When life is so down;
Crying is a replaced frown,
When hope seemed drown.
When life, at its best-
City, a replaced town's guest;
A place to invest.
When life is troubled,
Tears replaced sadness doubled...
Nigt partying bubbled.
When life is so good,
Joy replaced blissful childhood;
Fun... than adulthood.
When life is a bet,
Winning is a replaced debt,
Sequent stakes reset.
When life is a twist,
Call, a replaced beep missed;
Fair treatment persist...
When life is charmed,
Love replaced likeness unharmed;
Stay off been alarmed...
When life, grace lust's feast,
Heartbreak, a replaced deceit;
Learn through to retreat...
When life is unkind,
It is yours to be designed...
Do yours, never mind.
When life does exist,
Rise and fall shall coexist;
Choose one to resist.
When life is of fate,
Pray; fasting do not hate-
Grace turns its dictate.
''Nor sequent centuries could hit, orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit." Ralph Waldo Emerson
Search for her twin. The dramatic comedy will begin.
She is a girl dressed as a man, How far can unrequited love span?
Many a twist and turn, of love we learn.
A complicated scenario. Character's love, going to and froe.
Crowd pleasers like a sword fight, all this happens in the Twelfth Night.
Light and shade are vital to life's beauty, charm, and richness. By Poet.
sun
sunshine
dawn to dusk
nature supplies
vivacious hues clash
cumulonimbus cloud
sprouts expanse toward the sun
every day, it swells keen and vast
as crocus sprouts muzzle widespread breeze
in stark peacefulness through the strides of verve
Melted gold gleams in the thoughts of moonbeams.
As light wanes, faint stars tackle to glow.
they shimmer like zillions of studs
while embedded to sunbeams
Scudding blue-purple swarms.
soar through azure sky.
gazed birch leaf buds
and clean grass
spring's rays
warmth.
scour
the bliss
tweaked and deep
blue fades to mauve
humped at hearts of stem
stream heavenly keenness
as waterway of sheer praise
sequent the path of least toughness
same as a flower's smell loads the air
linked to bode love, uttering lease to flow
Written: February 15, 2022
1st place contest winner
E Forms- Etheree - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
So suddenly settles silence
Suggests strongly stunning smooth so shiny
~a silver surrey sequencing sexy solaced stars~
12/23/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Red like roses
Running like water from hoses
Whoever walks in next is in for a thriller
It looks like someone was visited by the Zodiac Killer
They may strike at anytime
And soon turn any room into the scene of a crime
In the spring and summer they attack more frequent
It occurs so often, it’s nearly sequent
Red like roses
God, I hate bloody noses
I spend two hours of most every day,
With the tending and feeding of cats.
I never imagined my end of life this way,
It causes most of our marital spats.
It's not a Kitten's fault for being born,
Nor their choice to be jettisoned on me.
It's taxing doing what's right each morn,
To a dozen cats we've became a trustee.
The cost of feeding is now out of hand,
And Vet bills are becoming all to frequent.
Then another little Kitty arrives unplanned,
Seeming to always come in sequent.
Adoptive homes we've found for a few,
Still others have tried stopping a car.
But doing our duty we'll not eschew,
On my marker just write "The Cat Czar"
But "my woe is me" changes nary a thing,
And I've too much invested to run away.
So I'll continue praying for life's upswing,
And tending unwanted cats another day.
And let my Soul
Resonate
With-in the confines'
Of Thy Lord
And let my resolve
Be immanent
In my resolutions'
From the Heart
And sequent in the
Name of the
All Mighty
Jesus'
GF
My father’s timber array arrived on an
overloaded Diamond Reo flatbed.
It dumped oak scraps, leafless dead-woods,
inspiring last metamorphosis to
warming fires come winter’s weather.
Empty, truck leaves then heaves
into a scrubby alley
squeezing by barely.
With its narrow fit made
it disappearing through a backyard gate
into a cloud of its own making
belched from two shaking
upright tailpipes.
Bark cull, coppice slats, saw food pilled
to near roof high. This sawmill refuge awaits
stacking sequent, once cross-sawed
and set to a suitable size for stove fodder.
I am father's volunteer; I am the master stacker
of wand-wood. With my bow-saw in hand,
I look not on labor of hours nor days, but eternities.
In the eyes of evolution's lies I see ancient youths,
countless fellows of ten-years-old like me
and leap with them to the task of cave dwellers.
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