Featured Poet: James Zealy

I have come to know and appreciate James Zealy, of Greensboro, North Carolina, as a creative and enthusiastic poet. He also claims to be "a database administrator and finance person." He embraces poetry as his unique means, he says, "of expressing feelings about things I have witnessed or events I have experienced, so that I can release the event and let it go." Here are some recent poems you may not have seen:



Say What You Need to Say
by James Zealy

Calm as a placid windless lake
A voice barely a whisper
Sears the air
Can you come today

Time has taught
That the time has come
Even though it may not seem to be

On that Saturday
I chose to see
Her gentle spirit one last time

A meek and forceful hero
Who did great things without acclaim
Motioned for me to sit next to her

In typical economic display she sat up
Tapped the bed beside her
Her eyes still clear azure blue

Say what you need to Say
Was her entre for me to
To let go of the frail body
Cancer wracked and spent

She hugged me
She knew I loved her
She knew I valued her
She knew she gave my family a gift
She knew more than anyone I needed to say goodbye

Without further ado she let go
I let go
And barely past midnight on the Eleventh of September
She passed in typical economic fashion

09/25/2006

Author's Note: My Aunt Martha died 09/11/2006


Hypocrite's Strut
by James Zealy

Peacock proud espouse
Exact verse parlays
Virtues that do not forgive
I am the pretenders worst desire
A man who has seen the fault
Of the guileless rants
Repeated as if the words were gilded gold

Witnessed from the fruit of my loins
Is a man condemned by all that is unholy
By those that have bastardized forgiveness
In shrouds of intolerance

I see a man that has
All the attributes of
Stereotypical saved souls
Save one, save one

While the pretender's squawk
Pretense filled accolades
And preach against those that seek understanding
For something they cannot control

I witness a gay man
Who is my son
Who is ethical and lives the golden rule
I cannot believe one such as he is condemned

I will not believe that it is so
Regardless of the peacock proud gestures
Spirtuality is not their divinity alone
Is not their divinity alone
Is not their divinity alone



*******************and a few older ones:**************************

Box of Treasures
by James Zealy


The tattered old Cigar box
Brims with slips of paper
Put aside but never forgotten
A remnant of a loved ones legacy

Days turn to weeks speed rapidly to years
The pain of loss so dear
It flashes memories of times dear
Of flowers in spring, of rolling hills of tobacco

A menagerie of life, pets, plants, livestock, people
Flashes rapidly by, building images of pleasant times
The old farm house a testament of life and love
The land so dear, now gone

Time depletes the pain
A renewal of life in the land
Flushes all the past back at hand
With Curious anxiety the box attracts
A heart ready to face the past

Each piece of paper a nugget of days past
Memories long forgotten rise again
As if its keeper is being lead
To rediscover a hidden script

The anxiety fades, exhilaration builds
An Ethereal revelation of memories
Constructed with each unique scrap
Entices the boxes keeper to search for meaning

Cryptic pieces of another’s life
Treasures passed to one who cares
To make things known undefined
A mission of love and care begins
05/07/2004

Author's Note: My wife's grandmother died 2 months after we were married, in 1976. Due to health reasons, she was not able to go see her when she was hospitilized. Our marriage was the last time she saw her. One of the remnants of her legacy were some old cigar boxes containing recipes, old wedding invitations etc. For many years she was never able to look at the boxes contents. Most of her fondest memories growing up were spent on her grandparents farm in rural Davidson County NC. In recent years she opened the boxes to begin writing a cookbook.

Muses Moonlight Serenade
by James Zealy

Sing the song of Inspiration
To an audience of peers
Test our Appreciation
Of the gift to our ears

Their singing in the moonlight
Partying with the crew
Of inspirational mates
Our muses let us stew

By george they be on strike
Partying on the beach
While we swelter at the lack of sight
And pray that they can reach

A negotiated settlement
For all of us to sign
So we can fling their words as a testament
To our creative genius in kind

Lord knows what the conditions
Could possibly be
As we wait on the propositions
We will sign any decree

Calliope, Erato and Polyhymnia laugh
As they Lead the negotiating team
While drinking a Goombay Smash
In this Paradise of dreams

We get it guys, just tell us where to sign
We admit we did you wrong
Our intent was benign
Only next time please take us Along.

08/17/2004

Author's Note: Well now, it seems our muses are in total control, and we better be nice or they will leave us holding our creative desires in total limbo with no where to turn. By gum they are more powerful and demanding then Teamsters!!!!!!


Wine Tasting
by James Zealy

Let the nectar caress my lips
Tease my tongue
As it pours from the vessel

Tart, flavorful and strong
Round and full
Bold and sensual
Warm and enticing

It envelopes my being
With its essence

Urges wanton crave more
Than the encounter allows
Until I decide to taste again.

07/09/2004

Lost Soul's Concerto
by James Zealy

My daughter and I watched the stark images
Entranced by the blacks, whites and shades of grey
As the soulful strings from Schindler's Theme
Wailed with mournful sadness

At its finale
Her musician's instincts
Led her to pick up her student strings
And Play the melancholy melody

Tears marked her cheeks
As she swayed gently with the aching flow
Of the cruelty threaded piece

We lived the angst filled moment
As the music haunted us
For a silent moment
While the lost souls listened



03/09/2006

Copyright © 2006 James Zealy







*************On James Zealy by Kath*****************
Well. I wrote a hello to James in an IM earlier this year... and look what happened...it took a week or so, what fun!!!

Doin' the Huggley-Buggley(Collaboration with Kathleen Wilson)
by James Zealy

Huggley-buggley my friend James!
Buggley-huggley my friend Kathleen!
(We gots lots of them buggley things.)
If you hugg them enough do day buggg off,
or are the huggs the buggs demise?
Buggs dem eyes?
I'm eyen dose buggs,
I'm a wantin dose hugs.
Dem eyes is bugged
full of them buggs.
Hugs be nice if they ain't bugg hugs,
big hugs are better than bugg hugs
especially in de bedded life.
No bed bugg bites,
love bites are bedder.
Hugs in bedded
slays them bugs imbeded.
Cajoling love bites insteaded
wit de hugs ooh aay
de buggs will play.
A huggle a day keeps dose buggles away.
Huggley-buggley's parlay
sweet huggles alay
Buggles Buffet



07/14/2006

Author's Note: Collaboration with Kathleen Wilson, a little stream of conciousness nonsensical fun, bantered back and forth in IM's, Add a little spit and polish (I did the spit she did the polish) and you got something that was entertaining and fun for both of us.