You'll need a vanity mirror..Is my current opine.' Mind you that might change.? As it
Goes.' I'm sure it will..Hold yet you will not
Forestall either it, nor desire, for all lies beyond our human will ' as eons present
And expand..Yet will perhaps; also expire.?
The Art of using the collective consciousness to see through a single consciousness.
The picture is only so-so clear but due to the factor of time.
The more time you spend scribbling the more your 5go takes over.
But at Bar 55 get you high on growth and change putting you far away from the preferred point in space.
Where art Tao, Where art Tau, lets beest humbl'd in between.
Father || Mother, I have a confession to make, please give me some confectionery as a form of grace.
The holes in my tapestry won't make my tapestry whole.
Yes they were handmade.
Opus III and orbital sound the same in hollow, thanks be to Kirsty Hawkshaw.
Added meaning on top of meaning for synchronicity, thanks be to Carl Jung.
H = Y, N = H, O = V, C=G, find the eternal god within, thanks be to Gregg braden.
Now I am getting comfortable with my true nature, thanks be to me.
This labour day I will be heading to the 090802 in the 081223
CRV sounds like a car Honda makes but it is much older at the US military base.
O/D one path leads to overdrive the mind and one overdosing on medications to fix the mind.
I am tired, so can I eat my 3.1415 as I attempt to get closer to 1.618?
As I sat on the patio
The Airplanes are passing by
high in the Sky
Birds are flying high
The wind is blowing periodically
The weather is humid
Peaceful moments again
A great scenery within
Moments of relaxation
From all of the chaos
A renewal of concentration
Thinking of a great vacation.
NOTE: Sometimes we just need that peace of mind from all of the chaos.
For the atmosphere to be great and full of Joy, not negativity. ONLY With positivity and love.
Therapy for the soul.
Ms. C.
V-ery
I-mpressive
L-ine
M-akes
A-ll
B-ehold
A-nother
L-ady's
A-ssigned
N-ame
©bfa042825
Monocrostic (Birthday of Vilma T. Balan)
Sunset is beautiful to all people
Sunset is romantic to all lovers
Sunset is theraphy to friends zone
Sunset is normal theme for every painter
Sunset is closing curtain for the night
Sunset is where you see the horizon
Sunset is where you see low tide
Sunset is where you see hope for tomorrow
Sunset is where people see the best of day
Sunset is a sign of dying emblem of life.
on my back the ground
outside my house on cold cold
cold cold autumn lawn
~
early December
late morning feeling diverse
free nothing bounding
~
me the solar sun
over my right shoulder side
visualizing
~
outside my house on cold cold
grounds looking on skies
visualizing blue space!!
12/1/2022
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
Published?
I Do
Due
Thanks
Died Or So?
Hatred Yours
Been Off
You Dear
You Dearest
However How's All
Been Together Or Tonight
You Are Down To Earth But No
As I Do
As We Fires Your Blames Away
No Suffer Suffering
.....
Comment
Never Published Or Past Seen Except Here: by me
my cat meowing
birds outside had been viewing
always id doing
each eye would invade
watching a passing parade
in dark shade they laid
was an incursion
did result in dispersion
price needs inversion
Images from a cogged apparatus.
Fingertips toggle milled brass
abreast a concertinaing leather.
Tripodal spread, pegged legs.
Women paused in pose,
a gilded stillness.
A plump bosom peek-show.
Wide-open lens revealing
knee’s, and ankles,
silky ribbons; lace decorously draped
over a connivance of modesty.
A gentleman photographer
throws a dark curtain over
his head.
The models are captured
framed as they are
inside a light-box of silence.
An artist has added a color tint,
their cheeks are rouged
lips glossily red.
A luster and filigree
of bygone corsetry teases the eye.
Posturing in an upper room.
A warm lamp licks Tiffany shades,
shadows halted in mid-flicker.
Feathers and brocade adjusted,
imagination moves, veils fall,
flesh flexes.
Their legacy a démodé,
an optical glow from a yesteryear,
one to be admired in secret.
Tenebrous shadows flood the night,
as spirits arise from their graves,
the undead swarming spectral trees.
caliginous beings hungering,
nefarious, bits of decaying blight.
Among the mortals they will walk,
stench of putrescence pervades the air.
Maleficent entities invade the minds,
of those in high positions;
dining on human greed and power.
I cast the runes and read the fates
the future’s trapped within the bones;
and through a crystal ball I see
humanity succumbing to these throngs;
dinner for the beasts.
1-11-2022
A Ghost Story Poetry Contest
Angela Tune
Viewing out into her eyes into her soul
And I look out the window
Where is the soul?
that I spy all I see is refuge and darkness just a spot
A glimpse of sigh a missed the space dwelling blackness nigh
As hopes for spawning rituals of sunlit there's not
Viewing out into her eyes into her soul
Tis none to my surprise the beating ground
Those the mystic tears that are flowing down
To hard and harden hard and spots
Beating
Bleeding not
Viewing out into her eyes into her soul
I continue to look and I admonish
I pray for the soul to become unhardened
Ruptured so keen on the perils that seem
To unravel the woolen knot
I hope and pray this instant this day
That God will clean the window pane
Viewing out into her eyes into her soul
So I may later on look out
after out of the window and see you
and Him dancing on the bright heavenly streets paved of gold
As I now view
So
Viewing out into her eyes into her soul
Now in blissful clarity Hallelujah, Amen
1/23/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
on the beach word ponds
so yon scorpion wallows
stinking sturgeon wizardly
wade watered watching
fountains of King Scorpions
watching the goldfish
5/11/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Viewing eternity with faith’s vision
my spirit zooms to celestial city
exploring fortressed mansion of great love
secured upon gracious peace-filled freedom
constructed by the sovereign Architect.
Along heavenly avenue, I stroll
on golden streets, divinely euphoric
then in saints’ closets, very welcoming
I fellowship with the heroes of faith
reminiscing jubilant engagements.
As my soul longs for that forever bliss
now I yield to the Saviour by His grace
to serve with love, reaching-out joyously…
since in the twinkling of an eye*, we’ll meet
yes, I’ll face Him with body glorified.
*1Corinthians 15:52 In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.
February 11, 2020
Honorable Mention, "STRAND SELECT T, any form ,any theme" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 2/19/2020.
Blowing through all
sunshine lightens
skies blue, the moon
the view, all arise
hope and praying
the days are long
longing for stars
breathe thoroughly
night and days arises
breathless surprises
longevity lives
months, years passing by
realizes
lights arise.
Few times have I peered closely down at death.
The first time I remember fairly well
(looking down at a body with no breath)
would be the viewing of brother Dale.
Disfigured from a crash – his face, a shell -
was not the face of joy we all had known.
His soul to heaven had already flown.
My father’s face last year I looked down on:
a look of plastic – it was not his own!
He too has flown where all live on and on.
Jan. 3, 2019
For Lu Loo's 'How Death Has Affected Me' Poetry Contest
Note: The way I say Dale is like the word Dell, so that is why I use it in the B rhyme scheme part of this Dizain: ABABBCCDCD
(Sorry i could not put much emotion into this, Laura. Death does not affect me terribly hard emotionally because I truly believe we move on to a better place. The loss of DAle when he was still so young affected me because I loved him so much that I missed not being able to reach out to him any more, but I would need more lines to write about that. Thanks for the inspiration!)
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.