now, in five foot snow drifts.
Was I finished? My husband asked me. Ha!
I swirled up my snow and shot a snowball into his eye.
My winds picked up speed; I was on a roll.
I tossed snow so thickly in the air that the drivers could not see.
The freeways and schools were closed.
I waited all day long for the radio to say worst snowstorm in history.
Little did I know it would take about two years before I heard this.
In the meantime I kept things snowy, icy, and impassible.
Reveling in my power. Oh, I took down the power lines too. A fantastic time!
Upon the stillness of Big Sur clouds
High atop the silent summits
My solitude lies with sages
In this place of heaven
Endeared
To come to peace
In the ruins of the moon
Laying my body to rest
My eyes have turned to stone
Surrendering to freefall
Where there lies no restraint
Nor command of my being
Searching for the graces of timelessness
The flurry of breeze quavers
To take my soul
Plunging towards
An uncertain destination
My silent voice utters
"I have come to pick the lyrical flower
For my heart has yet to find its home."
In between the nettles and phantom orchid,
The coastal grasses and spineflowers
Sunlit and ethereal in the mist
A single rose of an unknown color
Speaks my name
With insatiable seduction
Capturing my unabated love
It fills my senses and enraptures me
Then slowly...
Ever so slowly, each petal of my
incarnated being
Breaks away from my heart
As the rose aspires
And dies
Left naked adorned with thorns
In the ruins of the moon
It calls my name
In the fragility of dreams
May 18, 2020
In the Fragility of Dreams Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
As Christmas festivities get near
Glistening with tinsel fine
Tree smells of pine and cinnamon
She feels her mother’s gentle spirit
Glistening with tinsel fine
Reveling in Christmas joy
She feels her mother’s gentle spirit
Her heart feels joyful and complete
Reveling in Christmas joy
Tree smells of pine and cinnamon
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