Details |
James Mclain Poem
I am transgender, a soul untamed,
Seeking solace, my true self proclaimed.
In this journey, I've found my role,
Here's what I need to be made whole.
Acceptance, a beacon to light my way,
Embracing love, where judgment won't sway.
A mirror that reflects my inner grace,
To see myself, unburdened by the chase.
Understanding hearts, compassionate and kind,
A refuge where I can peace of mind find.
Words of affirmation, whispered in the air,
Affirming my existence, showing they care.
A world that dismantles oppressive walls,
Where equality reigns and prejudice falls.
Opportunities to thrive, without constraint,
For my dreams and talents, a fair playing paint.
Connection to a community, strong and tight,
Where unity blossoms, like stars in the night.
Courage to be vulnerable, without fear,
Knowing my truth is valued and held dear.
I am transgender, bold and unafraid,
Demanding respect, in every accolade.
With these elements, a tapestry untold,
I'll embrace my journey, and forever unfold.
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
James Mclain Poem
since when did you care about what your parents wanted,
their trembling hands clutching dusty photo albums,
dreams for you etched in whispers,
like the fine print on a warranty you never read.
smart, they said,
smart enough to untangle the wires,
but never the knots in your chest.
immortal—they wanted you invincible,
a timepiece that slowed down
only for holidays and funerals,
never noticing that your hours burned faster than theirs.
abstinence, they prayed,
as if purity were a shield
against the sharp teeth of the world,
but science taught you
the chemistry of craving,
the physics of loneliness,
the biology of need.
they wanted you science-oriented,
but you learned to dissect their dreams,
and the heart, you found,
was just another organ
pumping blood
into someone else's expectations.
So since when did you care?
you don't.
you never did.
broke and trying to raise two kid's
before age twenty.
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
James Mclain Poem
In the depths of the soul, a precious treasure lies,
A beacon of light that never truly dies.
It's the essence of strength, a flame burning bright,
A testament to one's worth, an unwavering might.
Self-respect, a virtue held dear,
A cornerstone of life, crystal clear.
With every step taken, head held high,
The heart whispers a resolute sigh.
No longer defined by others' cruel gaze,
No longer entrapped in society's maze,
For within, a knowing, a sacred flame,
A self-assured spirit, forever untamed.
In the face of adversity, a resilient stance,
A dignified bearing, a confident dance.
Boundaries set, firmly etched in stone,
No compromise on values, one's truest tone.
For self-respect demands a gentle care,
Nurturing the soul, tending with love and flair.
Embracing flaws, accepting imperfection,
Forging a path to authentic reflection.
It's finding solace in one's own embrace,
Celebrating uniqueness, no need to chase
The approval of others, for deep inside,
Lies a treasure trove, a wellspring of pride.
Self-respect is the armor, a shield in strife,
Empowering the spirit to embrace life.
With reverence for self, we learn to believe,
That we're deserving of love, and yes, we can achieve.
So let self-respect be our guiding light,
A beacon that shines through darkest night.
In its gentle embrace, we find our way,
To a life of purpose, each and every day.
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
James Mclain Poem
She doesn't mind the great length
Or the girth of it
For their love is a force of strength
That's too powerful to quit
Bushes without leaves
Are not green as he kisses it
Their love has overcome all griefs
And nothing can hinder their spirit
The woods are not deep
Without trees that are seen
Their love is a promise they'll keep
Their bond unbroken, their hearts keen
While the path that she walks
He chose in her dream
Their love, a fire that ignites and sparks
Their connection, an unbreakable team
Stopping she dropped what it was
That he picked
A daffodil that bleeds white sap
If too hard it is picked
Their love is like that fragile flower
Beautiful and tender, needing care
They protect it from any power
For their love is a love that's rare
In each other, they find the light
To guide them through the darkest night
Their love, a beacon shining bright
A love that's true, a love that's right.
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
James Mclain Poem
Her beauty draped, a silhouette divine,
The most beautiful woman, her grace defined.
Eyes like constellations, deep and profound,
Wisdom their gaze, a universe found.
Golden tresses cascade, a waterfall of light,
Soft as whispers, in the moonlit night.
Her skin, a canvas, where stories are told,
A tapestry of warmth, in hues untold.
A symphony of laughter, a melody sweet,
Intellect sparkles, in every thought she greets.
Her words, like poetry, dance in the air,
A reflection of brilliance, beyond compare.
Graceful as a swan, she moves with ease,
A dance of intellect, a gentle breeze.
Her smile, a sunrise, breaking the dawn,
In her presence, a symphony of sound.
The most beautiful woman, a blend so rare,
Physical allure, and intellect, so rare.
In her existence, a masterpiece is spun,
For she is the art, the moon and the sun,
Aunt Shirle Moore .
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
James Mclain Poem
Gossamer dancer,
Dragonfly whispers on air,
Nature's jewel shines bright.
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
James Mclain Poem
the keys stick when I type,
the ink smudges on cheap paper,
there’s an old man in the corner
laughing through his dentures at my words.
he knows, I know—
it’s all garbage,
all of it.
writing the same worn-out lines,
spinning circles around rent checks
that will barely clear.
this morning, the phone rang,
and I thought it was hope—
turned out to be another
rejection letter in a different voice.
I’m smoking old cigars
that burn the fingers but not the mind,
drinking coffee cold as winter in a can,
wondering how I ended up here,
writing just to keep the lights on.
and that goldfish,
it’s still there—
belly-up in its bowl,
not even a bubble left
to prove it ever lived.
I haven’t flushed it.
I’ll keep it as a reminder,
that we all float for a while
before sinking.
the landlord knocks again,
the ashtray overflows.
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
James Mclain Poem
she and he in polished shoes,
his tie she tied like a noose,
sunday's knight,
shining with borrowed grace.
the church bell rings,
like something forgotten it had to say—
they hear it as their anthem.
he's got the Book
tucked under his arm,
pages marked with
sins they swear aren't theirs.
mouth's whisper Solomon's psalms
that their hands have never followed,
but still, they kneel,
all theater and flourish, cheeks flushed.
he sneered at the beggar
on the church steps,
dropping a coin only when
he knew, that someone was watching.
inside, they clasp their hands,
not to pray,
but to shield themselves
from their own insidious reflections.
out they walk,
cleaner than confession,
a god in their own minds,
but the devil's grin
hides behind their lips.
and somewhere,
someone who does believe,
but loves,
sleeps on just fine.
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
James Mclain Poem
In the depths of my weary soul, I ponder,
Upon the choices made and paths forsaken.
A wistful whisper echoes, a song of wonder,
Of the road I did not take, now left unawakened.
Through veils of time, my memories unfold,
To a crossroad nestled 'neath a golden sky.
Two divergent trails, enticing and bold,
Each beckoning with a promise, I can't deny.
The first, paved with comfort and known terrain,
Lured me with familiarity's gentle embrace.
A steady path, devoid of fear and strain,
A life of ease, a tranquil resting place.
But the other, oh, the other was wild and untamed,
An uncharted journey, fraught with mystery.
Adventures aplenty, untold stories unclaimed,
A tempest of emotions, rapturous and free.
Yet fear gripped my heart, with its icy hold,
The uncertainty of the untrodden way.
What if I stumble? What if I grow cold?
What if my dreams falter, and my spirit wanes?
Regret now whispers softly in my ear,
Of the road I did not take, the path unexplored.
Its voice grows louder, fueled by the years,
A haunting echo of dreams forever ignored.
For life is a tapestry, woven with threads,
Of choices and chances, both great and small.
And though I've embraced the path that I tread,
The road I did not take still echoes its call.
But fret not, my weary soul, for it is not lost,
That road untraveled, its magic still remains.
For in dreams and musings, its beauty embossed,
A cherished longing, forever ingrained.
So, let me celebrate the choices I've made,
Embrace the road I have ventured upon.
For even as I wonder, my heart unswayed,
The road I did not take has made me strong.
And as I journey forward, with purpose and grace,
I'll carry the lessons of paths left behind.
For in the tapestry of life, every road finds its place,
And in the end, I'll cherish the road I did not take.
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
James Mclain Poem
I kneel by the ash heap of my country,
pulling out the charred bones of laws
once tender with purpose. A womb,
a book, a vote—each gutted clean
by men in ties who grin as they light
the match, who quote scripture
as forests burn and children cry
in cages built from policy.
My daughter will not inherit
a peace I once believed in.
She will patch what I could not protect—
clean air, clean water, a truth
without spin, a touch without price.
Her hands will be calloused,
her hope hard-earned.
It is not that we lost something.
It is that they took it and smiled.
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2025
|