We shall defeat the loneliness
due to our willingness to be
as one
My handsomeness and her
Beauty shall be the. Means
to justify the agreement of
those who find us attractive.
The flutes and bassoons complimentef
One another.
She planted sugarcane in a wintery
region. And fused sugarcane fermented
With dehydrated pine berries.
It's desespert need to belong among
the popular and most notable
Allowed smart folk to fuse flavors
that complimented one another to
Establish a new flavor for people
Who weren't ashamed to want and
Need it. The "slurps of respected people's"
Sorted men andales. It sorted fools
And connisuriurs to delight on flavors
and tastes!
"What smiles are men's"
Written by; De Slurping Kind"
Music created by lovers
Music created by wisher
Wishers Music in a world
Of pretty people
1.
Blown to pieces
It ended
Hook, line, and entrails
The blowfish
Puffed harder out
Than it should have.
2.
Cone stared back
At red squirrel
They chased each other
‘round the fir.
Not that it matters much:
The squirrel
Always wins.
3.
No one hears
The rubber scream of worms
Quite lengthy and horrid
One may add,
When robin slurps
Morning mud.
4.
Trailing behind
Bird
Was snake
And right behind them
An old man
With a poem.
5.
Subtle she was not
An old eyeless racoon
A stump left for a paw.
Her saggy skin and rattling bones
Sweeping the forest floor.
End Line Rhyme as a Footle
What compels every life to be alive
It is best to feed themselves to survive
Sunlight and water nurture the flower
Enough to sustain and give it power
Like the winged bird that flaps while humming
Some saw it as an expected coming
And as it thrust its long beak sweetly
slurps while wings flap swift and holding deeply
With my succulence, I can quench your thirst
hydrating well-being midst calmness-bliss
offering nutritious benefits
toward functional zest of vibrant mirth...
Yes, enjoy my refreshing presence
midst wondrous fellowship with loved ones
along rejuvenating laughter spree
ending in prayer, thanking God*... then have slurps of me.
Philippians 4:6 Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
November 4, 2025
3rd place, "PERSONALLY SPEAKING" Personification Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud; judged on 11/5/2025
He captured childhood, never let it go,
Sidestepped the potholes of “growing up”
Never forgot that ice cream is better when shared
Popsicles meant to be broken in two
Throwing stones in the pond an avocation
Skipping them….an art
He still slurps his soup as taste has consequences
Milk moustaches, especially chocolate, an art form
He still wipes his hands on his pants
Will pet a wet dog, tell “that” joke again
Wear that favorite frayed flannel
Flirt with the cashier at the super market
He will make fun of everything and everyone
And sometimes keep it to himself
More often though he leaves them shaking their heads
Wondering…”when will he ever grow up”
He knows, that they know, the answer
Probably never…if we’re lucky
Choosing which shade of white,
drives most people up the wall.
There's at least
152 shades of white
to choose from.
Despite being well: "Just White"
It's the subtle hue, blah blah,
hubris and hoo-ha,
that comes to the fore.
White can be darker, lighter,
cooler or warmer,
extra bright or dim,
so so cool, boring or subdued.
"Wind's Breath", "Extra White"
"Moonlight White at Night".
How can you choose?
It's the paints position, lighting, shade
and context that makes
the decision so complex.
Any color tinge, even within plain stark white
Can evoke a profound emotional reaction.
“Pristine” whites feel frigid cold, like ice.
Tiny tints of yellow, orange and red
feel "happy", “warm” or “sunny.”
Subtle slurps of green or blue
feel "natural" and "homely".
But, beware my friend,
Never ever choose:
"Off White" or
"Shades of Gray"
Heaven Forbid!
Lugubrious blue mood skies funereal and morose shed raindrops,
they unleash tableau vivant torrent’s wet tranche,
blessing, bane or boon from vault of heaven,
damp pearl blob bewitching moisture mellow morph form,
the stuff of less than benign grumpy weather grouch,
whose plight infuses yen for sun-drenched bliss,
haven of the ultra-violet swathe enthusiast,
for others raindrops are a liquid gem relish firmament bequeathed,
to whet voracious craving of nascent pastures,
whose gaunt green blade emaciating stillborn,
that aqueous honey to hue-blazed floral garden in situ bloomers,
who swallow cloudburst drizzle meed in muted slurps,
droplet streak and spiral bubble patten on top hung awning window,
empyrean tear beads that roof top tap dance ritual,
so tantalising to the awestruck spellbound eardrum,
or impromptu downward dribbles on romantic saunterers,
prompting boisterous laughter as they flaunt their dome transparent chromium truss umbrella,
those enraptured red-blooded refugees beneath tilting gust spun bumbershoot,
as mud splatter cherry cheek urchins shriek,
amid the spray and splash globules at agile finger tips
"God sends pets without wings so no one will suspect they are angels ..." Unkown
Angels come in all sizes
Never knowing when they will appear
Great fur coats to wear
Every day and night of the year
Love will spread their wings
Slurps and hugs forever more
Leroy
Cowboy
Rode horse
Of course
His hoss
Named Ross
Ropes steers
Slurps beers
Slouch hat
Flaunts gat
Wears boots
No suits
Eats beans
Wears jeans
Raised hell
Pell-mell
What's more
He swore
Has gal
Named Sal
To pub
For grub
They dance
Romance
They kiss
Pure bliss
Gets slopped
Fun stopped
Big brawl
(That's all)
She is feeding her hedgehog a dandelion brew.
We do not interrupt her until she is through.
How does he like it? We ask as he slurps.
See for yourself she says, as he gives some loud burps.
Persnickety hedgehog says, “Why don’t you ask me yourself?”
I scoot myself a bit farther back on the oak limb’s magical shelf.
Don’t be shy! The hedgehog says. Any more questions for me?
I try to pretend I am one with the tree.
All the baby chicks
From their shells do spring
I’ve seen so many pics
A smile they do bring
Then there are the pups
Wagging little tails
Slurps from puppy cups
Yipping little wails
"Collab"
AABB, 5555
Poem for children
March 28, 2023
Some desires, some wishes
Some hits, some misses
Some longings
For those disappearing zings
Some peekaboo
Some more than the perfunctory
I love you
Some fantasy nibbles,
Some muffled giggles
Some fulsome curves,
Some afar slurps
Some cravings
For those red thongs and hot things
The ‘natural’ appearances
Jaw-dropping, gorgeous
She and me
Just the two of us
A nearly everyday ‘affair’
The fair beauty’s bare and dare
Sizzling, sensuous, screen romance
A repeat?
Hardly any chance.
Off the beaten track
red dirt roads,
backwoods cracker country.
She is drunk
and fist fighting her ma.
The old man has pissed his pants
and don't care;
he slurps his cooler beer.
The drunk fat girl
grabs a crow bar
ma hefts a shotgun.
A yellow hound opens one eye
then falls asleep again.
The sun shines bright all day.
So far, just another Sunday.
the robin hops and
glides over grasses early
morn waiting to part
head bobbing neck stretch
take of the wet silky worm
robin slurps worm up
6/11/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
Breath of Fresh Air
She is a breath of fresh air
The kind you don’t meet every day
Her long and graceful fingers are filled with (bling)
From the men who loved her before.
She is the kind that makes you blush with a glance.
Her beauty surpasses that of an intricate sunrise.
She speaks the truth and does not (blabber)
About unimportant and mundane things
She drinks of life and (slurps) as she swallows from its cup!
Unadulterated laughter fills the room when she muses.
A (drizzle) of joy fills all the dark places and dispels all fears
Like a gradual but steady waterfall,
It (sloshes) into the next week.
Once you have met her…
You will never be the same.
She is a woman who can make you feel
A million emotions by one encounter
She will steal your heart
And put it in her pocket
In case she may need it one day!
So, breathe her in and never forget her face.
Written November 9, 2021
For Onomatopoeia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
(ps. underlining and bold did not paste when formatting to poetry soup so words used are in brackets)
sincere apologies
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