Short Urns Poems

the urns unit uniforms untimely steel contains every ash

8/16/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©...

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tina
....a turner....

tuned
....her 'urns'....

to turn
...a teen....

who
....tuned her

into
...tina's urn....


stans sand...

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If God could do it all over again
    would He create a race of men 

  who disavow Him at every turn
    elevating themselves, their ashes in urns...

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Z-estful
H-eart
E-xactly
N-eeds

N-o
E-motional
C-hafe
E-mploying
S-mile
I-t
T-urns
O-n

Topic: Birthday of Zhen Necesito (June 20) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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D-ark
E-vades
N-iceness
I-n
S-unny

M-orn
A-s
R-ain
T-urns
I-nto
N-ew
D-awn
A-nd
L-ovely
E-arliness

Topic: Poet (Denis Martindale) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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M-inute
I-s
S-howing
H-ow
I-mpressive 
E-arly
L-ight

G-lows
A-s
T-ime
T-urns
O-ff
C-hill

Topic: Birthday of Mishiel C. Gattoc (May 26) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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E-ffulgent
S-plendid
T-winkle
E-ndorses
R-adiant

D-awn
O-nce
C-hill
T-urns
O-ff
L-etting
E-arly
R-ays
O-pen

Topic: Birthday of Ester Doctolero (December 10) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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E-arly 
L-ight 
E-merges 
A-s 
N-ame 
O-f 
R-ighteous 

O-ne 
R-ightfully 
T-urns 
I-nto 
A-nother 
G-reat 
A-crostic 

Topic: Birthday of Eleanor O. Ortiaga (July 03) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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N-atal 
I-dea's 
C-reative 
A-nd 
N-oble 
O-pus 
R-ightfully 

T-urns 
I-nto 
O-ne 
S-tatement's 
E-ssential 
N-ote 

Topic: Birthday of Bro. Nicanor P. Tiosen (January 10) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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Trapped necklace:
after a kiss of bee
to find the hive.

Honey spills from the
urns. I wet my moons in night.
Wind snatches a sun.

Let’s go back to bricks
for the moral blindness of
king without crown.


Satish Verma...

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Want to rid the traumas
Of your frown laden head?
Visit the cemetery,
And give it to the dead;

They seek not like mortals
In dented greedy urns,
Small favours once bestowed 
That was done for returns.
	***********...

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K-ey
R-ole
I-n
S-ecuring
T-riumph
I-s
E-mploying

P-erseverance
E-stablishing
N-otable
A-dvantageous
M-omentum
A-s
N-othing
T-urns
E-mpty

Topic: Birthday of Kristie B. Peñamante (February 14) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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Flasks and drums
Vases and urns
Barrels for holding pickles

Bowls and cups
Pots and pans
Piggy banks for nickles

Beakers, pitchers
Bottles for milk
Mere vessels for the rookies!

For no container
In the world
Can beat my jar of cookies!...

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Dreams of Death,

with Fractured Eyes.

Half our dead,

Our half alive.


Set in stone,

Your tomb awaits.

One must atone,

Hungry with hate.


A fire burns,

deep in my chest.

Burning urns,

With burning breath.


Death is near,

Every day.

Do not fear,

just fly away....

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The rains speak to me
Let the torrents wash along
Questions unasked
Sometimes
The words of the Old Man ring
Constant
Let the mountains speak
Let the winds howl
Timidly, I lap at waters
Tamed savages sip savagely from behind
Cages made of glass
Etiquettes and bestiality
Woven into
Golden urns
Whose contents are black ashes!...

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Statues orate
snow white odes
Lilies loquate
lavender soliloquies
Alyssum applauds
with purple passion
in summer's soft breeze 
Aquamarine asps
slither
on a swimming pool
beside bougainvillea
reaching
over ivory urns
to toss
fuchsia coins.


2nd Place
Mid June Premier Contest
Sponsor:  Brian Strand
6/13/17...

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You will not live forever
And you do not have a soul
There are no hells or heavens
No charged punishments to scroll

We do not keep on going
When our ashes riddle urns
There are no gods or saviors
No exchanges or returns

You will not live forever
And you cannot sway the Fates
There are no master captains
Out beyond the crooked gates...

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Life blooms from a flower
Like a book flipping open
Spilling sunflowers and roses
On memories in deep oceans.

Fires rage and blood red burns
Endless fields and inchoate urns
Unformed babes and solid tears
Time runs deep with timeless gears.

Death sprouts from a seed
Like a fountain sputtering
Spraying ink and deep grey clouds
On love behind the pendulum....

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A new
day brings light,
each morning-
the window flowers come
alive

Inspired by a stainglass window picture

Here is a similar examples

http://www.londonstainedglass.co.uk/G1-K%20Wisteria%20&%20ferns%20lge.html
http://www.londonstainedglass.co.uk/G3-A%20Tiffany%20Replica%20.html
http://www.londonstainedglass.co.uk/G1-F%20Wimbledon%20Flower%20Urns%20lge.html...

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Buson had his comb
and Pound, his blackened bough.
But I am no poet.

I do not rage. Rage
is not for me.
Inspiration does
not peer through my ribs.

I cannot talk of Michelangelo
Or tell of Grecian Urns. No,
Ozymandias has not looked upon
My works.

What I write will not
Stand up with the greats
Sadly, I am no
Neruda, Poe, or Yeats.

I just spend my time
Reading The Rime
And failing to create....

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E-xciting occasion 
D-ries the tears in your eyes; 
E-vening shadows disappear, 
N-ew light shares with sunrise. 

B-ig birthday bash 
E-liminates the darkness; 
A-ugust twenty-sixth morn 
T-urns away from mess. 
O-ne huge jubilation brings brightness to the day; 
N-ew dawn has broken, causing the night fade away. 

J-oy and gladness 
U-p the celebration; 
N-ice emotion you feel, 
I-t's an exciting 
O-ccasion....

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Eating circles in the sky 
I ask you to step outside 
the space. It was time !

I will alter the succession 
of flesh to spirit. 
Sky was overcast, when 
mercury was falling.

The thread breaks. Your 
theory falls without wings. 
Chandeliers  chase the- 
shadows on the walls.

You start collecting the 
tomorrow and the morrows.
There were no more yester-
days. Ashes will stay in urns.

The grass remains wet with dew !


SATISH VERMA...

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She shuddered at leaving behind
her mortal clutter.
Nevertheless, off she popped,
and her in her old nightie;

She had interred a succession
of deceased cats. Psychic clumps
had accumulated
where spectral moggies muddled.

Tiddles and Ginger,
Marmalade and Blackie,
were filed away
in their small brass urns.

It has to be said
and rightly recorded
that
Tiddles, Ginger,
Marmalade, and Blackie

also had driven a nervous lady
into an early grave....

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Once on Cecil Place
fledgling flagstones freckled
like summer faces
in Septembers of taut cypress.
Now neglected planters are urns
for my young ashes,
crypts gaping silent screams.
Blistered doors do not divulge 
past secrets,
gravure images are gravel 
on a eroding drives.
Fissured streets
are cracked mirrors
reflecting shards of selves.
Time is a slumlord 
its seconds a legion
of termites.
I'm a pillar of salt;
I should not have looked. 

6/1/17...

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From cradle to grave the sun baked
the skin leather, un-oiled
and rain did not fall
for Isis with held her tears.
From the bloody care of womb
children popped like bread from
the oven of women, the urns of life, 
earthen were their colors
ocher, saffron, and 
some as black as basalt, rich…
with a Nubian glow.
How the small ones squeal
at the wadi’s edge.
How the toes of man and beast
dance at the skirt of mother Nile, 
sensuous, rippling with the wind,
or placid in the doldrums of summer sun....

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