Life is a journey through darkness.
It contains many lessons and challenges,
Where mornings can be difficult.
We do not eat fish every day;
We often spend hungry nights.
We want education but have no money,
Yet we ask for the things the rich possess.
They do not understand our poverty,
Which today resembles slavery.
We dream of touching wealth,
As if birds could kill lions.
In our dreams we enjoy life,
Building beautiful houses,
As if owls worked during the day.
Then we wake up and see nothing,
Thinking that robbers have come
And stolen our yellow flowers.
Heartache has become a habit,
Filled with endless worrying thoughts.
Horses are nowhere to be seen;
We are forced to walk all day,
Sleeping on riverbanks,
Like broken horses
Haunted by evil,
Which ruins their entire lives.
Once there stood a golden field,
Swaying crops, a farmer's yield.
Morning songs of birds took flight,
Beneath the sky so vast and bright.
The village paths, of dust and stone,
Where children laughed and cattle roamed,
Now paved with tar, so smooth and wide,
Where restless cars and buses glide.
The thatched-roof homes with lantern’s glow,
Replaced by lights in glassy rows.
The banyan tree where elders met,
Now stands alone in cold cement.
The riverbanks where stories flowed,
Now buried deep where buildings grow.
The marketplace of voices loud,
Now lost beneath a concrete crowd.
Yet in the heart of progress’ run,
Echoes of the past still hum.
For roots of earth, though hidden deep,
In memories, they softly keep.
- Phin Jiu
Moonlight shines,
silvery stains,
On calm riverbanks.
Cool wind mildly blows,
The river flows,
Moonlight shines.
River streams,
Heart chases stream with,
silvery stains.
our whispers.
Of joy and pain,
On calm riverbanks.
fishing days with dad
riverbanks tall grass we cast
day-long fishing trip
By the gray rivers flowing, the recently revived,
bob along like Champaign corks in the swift current.
The dead always pop too soon,
even when
you pull their corks with long lamentations.
The fizz-fuse keeps burning.
Morning finds them on-going,
restored and drifting among the detritus
of our own sad endings.
They are not ghosts, you gave them names,
but they do not answer when you call.
They instead, bump against the riverbanks
endeavoring to once again, come ashore.
Every hand tells a story
life's adventures inscribed on palms
Lines of wisdom, hints of psalms
Yet destiny wears out her rhymes
on riverbanks of sorrow
Dreams not lent nor borrowed
Mystic River
lazy mists dawdle
in sinuous rivulets ~
fog surfs in deep dales
river of white clouds
threads through alleys of tall pines ~
fog garden slow dance
curly silver mists
pale kisses on riverbanks ~
swirling shape-shifters
flat bottomed clouds float
wispy fogs tickle thunder ~
joy ride for cloud ships
mystic tule songs
gypsy brumes on evergreens ~
forest singalong
Among the boulders that gaze on with proud regard
When times are rigorous, having patience is hard
Water gently brushes the riverbanks over time
Blue river flowing slowly, crickets chirping in rhyme
The river's peace is disrupted, though, by the rain
Our babies are sobbing louder, battering our brains
As it evolves, it surpasses every hurdle in its path
Of ravenous sadness or the grasp of wrath?
In such instances, I find myself tearing up at the core
However, I struggled and failed to locate any doors
Clock hands are in motion, moving at a rapid pace
In slow motion, creep through the daily, hectic race
Appear weary as they watch the clock tick down
The bull broke his knees, and the farmer lost the crown
As I delete memories, I am reminded of the past
I had believed that all my history was cast
Knowing what adds delight and delivers pleasure
Will let the hectic, noisy swarm steal their treasure
Let me feel it in the punctured vein of pure essence
And practice a fire sprayer to indicate our presence
I contemplate until I'm numb if pain once raged
I yearned for the river as I aged.
Written: June 02, 2023
"Lo! the dolphin dotes laughs
My passion is the maritime coast
'Ocean!' said I, 'thing of seawater.'
Oceans dolphins
In a kingdom full of coastlines
Eagerly I looked for the seaway
I crave the marine, more mare
That up bound jellyfish - that unbound jellyfish
I felt compelled to sniff the territorial waters
I am shorn of my catfish
I discovered the riverbanks
Suddenly, I heard some tiding
Rise, fly mighty dolphin up through the skies
And its eyes have all the ponding
Resulting and resulting with my pacific
But in the fact that it was fluttering
I had dreamed of ribs cluttering
Only this and a ameba
The west water whaling
The dry dock smiled
How they were curtailing, prevailing - derailing
I discovered the crayfish
I crave the marine, amidships maritime
Ah, distinctly I was swallowing
Rise, fly mighty dolphin up threw the skies"
11/19/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Foggy mists slither through the highlands
As downdrafts force them to the riverbanks
To the naked eye ethereal warm icicles
Among tow’ring long-needle pines piercing sky
From the other side near the rustic cabin
The yawning night watchman waits the 7:30
Preparing to hand off the latest dispatches in
A leather satchel, the hook catching its strap
The silent river valley comes alive screeching
Then wanes to deadly silence, the fog lifting
As he prepares to hand over to the day shift
Driving the winding road home, sleepy-eyed
written October 29, 2021
Listen carefully: those are bells ringing.
To whom are they calling?
From where come the peals?
Here in the wild countryside
the pale-yellow cowslips
dance a lonely jig
to the tune of the wayward breeze,
dispersing their melliferous fragrance,
gracing us with their herbal remedies.
And still the bells peal!
Do they toll for me?
Reminding me of my needs?
Shall I gather the cowslips?
What shall I do with weeds?
There see them grow in the vale
or along the riverbanks
where waters rush headlong,
zigzagging through the silvery alleys,
making their way to the far off sea.
And the bells still peal!
The cowslips sway in the breeze.
I stand still devoid of fantasy,
empty of coherent dreams.
What will I gain from cowslips?
except distil it in my cellar
and enjoy its narcotic sips?
Still do the bells toll?
Why? What for?
My heart knows, of course.
I find a shade, I kneel, I pray.
Let the bells toll.
I've heard as cowslips bend their heads.
It laughs with the coming of spring,
on riverbanks wild grasses cling,
flowers waft a scent through faint mist,
on gentle winds leaves sway and twist
It drifts and floats with its current,
pursuing visions not urgent,
but flowing spontaneously down,
to merge with the sea its own crown
It carries a song in its heart,
not let tempests wrench it apart,
cherishes the music pulsing,
inside deep waters, caressing.
How exquisite this nature’s bond,
boundless, untouched till time beyond
the breath of the universe blows
over their depths, grace it bestows.
So I gather my thoughts in joy,
lift them to the light to enjoy,
blaze a path heavenwards to fill,
and say to my soul, “peace, be still”.
@jjote 042621
tide waves of spring rivers merge into the sea,
the bright moon on the sea rises with tide,
moonlight dances on waves for thousands of miles,
bringing the moon to spring rivers everywhere.
The tide singer stands on the edges on the bank,
Singing with the silven voice.
Upon the flowing oceans does the dragon king dance?
The rivers flow and ebb around flowery grasslands,
the moon shines on fragrant woods like flowers on the breeze,
As the moon dancers echo softy the song,
The rivers slow their rushing to listen to this voice.
In the sky moonlight flies like silvery Frost,
On riverbanks moonlight sinks into the white sands,
The rivers and the sky are clear and blue without a speck of dust.
Like a painting of a celestial
Only the bright moon hanging up above,
who was the man by the rivers who saw the moon first,
And in which year did the moon shine on the singing man?
Who is it that sang that bewitched worldly and divine?
UNISON WITH OCEAN
From mountain glacier melts, slides, glides, slips:
Spring springs up waking from dormant dream,
falls free frolic hitting stones, tumbling pebbles
cascading in opulence.
Slim stream flows, goes, giggling gaily.
Little brittle ripples dancing up and down in rapture
Slender narrow stream turns wide broad river
choosing zigzag spiral path on plane land
propagating waves on aqua dynamism.
Vivacious river attains vigor in fervor.
Showers of blessing as wealth of alluvial deposits.
Flora-fauna, habitats flourishing in diversity
on fertile riverbanks.
River flows ceaseless forever, turns back never,
unidirectional way to Sea.
River reaches its final goal losing identity,
aiming unison with vast boundless ocean.
07/25/20
First Place
'Strand Completely New (13) Contest by Brian Strand
Rocky riverbank...
the lap of a dog
out a bowl
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