I'm perplexed! My breath chocks as Euterpe, Calliope,
Erato, Apollo, and modest Muses leading me
Through the refreshingly flooding streams of Antiope
To heavens, where I am, like an eagle, endlessly free
I can breathe here a frankincense-filled aromatic air.
In whose flow my atria-ventricular blocks open
Pranayama, whose parikrama in performance is rare
It overwhelms, as though the dam of feelings is broken.
When talons cannot grab prey, when feathers stick to the chest,
When, like an eagle, I meet the challenge of 'do' or 'die'
I go to the hills. I struggle the worst and pass my test.
In each effort, as though a mother in labour, I sigh.
In each poetic breath, I see the Brahman at the helm.
Does Brahman see my poems as I wish him to see them?
Categories:
ventricular, poems, poetry, poets,
Form: Sonnet
Heart
On that day my soul grew ventricular
Heart
And the feelings never pulsing
Just a blood start
The aloneness seemed happy repulsing
A defective Heart
Pumping clear blood turns to red
Hearts
Not longing beating I’m dead
3/13/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Categories:
ventricular, analogy, appreciation, confusion, heart,
Form: Free verse
If the truth be told
do Fibonacci patterns puzzle
like the sunflower seeds stumble
or tiny fronds of ferns spiral
into the golden ratio of the galaxy
sparking forth a cardiac rhythm
peaking with a ventricular stimulation
a tricuspid valve squeezing swiftly
pumping life into collapsing lungs
flickering light into a newborn baby's eye
rainbow feathers twinkling through a shadowy sunrise
floating lustrous and lighter than air
a robin's egg bluer than a Caribbean horizon
waves humming the shore into a sandy trance
as baby turtles swim towards a turquoise sea
or sitting atop a sturdy branch
overlooking a radiant redwood tree
yellow flowers demi-pointe their petals below her trunk
as tangling branches reach for a starlit sky
crickets sing a sonata to ambassadors of another age
how an opus of prismatic motion
tumbles below a swirling cloudy sky
while miniscule concertos humming
but a riddle rotating in an ebony abyss.
Categories:
ventricular, beautiful, creation, imagination, stars,
Form: Shape
A pack a day,
An expensive way
To capture cancer,
Not a thing nice,
But I did it twice
Survived them somehow,
Operations did the trick,
And I know better now...
But cigarettes
Were not done with me,
Though I smoked no more,
It was too late for me,
Emphysema came to me
Incurable, progressive,
100% fatal I was to see
Lung weakness strained the heart
Now Ventricular Fibrillation had a part
Another killer, matter of time,
Bought some though,
With implanted defib which was now mine
To fill the pot of aging ails,
Arthritic pain now prevails
Some 2 dozen meds
To take each day,,
Over this I have no say,
Newest toy; seizures grand,
On the floor I often land
Near constant pain makes we cranky
Deppresion is my constant companion
It get ever close to "All yea, hope abandon"
And to top it off, chronic insomnia,
Stay awake eight days
Brain turns to oatmeal
I live in a purple haze.
I don't complain,
I don't beat my breast,
In God swearing agony
Whenever he wants to take me
Is more than okay, you see.
Categories:
ventricular, death, health, life, mystery,
Form: Bio
A pack a day,
An expensive way
To capture cancer,
Not a thing nice,
But I did it twice
Survived them somehow,
Operations did the trick,
And I know better now...
But cigarettes
Were not done with me,
Though I smoked no more,
It was too late for me,
Emphysema came to me
Incurable, progressive,
100% fatal I was to see
Lung weakness strained the heart
Now Ventricular Fibrillation had a part
Another killer, matter of time,
Bought some though,
With implanted defib which was now mine
To fill the pot of aging ails,
Arthritic pain now prevails
Some 2 dozen meds
To take each day,,
Over this I have no say,
Newest toy; seizures grand,
On the floor I often land
Near constant pain makes we cranky
Deppresion is my constant companion
It gets ever closer to;
"All Yea who enter, hope abandon."
And to top it off, chronic insomnia,
Stay awake eight days
Brain turns to oatmeal
I live in a purple haze.
I don't complain,
I don't beat my breast,
In God swearing agony
Whenever he wants to take me
Is more than okay, you see.
Categories:
ventricular, death, health, life, mystery,
Form: Bio