This is neither poetry, nor art,
It is not an ending or a start,
but in all sincerity, says I,
"May I have a slice of apple pie?"
"Indeed, you may have your apple pie,
It is not a case of do or die.
It's a simple fruit filled pastry,
thought by many to be tasty."
"As the pie, I beg your attention.
There's something I would like to mention.
I have steaming apples in my crust,
but don't eat me...well if you must."
Circle left, hang on tight
Don't get caught in an alligator bite
Allemande left, what you want to do
Is turn that alligator into stew
Do-si-do, listen to the band
Alligator shoes look mighty grand
Roll away to a half sashay
If you're a gator, forget what I say
Right and left grand, give a kick,
Gator eyes fall on a dancing chick
Swing your partner, run, don't stop
Toss him in the water, with eyes on top
Ladies in, men sashay
Ditch that guy without delay
Pass through, separate and go home
Say bye to the bald gator with the crazy comb
PROGRESSION
inward
asymmetry
&
decorum
unabridged
limitless
disposition
of character
notwithstanding
the
haphazard
uneasy
communications
observed
descriptive
focus
an imperative
sense
of place
vital
stable
&
preserved
in
ordered
composition
beginnings
of
language
chants
&
stress
in
expressive
pattern
stunningly
simple
&
natural
sounds
image
thought
conceptual
parodies
consciously
evoked
Quietly true... You’re good in God reasoning
You have a gift of innocent youthful passion
On a unabridged Again minus your dislikes (apathy)
I don't want to do it, boredoms. Boredom...
You're a great mother hence a great day care co-provider
A great nurse your strongest gift is caring; helping, nurturing,
Spiritually/physically,
Your heart, your mind that order.
God's humanity His children. People are your,
Some people in GOD through Him are your co- blessings
You just need four things for your hearts desires, your business dreams.
Father Elohim Abba Father God His Son Jesus His Holy spirit 3 in
1 1 +3 is 4 love you are the next number of His creation/equation.
8/2/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
[This is the poem that made me think ‘Hmmm… Sixgun Sid?’
Which led to a plethora of (at least one) ‘adventures’]
*
Cowboys and Red Indians they ride in any weather
Though one will get a soggy hat and one a soggy feather
And all that soggy headwear has been happening forever
Cos Cowboys and Red Indians are really not that clever
Cowboys and Red Indians they rarely get together
When they chase each other they ride horses hell for leather
And Sitting Fox seeks Sixgun Sid for he’s a scalp to sever
And Cowboys and Red Indians they rarely get called Trevor
Cowboys and Red Indians they simply wont endeavour
To shelter under canvas when its raining… No, not ever
Yet even when they're soaking wet they shrug and say “Whatever.”
For Cowboys and Red Indians will share a teepee never
Our Id is our menace to society
Our Ego balances our poison
Our Supergo is our antidote
Maslow created the hierarchy
Erikson set the stages
Rogers breathed self actualization
Skinner tried to put us in a box
There are many more with more to say
but none yet more profound
Live your Life with joy unbound
Leave nothing in your way
Change is calm abiding
with Love we become the way
Unbridled, unabridged,
understood, unafraid,
unifying, umbilical
Unconditional.
Unanimous
We straddle saddles
the distant horizon of homes
Unabashed Broke back Mountains
Rain drags words out of a dark sky.
Words raw enough to grow antlers,
lightsome enough to slip between
parting flesh,
unmade words grown
from mouse ears and the stringy lips
of hollow reeds.
A long untrammeled Celtic rivering
unabridged and uttered sheer.
If I croon a cobbled nursery hymn
then that blank meaningless verse
might transmute into the ancient rattle
of pebbles on a Scottish beach,
or a seagulls blare from a bobbing coracle.
Something frail and Irish stumbles by,
size it up, seize it, snare it,
unlatch its tenuous tones, the lull and hum,
let it rest between harboring cheeks
recall itself through the hollow bones
of the fierce and fallen.
I cannot understand languages,
not broken languages and their scrabble
their luggage was ever too heavy on my tongue,
but Gaelic is a raptor in my blood
or a cuckoo born
in a ten thousand year old nest.
Here in the flood of a singing rain,
I could be damaged enough
to be what I seek,
then perhaps faraway mountains
would haunt no more.
Time clocks us backwards
Unsung moments unabridged
from where i was onced
Three,
A blanket of white paints the floor
pure, pristine
unabridged
assignments in the void
footprints not yet laid
and I'm a dozen moments away
I look to your sky
and the lights
they light up the night
our night, our beginning
we're naked, we're pure
like the fresh laid snow
nothing traced, nothing known
where we've been, where we go
new paths lie ahead
where the trade winds blow
we trade
snow for sand
hope for hearts
mountains climb us
for we are the earth,
the stars,
the sun and the moon
we are the children inside
wandering about at last
taking first steps
wobbly but we reach out our hands
for trust and for love
My Gift,
“The pure present is an ungraspable advance of the past devouring the future. In truth, all sensation is already memory.” - Henri Bergson
I feel, I felt
tingles in the far recesses of my soul
swirling in an ever circular motion
surrounding the pounding of my heart
resounding inside and out
my echo chamber
I find comfort in that peace
your stillness, the silence
all I am hearing is love
bleeding slowly into me
transmitting signals
rushing alongside clear blue waters
swimming up into my substanance
my existence
filtering in thru the green
of those auspicious duck pond eyes
your gift warms me
each syllable entrusted
as life lies naked at our door
unabridged stories taking hold
we walk away from the past
and yesterday's wars
Worries wash down one sip at a time
but it's not about time
or circumstance
it's last nights call to the wolf
unearthed in abandonment
unabridged and speaking
with the elders,
half mad
half Italian,
jars of juice spilling
with linguine
and the longing look
of yesteryear
fantasies fulfilled
if only in mind
winking women
who have yet to try
or cry
friendships, cheers, inhibition
tomorrow
oh what is tomorrow
if it comes
the moon, the sun
lost moments
killing in the best
and worst of times
it will all be dealt with then
To My Lodestar
On
Anniversary 53
By: Miracle Man
8/27/2018
Today we celebrated anniversary number fifty-three,
Ernestine thought at the start she’d soon change me.
Now she says the excitement has been too hard to bear,
Like “Eating mashed potato sandwiches”, while pulling hair.
She didn’t know that in Webster’s unabridged you’d see,
Beside the word pugnacious, there was a picture of me.
Now I know, “A house divided against itself, cannot stand,”
But with two careers, we’ve enjoyed, “The fat of the land.”
“We’ve fought the good fight” and continue together,
We’ve had many sunny days and some stormy weather.
And now as we approach the end of life’s course,
We still plow our field, as a team, not a single horse.
With all our shortcomings we’ve both done our best,
God has blessed our lives as we’ve faced each test.
We are surely well thought of by all of our peeps,
If “A person is known by the company he keeps.”
Dedicated to my Lodestar
8/27/2018
On 53 years of putting up with me.
2 Old Veteran Soldiers
Raising money selling poppies
In our Local Hospital Foyer
I Salute you fine Sir's
Still Serving in Service after the Fact
You have my total and utter unabridged admiration
Such a shame you have to collect at all though
Surely its the current Government of the Day
And our Taxes that should provide for you
Given the ultimate Price you were willing and asked to Pay
Its a sad day indeed and indictment on modern Society
If we fail to pay our debt to you
God Bless you All
Especially the Fallen
The dog only barks once
When his black moistened snout
Hears his master's voice
And the jangling chain of his leash
Opens a mouth so wide all you can see is teeth
And a cheeky grin
That sets a tale wagging
With bounds of unabridged pleasure
What's up my boy are you ready to go
The pure joy of walking never wears thin
With my loyal companion at my side
Its like taking your very first fairground ride
That is why you wait patiently
In front of the house gate's
Your my very best mate
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