Spindled Poems | Examples

Send your regards

"By the squeaky old gate that tomorrow will find,"
kindness is a necessary handkerchief:
convex lips to meet mine with gentle understanding
words that tenderize as a snarling babe sedated by mother's milk

Please wait for me there
never minding fallen appearances 
spider veins spindled in my corporation - bogus skins - 
depleted gums, haunted eyes 

Extend a posy, a leaf of scripture, a lump of sugar
be impressed at the flounce of this wisteria skirt
and silver-studded circulation stockings
in remembrance of my blush

WHIN-shine-

Such as in spindled spongey bargains lips
Casted both bolted skullduggery
Sappily candidly preside barrowed bricks
Philanthropy balled head lettuce apple tree
Restted rustic gondola swaying hips

Pressue mounts of disktoelay on the contraj
I am of I say displaced
An accomphishped barteded dan shunter
Rad taddered is the one “c” that’s blinded
Ship regaurd the paccswn

Angle fram bar grin
Possiticlee no shame
NoThIng-VoGoN
Drowning by the seleural light
Reace darkness flees, run in fro light

Whind Shine


2/28/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©

Enlightened By Whispering Angels

Alone, where winds had smoothed the cobblestone,
a young novice sat, solemn and austere,
brooding over mistakes made, seeds past sown.
Entering the abbey; a fate severe,
she wept with sadness when dismay had grown.

Praying, she cried, "In Your Word I abide."
Her soul ached; tears were silently falling.
"Strengthen my faith, Father. Be at my side.
Forgive my despair. This is my calling.
I know from You there's nothing I can hide."

Stark loneliness grew; hope quickly dwindled.
In solitude her days would reach their end.
Then came enlightenment. Faith rekindled
in whispers to her as angels descend.
She dropped skeins of yarn, carefully spindled.

Down on penitent knees she bent and bowed.
"Forgive my apathy. I've been a fool
to hesitate, Father, for I have vowed
my humble life to serve beneath Your rule."
With an overjoyed heart, she spoke aloud.

Flowers

there are flowers for 
every occasion
upon birth 
upon death
two people becoming one
some flowers give off
a beautiful fragrance 
and some that shine 
like spun silk
flowers grow and bloom
as sun fades to moon
and colors blend
like spindled thread

Sepulchered Memories

I ride by it most every day- the ghost
	that once stood real upon that lovely hill,
		with winding creek, a sprawling velvet lawn
			and pillared, wrap-around, fine spindled-porch
with wide front doors that led inside my home.

My home, where memories still fill my heart
	of special times with family, all there.
		The older loved ones, now long gone, also,
			my childhood home, annexed, hacked down to be
the west ramp for the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge.




d opened in November 1963.

Desert Gloaming

In the stray lavender of twilight
as cactis' spindled obelisks
brush spreading lapis sky
a honeyed sun 
holds tight
to desert crags
for a last glimpse
of fulgid sage
and adobe rainbow dwellings 
sprawled in the valley.
I await the candle moon's 
flickering smile
shining in gully water
and darts of starlight
glowing in my arid dreams.

Sweet Citrus

I kissed July's hot tangerine lips
swam in cool aquamarine eyes
basked in blond and honey rays
dreamed in mango pomegranate sunsets 
of lime hillsides and marmalade roses
Years of sweet citrus passed in golden hours

One day I woke
to find translucent eyes 
in burnt sienna
as trees wept leaves
in burgundy and olive
Soon the eyes
were frozen in powder
Ashen shadows blew
across barren groves
of spindled spruce
and howled 
with December's lonely moon
But from my fire lit window
I hold fast to memories
of daffodils and oranges
mingled with the burn
of lemon tears


7/16/17

Across America

Across America  (In Tercets)

The silo stood silent and serene
its deep blue shine mirrored sun’s glow
on this bright day.
		
The barn spread wings to either side
yet who designed this idyllic scene
I cannot say.

The house sat high atop the rise
to cast its eyes on all who breathed
in peace below.

Its presence seemed to echo peace. 
Who bequeathed this treasured dream
I think I know.

Yet ere the world beheld such ease
this earth lay wild in untamed wind
and savage stream.

Beasts who roamed this virgin land
warmed native ones’ spindled huts				
within their dream.

If cows who lie in comfort now
and rest in peaceful shade to dream
chewing their cud

could comprehend the farmer’s yen
for treasured ease he leaves to them
I know they would.

Old Bones Lying In Yellow Dust

I awaken with languid eyes gazing at the passing dawn.
Strange light rays hover over ancient graves
Jestering- tormenting souls
Where spindled wildweeds grow
And sway over a dull domain, and
Under clouds with nimble fingers accusing...
pointing down. They pause to sit-
Brittled, splintered, to take a breath
Waiting to sweep unbright fields
Of rye and corn.

Now standing, they float away
With the rays sighing in blustery winds,
Gusting like torrents from the north
Spilling thorns and stems
Around the livestock- propped and tall
Like sentries who do not know nor care.
Horns lowered to eat what's left
Grazing, tails swishing, numb to silverdrops
And firebolts, blazing in the background.

The old woman turns in her tomb,
Facing downward- blind to the squalor above.
A twitch of finger
A thumb
A toe
Stretching, as the worms rest in soft shells
Inside sallowed orbs. Then in a flick- a flash-
Tumbleweeds hurry to leas now stitched
In rusted cathedrals, wrestling with directions-
Scurrying to settle in barbed wire, leaving
Old bones in yellow dust.

Sketching Nature's Portrait

On mountain top high
Where delusions of grandeur fly
Superfluous pen grounded but spry
With ink stenciling the availing sky
Wispy clouds through portals do espy
The regal, azure fountain in scarab's eye
Golden beams vaporous plains do ply
With sultry steam airy canvas does dry
Jet stream's wistful currents solemnly sigh
As lingering, eerie presence of a train passed by

Descending to the valley low
Infused landscape portraits glow
Vicarious pen raised up on the gallows
To stitch tangible but fleeting shadow
Spindled meadows, with amber girth to hallow
Stinging nettles, thistles inlaid soft soles to harrow
Gilded Buttercups frill with radiant, golden bow
Alongside, faded Dandelion wheels dander strew
Beautiful, Monarch, sequin fans heated air bellows
Nearby, Great Black wasp pierces cricket with arrow

Daybreak

Helios, open darkened shutters Night did seal;
Nyx's opaque, drawn shades one by one peel.
With prehensile fingers grip your enlightened quill,
Selene's pale orb with luminescent lines reel.
With gilded parasol twirl your flaming wheel,
Until enjoined sparks into tinted rays congeal.
In saffron waves, blanch horizon's, window seal.
On spindled beam, spin golden threads from creel,
Sheaves of golden flax span o'er ethereal hill.
Branching, with sonic beam pearly plains drill,
Until azure streams deep reservoir does fill.
With torch, burnt-orange meringue on puffy clouds spill,
then into earth's grainy purview with vigor steal.
With tempera, egg wash the Sky's blank stencil,
then with magnified lens illumine the scenic still.
Plunging downward, into denser troughs truncated waves swill.
Onto earth's jade footstool, solemnly kneel,
Drawing from vassal's, residual til.
Amber blades with brighter finish instill,
With waxy gloss the folio cover frill.

Threads of Sand

Small grains of sand come trickling down
Eluding all my reason's understanding
Flyspeck granule , all demanding
Time worn thoughts of days unwinding 

Hourglass, my dark companion
Reminds me of the timeless questions 
I watch sand fall and feel so small
A meager doll, that's all I am
One by one...how can it be
each speck will tick my life away?

I watch them flow.......they slowly slip
right through my hand and fingertips...

Each glimpse, so brief before they fall
Each grain is gone from yesterday
And fleet as rain, that comes today

I turn you up, around you go
Watching sand, is life rewound
Behind the glass the days decline 
Like spindled thread, the time unwinds

Sand dwindles from my life...I see
The spindle turn, what's left of me
Will swirl and twirl, and drift away
To weave with threads of history





__________________________________________________________________
Inspired by Jeremy Martin's Contest: "Objectify Me"  Hourglass/Doll/Spindle

Spindled Mettle

Spindled Mettle
 
Hour upon hour she sits thoughtfully absorbed
spinning attentively conception’s fibers 
while creating new textures within her mind…

As grain, by grain of living sand, erodes the weaves
exposing gently or tearing the woven seams…
following the hourglass count to maturing age

Set aside are the frivolous dolls of youthful cloths
as situations lead to realities bolder textiles…
some strands chosen, others forced upon life’s spindle  

Her mettle*, though moved by spindled occurrences,
is worn quietly with the era of wisdoms’ mantle
as intertwined events live within her fabric structure


Written by:  Debra Squyres 2/19/13
For: “Objectify Me”


*mettle: spirited determination, mental and emotional character unique to an individual person

Night's Annual Wake

Blithe notes of Twilight's symphony alight
Into occluded abyss spindled cords take flight
Duller shades into harmonious bands unite
Grainy film spreads o'er recess a dank, dingy kite
Initiating eve's wake, ethereal blinds shut tight
Midnight's, chilling vigil stills darkened night
Nyx's, silver, pale orb mystical procession doth ignite
Twinkling pallbearers on flanks shoulder the blight
Ghostly-white planets from distant corridors observe rite
Pleiades' sisters' glowing blue embers provide candlelight
On bended knee, Perseus the glib eulogy doth recite
In the somber parlor, Orion with satin bow stalkers doth fight
Tears from Aquarius's drawn bucket salve Night's dreary plight
Mystical beams from Southern Cross emptiness doth requite

Trek Through the Tethered Wood

Winding path through the tawny wood
Hanging branches form a shadowy hood
Dangling vines each spindled fold lace
Slippery, svelte moss cloaks the base
The vented light peeps through fibrous trellis
Addled mind with beauty to encase
Swerving shadows creep down the swaying lattice
Each truncated step to efface
Fallen leaves weave a sprawling mat
Soft soles o'er silky fibers prat
Trodding o'er tender mushrooms, rendered scat
Listless feet trample each groove; probe each slat
Restless roots the rugged edges trace
The undergrowth crowds the shrinking space
Meandering route into sleepy hollow careens
Whittled bushes, saw grass the stillness gleans
Through the swaddled cradle padded soles calmly pace
The rhythmic lullaby of whistling wind heart doth embrace
Through stunted hollow into bracketed thicket
Spiny branches throw up a cumbersome picket
Each spiked shrub colludes to form a sticky wicket
Bristling, twining band is serenaded by singing cricket
Struggling through the gristly garden
My stinging heels bleed for reprieve, pardon
Just ahead, a carpeted, emerald meadow streams
My sodden feet dance into the velvety seams

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