Short Fonts Poems

Those books remain unread
Since they are sold 
Mother books are well read
Fonts in them in bold...

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Shapes of words wring out

           Page penned fonts illuminate

                   I break my own heart...

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Earth is like a sheet of paper,

A4 size,

Deserts on Earth like zeros written on the paper,

Sahara in large fonts,

In small others!...

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Poetry in your thoughts
Poems of fonts not taunts
Paintings you stroke or dab
People of places hub
Pleases and kisses knit
Pencils and pens that lit
Poetry of your life...

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Blossoms the dandelion
Renaissance premises ion
Borderline scripted small fonts
Newspaper article daunts



4/15/24 
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
...

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Oh, hell
type the right characters
characters of the right type
Fonts of fragrant zeal
Ending in the venice beach of letters 
and say nothing of the categories of pain
(hold the control key if your a friggin windoze user)...

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Not all cheers come but from cloud nine,
Nor every vintage is good wine,
Nor just in fools’ fiefdom
Fools are fonts of wisdom,
Beware of man’s nerve asinine.
_____________________________________
Tongue-in-cheek | 01.03.2023 | epigram/limerick
...

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I penned my point,
in the middle of the paper,
I scratched the fonts,
I clear it all,
the rubbish that I thought a diamond,
until it scrambled,
I closed my eyes,
I wiped the tears,
slowly I walked,
I put my faith,
and look up,
I exhaled my breath,
because this is time when I can't talk....

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pages of a book
printed, written in all fonts
characters, small or bold, tweet
stories of the world 
sketches, images of sorts
facades of all, not cajoles

phases of a book
happy faces on each book
tinged in satin or white trim
riffles of a book
like thumbs skimming on waters
waters of life on pages...

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Compose eight lines consult your muse
Subject matter is what you choose
Just eight syllables on each line
Follow these rules and you'll be fine
Pretty pictures you do not need 
Your words only so please take heed
Only plain text no fancy fonts
And that you'll find is what she want's.




Written on 10th November 2018...

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My foolish heart 
Has been broken
More than once
But I will not 
Write about it 
With fancy words and fonts

My foolish heart 
Has been broken
Many times 
But I put it 
Back together
With some 
Silly verse and rhymes

My foolish heart
Will always try again
Because love
It makes the world go round
So if you stop 
I guess it ends...

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Diamond-bright-eyes,
Like king Solomon wise,
But like those of a rogue,
Lusting for valuables in vogue;
From parcel shifting to parcel,
The unlikeliest to indulge any counsel,
Of money, commanded ears listen to its rustle,
Not to its owners hustle and bustle,
Nor to his heaves of his muscle...

These are not what Christ wants,
Nor the baptisms in his fonts....

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seeing a poem
simply not red
it says, "views"
zero but then i 
meant not read

i was trying for
thirteen letters
includingspace
s but   it seems
that some type

meaning fonts
are larger then
others and the
spaces can   be
freely       given

as much space
as  they   want
give me elbow
room i am not
i i want to be a






                space....

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Freedom,
To enjoy our wants
In pleasurable plays
Sexual taunts

Lacy wears
Scented oils
Silken ties
Sexual spoils

Tied and bound
Birthday suits
Domineering
Sexual fruits

Olympic games
Positional fonts
Undulating writhes
Sexual wants

Two birds of paradise
The Eagle and Dove
From distant lands
Sexual love


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love3.php...

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If tears were poetry, 
my words would flow
in a constant stream
onto the dampened paper,
running together in a blur
of forever promises
and hoped for futures

But alas they are merely
salt stained lines
in sorrowed cursive fonts,
drenched in phrased sadness,
falling from my eyes,
flooding the cracks
of my broken heart

If tears were poetry,
I would be a poet...

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Midst anger fester the fox's concerns
    infecting every breathing room
  with pique and plaint in brilliance painted
    ensconced in virtue, truth untainted

  Whilst swirls the mud, a sewer's worth
    from which a sample oozes forth
  to tempt the toadies of our times
    who lip and tongue their fonts of rhyme

  Unity's preached midst raw dissension
    clarity abuts miscomprehension...

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Sunday morning sardines
Sing trademarked sermons
No gain, guitars must be clean
To harken out the predetermined

Donation cards in cursive fonts
A prayer for a new patio to
Crosses finished like their countertops
Their fair-weather faith up for review

This is for the poor Diet Coke debutantes
In Burberry scarves with lipstick grins
Money isn’t everything but it's all they got
Life is just so hard for those who always win...

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By Parizo Van Thulare 

You worth having the most 
So Cheering let's toast 
In my heart you are a queen 
From my pulmonary you Reign 

You all my eyes seek 
Bold as those fonts of Greek 
You all i see 
Your eyes are the sea
They show the reflection of mine 
Wearing love swimming with pride 

You body is like a glass 
So gentle to touch 
So fragile 
Unsqueezable when you hug
You bring the best in me 
You are the woman in me...

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Listen to poem:

I write this poem but use no pen
the words are from my heart. 
No kisses left on sticky notes
just words I dictated from my soul.
No tear stained pages with letters smudged.
My eyes now  filled with tears .
No fancy fonts and parchment paper
as these words are written from my blood.
sent,sealed with a kiss my letter mailed,
delivered from my heart to yours.
my message you may have guessed. 
I  love you with my all .



comp entry 22/09...

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We are caught up in this digital distance
Tangled in strings of binary code
Texting in sequence but in silence
Transmitting thoughts on keystroke roads.

We are caught up in tactile indigence
An impoverished need for human touch
We receive electronic mental perceptions
By fonts implied as such.

We are caught up in digital rambling
Ritualistic taps of thoughts and rhymes
Suffocating until we tap, release and enter
Into the electronically charged sublime....

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By Parizo Van Thulare 

The echo of my rhyming 
Making waves from the calcaneus up the nerve of auditory 
Cleansing all which was blocked in tympanic membrane 

This is poetry 's Lambast 
The beauty of wisdom making Blast 
This how i Cast 

Hear them throb through the cortical cells 
Storming and stomping as the dozer of Bells 

The words through my lyics 
The bond of my syllables
The fonts of the collabo 
This is me the Commando 
Parizo De Lá  Poerto...

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To hold a ticket in your hands.
The numbers lucky fonts.
Is all a person needs to be
excited with their wants.

A paper ticket thin and cool.
A strip to squeeze for luck.
The hope that comes from every draw
included with each buck.

Too valuable to be in sight,
most fold it up in half.
Protected by a wallet or purse
and satisfying laugh.

The draw comes soon for everyone
that you should feel content.
And now the ticket is one with you
and life seems more lament....

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Wide eyes beguiled by pursed lips and strings
Temptation crouches low as a tiger
Hunting coy glances and diamond rings
Tiger now an ox who plots beside her

Promises of riches, fame, and love
Sing like a fairy, little gold canary
The wolf now disguised as a sheepskin glove
Once gentle, he acts to the contrary

And they'll dance as snakes in courtship
smother and crush their ribs and wants
Blame the rat for sinking their warship
Spell out expectations in different fonts...

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internal inferno
my pupils circumscribe
fonts of futility
while opportunity leaks
between my fingers 
weak, bent
crippled for the moment 
by cruel serendipity 
it is said
“better off dead”
but the dead unheard
leave unfinished soliloquies
between dates
etched in stone
filled with momentary eternities
while i limp along
past the parade of their
final serenity
the crescendo
of wind
stirring up memory
fueling this
internal inferno
and another step
towards possibility...

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