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.
Categories:
roughage, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Three ladies all in lettuce dress
arrived to greet the crowd
their gowns were long and leafy green
with roughage all around
The gang had gathered angrily
to protest increased price
the market had just raised the cost
of everything but rice
They tried to quell the noisy bunch
of wholewheat, white and rye
but they had lost the crowd
to three tomatoes walking by
They called on Mr. Bacon
They thought maybe he’d assist
Bacon knew the owner
maybe he could raise his fist
What happened next was not at all
expected, as you see
the owner made a sandwich
that’s now known as B.L.T.
Categories:
roughage, food, fun, funny, history,
Form: Rhyme
Dawns Just Like This
Wake now, discover that you are the song the mornin’ brings . . .em>
-The Grateful Dead-
Dawn easing through
Needle-Eye The Organs once
clear-cut, parsed plain, it seems,
like the desert, flattening its curve
over bramble, pepperweed roughage,
just for us, on dawns just like this,
breath-fresh, not one woke soul sick.
Categories:
roughage, beauty, blessing, day, earth,
Form: Free verse
Dawns Just Like This
Covid Summer 2020
Dawn easing through
Needle-Eye The Organs once
clear-cut, parsed plain, it seems,
like the desert, flattening its curve
over, bramble, pepperweed roughage,
just for us, on dawns just like this,
breath-fresh, not one woke soul sick.
Categories:
roughage, beautiful, beauty, celebration, day,
Form: Free verse
Cold cloud in Emerald leaves
of shaded greens
gray cascading roughage flows
flowing streams
Hues of blue
flaunting falling down
draping the emeralds green grasses dom
Beauty on grasses grounds
5/23/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Categories:
roughage, imagery, nature,
Form: Light Verse
More blockage from the king of thrones.
A pencil needed to clear those stones.
My good friend Jan she can relate.
Her toilet hack will sure negate.
Plugged up tighter than a drum.
He screams in pain for everyone.
The drama from the porcelain throne.
Please shut the door to be alone.
Privacy now is yours to have.
Behind closed doors the bitter half.
A pencil slid under the crack.
Tread lightly for the next attack.
Up yours friend to find relief.
More roughage is a fine belief.
An apple a day or so they say.
Will keep your constipation at bay.
Categories:
roughage, humor,
Form: Rhyme
I remember the silhouette
From her stares and gestures
How they gracefully slithered
Through minds and seasons
The silk in her demeanor
How it sucked un-weaved roughage
And tilted edges of dispositions
Until moments stood firm
She only had one niddle of hope
With locally done emotional textiles
She could have lived forever
If only her hands were bare
She could have sewn garments
With royal threads
Quilts for loyal beds
Where comrades built trust, love
She could have lived forever
If only her hands were bare
Tango with stubborn winds
There is no shore to kill the vibe
The ostrich won’t pitch on shores
There is no sand to bury its head
She could have lived forever
If only her lake was pregnant with sand
Mirrors on walls of her soul
Are romancing with the image of her sores
The silhouettes are too guilty
To cover her nakedness
Truth has too much scheme in its teeth
To exonerate her
Pieces of scattered words
With sharp points like broken glass
Will penetrate the skin of her life
As she kneels for a moment of grace
Maybe, just maybe
She might live forever
Categories:
roughage, conflict,
Form: Acrostic
Browsing, window shopping,
foraging through flea markets,
all favorite ventures, drawn like a magnet
to those final clearance signs.
Wallpaper Sale, this one announced.
Double Roll - $1.00 - an irresistible bargain.
The rolls stood on end in a large cardboard box,
too numerous to measure.
This mole started digging, searching for treasure.
little did I know I was about to lose one
Wearing a diamond ring, the special one,
with nine marquee-cut diamonds
marching smartly across my finger,
the one it took me a year to pay for.
One of those diamonds fell out
of the ring, into that box,
a box that stood as tall as my waist,
a box that was packed with roll
after roll of patterned paper.
this was proving to be a costly bargain
The rest of the story is unbelievable.
With vigorous intent,
this mole continued digging,
and emerged with a sparkling reward!
Categories:
roughage, fashion, lost,
Form: Free verse