Sawn Poems

the pathless path

truth we would find, although we’re blind
looking outward, without insight
we light a spark, to gain clear sight
although we’re blind, truth we would find

we slow down thought, to be self-taught
to gain clear sight, we light a spark 
soul ascends on an upward arc
to be self-taught, we slow down thought

love’s benign burn, the way we learn 
an upward arc, soul ascends on
faith ushers dawn, love’s our crayon
the way we learn, love’s benign burn

by day and night, heightens delight
love’s our crayon; faith ushers dawn
the cloak we don, God’s light at dawn
heightens delight, by day and night

our aura shines, love for love pines 
God’s light at dawn, the cloak we don
fear-fetters sawn, we smile and yawn
love for love pines, our aura shines

The Elephant

The Elephant is big and strong
It’s history runs deep and long
But lots of Elephant’s are starting to die
These friendly creatures and I’ll tell you why,

They’re being killed by humans all around
Tusks being sawn off is a harrowing sound
Just for those tusks, they destroy the whole thing
For the sake of an ornament, chess piece or ring

So although you can’t hear it
The elephant cries
Don’t buy the ivory
Because one of us dies.

Two Pieces of Wood

Two Pieces of Wood

From trees that grew somewhere
Cut down and then sawn
A carpenter chose two pieces of wood
One short and one long.

He joined them together
In the shape of a cross
For another good carpenter
Whose life would be lost.

On that cross, crucified,
Jesus, nailed hands and feet
Our precious Saviour,
Crucifixion complete. 


“Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”  Hebrews 12:2

The Dance of Death

I stand on leaves, dead
My toes entwine skeletal remains
of shells, bones, limbs and all stuff, dead.
I sleep on cotton sewn from cotton buds, dead.
My bed is hewn from trees sawn up, dead.
The air is full of smells and wafts
from the pile of composting debris, emanating from the dead.
There is no escape from 
the tug of entropy begging me
to join the dance of the dead,
and to be rendered down to dust, dead.
It beckons and pleads to claim my dust, 
to scatter it randomly disordered,
devoid of structure,
blowing in the wind, swirling up
into the nostrils and mouths of the living,
to join the dance, and prance til dead.

As boundaries blur

Each morn at dawn, we are reborn,
then tendencies come into play,
attachments which are not yet sawn,
within feeble form made of clay.

With ego cravings left behind,
each morn at dawn, we are reborn,
in warmth of heart, loving and kind,
regardless of how life rolls on.

Soul’s the canvas we write upon,
as the radiance of the sun;
each morn at dawn, we are reborn,
assured that soul and God are one.

Perched atop light of God’s moonbeam,
heeding the cosmic horn, love-lorn,
recognising life’s but a dream,
each morn at dawn, we are reborn.

The vaporised Self

With each life breath ushering dawn,
the past that once was, has been sawn,
that playing the cards as they fall,
outcome any, we stretch and yawn.

Each pulse within, is God’s love call,
reminding us we are the all,
as divine light, that lights all lights,
surging within as a bliss squall.

As both form and throb that delights,
poised at zenith of rapture’s heights, 
burning in this mind-body urn,
we perform our ego’s last rites.

Watching the boomerang return,
the law of karma we discern,
which but asks that we love with care,
gentling touch, with mindful concern.

Pristine awareness, self-aware,
having chosen with love to pair,
then imbibes wisdom from God’s mind,
a glow which is beyond compare.

Sleep meditation

Slipping into dark night’s restful sleep
We trust God we will awake at dawn
Readied for a consciousness leap

Fearing not onset of stupor’s yawn
Recognising play of the Gunas three
Layer by layer ego cravings are sawn 

Upon getting head and heart to agree
Soul ascends as will to God we bend
No longer are we tied to mind’s tree

As our ear to whispers of love we lend
There remain no goalposts to defend

Yessong Team

tHE pLANER  PARES AWAY THE
ROUGH
THINK IT'S HAd enough
it's a model
of perfection
the planer differs from the sawn
the printed instructions
have been draw
smooth surfaces
who hast chorened
made it easier
to do the thing 
Baby let me hear you sing
love listening to your voice
love you more than anything
what so ever
it's your chose
Play your bassoon
the orchestra will groove
jammin to the music
sounds to make your
body move

The Tool Shed

It was a dark hole
into an Aladdin's cave of old tools.
A small window
gave the only light and fell
on a rough sawn bench wearing
scars inflicted by years of use.
Saw cuts, drill holes
and the miscued gouges
of chisels had crusted to
dark scabs. Oil stains blotched 
the surface like age spots.

Reclaimed tin beaten flat 
on an anvil length of railway line
covered the walls in a mosaic 
of odd shapes glazed 
in powdery rust. The floor
was hardened clay compacted
over decades by a pair 
of shuffling boots.

It seemed almost a holy place,
a grotto cut into a life to house
precious things a man valued
back then. Tools bore a sanctity, 
a purity of purpose,
the blessed instruments 
of a craftsman kept
and looked after for life.
Some were venerated relics
passed down by generations.

I closed the door, 
leaving the cobweb draped
silence intact.
Soon to be demolished, 
its contents will be thrown
into bargain boxes
at the local trash and treasure. 
Sad how the age bundles up 
and dumps the holy 
to feed an empty core.

You Are Well God's Daughter This I Know-Crd

Good New day dear one you have slept well
And you shall arise with a a renewed fresh breath
You will be encouraged in your somberness
You well be strengthen in God there is no division in Christ
You and God are one
You are a beautiful spirit, soul and heart
You are wholesome, sound
You are found in the abundance you are glorified 
And embraced with the flower in the skies
You’re an angel, a fawn, sawn soft yet hard
You’re stronger than a diamond
You are glorified
You are watched
And you are chosen you are strong
You are God’s Daughter
And encouraged you are 
Blessings so to you


5/19/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©

The Hollow Man

My spirit has been ripped from its home, 
Scraped out of its most cozy cove,
My mind and body having been its abode.
Now I feel nothing but nothing,
Oh how I wish that would leave me stinging.
No feeling at all is the worst feeling.
Devoid of any happiness and joy,
My emotions are what you destroy.
My face is just a decoy.
I do my best at every trial,
But everything seems to be futile.
My family seems to be in denial.
My body is vacant of me,
'Myself' is something no one will ever see,
From this shell I want to be free.
My sense of self is gone,
Along with all mental brawn,
From my soul, this casing of flesh has been sawn.
I have already disappeared under the quicksand, 
Lost below this awful land,
I am but a Hollow man.

Once Upon a Christmas

Once a Christmas 

The sun was blood red looked like a big wound
on the flank of an elephant shot by poachers.
Dripped blood on white, wholly cloud which slowly
turns red as the bandage of a fatally shot soldier
who slowly dies of his wounds?
His eyes turned into a mirror of the cold sky.
In the air is torn into puffs of powder an ambulance
comes to an abrupt halt, a man on the dirty floor
surrounded by presents for his family, his eyes
reflects the absurdity of a Yule decorated supermarket.
His wife will get a voucher.
As I drive home, a bag of night opens and strews its
soothing darkness over the land, but nearby 
an anguished elephant has its tusks sawn off by a dentist.

Caterpillar Fur

Spring is sprung.
Clouds of maple.
Skies of pine.

Red in green.
Serviceberry understory.
Spring is sprung.

Skunk cabbage spathe.
Black birch sap.
Poplar flowers.

Opossum tires.
Spring is sprung.
Blackbird wing.

Wasps won’t sting.
My father died.
Town meeting Monday.

Spring is sprung.
Sing cuccu!
There’s no down side.

Infinite willow.
Leaning oak.
Spring is sprung.

Budding flame.
Budding thumb.
Cat claw.

Bird yolk.
Spring is sprung.
Dandelion

Shoots. Arrowhead
Roots. Waterproof
Boots. Old bed young.

Spring is sprung.
Ring and wrong.
Thank and thought.

Seed and sawn.
Wait and walk.
Spring is sprung.

Click Clack Frick Frack Click Click Clack

Click Clack Frick Frack Click Click Clack
I know better than to turn or ever look back
In a foreign land, I try to relax and watch the sights
But if we fly off the rails, God will turn off our lights

Click Clack Frick Frack Click Click Clack
I fish around in my purse and find my brown sack.
There are a couple of crackers, the cheese is all gone.
What if some psychopath has these timbers half sawn?

Click Clack Frick Frack Click Click Clack
The person across the aisle gives her child a whack.
This reminds me of home, as a matter of fact.
I am ready to return; not truthfully a traveling act.

Click Clack Frick Frack Click Click Clack
We are slowing down. Are we there, Jack? 
I have to settle back down we aren’t even close.
But the train feels weird, as if I’m being watched by a ghost.

A Lovely Waltz

a lovely white swan
 sang as she waltzed on the pond
            hi and very low
  rendering viewers speechless
    Is this her final sawn song

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