Short Ridged Poems

Fried potato dips
Vinegar flavored ridged chips...
Buds wait behind lips...

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black coal soft

not rough rigid 
but coal soft
not a stocking filled with coal
but a fluffy cat coal soft
With a rough ridged motor...

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from the cloud's
white hair
beard hangs
ice

fridged
ridged
from
delight

from snow
to rain
with warmth
comes

cliché
tears of joy
and a storm
of passion...

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To Be Rigid and Firm 

Stonewall should be ridged and firm;
Not allow things to wiggle or squirm;
Did predict,
Will restrict,
Advance of whale which is a sperm.

Jim Horn...

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God Break Me from My Ridgid Stance

God break me from my ridged stance;
Chance allowing me to escape trance,
I had been in,
Again and again,
And enlightened when You enhance.

Jim Horn...

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Ridged peaks, rolling foothills
reach over our region,
rest under snow blankets,
recover from roiling,
raging summer wildfires.
Reeling smoke will only
return with a vengeance.



Pleiades R contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman...

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I am scared 
That when you take my heart in your hands 
That you will feel the calloused flesh 
and the deep ridged scars 
Every time without fail I will tear my heart from my chest 
to present it to you 
And each time I think you will be repulsed by the state of it...

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Will the little people in the wall paper have to watch you die?
The very thought of it makes me want to cry. 
Will their little bodies stiff and Ridged have to watch yours go Frigged?
For the know your darkest moment better than I. 
They watched you sit and ponder "why?" 
You see these little people they aren't real. 
But they are the only ones who see how you really feel....

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LAMENTING HARMS

I am passionate in regardless requiem
I dress ridged and deploring
I need shed tears for my sorrow I bewail and bemoan
I am related to elegy
I vacation at the cemetery
My job is lamentation writing up funeral chant a burial hymn
I desire to sing at my passing in heaven


11/26/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
LAMENT POETRY FORM...

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Crystal sands,
eager fingers digging,
bounty from the shoreline carry home.

On display,
gracing my windowsills,
dancing 'round with the sun's reflection.

Exquisite,
ridged in sea tones and hues,
every nuance bears the froth of tides.

Memories;
each one tells a story
of adventure sought,of life and love.

By Deb Wilson
for Nette Onclaud's contest "Paralellogram de Crystaline"...

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the dam has shattered
the crimson river has begun to flow
once again
no stopping it this time around
the dam can't be rebuilt
the waterfall will continue on
draining into a pond
turning into a lake
into an ocean
faster every second
the crimson river has begun to flow
no stopping it now
does it even want to stop
continues down a path
of no return
splashin harder against the ridged rocks
the crimson river has begun to flow...

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I refuse to spend
our last minute in grief
so,
(to remove this other visage 
threatening a takeover)
I transpose over it


your face
with that gentle smile
holding in contemplation,
a curious child, me
 
your face 
once ridged in sadness
with an agony 
we carried together,
and now


as my face burns 
with a heart arched 
in sorrow, 
in the knowing yours 
now rests on heaven,


I, am ever thankful 
but still need 
a moment to remember...

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Inside this temple made of brick and clay 
the many shades of your heart 
are the prisms of my soul 
Pinioned and shackled to your fires  
we are vaulted by our own desires 
two lovers breathing as one

Outside this prison of hell stands my nemesis
buried behind its boulders I am decaying 
like a rotting apple de-pitted then discarded 
Bitwise assaults to my soul,  
I summon courage and finally break out 
of this ridged corrugated pas-a-deux. 
...

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You broke my heart,
You ruined my life.

You stabbed me in the back,
With a red, ridged knife.

You tore me apart,
To pieces you see.

And you didn’t care,
That was always the key.

You took something from me,
And I’ll never get it back.

While you try to score,
And stay in your “pack”.

My virginity gone,
With a man who lied.

Now part of me rots,
While dying inside.



If you have a better category that i should put this in, let me know please. Thanks....

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Colonoscopy


Colonoscopy,
strikes dread. It’s not too bad - when
Colon trouble free.

Jules Verne-like travel,
up your arse, spelunking through
strange, pink-ridged caverns.

Hunting for the snark,
or boojum, or polyp, who
feasts, darkly, in there.

Snipety-snap - jaws,
polyp-snatch; dragging from view,
miscreant tissue.

Pathology dock -
destined. Tried in the morning,
suspected malign.

Tried.. judged innocent.
Callooh! callay! It vanished
softly — my boojum....

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