Tupelo Poems | Examples

George Morrison

George Ivan Morrison
the singing Irishman
really earned his money
my favorite song is Tupelo Honey

If We Can Dream

The sixties gave us a generation of young 
Folk with many questions Why?
Where have all the flowers gone, and is the answer really 
Blowing in the wind?
A young man named Dylan tried  to make some sense 
Of this whole thing,
Yet the nation and world needed more then the words 
Peace and brotherhood though it sounded good in a song
It didn’t stop the endless rows of crosses on
Arlington's lawn
The youth watched a young man pledge his word the 
Glow  of a candle would  light the world but we still ask 
The question has anybody seen our old friends Abraham Martin and John?
As the young man from Tupelo sang if I can dream of a better 
Land well let’s hope one day we can.

Jelly Roll

Jelly roll

Watch em fall
Sadness of a lost season 
No time to reach out and touch a life or a song

Jelly roll
Theres so much a child in you
Things we talk about appear nothing extreme
But although  my mind always wants it all
A hang glide in the sky won't happen today
Ill tell you what I hate
You can show me what you...like
There's no other way it can go.. jelly roll

Each day every step
Each day every step
Every step is another Feeling away from paradise
Away from the strongest human desire
Its not chocolate
Not caffeine or cigarettes nor booze

The talent that you sling
Its the kindness of your lips
The unknown treated like king
The wrestle of your hips
The Van morrison thing 
melody  loops in my mind..... in my brain
She got ...something
about Blue Money and Tupelo Honey

The likened matters
of  the magic in music 
Songs for sunshine songs for rain People were kids
Chains replaced Innocence reines
Make them young 

The cowards and bastards
Make their desperate shadows
Disappear

A room in heaven
A white silver bed
A cherry gold carpet
Windows of perceptive
Air as thick as steel
My love a crush
On my Jelly roll

The Land

I remember long ago
Every year we would go
Northern Mississippi
a piece from Tupelo
Ackers of land 
My childhood did know

Children of the daughters
in our grandmothers trust 
every summer we spent
from before we could lust
picked peas by the bushell 
and loaded hay by the bale
our first taste of work
in the suns regail
Hot we sweated 
yet food we were supplied
an abundant table 
we were never denighed
I milked the cows
Papa taught us how
Those old ways remembered
but not done now

Never could get the hang 
of walking without shoes
one way the country boys
give city boys the blues
Put the jug in the freezer
so it would melt cold in the sun
run and catch the horses
was a way to have fun

When ever they had church 
it was church all day
certian of the men 
would pray and say
the verse of a song 
while others drug
the moan and melody

Night would fall while 
we sat on the porch
Wasn't enough television
to really have a choice

Papa never said much
cept mostly on his knees
right beside his bed 
Before he'd sleep.
To follow the example 
was ment for me
the bible on his lap 
even though He couldn't read.

Beauty of Black Tupelo and Biloba-Ginkgo Fallen Leaves

i wished to plant the seedlings of black tupelo
shumard oak, sugar maple, biloba-ginkgo
for its reddish yellowish  beauty on the meadow
For its dance on the air with the wind blow

green all were lured to my eyes
but now on the midcourse of the fly
from its bole by death dry and cleave 

autumn  birds hovering on the air
trying  to catch falling  leaves
while children gambol on colorful litter-leaves on the soil
before the wind push it far and make all spoil

Falling Leaves

Falling Leaves

Falling leaves touching the ground softly.
Why can’t love be more like falling leaves?
But when they fell on me,
They knocked me off my feet,
And all I could see was you leaving me
And falling leaves.

Falling leaves falling hard on me.
Why is love mean like falling leaves?
And all I can see is you leaving me
And falling leaves.

Falling leaves
Touching the ground softly.
Why can’t love be
More like falling leaves?
                 ***

Note:
   Elvis Aaron Presley was born on January 8, 1935 in Tupelo, Mississippi, and died on August 16, 1977.

Outside Presley's Birthplace

Often greatness comes from humble roots
Where none-expected talents lay hidden
Beneath veneers of undeveloped yearning,
Hiding like gemstones in hard rough slate
Until the master discovers facets that glisten.

written January 1, 2020
[while visiting the birthplace of
Elvis Presley in Tupelo, Mississippi]

Entered "Bite Size Poetry No. 32" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier

Oh, Autumn

Oh, splendorous, spectacular, resplendent autumn!

Boldly you dye cypress ~ flaunting ochre, cinnamon,
Yellowing sugar-maple, glazing tangerine emotions,

As scarlet winds warble in accents of majestic aspens,
Responding in purple whispers, tupelo leaves flutter

Reminiscing in revelries evoked by red-oak crimson
Lingering in blazing meadows, enchanting red maple.

Oh, autumn! fly me there, into depths of the season,
Frolicking upon gamboge hills, wrap me in your vision,

Tour with me dazzling terrains of flamboyant foliage
Composing deep pleasure in brilliant changing colors,

Hang your portrait upon cobalt cliffs of ruby horizon
Painting blushing hearts in amber hints of setting sun,

Mindful still of wistful shudders quivering barren trees
And unsung withering yearnings of falling golden leaves,

Aspiring blossoming kisses--on lips of flowering spring.

October Spice

October Spice

Inspired October creates a recipe
For a sumptuous feast
A bouquet garni of paprika hued orange tupelo,
A fete of fragrant cinnamon shades in russet umber oaks,
Sprinkling tinges of savory gold in dancing ginger aspens
Then blending bits of sienna nutmeg tones to hickory,
Glazing scarlet cardamom frost on the sugar maple,
In a festival of allspiced sweet gum mixed delicacies 
A banquet fest spread out in pungent cloves of beech offerings
Autumnal master stirs up a feast of bonne bouche in sassafras tones
With a smidge of saffron dusting on sable sycamores
Tidbits of chestnut fripperies - dainty delights wearing star anise harvests -
Sachet d’Epices of magenta dyed coriander colors burning bushes burgundy
In measures reflecting eternal delight - a twirling potpourri of praise. 

9-27-21
Contest: October
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh

Thank you Jan for the inspiration!

I Got Hog Tied Up Again

hey, everybody, this is old Billy Bob, here
over there in them cute Billy Jeans
well, I just woke up this morning
and looked up towards the sky blue mirror
meanwhile, down the road, 
I see an image of old gray-haired Billy goat
just chewing on some maple oats and hay
looked like he was chewing on some cherry tobacco
I got a little bit closer for inspection and 
watch Mr. goat spite some cherry tobacco in a tin can
and right about then, I was kicked in the rear end
while some people would say - I was kicked in the tailpipe. 
Unfortunately, I was kicked by some crazy jackass
down yonder, from tupelo, county, Mississippi
you know what
I should've never looked
at myself in that damn
crazy ass sky mirror this morning
you know what - chicken butt
hey, I just got hog tied up again
Dag Nabit...shucks!
give everybody a big hug
thank you...very much!

Tone of the Rose

Sweet Tupelo moments when that summer did swell
Ever so quietly reminiscent of the roses constant bloom
In the halo of joy's affection strewn by winds that quell
The silence of imperfection between hearts failing gloom

We adored the touch of skin and smiles that delight
Shadowed in longing dreams of passion's tone and fervent heat
Belied in parting words of summoned sorrow and sullen spite
Our uncertain bridge lay broken as we crossed in our retreat

Hope has no direction when the deed has spoken it's flower's doom
Our lies set free from truths rejection help our hearts to mend
But ever so quietly reminiscent of the roses constant bloom
My heart still feels those times of warmth for love to begin again


April 11, 2020

Mickey Mantle

My full name is Mickey Charles Mantle
Adored by baseball fans, left the records in shambles
Born in Tupelo, Miss
A real phenom I is
Always wanted to be a ballet dancer till I broke my ankle

For Debra

I will always remember those
warm summer nights. Just out of
 school and nothing to do.
under the stars swaying to
Van Morrison's Tupelo Honey
   (your an angel of the first degree)

        Can I forget the touch 
        of your hand in mine?
        The scent of silken hair?

                   No-
                           never.
and never is so long a time.

Wait for me Debra like the buds
wait for spring; shinning in their own sweet time.
        
        Wait for me Debra
        I'll be coming home soon.

Autumn Trees

AUTUMN  TREES~~

Swoosh----------
the lightly cool yet ever warm breeze

Dancing are the...
Aspen
       Baldcypress
Black Tupelo
       Japanese Maple
Red Maple
       Sassafras
 Sourwood
       Sugar Maple
Sweetgum
autumn trees;

leaves blowing in t he wind;

colors so brilliant;
seems to pollinate my eyes;

I rub them so hard,
because of my allergies;

autumn trees;

sprinkling drops of microscopic spores;
ever so pungent I can't believe so..

As I sneeze catching a whip of these;
Autumn trees, brightly colored leaves;
The blade as the wind blows fans me;
The leaf's petiole it's leafstalk connects to the branch tree;
autumn trees;
leaves blowing in t he wind;

colors so brilliant;
seems to pollinate my eyes;
sprinkling drops of microscopic spores;
ever so pungent I can't believe so..

As I sneeze catching a whip of these; 
leaves blowing in t he wind;
autumn trees;


09/10/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018

Musical Passion

MUSICAL PASSION
Music is the living soul 
And beating heart of humanity.
It lights my fire of passion
Or tames my restless spirit.

Music calls me to live, taste, feel and see.
The spark of hope and change is ignited.
I hear the voice of the silenced and
Feel the anguish of the oppressed.

The soothing, soulful sounds of
Mangione’s flugelhorn makes me
“Feel so Good. “

The gritty, nasally voice of Dylan
Calls me to listen, for the answers 
“Blowin’ in the Wind.”

The rich baritone of Cash
Warns me not to fall
In to the “Ring of Fire.”

Fogerty’s powerful voice
Invites me to dance with Willie and the Po Boys
“Down on the Corner.”

With Hank I can taste that
Home made “Jambalaya”
On the bayou.

Peter, Paul and Mary
Take me to that cherry lane
with “Puff the Magic Dragon.”

I can now call myself “Deacon Blues”
When I lose,
Becker and Fagan tell me.

I can taste the sweet 
Tupelo Honey that flows
From the voice of Van Morrison


Jim Morrison said it for me
taking poetic license
music Light’s My Fire.

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