some loves bout lost come go almost all sorts
motives remain true pure until find not
list least cain hope fewer no good reports
still life like love moves backing forth cold hot
back outing again own each such sigh wish
loss lasts long gone fast run use eye oui next
stuff split rough two there one bright here blue dish
but still be same unself self sans pretext
wait patient fourth floor first ready confess
one day then now was dreamed real life unfold
four most seven great death comes not success
some would telling kisses end life untold
try may believe yes if not near reverse
mind conceives lives another universe
The wind rose early with the busying dawn,
And, rushing into the long avenue of beech -
Laid down years ago to accommodate labouring feet,
Began to scatter over neatly cut verge and lawns
With its own inimitable unruly gust, blow and fuss...
Within a cascading maelstrom of vivid bright yellowness.
Against strong trunks, held firm by steadfast roots,
Groans from creaking boughs as they upwardly heaved
Upon frantically thrashing branches showering
rusted, golden leaves;
Carpeting the rough stones below my trampling boots.
A mad kaleidoscope of leaping, swirling, skipping
colour
Where, as a child, I had once rediscovered...
Two green sandstone gate pillars sat well back
That ushered me under this arched, canopied track.
rattlesnake scales locomotive them around
scales are needed when you make a musical sound
when you weigh food, you mean a tiny numbered scale
larger one needed to measure a dog or a Yak in Vail
on the memory scale, some days I do quite well
Other days I am lost in my own thoughts, here in the dale
Contest: Cemetery
Sponsor: Constance La France
Written 28.05.2025
They called him wild although he hardly spoke.
Remote to them to breathe electric air.
He moaned in thought before the plastic broke.
A soundless pressure wound too tight to bear.
Each toy held codes he opened to translate.
He was not mean but simply born to ask.
No answers came from objects he’d ablate.
Limbs scattered wide aft each intrusive task.
The remnants piled in corners of the room.
In silence, as in graveyards of a kind.
On shelves lie things he swore not to inhume,
but questions still move restless through his mind.
At night he dreams of limbs and twisted wire.
Not wreckage, but a map of his desire
My exam is over and everyone is plugged in on phones
earbuds in, except for him, who sleeps, slumped on desk, bag in front
with me the only one who can hear him snoring.
I just feel disappointed
with the answers that you give,
I sit and wait patiently
Whilst you go out and live.
I just feel fed up
With the way you’re acting now,
I want to let ‘us’ go
But really don’t know how?.
As annoying as you are
I will sit and wait,
For reasons unbeknownst to me
Which is something that I hate…
I’ve had a tiff with my bestie,
with the one who’s quite zesty.
The one I rush to when I’m listless,
when I need a true friend priceless.
I’ve had a row with my reliable go-to,
over an issue that now I so clearly rue.
With the only one who lifts my spirits,
when I need a sweet reminder of my merits.
I’ve had an argument, oh so fraught,
and it’s not even one I actively sought.
I know not how I came to this point,
this decision I myself with did anoint.
I’ve had a spat so ugly and mean,
with the one who makes me less lean.
I’ve quarrelled with the one who’s an addiction,
I’ve cast blame outwards with sly sedition.
“My friend,” I said, “you’re an evil temptation.
You make me high, and then I face damnation!”
I’ve tearfully resolved to stay very, very far,
from any darn delicious chocolate bar!
I feel out of sorts and don’t lie
When I say that I can’t explain why,
Or rather I could
But nobody would
Make sense of it, though they might try.
I have some decisions to make,
Though nothing important’s at stake.
Yet, still I am stuck
And not having much luck;
Fear of change is a trait I can’t shake.
Such an anxiousness often conceals
Other issues, although it reveals
Things I cannot express
That are causing me stress;
Lots of people know just how that feels.
i am listening to this song
there will never be another you
tears roll down my face slowly
i remember the look on her face
i recall the eerie quiet
i will never forget wishing that she could have died peacefully and painlessly
i am listening to to this song
there will never be another you
the rain begins to fall
the wind begins to cry
the sky cannot contain her dark emotions
things will never be the same in this frigid world of monotony
i am listening to this song
there will never be another you
a trip sounds so good right now
reality and the situation within is speaking way louder
instead, i decide to go and park someplace quiet and undisturbed
this is the only place i feel like being a seeker of today
We all wear masks of sorts...
the politician more comfortable
than most of us – his/hers made
of latex – easier to contort into
whatever image more advantageous;
driven by public opinion...or which of the
puppet makers will pay more; the Democrat
nose now, sword length
into the heart of Freedom....
The doors of the harvest are open;
Gathering the crops of our hearts;
The living waters nourishing are ever distant parts;
We see abundantly the newness starts;
I am a reoccurring flower;
And I am budding a loaf;
For I am grown and created by the Father;
All my sweet bending art;
just I a sweet bending flower of sorts-
6/21/21
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2021©
The love of sorts
completes flowing clear liquid exposed hosts
into the air we breathe returns bright red
set beating hearts enough said
connect us so as each beat spreads
goes beating on and on and on and on Life giving soul liquid pungent red
3/14/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©
Wife: when I met her first, she was a dream
me: she said if rich we could be a team
father-in law: looked like would die next day
me- he gave consent if I mend my way
mother in law: love her don’t get me wrong
me:without her, marriage would be a song
brother- in law: walked with Eastwood hat
me: I could quickly see he was a tw*t
Sister-in-law: young pretty in her vest
me: If I had wed her would have been best
All: So this life is full of luckless fate,
me:if you are planning wedding- please wait!!
love: If you are young looking for dates
advice: stay home spend time with mates!
Written 22/02/2021
Charles Messina sponsored
List with a twist contest
All out of sorts
odd quickening pulse
What’s in your heart of hearts?
I am weak always
Away from blame he sashays
Faults to nitpick
So who is the one sick
It takes all sorts
All with their own torts
Forgiveness is His to give
to those who wish to live
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