square blue sign on a pole
large crisp white H on it
white border
underneath it is a tinier blue sign with a white arrow
universal signal showing how to reach a hospital
I imagine a driver from out-of-state trying to breathe
they are racing from blue H signs to blue H signs
this might mean several miles of racing
what if they miss one that turned left?
Would their death be an accident or are deaths preplanned all along?
The merry widow’s marvelous mincemeat melody
Was gradually heard around three by the old oak tree
Honestly said Bert, the bumblebee, is this the Grand Prix?
Miraculously, there was a royal red revelry
A chickadee landed on the right knee of Diana Dee
Making her a friend in furious practicality
Old oak tree receded into the loving forest canopy
Forming a deliberate, desired universal solid symmetry
Would you like a chewy chickpea Lee asked widow and me.
I heard hyena-like laughter from Leroy, the red-butted monkey
Rolling them in warm tortillas is the chef’s secret recipe
Flamboyant frog huffed away, jingling her copper jewelry
The rest of us stared, which we do on Wednesdays, habitually
Being yourself and making no apology is the key said monkey
The faeries made themselves tinier, they were in fact now wee
Lovely monorhyme in progress, guessed my observant cousin Vee
I must agree said my boss, the pompous persnickety Mr. McGee
The rhymes are rather delightful, and frankly, there are plenty.
Empty.
That’s all I feel.
I wanna scream,
I wanna cry,
I wanna feel.
But I can’t.
I feel so drained.
I feel like crying.
I feel like screaming.
But I just can’t.
I’m losing my one reason for living.
I wrote him a letter.
Those might be my last words to him.
That might be the last time I’m near him.
The last time I look at him.
The last time he looks at me.
The final moment of us being friends.
My heart hurts.
It’s already so shattered,
it can’t break into tinier pieces.
I feel way too much.
But at the same time,
I feel nothing at all.
I want his voice,
I want his hugs,
I want his warmth.
I want him.
But I can’t have him anymore.
There’s no “us” anymore.
I hate it.
I feel drained.
Completely, utterly,
empty.
seen an ant,
though it’s spring not hot enough
see the march of ants
~
yes, seen a ant small
tinier than a dot, speck
a group of small ants
04/03/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©
Pith is pithier than pithy
-it’s not a question of if.
You know atoms are tiny
when you get at ‘em.
Sometimes they’re the point.
Meanings have layers
like lasagna.
Two or three should suffice.
Any more is a little less nice.
Less is more is the better
advice.
But I sense I said that twice.
Lasagna and spaghetti
go to together like a Yeti
and Big Foot.
So maybe skip the spaghetti.
Are you aiming to have a carb overload?
You better avoid that road.
I like little feet as opposed to a big foot
-they’re tinier.
More minor.
Less dimensional.
They can be on point
-and that’s plane to see.
I could say more but I don’t see
the point,
in that case.
I trusted you.
I told you things,
I never told anyone.
I trusted you with that information.
You knew how broken I was.
I trusted you with my broken heart.
But you broke it more.
You broke my heart,
in even tinier pieces.
You broke my trust,
even smaller,
to the point that no matter how hard I tried,
it couldn’t be fixed.
I lost my trust,
because I gave you the last of it.
Santa’s elves do love a Christmas sing-a-long,
you can bet Santa’s will never go wrong.
There’s cookies, cakes, pies, punch and hot cocoa
with cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger spice, you know.
When playing the organ Mrs. Claus is a whizz;
really, she should be in show biz.
Billy Bob passes out the music sheets,
while Mitzy and Millie bring out the eats.
Lil’Jim sits propped on his old oak cane,
the poor fella has some sciatic pain.
He shares his music book with Jake and Phil,
though young Jake’s voice is a tad bit shrill.
Skippy-Sam is a great baritone,
Grampy Gabbs needs to wear earphones.
The tinier elves sing in funny voices,
everyone laughs and rejoices.
Tiger Tooney the cat’s voice is a bit flat;
probably because he’s half bobcat.
As usual McNafferty wields his hand-carved baton,
for he truly loves directing a sing-a-long.
Now this can go on for hours and hours,
days or nights, that’s Santa’s power.
Through the winter should you hear faint singing,
it’s the Claus’s and their elves voices ringing.
They are tinier than fawns, the deer said to his friend, Lou.
Their thick tails are longer, and they have strange coughs too.
They have strange hoofs, and when excited they howl a bit.
Good grief! They are not deer at all said a wise buck named Dewitt.
I think that they are, the deer said to his cousin, Sixpence.
They scamper off fast, and they can get through a fence.
They are kitties said Sixpence, and they are clever and quick.
Thinking they are small fawns make your brain sound quite thick.
As quasar mixes the starry dust,
a newly formed planet en route’s a must;
new universes revealed beyond black holes
captivating stories are yet to be told.
Tiny newborn sails saturnian seas,
a Venus flyby in Saggittarius is a breeze;
absolute magnitude in glimmer sails on by,
soon new space he will occupy.
Whoops! Now dodging meteor shower,
a bruise or two won’t slow his power;
he’s on his very own spiritual quest
for new horizons where he will rest.
He’ll take his place amid the fold,
his travel stories yet to be told;
to tinier planets that he will meet,
he’ll even brighten eclipsing binary.
He’ll take his place in man’s Ephemerides,
oh the astrologers he’ll guide with ease;
to alter man’s future by their birth stars,
providing them with fascinating memoirs.
No planet in any galaxy,
will mess with this star’s alchemy.
He’s on a mission, this tiny young one,
his planetary cycle for millennia will run.
When you spy him there in your glass eye,
be sure to shout, “Hello, Goodbye”,
as he races across your galaxy,
you’ll marvel at his pageantry.
Stop That and Get Back Here were taking a nice walk.
Don’t Poop There and Hey Stupid came up to have a talk.
Their owners were inside, sleeping in on this Saturday.
So they chased bunnies and squirrels, a pretty lucky day.
My doggie door is getting tinier and tight, said Stop That.
Hey Stupid said, I got in trouble for chewing up my owner’s hat.
Don’t Poop There was busy pooping all over Mrs G’s roses.
Get Back Here was in one of his “who can make me?” poses.
They were dogs on a mission, these four lively pals.
They were laughing about Hey Stupid’s owners, the McGals.
Hey Stupid could tell stories that would have them rolling soon.
He was the best story teller on this side of Earth’s moon.
Get Back Here’s owner came out and yelled “Get Back Here!”
He ran off, like a frightened little girl deer.
Hey Stupid’s Owner came outside and gave us a mean human stare.
We all gave him puppy dog eyes, and our famous “love us all” glare.
We had to hop the fence to see this Kansas property better.
Initially got cut up by sharp thorns, stickers and brambles
Fought our way past giant spider webs, wondering about snakes.
Oak trees surrounding the property encouraged us, so we kept going.
My legs were bleeding and I was in a terrible mood until suddenly
I was standing in the most beautiful meadow God could have imagined.
My husband and I were both silent looking at the fields of Queen Anne’s lace
Wild daisies, renegade iris and wild strawberries, peeked at us, and laughed.
I had never in my prettiest dreams imagined any land this beautiful in Kansas.
The air felt happier, there was a monarch, and tinier yellow butterflies.
My hopes soared to full optimism power, and my heart leapt a little
I turned to my husband. He was entranced. He said, “We have to buy this!”
That was twelve years ago. Best purchase ever. I chant and drum now.
I hug my trees. I am watched carefully by raccoon, fox, and deer.
I am one with nature, one with myself, and one with God.
This is what a beautiful landscape in Kansas has done for me.
Irreducible
What is it
that we can say is
irreducible..?
This has been
science's quest over
the centuries:
to locate the illusive
irreducible..
Atoms in ancient times
seemed irreducible
followed eventually by
electrons..protons..quarks..
You know these names..
Names of matter
tinier and tinier..
irreducible
And the end
is not in sight for
searching in matter
for that which is
tinier
tiniest
irreducible..
It appears
we await a new day..
Perhaps soon
for recognition
that our focus
need be reversed:
inside not outside
is a non-location
infinite and
irreducible...
No more babies to make.
We're all done my wife says.
Get the scissors.
We have 3 of our own
All under 5,
4 total.
Why look so nostalgic towards babies
Tinier than my 11 month old?
The kid's truck-sized,
Like wielding slabs of marble about.
We're done,
He's heavy,
We're out.
It's just so terminating.
The era is over.
Watch the garden grow
With the ones we have.
Our family is finished.
Why am I sad about this?
Because they allow babies in taprooms
With a sign above that says...
You still remember how the sweetness of my heart made it cheaper
Maybe you didn't deserve any better
Baby now you're looking so thin
So let me feed you with a spoon
I have jelly and peanut butter
Let me learn where to place my legs
Baby now you're looking so thin
Let me feed you with a spoon
With times when I was truer to myself
You still remember how concrete my fear was
In the summer I'll keep on bringing to you my best cherries
Here where we are it's always freezing
So I'll go and find flowers on the field
You particitipate in life more often
So I put on my wings to remind you of the innocence we once shared
Let me feed you with cherries
I couldn't get any tinier underneath this blanket
Maybe it's wrong, this time I left them at the door
You ask me questions, you're yellow and pink
Now they come to me and ask me how silly I can get
None of that was real
But I write stories too
We learned our lines through reading
Let me open the window
And check if my rays are in sync
In the catalogue picture I saw
Such a gemstone that filled me with awe.
Oh, but I should have known
That ring’s smaller than shown -
At least SEVEN times tinier. BAH!
Written April 17, 2016 for Contest that closed 4/28
Nww used for the Second Chance #3 Poetry Contest of Broken Wings
It's pretty much all I have to enter this time!
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