Dear Tom
If I had the courage to speak from the heart
Ladybirds of redness would sing from
It.
I imagined my pain was of your making
But it was only the making of life.
Now I'm alive like a ladybug.
Still small but making my way bravely
Forward and backward and forward again.
Now more smoothly and flying at times.
Dear Tom
If I could speak from my heart
I'd say
Nails have been stuck in my chest
After you left.
I cared about each one of your steps
I could not witness you make.
It was the kind of loving I wanted for myself.
Dear Tom.
Your silence is empty like a heart that's
Been shut -
But I give myself to it and I'm full of it
Now.
I call things for what they are
Too. Do you hear ?
Cause shying away from the heart
Keeps it shut.
Dear Tom
I imagined you could be my home but
This was my bad.
Like I could have owned your being and
Fill it with mine.
That's not loving, that's owning.
Colonising. I retract.
Dear Tom,
I honour your spirit.
May it be freer and freer
With each day like a ladybug
That flies it's own
Own
Own way.
loyal to a fault and so much more
than just another canine
leading an exemplary life
eager to be by our side
doing her utmost best
always willing to serve
no whining or whimpering
ready for adventure
keen at every turn
eager to please and fiery
dauntless and ever vigilent
never shying away from love
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
nothing but to be still
my heart as it keeps beating
we're settle worlds apart
my eyes gauged shying upon you
cuz I see through your eyes of victorious view
of flourishing random stratosphere beautifully
unfolding sweet sounds I hear
favorable love letters form words
I read I'm instilled beautiful soul you are, my sweet dear
8/4/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
Dance, Lilith, Dance
Born from the dust that willed your soul to be free
You belonged to the night
Where your golden hair seduced the moonlight for a waltz
And the stars dimmed their light to protect earth from its blaze
Or were they shying away from your mystical smile
Sing, Lilith, Sing
Of your sacrifice to freedom
Enslaved by the egos of the tongues of men
Who berated you,
For your temple did not worship their loins
Conceiver of the first divorce
That stirred the paparazzi in days of old
To slither beyond those alluring eyes
Your judge and jury
Speak, Lilith, Speak
Queen of the mythical silver screen
Whose sins and lust have been etched into the abyss of immortality
Who do you say you are, Lilith
Speak to defend
Deafened silence speaks louder than words
You answer to no-one
Sublime intoxication!
Behold the fiery seraph -
molten heart overflowing with zeal,
fearless eyes shining -
cutting through reality like a laser,
shying away from nothing.
She only sees the Truth.
Pure and radiant.
Beautiful ... and well aware of her beauty.
She would burn the world for you;
chase down all impurity and destroy it with fiery sword.
She would consume herself for you.
Submit herself to the fire at your command.
Service from a heart of strongest will.
Offered to you freely. Knowingly. Passionately.
If she is not enough,
she would do all within her power
to become what pleases you.
She trusts you.
Angel. Phoenix. Fire.
Who am I, my God and King,
that you have entrusted such a wondrous gift to me?
My soul ... my fireheart.
19 March 2024
In Light
I was outside looking into the sky last night. A dense canvas of velvet flecked with stars, and a moon half shrouded in shadow. A mirror, shying away from a star's reflection.
It was so clear that it seemed like one could see eternity. I wondered if once again, you were also gazing into that same infinity.
It made me think about the speed of light.
How far light could travel into forever before it would collide with something. Maybe that something would be akin to an eye.
Perhaps somewhere in that vast emptiness 22 light years from here; someone or something sees the light we reflected and refracted all that time ago, and is watching the story of you and me unfold.
I picture that whatever it is, it's smiling.
It gives me hope. That out there somewhere in this universe, you and I are still us.
Even if it's only in light.
distortions of grandeur and praise
infect me and make me your slave
tranquility is but a phase
the sullen, the meek, the depraved
like shying fleece on the barter
delusions of ardor misplaced
inject faith that enmity made
in truths, she lay undressed, defaced
the maiden, the sheep, the dismayed
lead me across the graying plains
she'll be the bliss beside the pain
i lie prostrate in surrender
herd the weak into paradise
the needle is my new shepherd
stain delirium onto their eyes
like naked lambs to the slaughter
these are the pastures
the fields of mourners
the grass of beggars
meadows of paupers
here grow the anguished
the mired, the famished
the livid brackish
the passive tarnished
lead me beneath your rusting staves
these veins ache for the blight you gave
watch the child playing on the altar
dancing methamphetamine shivers
acceptance
deliverance
i am your sheep
this world's an abattoir
i am your sheep
feed me;
this mind is yours
The right timing for a fun filled moment;
Long awaited is here to caress views...
Of open eyes, soak in sweet merriment,
To which awesome mind's enthusiasm glues.
Her drives on the open dance floor at ease,
Promotes strange moves out of unwillingness...
Shying away what thrilling vibes please,
In return for joyful relief's boldness.
Birthday celebration defines no one,
Either you are been generous or not,
You share things for all with notable pun...
Showing regards for coming to the spot.
Happy birthday dear Ifeoma Victor
So generous; don't tag me predictor!
All nebulous dreams prospecting,
A hideaway in cloud atolls,
A nightly ocean, warmth awaiting,
In quibbling flow, to dawn's aperture
In spectra falling, spectral play crumbled,
Sojourner stars: their lamps parole
In a distance, behind amnesic lights
Razing autumn clouds, amber hues galore!
Cloud heaths, like bosom steaming
Of shying lovers in meeting pour
Whom expectations, sunrays in flurry,
The sky makes dawn red, and Sun allures
The air, in restless breeze cavorting,
By promised things which procure
A blushful pink, on allusion's canvas,
The whimsy sky in homely warmth pleasured
Into a fecund rosiness, its secrets goaded,
Flee from shadowed swathes: staid, demure;
And where played curt poem, autumn moon;
Is a sky by the the bold and brash secured
I used to stunt like a Stunt man only to lose limbs and then l realized this was not Stunt city.
So l ran off to Gotham city with exception of Bruce Wayne only to live by the illusion of Joker.
I wonder why the stories of many men end up as of one man?
This game we play for oxygen will have you scarred if you allow it to take your breath away so exhale for a moment to really inhale .
So I picked a book shying away from Captain Hook for knowledge is might, l washed the crust off my eyes in order to fly a kite so far l have to reach the sky.
Sage scented dreams of beauty and journeys beyond
after the sun has bleached the sky with regal strays of blond
it turns into a crimson shade of shying pink and rosy glass
pouring out its last sweet ray on velvet trees and grass
Worship ceremonies, braided leaves of smoldering strong
memories grooved on the heart we know where we belong
every sorrow gathers here, sometimes we walk alone
artist strokes of genius and suddenly we feel at home
Pastel colors white washed thoughts of yesterdays that kiss
back in days when we were happy and nothing was amiss
Former times when I could see colors of an evening sunset
those were days of gifted bless with no warrants no regrets
Hints of lavender milked soft into the fading of the light
there is nothing more I value than the gift of second sight
As the artist seals her art the sky turns solid brass
while the faded denim sky drops his shadow on the grass .
July 2, 2022
Endless possibilities expand my dendrites, kicking up hopes.
Lasagna boat floats, Play Dough Dragon, Speedy envelopes
Wherever I turn I see another idea, which might be grand.
A pink penguin army shying away from a Mariachi band.
Orange stuffed chair just got mad and stomped out in a huff.
Formica table was laughing so hard, she tripped, sure enough.
Mud puddle mama is making her tree’s lipstick shine.
Other ideas are parading around; and they are all mine.
A blue and green necklace escaped from my treasure box.
They landed down river across from the home of a fox.
A crow got to it first and fell in love with its glitz.
What is happening to the sky? Is this another eclipse?
Things are happening so fast, I can barely keep up.
Trixie my muse is straddling a huge silver loving cup.
I ask her to explain and she gives me a look so very sly.
I dare not ask her anything else, yet not knowing why.
Coffee cup is in love with the Sharpie, but she is totally prissy.
She will not hold his handle or give him a wink or a kissy.
There is a blue mask that found his way downstream on his own.
These are just a few hundred ideas for tomorrow’s silliest poem.
Lately a person begins to read between the lines
how a network of human beings devalue another's worth
battered and bruised internally exhausted at times
they make you invisible shying away from the truth
To hurt someone that only wishes to speak and correct wrong
a violent nature lacks any respect to honour Justice correctly
certain groups have become hostile to straight talkers even violent
Charity cases crying over sin and vices to be accepted as normal
to carve the hammer into words etched on stone cold laid facts face
The bully is enslaved by their desire to overturn God
burning hate pretends to be polite sticking the dagger in
lacking innocence it poisons the purity in defence
You can be a murderer butchering defenceless beings
but you can't be seen to pray without being insulted
Dear Poetic Bird! Move lean, wide, fly to the sky.
With every tune and sound, you adorn the moon.
The sun is rising, and assumptions are shying away.
Love is dawning, so dance, cheer, and replay!
Wonderful nightingale! Enthralling with the croon.
Dear Poetic Bird! Move lean, wide, fly to the sky.
Flowing at night, while the trees are ghastly dry.
To offer mental relief to the lover by filling a ray of tune.
The sun is rising, and assumptions are shying away.
She yelled out her song, and then her sweetheart cry.
For every single person, love is lost too soon.
Dear Poetic Bird! Move lean, wide, fly to the sky.
To discover a rose, the nightingale veered every way.
She brought feathery wings to the rose festoon.
The sun is rising, and assumptions are shying away.
Sending a white rose would permit me to sing every day.
But that is the only red rose, and everything else is ruin.
Dear Poetic Bird! Move lean, wide, fly to the sky.
The sun is rising, and assumptions are shying away.
Written: May 17, 2021
This Or That, Vol 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
I look into the mirror and falter,
Staring back at me is a stranger
Wallowing in pity and self rebuke.
Another victim pierced by love's hook.
Being stripped bare and exposed
Like a waste paper to be disposed.
I try to speak but shudder and wince
For what emanates doesn't myself convince
That is the voice of the person I hold.
Hollow sound like that of the men of old,
Is what splutters out sheepishly
As my reflection at me stares, foolishly.
I try to grap my teacup but withdraw
For the hands panicking remains me of a folklore,
Of which I am the Antagonist,
Begging for mercy at the feet of the sadist,
Who in his strength and might
Laughed at me with malicious delight.
With such panicky hands, the rope I knotted.
With an outstretched leg, the stool I righted
My dreams, fading.......
My vision, fading.......
Time, drifting away.....
My senses, shying away.....
If only you had loved me for a day.
If.........
© Temajung Michael T.
Buea, 03/03/2021
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