A PICTORIAL UNIVERSE-:-
known
traditional
symbolically
interesting
shades
now PORTRAYED IN RELIEF
compact
arresting
pastose
two-dimensional
features
as MODELLED
luminous
tactile
tandem
torrential
pathos
The morning bell is silent now,
No rush upon the stair,
Just one bright screen upon the desk,
And silence in the air.
We log into the endless class,
A grid of muted faces,
A digital, two-dimensional world
In familiar places.
The clock hand spins, the work piles high,
The day is soft and slow,
It takes a different kind of will
To make the focus grow.
Self-discipline, a sudden test,
When couches call your name,
To manage time and find the fire,
To keep hold of the game.
But still, the signal falters fast,
The video breaks down,
A voice that chops, a message lost,
Throughout the busy town.
The Wi-Fi lags, the device freezes,
A barrier so great,
The Digital Divide appears,
Sealing a cruel fate.
We miss the shared and sudden laugh,
The quick chat by the door,
The little human energy
We never knew before.
A wall of glass, a lonely sound,
Where community should be,
We wait for when the world spins round,
And learning sets us free.
A paper man
Under paper clouds
The sky is falling
and he doesn’t know why
His edges are folded
He feels he’s undone
There isn’t any warmth
from a paper sun
Cellophane grass
Cardboard under feet
He has a paper girlfriend
With a paper heartbeat
His feelings feel flat
Just a few wrinkles
Paper snow is falling
A tinfoil star twinkles
A world of my creation
I just want to feel
Hoping my sky won’t fall
Nothing feels real
I’m three dimensional
Under a real sky
There’s hope beyond clouds
When my mind tries to lie
So I grasp for happy
A bit of pleasure too
Even when it’s not easy
It’s just what I do.
Inspired by a friend.
As men we are taught to keep our feelings to ourselves and suffer in silence. In 2012 I went through depression and it took me a long time to look for help. When our feelings are flat and the world feels two dimensional, seek help and reach out to a friend. There are people who love us. There is no reason to suffer in silence. Colour returned to my world and I am thankful. The sky didn’t fall even though in the moment it felt so real.
There's an endless cycle of living,
Where it's not always good or all bad.
It's constantly circling around taking and giving,
Seemingly lost, like a chaotic nomad.
While surviving along the two-dimensional plane,
Appearing to obediently follow only that of time.
One can only search about aimlessly,
For some reason to an obtuse rhyme.
However blind, there is a direction, that
Leads to an unforgiving cause and effect.
When the sums may become insurmountable,
No matter the levels of disrespect.
Yet beyond this flat, geometric reasoning,
Alternatives are seen, not from a circle, but a sphere.
As a multitude of tangents take new form,
Bringing new hope, along with old fear.
This revolution seeks to close its own circle,
Though its path will be curvilinear in its quest.
Since its journey may evolve with new experience,
Allowing for growth in the universal test.
Yosemite enchants us with her beauty,
And throngs take two-dimensional pictures
To fill 8x10 frames and social sites.
She speaks with water and light, but only
iPhones listen – for few sit quietly
To hear her murmurs of mystic meaning.
She remains but a photo-op and her
Spirit breaks – she pleads, ‘Hear me, please!’ as
Granite-rim tears smear her mascara.
when it gets dark
it remains humid and warm
the stars are obscured
by a heavy haze
the trees are so still
as if two-dimensional
a thick silence
broken only by boy racers
revving up Willett Way
night’s muggy cloak
stills the birdsong
open windows bring
no refreshing breeze
my clammy body sags
my brain slows to a standstill
my eyes can hardly keep open
my bones feel my age
my spirit feels even older
I yearn for days
cold and wet, while
realising that our selfishness
short-sightedness and greed
mean that future summers
will be much worse
while I’ll be even
less able to cope.
Recital / free verse / Pride
Expectation rushes in
As her silent walk begins
All eyes staring
Watching for a hint of emotion
But none revealed
As she takes her place among the muses
No one breathes as her studious eyes
Examine the two-dimensional codes
Then silence breaks
As both hands spring into fantastical dance
On an ever changing ivory and ebony stage
Mellifluous tones, conspicuously full and rich,
Transport all on an uplifting emotional journey
Ears, minds, hearts and lungs
Feasting on delicious pabulum of spirit
Soon tortuous movements diminish
The fantastical dance declines
With final notes
Striking harmonious chords
Deep into our psyche
Our ethereal journey ends
And we gently land where we began
She pauses, then rises
To a cacophony of applause
All eyes staring
Watching for a hint of emotion as she exits
But none revealed
Save a quick glance & brief smile
Acknowledging her proud parent's pounding hearts
Misting eyes and beaming faces
Recital / tanka / Pride
smooth operator
flawless rhapsody in blue
climax conclusion
cacophony of applause
with proud parents’ pounding hearts
PRESPECTIVISTA fracesca uccello
sophisticated
two- dimensional
picture
space
proportionzl
& measured
vanishing point
in
parallels
of
distorted
aesthetic
assumptions
of
natural
reality
in
i!lusions
made
possible
in
spatial
horizontals
of
receding
versimultude
In
muted
contrasts
You are the absence
And yet the presence
Following
Like I owe you
Something
You fade in and out
Of existence
Lurking
In the sunlight
Casting doubt
On my bright thoughts
Two dimensional
Grey and quietly
Stalking
Unsensational
And yet..
You are faithful
Ever present
The shadow heart of me
We walk in time
You never criticize
I should credit you
For loyalty
And not despise
I created you
You form part of me
You cast me
You are my 'who'
Extend me safely
Allow me to protect
Others from the glare
As the spotlights detect
You are soul's proof
Of existence
The silent witness
SS
21st September 2023
Shadows Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
*WINNER* Placed 3rd
the new norm
people seem more angry
out of sorts with each others
dissatisfied with life
the new norm
grandparents are two dimensional
seeing their grandchildren on screen
manners are out of date
the new norm
thank you notes are unheard of
appreciation is answered with “no problem”
people sit next to each other and speak through text
the new norm
more suicides
unhappy people
Utube is raising the children
Their parents can barely feed themselves
I watch myself now and all I see is just the two-dimensional me
11/17/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
I held you captive
framed in a photo
Your uniform is nudity
and no one must know
what I want
I get it fast
Like raw egg spilling
Easy if it was only sex
between your frozen
two dimensional legs
But I am granted
only one way
to be tender
In deathless darkness
I pretend to feel
you holding me
The bogeyman exists, influencing lives
through bigotry, hate, and violence.
In pursuit of promised happiness,
we often say and do illogical things.
Sometimes, the building blocks of trust
are laid upon weak, moral grounds.
And relationships are in jeopardy;
when we fail to communicate truthfully
with each other.
Time is neither good nor bad;
it's a constant current
of precious moments and heartaches,
memories formed with equal determination.
Lust accomplishes the role assigned to it;
but lacks the spontaneous heat required
to ignite love's eternal flame.
And so, it is two-dimensional,
satisfying urges and longings;
but lacking emotional depth.
Our hearts get tethered to feelings,
yet we often find ourselves
trespassing on the feelings of others;
with self-proclaimed justification.
For given the opportunity,
hate, festering within the human heart,
will flare up;
and consume us from our insides
like a cancer: for that is what it is.
Years on the rack.
Stretched out and winding
Cogs and broken pieces
Shrapnel.
While I
Box upon box.
The unburied dead. The hatchet.
Littering my surroundings
The casings of a former life
The scorched earth. The salt.
The endless devastation.
While you
Small town to small town.
A view of the sea.
Several hundred miles from
The battlefront.
In your armour made of paper
And your cogs
And your litterings
Of endless vast rubbish.
A gust of wind so strong
It could send your flat and weightless
Two dimensional sense of self
Flying. Splintering.
Lost.
I am recovered
Piling away
Myself with the remnants.
Box upon box.
The traitor will bleed.
A deep pit, a crumbling edge,
at the bottom, a pool swarming with sauropods.
There is someone, a boy.
I shouldn't have taken the child here.
I'm slipping, taking him with me;
he won't let go of my hand.
We are sliding on the scree.
A gun heavy on my hip,
its weight drags us down,
to where saw-toothed muggers
thrash in a melee.
It's then that I transition.
I’m a visitor, two-dimensional
in a hurrying cityscape.
I've lost my car
in one of many similar concrete blocks.
Home is a door in the back of my mind
A door not opened yet, I suspect behind it
is a child who knows his way back.
He’s holding a tin wind-up crocodile,
one his dad once bought him.
At his side a revolver,
the same type I purchased
in Florida
in the event of alligator attack.
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