amidst the midnight dark,
comes the sleeping dog, that snores/barks;
a mixed up nightmare, no other mammal shares...
coming to age,
written with wax crayon, within neon sprays
of florescent glazes poster board pages...
the need for art,
a chance for chalk;
a walk in the park
music till' dusk
amidst the noonday rage,
lunchers serenades
female co-workers while on lookers...
gawk and look
closing their books, to see what's next
what the heck
the need for art,
sometimes lost, everyone so critical
Brutal the ways of the arts
settle in the newness of dark late night art at the park
2/4/2020
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
Today I sat in Town Hall Square,
watched the doves parading there
with their comic gait.
Daintily propelled themselves
o’er metaphorical eggshells,
like Royalty in state!
Boldly nosing ‘tween the feet
of the lunchers on the seat
for something good to peck.
Here and there they stopped to scratch
at some irritating patch
on irridescent neck.
Awareness of good treatment’s seen
In the way they strut and preen.
No sign of fear I found
in spite of all those human limbs
like a forest round the rim
of their parading ground.
Then all at once with one accord
up into the air they soared
as if remote controlled.
No longer separate atoms, they
converged into entirety –
A blaze of green and gold.