Whitening Poems

Portraits in the Dark

I sat with the plant leaf again,
its veins straighter than mine.
The bus ride had ended. Manila steamed.
My shirt, still full of your smell,
even though you hadn’t come yet.

The blinds were half-closed
like eyelids in anesthesia—
and I traced shadows with my pen
pretending I was writing payroll,
but it was always a eulogy.

The dust in the corners of the cubicle
was not debris.
It was proof of my stillness.
Proof I had not been seen.
Proof I was human.

Somewhere a neon ad shouted skin whitening,
but I was already transparent.
A ghost who had filled in timesheets
and cried into broken staplers.

You would come one day.
Not as a lover,
but as a mirror
sharp enough
to open the mouth of the soul.

Devilment is Afoot

Leaves of the oak trees congregated in clumps of whispering soldiers
A devilment was afoot; the fey felt this and scurried to the meadow.
Someone was dragging a heavy sack into the darkest shadows.
The night shuddered, recognizing the evilness of the scoundrel.

Perfect place to hide a body, most agreed. Those who were brave to look.
Others hid behind stumps and rocks, hoping the culprit’s thirst was sated.
He has been here before, always leaving flesh that turns to putridness.
Finally whitening and stiffening into a stick-like corpse.

The evil doer did not give the trees or the sack a backward glance.
This was his dumping ground; he felt no reverence for it in the least.
A place to leave the shell of the people he hunted and killed.

Forced Rhymes

A whiff of my kitchen, a medicinal pill,
the side order of rain drools at a windowsill.

An utterance precedes a service; the rumble,
the window slides itself shut. A bumble
bee ricochets off a glass pane
moaning louder than our train

of thought waylaid with bacon sizzling up a storm.
There's an anxiousness trapped inside as warm
as indoors petrichor's marshmallow mood
steamed under nostrils fused above burned food.

A swirl follows itself in a perfect circle
on a smartphone screen. The attentive middle 
of somewhere where I don't know where I am headed
while time and place are forgettably wedded,
O lips lit up, no doubt, by the whitening screen,
words digitize what would otherwise burn green.

A Frosty Supply

In the firmament, a frosty supply.
Winter whitening, within, without, high.

Each flake in brand new cookie cutter shape.
Meek congregates, quickening the landscape.

Base, torso, head - together in dreamland.
Snowballs giggle as they’re rolled big and grand.

‘Will he grin,’ he’s wondering, and perchance
‘an old hat, a half chomped carrot, nice stance.’

Contrast of black, coal eyes against blue skies.
Snow “fat” hopeful or melting skinny-size.

Snowman doesn’t wrinkle, scarf sticks, falters crown.
Man, in red garb, grabs coal, regifts, flees town.

CHILDHOOD

The campering, tampering, scampering 
and running of little legs and feet 
toddlers jumping off the porch 
and in handheld holding Snickers™ bars 
eating chocolate treats
 stomach calling ooh yum yummy yum yum
 sweet candy children frolicking playing on the run
Just playing


What a delightful and vibrant description of a joyful scene.
 Words capture the carefree essence of childhood. 
Where laughter and playfulness fills the air.
 The image of toddlers jumping off the porch, 
the little legs and feet moving swiftly. 
Is a beautiful portrayal of unblighted energy and enthusiasm. 
Sweet treats such like Snicker bars 
Add to the delight as the children saver the chocolatey goodness. 
Their eyes whitening with glee highlighting 
The excitement and satisfaction that comes. 
But enjoying a favorite treat stomach calling words 
Creates so a picture scenes that celebrates
 The simple pleasures of childhood 
And the joy of savoring life's sweet treats

7/9/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2024

Swarming Highland

Written: November 06, 2023
            ___________________________________________

A swarm of herring gulls amassed
Nexus Nautilus nabbed by zealous winds,
whitening the black soil
we hold spears in our hands.
blood-stained thorns on the side
sullen squawks a skirmishing sporophyte,
dubious, grayish rumors must be buried
drave in a drizzle, drape to deities.

Installation of sentry fences
Sisyphean stones
anchor down using seal and string
flaws in the swings used by blacksmiths
Unborn burning bullion bludgeon
Savage sunless swords embryonic
Edgeless, with no reflections.

Each peak over the Edenic Steppes is sprayed,
using torn paper candles as bait
climbing scaffolds with lumber rungs
pounding of leather-heavy boots
darkened, grimacing features
Flocks failing feathers or flight.

Our hold slips on windswept
Windswept updrafts carry us away
as offspring of the royal family.

The Day

The day,
   for me, it's a wonderful
   garden of multicolored flowers...
   A flock of singing birds
    singing the most charming melodies...
   It's a sunny shower of joy,
   whitening the souls and igniting
   life...
  I love the days...!

Gone With Gale

Snowy week whitening the slalom slope
Keenly waited for the sleek ski to grope
Inspired by maddening sense of sliding speed
I raced, found my frosted feet suddenly freed
Nailed in snow they couldn’t track the ski’s trail
Gone soaring with the glacial gale into the dale. 

______________

January 21, 2023
Contest : Skiing
Sponsored by : Julia Ward

On Healing

Sometimes healing is messy
It is a rollercoaster 
Ups and downs
Sometimes I can handle it
Other times I lose control
I say I am in recovery for my bulimia
But I still struggle
I still consider pushing myself that extra hour in the gym
I think skipping lunch that day won't hurt
I sometimes spend too much time looking at teeth enamel strengthening toothpaste and whitening strips
I only look at healthy snack like plain rice cakes and original sun chips
Carboard is not the most appealing flavor
But it is the safest one
I don't have to feel guilty when I eat them
I won't need to punish my body later
Some days though
I will eat the birthday cake and not worry about it later
I will still go to the gym but only spend 30 minute there not 2 hours
I brush my teeth not worrying about if i will cause any damage to them from a purge
Healing is messy
Somedays are easier than others
But I know that I am trying my hardest.

Snowstorm

grim starkness of snow
sturdy in its sleeted falling 
willing a bleached landscape
a lushness
that chokes the rough field terrain

strides of power
as the fevered wind
spirals In an unexpected direction
inflates drifts like the arched back of a cat
whitening truant brown borders of decay
to bury even shadows

bare trees by fence lines slump like hollow men
in a protected sanctuary of cold
re-shaping confessions that slip
in winter chill extinction 



Poem composed January 3, 2023

New World and Rainy Nights

Rumbling and tumbling in the kitchen
Dishes cups and a chalice, swishing 
Adding some wine  
The dog’s whitening muzzle greedy munching away
The horses chomping oats and grasses
Plopping rain drops, soggy walkways 
The home built as protection
A fence and doorway a sofa
A rainy rainy night as rocks form a river
A castle braced and built for the mind
Mother nature fights for dominion 
My small home and I fight to just abide

Poetry Soup Second To Just Nobel

Before me sight I Halting Dump
And I need to over it jump.
If my zeal be crushed into powder, 
You wouldn’t see a face prouder. 

Just asking that you retain The Lamp
That makes A Champ of An Agreed Tramp;
A firm will gives one to start chasing 
After what Life holds in its casing. 

Three years back uploaded not a verse
And the picture now a sweet reverse; 
What if I’d lost to The Tightening;
Last air suck in face whitening?
Troublesome corpse after interment, 
Quarrelsome Grave of heard rude comment,
The sky causing to be cloudier,
Disorganized systems rowdier…
Poetry Soup: second to just Nobel!
Why should I care if others rebel?

Chattogram, 4th December 2022

My country people
join still in political meaningless processions 
just for one plate fried rice 

My country people
strike roads and highways still 
just for a piece of cloths 

My country people
do riot still with indigenous 
just for whitening the black money

My country people
gather in processions
addicted for an unknown destiny 

My country people
don’t know own fundamental rights of life;
they consider all political parties as their own;
skyscraper buildings and flyover roads on hungry bellies 
they consider these are the name of developed life!

Groaning through the Joy Bangla slogans of my country people
Native politicians consider this as the fun of their happiest soul

Foolish in political tricks
My country people pitch 


©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
05/12/2022

Snowfall

Sparkling snowflakes whitening the winds.
Light glitters through fractal patterns.

Your Father In Hermanus

Where the hefty lumps of fat?
Eyes strain through kaleidoscopic beams
As he takes in the scene.
Frayed Lonely Planet clasped tightly 
Knuckles whitening.
'a breeding ground for one of the largest mammals on the face of the planet'
he recalls feverishly
clickbait sigh
To his dismay...
a garden of kelp legs swaying with the tide of "Afrikaans is dood, Afrikaans is groot".
hole-ridden threads giving glimpses of body murals to long-forlorned deities and bugs bunny.
six shots and one dump later
across the hazy, salty coat of cover...
a sighting...
reeks of threat-level status 
a show will ensue 
as he fishes for that bag of glue.

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