When tint of duskfall weaves through a cloud
I spill lacquered paint on bays, ashore
my gold-red shades draping sand. Endowed
with citrine flame of sky , I soar:
Call me ambrosia too. Just outside,
nectar drips from marmalade nights
honey and cantaloupe bless my glide--
O I'm there...when slice of dawn alights !
Calendar commences, conviviality,
kids kvetch knishes cold,
cantaloupe crappy,
kids constantly crunching cookies,
cake, candy.
Could kayaking, canoeing, camping
in Canada cure cantankerous
children's contention?
Can caddying at the country club
conquer kid's complaining?
chaos could conduce calamity,
kindred claiming complete cuckoo-ness,
summer sanity-stealing s'mores scavengers!
Fruits are good for snacking,
Like an orange or a plum
Or a peach or nectarine
Or pear or apple, even some
Within the melon family,
Where even just a slice
Of a cantaloupe or honeydew
Or crenshaw would suffice.
Most people are content with one
When looking for a munch
Except, of course, for grapes because
With them, you’d want a bunch.
I wonder why, when Mother Nature’s
Plan for fruits was hatched,
She came up with the strange idea
That grapes should be attached.
There must have been a reason
Why on stems they’ve gotten stuck,
But it’s kind of fun to eat them
‘Til you find you’re out of pluck.
Whisper is jealous of Josh's black leather boots and Katie's fur lined boots, so they have a threesome to make up for it. They frolic in the moonlight, playing the oboe, xylophone, and vacuum, drooling and spanking each other. Then, the platypus, jackal, and whale join in, hammering out a rhythm on the pajamas, racing the tortoise, and jumping the rabbit's tail. Suddenly, the clocks, magazines, and movies come alive, streaming dirty gray hounds, tungsten spigots, mothers' spleens, kidneys, and tonsils, and cannabis shouting at the moon. The saxophones vomit sand and the pianos strike Jacks, while clouds batter receipts and panty liners. Finally, the cantaloupe refrigerator seals the deal, and the night is filled with laughter.
Pickles in tea
black beans with cheese
Surely no way to
a man's appetite please
Carrots in lard
cornbread that’s hard
Cantaloupe feathered
and tarred…
His fiancé looked nice
but she couldn’t boil rice
So he settled for a slice
of toast ~ freshly charred
Constipated onions
Immaculate cantaloupe
Collard, mustard, turnip greens
crabgrass eating artichoke distant
Are the carrots potatoes fried display?
But the watermelon
Praise on the tomato mustard says
We be going to have ketchup today
6/17/ 24
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
The smell of cantaloupe is enticing
Yearning to feel it’s smoothly texture
It beckons me to it with an unworldly call
The slippery flesh is on my earthly skin
As I hold the fruit it embraces me,
How sweet! How kind it is!
I sympathize and crave it!
A plant that is living and purring
Communicates to us with undecipherable
Decibels that can be heard from beyond our senses
But, I’m hungry; so hungry!
Tearing apart it’s flesh
It’s now a part of me; broken down to a
Molecular level.
My pearl heart rests
in the chiffon sands
of forsaken memories,
like an open oyster shell,
engrossed in saffron-streaked
serenades,
while embracing. shifting shades
of an
apricot-feathered sunset,
the sky sings for
your magnolia magic~
unraveling clapping
rays of glittery pompoms
celebrating the
rising of champagne crescent.
There, I find secret
keys to the golden
g a t e s of your soul.
I gaze beyond the
sparkling crest of
the honeyed horizon,
as cantaloupe lines
of waning gloaming~
slowly tip-toe
towards the
whistling waves,
ferrying Poseidon’s
souvenirs draped
in sapphire strings,
like scattered
sea-shells singing
songs to rippling
runes of cosmic love.
And this poem shall remain
within porcelain pages;
mermaid memoir of
a mystical romance untold.
Some gifts were great for yesteryear
But with a face lift they can reappear
Like that good old soap on a rope
Can now be: may I have the envelope
When cleaning below the ship’s deck
Now you don’t need to break your neck
Buy a mini submarine with soap
On a periscope
If your pet lion has bad breath
Don’t worry yourself to death
Now you can treat it with soap
On an antelope
A word of warning for new age fans
Even though it is in the soap plans
I would never take a chance with soap
On a cantaloupe
But if your foolish brother is
Never minding his own darn biz
Wipe him out of your way with soap
On a dope
If your friend’s health is on the rocks
Show him or her how to detox
Starting with the improved soap
On a stethoscope
A great gift to open a kid’s eyes
To be able to enjoy the skies
Is to buy them that neat’o soap
On a telescope
Lastly, for those who are pessimistic
And are in need of some optimistic
Grant their X-mas wish with soap
On a hope.
Yesterday has passed,
today I shall rise and dream,
let mourning stars fade.
Some flowers may wilt,
Yet fragrance remains when skies-
bleed cantaloupe hope.
Ruby crowned kinglets,
croon and rest on bleak brown shrubs,
as rays of autumn-
swiftly glide amongst,
peridot promises wrapped
in crisp memories.
But when ink comes as
wind-swept secrets tumbling in,
russet streaks of sun,
I'll stretch honey dipped
fingers, to sketch your saffron,
name across twilight.
Maybe dance of leaves,
and flurry hues would define,
unseen tomorrows.
As weightless amber,
carries warm crimson kisses,
Sealed in spiced silence.
So when rosy moon
returns amidst silver clouds
sing sweet songs of love.
You and I, we are-
poetry woven in red,
beneath gloaming gold,
painting crystal clear wishes.
~
I just picked a grapefruit
off an old banana tree
It sliced it up like an orange
and I couldn’t wait to see
A watermelon pattern
seemed to be its outer skin
My mouth it started watering,
I needed to dig in
It tasted like a nectarine,
a lemon and a lime
Perhaps a little tinge of plum
to occupy my time
A sour cherry texture
with a granny apple core
Was hoping to find cantaloupe,
so I just ate some more
I noticed just a hint of pear,
some grapes without a seed,
I guess it was the perfect fruit
and all I’ll ever need
But one thing that was missing
and it made it all unreal
I looked for a banana
but there wasn’t one to peel
~
When Neptune's
nostalgic sighs,
weave ruffled rosaries
of brocade ink,
bleeding from
blackberry wrinkles
in torrential time,
I wonder if
herculean eyes
of my earthen heart,
are afraid of being
abandoned by the
electric rhapsody
of life's alienated
aroma.
Swinging on the
translucent
parabola of a
frozen rainbow,
my fate is
skewed as a
cantaloupe
silhouette, of
helix-shaped
maple pamphlets,
where, bluebirds
feast on decaying
seeds of love
and sing
hemlock-croons
in those magnolia
gardens.
But,
what if stars
were edible and
I devoured their
ivory scintilla,
submerging
cosmic potions
in my arteries,
iridescent with
clusters of
quasar's quivering
rays and pulsar's
pistachio glitter?
So now,
I collect
volcanic ash
from rust-orange
ruins of dahlia's
dreamscape
and embalm
them with
paradise-pink hues
of distilled empathy,
for my swan-white
halo of faithful
silence, is still
glowing with
sombre yet
glossy shine
of the linen sun
and I inhale
the fragrance of
my marshmallow moon.
have heard latest scoop
do join poetry group
then should have some soup
(take ride on a sloop)
(stand under a stoop)
(around start to troop)
(be thrown for a loop)
(clean poop from a coop)
(clean up all the goop)
(then jump through a hoop)
(then eat cantaloupe)
Once I saw a purplish oblong tangerine,
Standing near the hydrant on Sixty-first
I wondered what it could possibly mean,
Then, I was overcome with dreadful thirst
When I watched it skitter quickly away
I was transfixed by its stark underbelly,
Joining a cantaloupe on a teeter to play
While a pigeon danced in a jar of jelly,
The sound of a toad lapping up its milk
Told me reality had not departed from me
Sounds of tongue-in-groove are tantalizing
Especially when crawling over a cup of tea
Are my fellow horseflies merely fantasizing
Or are they, like me, oddities analyzing?
Written August 18, 2022
A curve of sky
in a corner cusps a smooth,
thick dusting
of carrot-mauve hues
tonight. Drapes over heather
trees
whose arms
and hands bend with this drowsy sky
as it starts
to fall asleep-
the cyrean "silk" upon
which this
cantaloupe tint
is traced, daubed, by the brushstrokes
of Mother Nature;
is ready
for the deep onyx doves-with halos-
of a cold Spring night.
With the Heavens'
cut diamonds-for the Goddess-
and immaculate
lambency.
This soft lusty Dusk will Father
a shiny glass red
rose,
a radio balefire
that will
capitivate
through the limbs of the esteemed
trees,
wink
through this Springtime's beetling
intimacies
on a windy night.
The man-made magenta
comforts
as it beams
next to the "Sunrise Field",
mowed emerald blades
under
another sky of day-break
pigments-
a dawn
placenta of bright lemon
vanilla,
and little
sugar- coated strawberry
juices-
another corner
of the clay, sea, and cloud-and ash-
colored campus-
bewitching
oil paintings in crystalline
emblems...
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