touched it, its fingerprints.
couldn’t hug it - too wide.
pressed against it. hiked
up my leg, to reach a limb.
limber, i’m not
nowadays. my wrinkled cage
engages my imagination.
i branch out. thick
is the umbrella - the sun rays
peeking through.
bug-eyed, my grandson
can’t reap the benefits.
he sees every wiggling
and wing. such appeared
aft of my childhood.
either that
or i wasn’t wearing
a magnifier.
i still see four birds
out on a limb -
unafraid, angelic.
they’re either courageous
or unaware.
Categories:
wiggling, tree,
Form: Free verse
Whispers crying;
Caveat twix tween dead winter and lively spring;
there's a voice in The Dark
Hollow dark chirpings
of crawling worms
Being eaten by swollen birds
Screaming are the crawling squirming worms
1/19/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Categories:
wiggling, adventure, analogy, anxiety,
Form: Free verse
Wiggling with pure happy
Enjoying a mud puddle more than ever before
Squealing and barking
Prancing and stamping
Light hearts making merry like puppies can
Uninhibited, untethered, unrestrained.
I watch from my window spot
Hidden behind a lace curtain
Vicariously enjoying the experience
She has not forgotten, she will never forget
Being six, and loving her puppy like this
She watches with mirth in her heart, glad to give them this.
Categories:
wiggling, dog,
Form: Free verse
Wiggling Waves and Other Observations
Wiggling waves reaching like tall grass,
Summertime’s warning to wear shoes,
Little stubbed toes from bare flip flops,
Tears, scrapes, little ones’ blues.
Searing sidewalks too hot for pups’ paws,
Compassion let’s a walk miss this day,
Steering wheels blistering, electricity soaring,
Rob a bank to get power bills paid?
Summer winks, reminds us of cold winds,
Ice covered streets, wraps, frost bitten toes,
Windows to scrape, shovels of snow,
So no matter which way the wind blows,
Dream of the other one, write a poem,
To the undulating earth, its extremes, its glory,
Give thanks in the middle of wherever you are,
Thanks for the Old, Old Story.
Categories:
wiggling, poetry, seasons,
Form: Rhyme
As I am writing down these words, they bounce and wobble off the selected path.
I am so frustrated with these spellings, I would pin them down if I could.
I grasp my pen harder, as if that could do anything to snatch up these naughty words.
I can hear them giggling, and they roll right off the page! I then throw my self to the
ground in exasperation. I search for them, for I know they are hiding nearby.
As I catch one, I catch them all; for they are linked together in a sentence.
I grin at my successful conquer of the little irritants, and slap them down on the page.
They make a good line. And then they begin to wiggle…
Categories:
wiggling, on writing and words
Form: I do not know?