I blew out the candles
Someone nudged me and uttered, 'That's another 1400% of bacteria.'
I said, 'Everything's about opinions, innit?'
My friend showed me his coding work
Squiggly lines all over the screen
I said, 'I really don't care.'
We went to see the stage play of Murder on the Orient Express
The following week my son told me,
'I feel like I might be murdered any second.'
Door knockers are pretentious.
I am a timber rattlesnake
my venom is highly dangerous
I can damage your nervous system
sneakily waiting to strike you with my tongue
lying under a stack of logs as quiet as I can be
The fall is a tremor; its song - weaves past trees
to listening animals. Earth hears every - echo,
from leaves scattered by fate - to bones - turned
hollow reeds - that surrender their cadence.
The ancients bark louder - echoing the wisdom,
of the cosmos: that - life is not a possession
but a resonance, a frequency that harmonizes the disparate threads of the ever-unfolding tapestry.
Timber had heard about the old froggie frost king
In the middle of winter he heard his croak sing.
“Ribbit and Kribbit, Fribbit, Fruity Frau Fling
I can grand giant wishes, if your notions you bring.”
Timber pulled his injured arm out of the sling.
“Please, sir, can you fix my poor broken arm wing?”
Froggie frost king rose out of the water in full regal bling.
Frozen icicles in his eyes, they truly did sting.
“Hello, lad, your arm is now fixed,” decreed the frog king.
It was the best present of all. To Timber it meant everything.
The entire snow covered forest came alive and began to sing.
“He can ribbit, fribbit and kribbit. He is the Froggie Frost King!”
makes saddle poems
a timber lumber person
as bad charge comments
dark with oaks
time fell back -
six o’clock midnight
11/10/2022
windy winter night
trees swaying to stake their ground ~
timber aftermath
An abundant woods
runs along the boundary
of the manor house.
The feeling followers to feeling;
F ines flourishly fabulously fortnightly funulously,
finally flies timber;
Failing feels like trees they fall;
10/9/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Timber growing up the mountain roots in silver and gold soil
The Indian Queen Mining Company lines shafts of western red cedar,
Westerner views hoodoos Painted Desert traveling to mine’s branch
Pony express rushes by galloping, “Wow!” Just to see her.
Apple dumpling served hot Western Steakhouse flair
Tasty yummy dessert warm sunset shows American west,
Stagecoach roars by, gold bars to Wells Fargo Bank
Family ranch abundant goods county fair, love distilling best.
Prospector explores desert mountain, mineral deposits found
North Star Gold Mining Company sends full sparkling mining cars,
Western Pacific Railroad Company delivers mine goods and lumber
Western honey mesquite greet miners riding railcars with gold bars.
Buffalo Gals Timber Company sending logs to mill for work
Logging builds, the west grows rustic running the saw hear shrill,
Rough cut logs stacked in railcar build a town
Using true grit gets her done western hoedown Heaven’s fill.
Eyes gazed upon the truth
That coin so well disguised
A tongue of dissent whipped
The Poet’s word un-prized
distant yet close friends
the timber wolf and the moon -
rendezvous at dusk
Date written: 03/03/2020
Effervescentess as the flowers are crying
As the wind blows through the valleys
The grass is moving dancing in the breeze so are the flowers
Clouds bump each other producing rain the rain showers Over gust abandoned nest of the droplets of tears
From the angels eyes from their face they're crying
Woe is me, woe for mankind man you see
Has falling like a cut down tree
Timber
Where did you go
little Joe?
I see the seasons
and I fear the change.
and in my life
I think it,s time
for rearranging.
Time to take things slow
Where did you go little Joe?
The timber wolf
howls in the pine
he knows the seasons
and it's time to die.
My life's been empty; more then you could know
Where did you go little Joe?
I pray and yearn
that you are fine
may Jesus keep you
in his hand.
The years have
run away to soon
My life is like
drifting sand
I've only reaped what I have sown:
Where did you go little Joe?
I Saw Timber Saw
With my natural eye I saw a tree that stood rather so very tall;
“To clear my way of passage timbers was cut with sharpen saws”
8/24/18
written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
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