The roll of paper white now thin,
Grows threadbare, tattered and quite lean,
A silent signal, soft and low,
The final sheets starting to show.
Each tear a whisper, a slight grace,
As emptiness soon fills its place,
No more a buffer, soft and kind,
To replenish one can just find.
Like paper thinning, life recedes,
Fulfilling all its earthly deeds,
The gentle turning, day by day,
Leads to a quiet, waning ray.
With the bones slim, a fragile shroud,
Above the whispers of the crowd,
Each subtle shift stamps a sign,
Along the path of one`s lifeline
The roll will soon be spent and gone,
Beneath the supple shining sun,
A quiet sigh, a letting go,
As softer currents start to flow.
Some shrink at trespass,
Where never stepped foot.
Some grasp at weeds,
Where there is no root.
Some fears have no substance,
But the shade of us.
Some see gain
In loss.
For them, I lament;
I weep when I see
Where, with their deeds,
Create a life of tragedy—
All their own
And all alone.
They cherish
What they reap
In a false reality.
Much like these
Paths we tread,
Built on nothing
And dreams long dead.
Alas, it was all
In your head;
And the rainfall
Was not dread—
Only rain.
And what was said
Brought no pain
Or anger or lethe.
Step back into the light
And deeply breathe in
That healing breath.
And linger not so;
For fleets time,
Where soonly comes death.
Smile upon the years left—
Spend them not in agony
Of imagined wrongs
Or errant slight.
The moon cast her shadow
Over all of night
While you sort wrong
From right.
And assure time
Better spent
Is wasted on lament
And woeful rhyme.
Written: January 23, 2025, for contest Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
****************
two cups of cocoa
and the soft stampede of knees ~
winter melts early
Bluetones - (Where did you go)
I Went to the furnace...
'I went deep inside myself to locate the weakness; I discovered rocket fuel disguised as my inner demons.
Rocket fuel that needed burning!
But first... Containing;
I imprisoned the tormenters until I had a safe place to release them.
When a direction had been chosen, I dragged them through a painful conversion process against their will, which enabled me to convert them into over x2000 workouts, learn a trade, meet hundreds of interesting people, write poetry, create art, open businesses, maintain businesses, close businesses, create relationships, maintain relationships, share inspiration, wisdom and helpful ideas with others... the list goes on.
This converted Rocket Fuel - provided the energy for me to get this done.
But only because I converted it from destructive energy - to creative energy.
I located it, contained it, directed it, then released and burned it when the time was right - which converted it. (into something useful) - the conversion process is the 'furnace' because it is painful, uncomfortable and burns..
Where did you go?
(Ecclesiesetes 7:10)
soft patter of flakes
drizzling frost on bare branches ~
young buttercups peep
Ghost eyes was following me
So, I hid behind an oak tree
I was to scared to run
At first I though it was fun
Until he slime me and I couldn't see
Dark night, crisp air-
Sleep tight, moon spare!
testimony that disrupts
proceedings it interrupts
in a courtroom liable to erupt…
from a recess abrupt
order is anon plucked
What is that, 'midst gray silhouette
A night-winged creature slips, beset?
Fluttering through pampas and ground
Mellow the dulcet trails of sound
O blackbird, my breaths awaken
By soft chimes...this angst forsaken
Glimmering 'neath still of moonlight ,
I find peace in warlber's hymned flight !
I shook my head as I walked away
Rebuking my demons, keeping them at bay
My mind wandered back to a time before
When such a slight would have been cause for war
I was sad today
Never gave it away
Every smile more fake than the last
Every interaction so fast
I want to be alone
in my depression zone
Face aches from muscle strain
My search for happy in vain
Stop my tears with coughs and giggles
Stuck in sad so far from the middle
Born to be sad
I won’t get mad
Nothing good
in life I understood
No one to share
None who care
I was sad today
Never gave it away
Written: September 25, 2023
No 1244 New Poem Only Contest Sponsored by: Brian Strand
____________________________________________________________
We must follow your rules, all I can say.
Every poet is a fool, but I excel someday.
No justification needed—view my book
Not everyone who writes poetry is a kook.
(Only my humility transcends my modesty:... smile)
Shakespearean Slight
Doth have five children father of three, the other two belong to me.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
Violets rising a garden-friendly placid flower,
Purple iris kaleidoscope eyes stain the grass,
They bud in fall and spring, but not in summer,
Stir in the yarn breaks amid fresh Narcissus.
Purple iris kaleidoscope eyes stain the grass,
Choir of home fowl peep to the sparkly leaf,
Stir in the yarn breaks amid fresh Narcissus,
Cerise dahlia swings in the east wind in brief.
Choir of home fowl peep to the sparkly leaf,
Raindrops dribbling from a soft purple bloom,
Cerise dahlia swings in the east wind in brief,
In calm tint arrayed, they shed a ritzy perfume.
Raindrops dribbling from a soft purple bloom,
Allow me to stroll to the valley's mute shadow,
In calm tint arrayed, they shed ritzy perfume,
This flower is one I'd cherish to retain and grow.
Allow me to stroll to the valley's mute shadow,
They bud in fall and spring, but not in summer,
This flower is one I'd cherish to retain and grow,
Violets rising a garden-friendly placid flower.
3rd Place Contest Winner
Written: June 3, 2022
Purple Flowers Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron Flores
I have no shoes shall we dance;
I don't gamble shall we play a game of chance;
I have a pet aardvark should I feed him ants;
I have vertigo am I in a trance;
3/4/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
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