Inside,
the walls of a rotting
log cabin,
situated in the piney woods,
you lie situated on me, adorning my
neck with soft summer kissings.
While
I pull dandelion
fluff up and out of your
hair.
Cypselae,
that’s what the seeds
are called,
miniature fruits that grant
wishes.
As far as wishes go,
this is my greatest.
As far as fruit goes,
everyone knows what happened
to Eden.
Eve, I diminished our
love into atoms.
And the cabin lays rotting
there still.
Peyton Place
A Scenic America
Somerset in NY
It's fall, and the trees show off
their colors, bold and bright.
As I choose the long way there,
I notice a chill in the air—
and I can't help but stare.
The scenic route gives a lovely sight;
it's fall, and the colors ignite.
The hero of a fairy tale never loses his face
The blizzard will subside when the day is over
Leaving convulsions,
that freeze in the wild veil of abundance
An arch of wind instruments of winter,
without a glimmer of mercy from above
The cold invites not to roam barefoot
A tumultuous night, the clock slumbers
Dawn bestowed to the glory of heaven
Clear and full the radiant sun
Emotional associations,
happiness does not come by avoiding pain
To strict reflection
with chaos of the mind
Such a glorious shrine ...
fascinated by the phenomenon
falling rain, droplet by droplet
pane pain pane
sipping on leaves
fall falling
failing to see
leaves livestock
lumbering, conceited
between the pages
their veins throbbing
as a moppet scribbles
over their bones
with primary colors
heavy-fisted, fat crayons
that melt
into the whirligig
cheek flames
and bright eyes
follow the track
jump into the raked
leaves piled high
aww, rains leaking
inside…pane…pain
child leaves it all behind
the grown kid rounds
Louisiana, not impressed
until Autumn leaves
remind and reminisce
stopping the automobile
in real time…real smooth
New Orleans beckons
but the scenic view
having said, howdy-do
is left behind with the pain
of slippery rain
Wherever you choose to go in life
Wherever you travel about
Whenever you get the chance…
take the scenic route
wildlife at it's finest
exploring hidden nature
viewing mountain tops
Written: August 22, 2023
________________________________________________________________
whispers of the past
rusty carcasses stand tall~
tales lost to the waves
the leafless tree stretch
birdhouse waddle in the breeze~
sanctuary high
beauteous full moon
shines brightly for us to see~
promises unfold
chilled birds find solace
kind heart, a thoughtful gesture~
incessant snow falls
Humid and hot
Scorching parking lot
Longest day, shortest night
Light and dark fight
Shorts and tank tops
Sandals and flip flops
Cutting grass
Catching bass
Beaches and amusement parks
Hungry sharks
Summer-do’s
Badminton and horseshoes
Green grass
Oaks and Sassafras
Daisies and sunflowers
Sun is up for hours
Bonfires and torches
People on porches
White, red, yellow, gold, orange, and green
What a beautiful scene
Lemon, orange, and rose
Litha strike a pose
Power, creativity, and healing
Sights are appealing
Brightness and inner power
Stop to smell a flower
Litha is a scorcher
Some think it’s torcher
Some think not
Wow, is it hot!
Off to Mount Rushmore
To see the presidents:
Washington, Jefferson,
Lincoln, and Roosevelt,
Men of enormous stature
In the land of The Lakota,
Keystone, South Dakota
Fourteen years undertaking
Borglum’s work breathtaking,
With sixty-foot-high faces
Carved into granite outcrop,
One of our country’s
Most celebrated places.
written August 15, 2021
Featured on All Poetry's Front Page
September 28, 2021
Land of lush forested hills,
Such exquisiteness gives thrills,
Sparkling Alpine lakes delight,
Their pristine glow glitters bright,
Azure touches the meadows,
A whisper of cloud shadows,
Land of lush forested hills.
07.06.2021
For Charles Messina's "Elemental" contest
those the aqua skies;
as white clouds drifts passing by;
scenic horizon;
birds those fowls so fly;
swish away the endless skies
those are scenic skies
6/27/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
i built steppingstones
to take a shortcut through life
time looked on aghast
By
David Kavanagh
Long
Running
Tape of grey
Unwinds its way
Across Gaia’s breast
Tell your stories
To riders
Mighty
Road.
Remember when we strode on a scenic road,
While we had been bearing very heavy load;
Out would gaze,
For long ways;
On our sad and weary bodies surely showed.
Jim Horn
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