Short Packages Poems

Come in different shapes and packages,to prepare our destiny...

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gift packages sent 
canes broken instead of bent….
scent of peppermint...

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packages of love 
and all the joys, you hope for  
beneath your lil' tree...

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The Secret Santa silently sat spying
 A giggling girl grabbing and guessing gifts
 the pretty packages pummel down
 bending branches, bouncing blue balls....

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You came in packages
wrapped in black and white
checkered abstract
ribbon
   knotted
     much
       too
         tight.
In spaces between
   all and nothing
lies my patient
heart....

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Butterflies within the valves
Petal wings that slice you right
Relatively long pieces with little packages of greatness
Wholeness spreading in the flux of blood
Insects turn their heads towards then
Turn away...

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Have you checked your mailbox for incendiaries
Watch out for suspicious looking packages from radicals
Could be a warm welcome
Filled with incendiary venom
The political climate has emboldened these crazy nationals...

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It is the day after Christmas

The packages are all gone

Christmas tree is looking droopy

It is quiet in our home


There are still dirty dishes

The dishwasher is full

Grandma is worn out

But work she can not cull...

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Eagles make  nests in them
Vagaries of life stamp their backs
Blood delicious for mosquitoes
Ghosts of hatred pay regular visits
Patrons of hunger pray for them
Exploited but paid well they are
With currencies of negligence
And gift  packages of mockery...

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too bad die
never again at dawn
hear the restless land
the dogs barking scared
the wind raping the window
too bad not to see more
you dreaming in the warm bed
and across the bedroom floor
the empty chocolate packages
that have sweetened
our two bitter hearts....

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Tried and tested by a virus, novel
I sit by the hearth of my lowly hovel
Taxed some more, without relief
Our kings, of their infallibility, grow in belief

Stimulus packages to the Lords
Home based care for the lowly sods
Dynastic games they play
The masses can only moan and pray...

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The child cries,
“Hunger, hunger is killing me!”
Maid comes running
over the hills and valleys
across oceans and sees
wind the winds he comes
with packages of fire
to burn hunger in stomachs
that all children may live
in plenty and never cry
“hunger, hunger, hunger”
to disturb peaceful world...

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We are the deliverers of the United States mail. 
Even when there is rain, snow, sleet, and hail,
in our daily services, we will not fail.
We deliver letters and packages to where you work and live. 
Nothing but good service is what we have to give.

inspired by another member's poem
...

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Oh, What  fun shopping could be
If all the merchandise were FREE!

I would get the biggest wagon i could see
and go on a grand shopping spree

If i could have everything for no fee
Oh, what fun shopping could be

i would never act irresponsibly
If all my packages happen to be free

Now i think you can see
that shopping is where i wana to be.....

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The writers’ images
Engraved on pleasant pages
I see them in immortal mirrors
Faces of heroes and not of horrors

The writers’ images
Encrypted in passionate passages
Written in the colours of gold
In book that are not odd but old

The writers’ images
Enclosed in perfect packages
Sealed the zenith of zeal
In a hurt that’s though rough but real...

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He comes every day
Sometimes he knocks on my Door.
Delivery for you  UPS
Sometimes its the same person
other times not.
And still he calls Delivery for you UPS
I wonder when I don't see him what he does
Just deliver packages all
Since I have no deliveries today  Shame
Miss that call Delivery for you UPS...

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 It runs across the land;
Golden dust bunnies over wheat fields;
Wind-blown particles from the Sun dirt flows;
It runs across the land;
Brown paper packages;
Antique brass mountain towns;
Midday primrose pass fireflies; 
Soars at the cool full night moon;
Endless Dunes waterfalls aqua planet Mars;

1/22/20
James Edward Lee Sr  2020...

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an empty box brandishing a red flag
where hope for packages and letters
from unknown addresses try to find
their way home. greeting cards with
colored envelopes marked by rough
edged stamps. bills seemingly blank
on the outside become very contrary
once they are opened. pre-approvals
for credit cards decorated with holo
grams of promise to receive all that
is desired. the box is a lying device....

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‘Twas the day after Christmas
And boxes were piled
With the remnants of gifts
Ripped apart by each child.

The dolls and accessories,
Sports gear and games,
All once wrapped up in paper
That nobody claims.

The presents from grown-ups,
Removed from their bags,
Join in with the packages,
Ribbons and tags.

In the compactor rooms
And outside, by the curbs,
Are what’s left of the bounty
In cities and ‘burbs.
...

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Blaring horns
blaring horns
blaring all the way
blaring down the slippery streets on a winter's day

frenetic shoppers
frenetic shoppers
buying packages galore
purchasing everything they can from the Christmas store

taxi cab
taxi cab
taxi me home to my bed
to get over the wild party that's still happening in my head

empty wallet
empty wallet
not much left to buy
good thing it's almost over cause it makes me want to sigh....

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I had four summer goals this year 
School starts in nine days.
How many of these goals did I accomplish?
Not one.

I was caught up in being lazy
Being ill, being tired.  I watched TV
became a vegetable, ate packages of donuts
Gained weight that I thought I would lose
Do not remember three of the goals now

But I have had a relaxing summer
And I am ready to return to work
Maybe that was the ultimate goal
I was the last to figure it out....

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O! Mahatma Gandhi!
You taught us non-violence
But we slaughter easily
Our own sisters and brothers

We create an institution 
To promote your ideals 
Yet we subject to ordeal 
The destitute of our nation

Bride-burning and bribery
Casteism and untouchability
We puff in snobbery 
Losing our accountability

O! Mahatma! Do not weep and curse
This beloved nation of ours 
When the books of your messages 
Are used only for binding packages...

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No, I don’t wave a wand,
but it opens silently
ahead of me.
No push, 
no pull,
no “open sesame”,
no tiny whoosh
as the door swings wide.
With arms full,
I can carry in packages,
no struggle, 
no dropping the eggs.

I can push in
a stroller
or wheelchair
or walker
I can use a cane,
no hands required.
No magic,
just an automatic door –
no impediment
to my passage.
I am welcomed
inside with
open arms.
I don’t have
to do a thing....

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I’m under the Christmas tree like a present,
yeah, to rifle packages with my name on them,
but I’m caught, transfixed, looking up through the shrine
forgetting myself in delight at this multi-color heaven.

I’ve never lost my wonder at fulgid Christmas lights -
driving around gawking at decorations half the night.
If only the world could stay like this - but we can’t
sustain rhapsody - we can only trespass on bliss.

Merry Christmas Everyone!...

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If you are planning on returning
any time soon
there are care packages buried 
throughout  Kentucky.
Just in case their cause returned again
But it never will
 since they are not 
going to use them
Keep them for yourself.

THE  human CONDITION:

This note is not to exploit you
on any special day for economics sake
This note is not to get out of my own actions
When I call out to you, its only to warn you
that their gonna do it to you again
Its  our nature.......

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