Tunneling Poems | Examples

stereo senses

owls sit in the dark and listen
for mammalian prey
tunneling

through deep snows
below the
trees

plunging, they seize
their next
meal


len

Outside of time-YET HE’S EVER PRESENT -Dedicated verse for Mother Chlorine Rodgers--

Outside of time-YET HE’S EVER PRESENT -Dedicated verse for Mother Chlorine Rodgers--

What do you know about tomorrow?
And today yet still you don’t know
The those things bout today tomorrow is both have passed on done N gone
Tomorrow what holds it the cord of time unwinds?
Whether withered weaving spiraling tunneling circumference-ing
Spectacular fleeting now future today’s memory transients
Slipping into the past in ever present moments
Wisdoms mindfulness encourages embracing here and now
Echoes then and now tomorrows crest
Infinitely I am upon my father’s breath
We are all outside of time, yet HE’S EVER PRESENT
HALLEIUAH

1/14/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©

SEASONS SUMMER WORKING AUTUMN ANTS-

Solely the summer’s heat dissipates,
Temperatures at night cooling daily;
The promises of the ants to gather,
Gatherings awaits the time that so last
Tunneling burrows interphases space;
 Burrowing systems of storage down, down,
 down, down, down, burrowing storing livelihood;
Pasting all climate changes summer speaks
 To fall amidst the season flow floating;
 Flowing as summer turns to fall labor works
As the ants travel working autumns rush;
 As the ants pack up preseason storage;
Rushing for soon summer’s autumn turns to winter call
As the ants pack up preseason storage
To fall amidst the season flow floating
Ant’s tunnels ready to hibernate food

As the ants pack up preseason storage ;

9/19/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©

One Walnut at a Time

Black Walnuts roll over a high edge,
the tree is too close to a sea cliff.

Walnuts dash themselves upon rocks,
only one lands on a surfing wave.
It has not been bitten,
by tunneling insects
and so it remains watertight.

On a far beach it is washed up.
A boy finds it,
he is not sure if he wants to keep it
yet he shoves it into his pants pockets.

Walking home across open fields,
he decides it’s just a rotten nut,
and throws it away.

A walnut tree will grow
where the nut landed.

This is how the planet grows -
the cast-off and done with,
are essential parts of a plan,
masquerading as an accident.

Nobody here is an accident.

The Tree

Written: January 29, 2024
                      _____________________________________

When a hurricane swirled,
and spread its deluge
of dark evil
onto the fresh green land
gloated
western skies reverberated
with joyous tales
trees had fallen!
ace-high trunk is besotted!
hurricane harms tree life
Had the tree fallen?
not in our endless red streams
not while our thorny limbs,
fed the thirsty roots
while roots are still alive
tunneling deep
deep into the land!

When trees rise, branches
flourish green and fresh in the sun
Tree laughing will fade in the light
and birds shall return
Undoubtedly, the birds will return
The birds will return.

Behold the majesty of a tree
a miracle of nature
standing tall and unwavering
in the face of snow, rain,
and all life's challenges
marvel at divine creation 
as trees pray with leafy arms
and wear nests akin to jewels
fools may write poems
the sole divine makes such sights 
so witness the wonder
that is a tree—a testament,
to the enduring power
of nature and the divine.

New Beginning

Leaving yesterday behind,
Casting my net into today’s sea,
Launching into the deep,
Awakening sleeping hope.

Adding my colour to the day’s portrait,
Finding my feet on its ground,
Scripting my verses into its symphony,
Strengthening feeble hope.

Finding a door through the night,
Searching for a pathway through twilight shadows,
Dispersing recalcitrant darkness,
Chauffeured by rejuvenated hope.

Tunneling through the gloom,
Looking beyond the shrivelled  meadow,
Symphony of redemption from heaven’s portals,
Soaring on the wings of hope.


January 19, 2024.

The Mistake That Cost the Romans Their Empire

The Romans could have saved their empire,
If only there had been fewer forests, 
For their enemies to hide in.

In open land they reined supreme,
Raging rivers they tamed,
Swamps they drained,
Deserts and mountain ranges,
They found ways to cross,
And tunneling had them at the top of their game.

With their state-of-the-art war machines,
No other army could compete,
But with Archimedes long dead,
And Leonardo da Vinci yet to be born,
They were doomed to be short of chainsaws,
To cut down enough trees,
For their enemies to come out and play,
On the Romans home ground.

Some People

I don't like the whispering,
the covered up sounds
that barely reach the ear,
those soft voices
with their secrets
creeping down 
the corridor.

I don't like 
the muted conversations 
that cower in corners,
the russling gossip, 
innuendo lipped on the end
of a breath, 
hidden by a hand.

Or the sighs quietly
puffed out of a tightened
mouth, the stiffled grunts 
deep in a throat,
all those sounds
too cowardly for words.

I don't like the silence
that falls when near,
the deathly lull
tunneling through
the muffled talk 
as I walk past.
Sometimes it's hard
to like some people.

Steel City

Come to the hill named Flagstaff 
Climb to the top and glimpse the emerald expanse 
In summer when kites are flying and students laugh 
Or the crystalline mounds in winter when tobogganers prance 

From here we'll stroll past the Carnegie Library toward the Cathedral of Learning 
Where we will embark on another ascent before we proceed
To devour pierogis in the Strip, kayak along the Ohio, and go tunneling 
Through the Fort Pitt and emerge at high speed

Into this land of golden bridges and charming neighborhoods 
The Steel City will not disappoint 
For adventures await amid Appalachian backwoods 
Where a dazzling skyline encases a capitalized Point

As the Moon Begins Its Disappearance

as the moon begins its disappearance
leaving silver caps atop the waves
soon becoming an illuminated path
i am denied to journey upon
knowing it is rising for you
i am held captive in the sorrow
that life has left us
more than an enchanting moon
more than a captivating gaze
more than an ocean of separation
a distance we will never close
yet my heart holds you in a quantum entanglement
not even the breadth of the universe can ever separate
a heart who keeps you embedded in adoration
where quantum tunneling fails its mathematical model
impervious to any assault by the rust of time
it is a barrier clothed in eternity 
it is where i will forever be 
in love with you


   Abilene 3/2/18   Omnium Gatherum

Cicada

For now they abide under the earth,
the bedded and dormant,
neither do they wake nor sleep,
but defer and endure
until a sun warmed air
percolates into countless
humming sepulchral lungs.

They are almost here,
the soil is erupting
with their tunneling wings.
They, the unearthing prophets
of tic-toc.

Then the great fistula
as the ground gives them up.
The whirlwind rustling
as trees are invested, claimed,
and proclaimed
in the great swarm
and rubbing-in of now.

Now they begin, the endless sounding,
the cacophony
the innate necessity;
each male a hollow abdomen, a sound box
for the drumming of membranous wing plates. 
The brief coupling, then more,
unto death do they pour.

Eggs fall like mist to the ground.
Soon millions of seeded nymphs 
will dig in 
to begin again an ageless cycle of 
species resurrection.

If ears could scream, 
they would rend the air 
with the shattered glass
of fracturing minds.

We who live as trees do
in the click and clack of their 
desperate songs, must grow numb 
or bury our senses deep
into our own earth;
try again to forget,
or not to count the long years
to the next pronounced awakening.

Sensing Immortals

Etheric gauze brushes the skin
and I know I am not alone.
Spirits abound, tunneling through 
the quantum veil, to visit me
on stormy nights.

Scent of perfume,
wafting into nostrils,
I breathe deeply, remembering...
the scent of you.
Soul’s do live on though,
visiting from time-to-time.

The angel feels different from the devils;
the human spirit is all too familiar.
Angels permeate the room with love’s energy;
like the womb-waters, it embraces my soul.

Devils energy is a cold and foul
of stench, like that of sewage and dead things.
It is always curious, always 
swirling, watching, listening, 
as if to analyze the fear within me.
I’m glad that I can force it away
with just the name of God or Christ;
devils fear those names, in the worst way
and a terrified devil, is always a plus.

Energy is energy, Kundalini builds
into a euphoria, when the right spirits
are nearby; amorphous light is bliss.

Giants Afoot-

"Lo, there be Giants under foot
In just a moment I'm going to face my Giants
 I am just an ant on a hill Looking around me for the foot of danger 
I hear the swift sounds of the wind 
As the foot comes down around me almost on top of me
 I running flea I let my six legs compel me 
Scaffolding like a leaf in the wind I flee 
Beware the foot of the giant don't become complacent compliant
Be defiant 
For if he steps on you 
You're through it's the end of your world our world
 I decided myself to hide in the cabin caverns beneath the Sun the moon the stars Disguise tunneling away from disaster and let not the monster giant be my master"

Paper Chooses Paper

I would say if asked,
that wooden angels are the best,
they age with you, their eyes get dusty,
they stand in their stillness
while wind and sun
bleach them into a gentleness
you can relate to.

Stone angels slowly turn green,
only then you can you detect
God working through them.

The cashier asks if I want paper or plastic?
I am paper choosing paper,
mulch returning to wood
a natural process.

Woodboring beetles have their own 
tunneling angels,
I carry a few on the way home unseen
In my new paper bag.

Earthworm

It's inevitable the momentum of the large headed human ego....
has finally put mankind over the brink.
There's no coming back
the clock says 1 second 'til midnight.
The earthworms have shed their glass slippers
Soon they'll be sliding underground...
their prince will not follow. 

They've been tunneling and stockpiling for decades
food- ammunition-water
the{numerators}elite and their loved ones
have their inner mountain retreat...
On a smaller scale the (denominators) have followed their lead.
The remainders/the remains/: the poor who couldn't afford to stockpile
and those that could afford to but were to stubborn to listen.
Will be left scrambling above
banding and disbanding
willy-nilly
whatever the moment dictates
frantic
scrounging for rat meat
and toilet paper
during a nuclear winter
666 miles of social distancing,
Fondly remembering when it was only 6 feet
putting balm to nuclear skin 
covering open wounds with papyrus.
They'll forge an eleventh commandment
then just as quickly break it.

With mankind's flesh between their teeth
they'll be begging to a God 
who finally got sick of it all
and stopped listening-

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