when it comes to the travails
of the human heart
logic is a poor study
as Diogenes' wisdom gathers a lantern
searching in vain
there is a deeper reasoning
among the bats gathered in the belfry
ratiocination resting on a slippery slope
grasping at a coherent balance
amidst a pyroclastic flow
and although it makes little sense
it never really had to
the sensory faculty never met
with any goal other than
leap before the bottom falls out
and why Vulcans put forth their take
live long and prosper
it keeps the children coming
as well as the undying poetry written
in song as DJs are given to say
this tune is dedicated to
the one that got away
Oregon 10/23
I saw a need
For a time of repose
Where I'd gather my
Chicks in a crate
Fretting for anything out of
My power
Has made me feel less
Not so great
So I rest and I pray
Call it a day
Leave the whole mess in God's care
To do what is best,with all that entails
Giving my friend's ears a rest
Where did you go?,they will query ?
We thought you had dropped from the earth
And were sailing the skies
In your latest disguise
Well,we missed you ,
For what it is worth
Are you back now for good?
Or is this a stop
On the journey that sent you away
And when will you see
All that's deemed needed seen
And come back fully present to stay
It was never as grand
As imagined
Nor frighteningly ever as dire
As what's cooked in the mind
Which is often unkind
My travels have proved this for sure
Each day with it's mortifications
Of body,and spirit,and will
Are reflections of fears ,yours
Masquerading as drills ,yours
Of these I have taken my fill
Yes I'm home in myself
Chickens in tow
Now if I can just get
These ducks in a row
I'm out of here!
These umpteen times I sought for answers,
These many days I searched for a respite
for my unwavering troubles,
Clouded was my journey,
Foggy was my pursuit,
I ascended the ladder to the Divine,
More were my assailants,
Was I born this way?
Was I crafted for this?
My questions,
My inquires,
None has answers to,
Somewhere inside the mystery,
I still look at the bright side,
I still keep hope alive,
For where light lives,
As narrow as can be,
The dying is hopeful,
Glory to the wick,
That harbingers new dawn.
~The road to happiness within trails where paths are paved with stones of sorrow!
11/12/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
What if the dead were meant to breathe?
What if the birds were meant to be the supper
Of the elders?
The tapestry of our loins - a seizure
What if the strength of man happens to be his weakness?
The secrets so dear - our bane for growth
Cupid's arrow - a share we gladly take
In foolishness we unite - when we quarrel, our wits work well.
What if the Heavens granted well even when we decline the blessing?
Nothing is too grieved for a vulture.
Nothing is too doubtful in the eyes of an Eagle.
The Albatross, a burden I bear joy in carrying; across the neck of the ancients
What if the canary was to boast of its beauty and not its strength?
Doubts in the minds of the crypt men
Lamentation from the soul of the eerie
Grief in the land of the living
What if the burning fire was to sooth the body like a camwood?
What if the rumbling of the belly sounds for fear?
What if the sound of the heart beats for uncertainty?
What if the lines spells doom?
What if the wailing leads to joy for the wise men?
The heart beats for one...
One beats for many....
Many rejoices in the the tears of one.
What if life's expectancy ends in a dream?
Like a pack of cards,
Olympus fell.
Like the spear of a great warrior,
Senzangekhona has swallowed a stone!
Who will bear the pain,
Left on the heels of the archers.
Whose strength shall our burden rest on?
Ologbojo - your beauty incomparable!
Adorable with ancestral silk - perturbed not by the presence of earthly things,
For the spirits , you Stand!
Fingers crawling,
Breathe like gin,
Perspiration - offensive for the gods.
Our battle; a plea to soften the heart of the gods.
Red milk of grief; glory to Olympus!
Ours to ponder, earth to plunder!
Our sweat has no gain in reign
For rain falls from the loins of elders!
TRAVAILS OF A NON-INSOMNIAC
Everything around was going peacefully and fine
until a new family occupied the flat above mine.
The cacophony at the day time is rather tolerable,
but the noise that rattled the night is unbearable.
When it’s time for me to sleep every single night
their nocturnal activities begin, imagine my plight.
Tables and chairs make unending creaking crawl,
heavy footsteps on floor, the ceiling seems to fall.
The broken sleep tortured takes a fatigued flight
leaving me anguished ranting on pillow whole night.
Repeated requests haven’t yet yielded any result,
being insomniac, I’m falsely told, isn’t theirs, my fault.
After nightly torment I’m in so much of mental strain,
it’s a matter of time when sleep starved I’ll go insane.
I don’t know what I should do now, I have no clue,
would anybody care to advise me if I should sue.
December 26, 2018
The future dubs.
A pride is shattered.
The philanderer moon
sprawls over the
candlewick.
A ghost walks
through the wall.
A thin blade of
grass, holds the sun
for ransom.
Fireflies flutter in head
savagely.
I was not able to sleep.
What was the theme of the murder ?
No sugar, no salt
was worthy of death.
Satish Verma
I traveled with Gulliver in his travails
Often times involving in shipwreck-
Or becoming prisoner of the Lilliputians of life.
I sailed on the ocean of life-
Getting marooned on an island called strife.
I must live; but life someday I must leave.
I thread this path with none to share in my grief
Worried that someday the planter will come to fall his tree.
Guns marching forth on the street of Glover;
Sending its victim on holiday to the cemetery at Akoka.
Speeding vehicles diving deep in the belly of the ocean
Conflagrations wailing along the neighbourhood,
Devouring what is left of the existence of man.
This death, this pain and this hopelessness-
Are the travails warped around our mortal existence-
Which to its realities we shall wake up to when we are long gone.
Trampling caused travails of a mare,
Now hopping like a piece of flubber,
While ambling with Sir Greyedalot,
When he had honored the stables yesterday,
She was taken out for a warm up,
And she had truly ambled out,
She was about to be spurred to gallop,
Suddenly she saw the one she had not in years,
It was majestic as it had walked in,
Knighthood of horses should be his and his alone,
That mien and that tail,
With a proud head he soared high,
Probably they had changed hand on him of recent,
But she already had a reason,
All she desired was to be by him,
So what if she had about his age sired in her a few times,
She had not galloped yesterday,
Till SirGreyedalot had walloped,
Which sored the travails,
Now on return she was bound in a corner stable,
Away from the new boy,
She now planned her protest,
And let them know her mind,
She was legging sleep that night,
Making her plans,
Came morning,
Her travails turned to wail,
As she was led out to be sold,
As she had grown old.