Short Pillowy Poems

wash my soul with love,
and i will clean you emotions with sweet fragrance,
let me feed on the abundance of your jolly smile,
for the beauty of your face has swept my mind

your pillowy boobs looking at me,
and my teary eyes shying away,
tickling love dripping off me,
if only she could swing sweetness of it all my way....

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Rain storms, ice crystals and freezing snow 
Thick breath vapor as they say hello

Wool sweaters, furry coats and there they go
Footprints melting in the pillowy snow

Cigar's smoke stuck on chilled windowpanes
Grey, white and all shades of frames

Cherry-red cheecks and warm palms
Blankets, wood stove and sweet psalms...

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Yon dismal grey golden skies;
Puffin pillowy white clouds fly;
Birds shutters streaming by;
Canvas hues of lightening blues;
Hills and mountains labour views;
Streams, lakes and ponds glimmers;
Underneath the yellow golden rise;
Horizon so shine visual kindred sun skies;



6/7/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2020...

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Inside every one of us,
A skeleton resides.
Unless exposed by X-rays,
It’s protected and it hides.

The thin among us feel its bones,
Reminding us it’s there;
While those of pillowy proportions
Know it’s tucked somewhere.

In med school, students learn the names
Of every single bone.
On Halloween, a skeleton
That dances might be shown.

But other times, we all forget
That underneath our skins,
We all resemble one another,
More alike than twins....

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Such pretty words

You use 

To describe

The intensity

Of the feelings

Inside

I would

For you

Bruise

Even bleed

For only

A moment's 

Taste of need

Pillowy 

Whispered 

Words of desire

Between 

My thighs 

Your liquid fire

Sore lips

And breast

Cravenly crushed

My body

And Cheeks 

Exquisitely flushed

Love's reflection

In the pools

Of your eyes

Brought 

To completion

By my

Eternal lover's

Sighs...

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Pillowy white goose feathers
have fallen softly
upon the creaky grass
rotting away
after the autumn feast.

Lacy icicles of flakes
freezing the final
leftovers of the trees.

Exhausted life protected
below the snowstriken embrace
of this mysterious quilt.

What will emerge
out of the covers
once the long sleep is done?

Trees, bushes or, may hap, a rose?
a butterfly?
or, woe, the slithering body of a snake
sliding its way in hissing sighs
melting the ice while winding by?...

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