Some love pangs culminate in birth pangs
others develop fangs
poetry’s starved -
after days of bountiful buffets and open bar
stones within snow wombs
restlessly leap to be born ~
weak sun midwifery
17 January 2022
Hey man !
Flatfoot, dang!
Why you dragging your leg
Don't you know them there shoes you wear are just too small like peg
Them there shoes you wear are too small, y'all!
~
Where are your arches and
Where is your perrier
How can you twist in your turn
As you try walk as you fall not dance on the floor
Why do you waddle and not walk
Liken a toddler it's a wonder you can even talk
~
Why you're in crutches and in a wheelchair bound
Where is the Hope of you running a marathon
Flatfoot no wonder yawl dragging y'all foot N' leg
hup yup hup hup hup hup-two three four hup two three four
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
11/28/21
Expel those bitter pangs of unrequited love
Lest the pungent taste of gall infest the soul,
And steal the joy unattended in your heart
For love that’s lost is seldom ever reclaimed.
By fast-held pining, sorrow, and crying spells
Consider how quickly your lover went away,
Likely, to embrace another with open arms
Shedding nary a tear nor suffering the loss.
written July 22, 2021
Now at an advanced crotchety age
namely three score plus one Earth
orbitz around the nearest star,
yours truly revisits
poignant episodes foisting
launching snapchatting
one after another crisis
sidelining ability to cope
pursuing life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness
whiz hard by at light speed.
Though just a kid during third industrial revolution,
I remember feeling lost in space (age) and agog
at being on the cusp, when infrastructure
(regarding blueprint describing
information superhighway,
technological/computer transformation
would when soon after graduating
Methacton high school
(mine alma mater)
quickly usher The Fourth Industrial Revolution
a way of describing the blurring of boundaries
between the physical, digital, and biological worlds,
a fusion of advances in artificial intelligence (AI),
robotics, the Internet of Things (IoT), 3D printing,
genetic engineering, quantum computing,
and other technologies.
Sadly Pangs I Hurt I Pain So-
sadden am I shall I cry pangs in pain am I hurt sadden
7/29/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.© 2020
For months, I've come to sense it well-
that loneliness, as none before.
In feelings of unrest, I dwell
on what is now- and what's in store.
At first, confined to home- so sad,
deprived of friends and family.
For cellphones, live stream, I was glad,
to speak to, watch them- happily.
For our essentials, I will shop-
six feet apart and with a mask.
Like other patrons, do not stop-
avoid encounters mid the task.
Alone together, when about-
spaced out wherever I now go;
in waiting rooms or eating out-
the pangs of isolation grow.
Just people walking, eyes ahead-
sequestering on streets, in stores.
Thoughts deep within and left unsaid-
pray that old normal soon restores.
We beings are a social kind
and keeping us apart is wrong-
not meant to isolate- I find
within close bonds- we all belong.
At times, I feel we're in a test
to see how we obey commands;
and now, our world in such unrest-
what happens next- increased demands?
July 27, 2020
~5th Place~
Premiere Contest: Isolation Philosophy
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Judged: 07/31/2020
Pangs of exile
In the season of the fallen leaf
Pangs of exile, pangs of grief
Should I join the expat web?
I will still receive The Sheaf
Pangs of exile, pangs of grief
I listen to a foreign tongue
The sound goes on the evening long
Oh to hear the name O’Keefe -
Pangs of exile, pangs of grief -
- Murphy, Kelly or O’Reilly,
Barry, Binchy, Casey, Miley
- Pangs of hunger, rhyming monger -
Oh to hear the Dublin scouse
Or to see St Margaret’s house
In Kilbarrack, Dublin 5
All gone now but still a hive
Of people from the past
In Warsaw I may be the last
Remembering………
In the season of the fallen leaf
Pangs of exile, pangs of grief
I can’t go back
I must go on -
Like Beckett
I will go on -
In exile….
Who are you working for
What are your choices
Why you screaming
Who are you representing
Why? are you messaging
Stop texting...
Labor pangs
And your not having a baby
What Who are you working for
What are your choices be quiet or start cussing>
Stop your complaining
Who are you representing
A repented sinner wrong choices
speaking now in purple velvet voices
choice labor pangs
1/15/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
In pain, she gasps for breath
As the trained therapist
Extends her swollen limb to death --
In rehabilitation's pangs
Ends always justify fangs
America unlocked
Is the monster
under stairs
stirring?
The bottom class
wondered
as upper class
called them higher.
Master like playing games
stoking darkened fears
enjoyed teasing
emancipated
Kept them
second guessing
what step
would be their
undoing
The sharp fangs
of illiteracy overtly ruling
Liked them tamed
and their feet grabbers
vicious
Had to be there quick
but punished
using a sprint.
America, your ignorance
is yawning.
The same viciousness
you fed, now hungers
for you.
Your appetite for power
Now, eats at you
You created a hole
It now devours you.
You gave a man
with a God complex
the keys
to spiritual kingdoms.
Even sinners are
scared to go higher
with Cerberus
growling
It's no coincidence
our world
became what it is
So many of us willing
to trade for more imbalance
instead of addressing
the fears that rule us.
The monster under the stairs
was abused too
The masters above
affects all of us the same
Whether by timidity or through
aggression we're locked in this
cycle of giving and giving
so only a few receive the getting
Starving for change
are the worst kind of
hunger pangs
This cherished wound in my heart is your parting gift
I nurse, nurture and care for it
The hurt makes me remember the cherished bygone days
The days when people called us love birds in craze
Those days are behind me and all I have is memories
The nightingale, the roses, the butterflies and bees
The awesome togetherness, the astonishing ways
The fragrant valley and symphony that waterfall plays
The incurable wound keeps memories fresh
My longing for love and caress burns my soul, my flesh
I find thee whichever way I see
My soul is your captive I am not free
Spare me this pain, free me from the anguish
Without you I am like an out of water fish
Your return will be like a healing balm
Return my life’s serenity and calm.
Sintra, Portugal 08-11-2015
When you are lost in confusion
With your heart full of depression
When your life is tangled in mess
With your mind marked hopeless
Be aware, God's the giver of gladness
When you run after clover in fold
And you couldn't latch on it in hold
When all painted over you are scars
Even without the discerning of stars
Be conscious, God is in your mind.
When you sight your home & espy nothingness
And your connected blood are designate aimless
When you long for for an abode spruce up of rest
When the bodies in sight breathe a zest of a pest
Be apprise, God is your matchless healer of pains
When you behold your portrayal in richness
But your assets are painted in emptiness
When your bones are fashioned powerless
Don't be melt away in the ache hopelessness
Be informed, God is the giver of bountifulness
©Muhammadnasir Aloba
Eminent
A lonely silence fills my broken heart
With rolling tear spilled eyes upon my face
When all the joyful beauty falls apart
To leave a breathless sorrow to embrace
My deepest saddest shadows overwhelm
With voiceless screams from every fallen tear
That flow in waves within this trembled realm
Where all my lovely dreams now disappear
In my loneliness of darkness dreary
Where I will leave my tears without a trace
The emptiness in my soul grew weary
I held the holy essence of its grace
The pangs of love that's lost is always felt
A prisoner once chained with tears I've knelt
12/8/17
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