Short Whooshes Poems

My Poem Book - A Tanka Poem

Oh, my poem book!
Ornamental so caring;
With many papers;
And a glorious binding;
It whooshes, when I fan the pages
I’ve read happily




11/21/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©...

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cool, moist breeze blowing
sweat-soaked smiles light up faces
airborne petrichor

wailing wind whooshes 
fluttering clothes flap in joy
botox treat for earth

drizzle, soft sizzle 
scattering kids on the run
monsoon makes its mark...

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wanky urge whooshes
puking rustic rhythm
nauseated by billows
busty ecstasy borrow
generous lust lent
passion prior invested

delicate capillaries crushed
lurched lanky lust
oozes, gores gulped

fostered faith rent
fiery surge ferments
licking lusty test

dark dance drips
from lustful limbs.
     '20:02:28:14:48...

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lugubrious lake lurching
salient waves scrunching
forth feigns fought
inky blue bought
crimson crest cupped
neighboring boulevard lusts

bounty birds pulsing
pelvics pruning perches
on flimsy fishes

drunk daedal dances
of nocturnal nymphs
fostered in flips

west wind whooshes
camped callous crisis.
      19:12:27:14:05...

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like leering torrent
seeped'n saucy vest
wielded waves worn
tuning traces torn
voluptuous surges shrunk
cupping callous lust

hoisted horizon's spell
bewitching bounty pleck
fostering felon dread

winter's call whooshes
tuning tactic traces
through ocean's capillaries

same spell knit
my fostered feelings.
'20:02:12:15:56...

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like saucy sun
eerie east puns
syllabic surges scribbled
taunted tips tremble
wielded wind whooshes
bearing bounty breaches

bored trees blazed 
airy torrent's trace
crumbling crest crazed

rustling rays ripped
into callous confetti
boulevards' silhouettes bit

moaning melodies mixed
punctured passion's piss.
     '20:02:20:19:34...

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salient seal surges
fondling felon vices
tumbling twain smirks
leering lusty lurch
per punctured zeal
moaning mists breed

wielded will whooshes
dripping damped drizzles
seeped'n saucy stinks

haughty heels hanker
oozing taunted trigger
airy atmosphere flickers

tumbling tiers throttle
dangling dark dwindles.
      '20:01:31:15:23...

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tamed twigs moaned
cussing callous clone
sassy sequoia invited
dark dribbles ignited
felon fashion bolster
bounty blitzkrieg fostered

wanky wind whooshes
humming hoisted hymns
nocturnal nature drips

punctured pulses pouting
rusty roots reeling
vying voluptuous drilling

eerie epistle etched's
of the forest.
      '20:04:02:19:41

Note: Of the forest....

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The first winter’s rain
Brings in the chill in the air
The sun hides behind the overcast sky
Playing hide and seek with the grey clouds
A gust of wind whooshes through the trees
The cold weather is set to begin
I wrap myself in a blanket in bed
Reading a novel with a mug of coffee in hand
Untimely rain brings us such pleasure
A time to lie and contemplate in leisure
...

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On my deck I’m sitting to write this pleasant day.
Nary a cloud I see to blot the clear blue sky.
Yellow sun is smiling; the grey has gone away.
Wind whooshes through the trees. Some bicyclists I spy.
Distant traffic , barking dogs, and some kids at play:
These sounds spell normalcy! Wind heaves another sigh.


April 24, 2020 for Joseph May's Each Letter Threads The Verse Poetry Contest...

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A cruise sails into blueness of a vast bosom, open,
at thirty thousand feet, gossamer clouds in motion.
Gliding underneath, on wings of albatross in ocean,
airplane whooshes high from a world of commotion.

Busy on laptop, client meetings, urgent at eleven.
Leave of five days fun, so many gifts to be given.
Carrying sick dad to anxiety, unknown destiny written, 
Nine starless clouds strewn, is this the seventh heaven?


18th March 2019...

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Today I’m just a click
away from nothingness
on internet posts.

The limbs on the tree
next door are still,
and it’s just 2 degrees
outside.

Warm air whooshes
up from the register
and a sparrow sings

as I remember
my life as
miles covered
along highways and roads
and faces seen.

And this love
many years ago
comes back again
an incarnate dream.

This snow outside
is soft and pure
as I wait to step outside-

I still see her face....

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Bogs Is Truly Awful !

Cold like old man bony 
the wind whooshes,
through impudent rushes
empty, stony, hungry 
It's special beauty 
melancholic, 
making wretched poetry 
The night skys velvet 
torn to shreads
you there 
stumbling woefully 
Your two pale feet 
turning brown, brown
as Sunday gravy
And now you come to 
understand
Bogs ain't for man,
the sad or even crazy, 
bogs is best appreciated
(no matter what 
you're told)
by poets
and the lonely...

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I'm going to drop all my baggage here.
It's going to make a loud noise, I'm sure,
But I'm going to walk away and not look back.
I do not own its noise
And yet, my dear friends,
If a sweet metallic vibration
Of brash against stone
Whooshes an end to this sad symphony,
Well, I'll take that.
I will store that sound away in my heart
In a place where no one needs to 
Hear a damn word about it,
For you see, some treasures must be kept unknown
Just as some baggage must be kept astrewn....

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