The soul's forever—
As an eternal spirit.
Leaves this mortal coil . . .
Again to the spirit world
And home to Heaven’s Kingdom!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
Schoeningen, Germany (November 7, 2014)
(Tanka poetic format)
On this last railroad journey, all’s ablaze
new stars pulse over brows of feathered trees,
which melt their glowing blinks on night's decrees
flickering through me white solace and haze.
Quite often, I have rolled the moonlight’s trail
for winds can pierce into my heart and know
my need to pass the crossings of life's flow
until end’s trip, when tracks of wheel travail.
Much like this ride, I'll walk the endless course
now seen among wayfarers’ eyes dark gold
where swallows chug above to reinforce;
then hold one light, far fair, I do behold!
Memories Of Bygone Days
O' yes, how well I remember her still
giant black oak atop big wooded hill
Those treasured days now long flown by
our free spirits flying so very high
Summer days within Nature's fine realm
majestic views that did so overwhelm
Cloudy days in the meadow far below
flowers galore, O' what a great show
My lady and I went up there to park
glorious scene set our hearts to spark
Under canopy of that old massive oak
she sweet words of undying love spoke
Our tree saw our love start to bloom
picture of that oak in our bedroom
Two years it watched our love grow
how was it to ever see or dare know
Life came and flew on us so fast
love came deeply but failed to last
Fate sent us onto far different treks
love destroyed, both lives were wrecks
Now I pass that massive tree on the hill
memory recalls her beauty , what a thrill
Time destroyed the scene it ruled then
O' the love of what should, could have been
Robert J. Lindley
note : Area cleared in the early 90's , only tree atop that hill
is that lone mighty oak!
A sentinel to the destruction that the world, man's world, wrecks
upon man and Nature alike!!
If only I can ask the world
To gather all the love
Each person has.
If only I can feel the love
Free of inhibitions in some extent
And share it with everyone.
If only I can be
With the love of yours
So that I can have my last wish.
If you permits me to live and die
Unconditionally with and without you
Oneness reflected indeed.
It’s an unknown journey, but I see a trail
heading to the light of tomorrow
There will often be times I'll be afraid, to go
I may stumble a bit, with an eager heart
And may tremble climbing cliffs of old sorrows
There are deep, black chasms I will not forget,
where slopes slick, with pitfalls, are waiting to trip
But I've gone too far, and I can't turn around,
Just as the sun can't turn its back on the day
The trees speak in tongues, so foreign to my ears
using parched, old voices, and tears from the sky
Scraps of brittle leaves litter, with dust all around
Mixed with words left unsaid, that I've left behind
There’s a sharp mist of hope, at the bend of the river
yet,sun on my face seems to lend,
the slope of the rain, but the warmth of the sun
with an open blue sky at the end
How many souls
live on the edge,
Between the gutter
and the ledge?
A hopeless fear
crawls in their gut.
Each day, another,
The moments pass
Sad, bitter winds,
are all that blow.
A man lay huddled,
near the bin.
will take him in.
Frozen tears, on
Frostbitten ears, and
shoes that leak.
His mind forgets
the games of tag,
Old Crockett's hill,
where down they'd slide.
A summer rain,
the puddles deep,
out catchin' toads,
to tame and keep.
His life began
with dimpled cheeks.
Red tousled hair,
and hide 'n seek.
A tough old Dad
who tricked and teased.
A pretty Mom
who smiled with ease.
They had a farm
with fields of hay.
A few old hogs,
and bills to pay.
One summer day,
the sky turned black.
A howling wind,
brought down their shack.
Dad sold the hogs,
and cut the hay.
The farm was lost,
we drove away.
The next two years,
were grim and lean.
Dad broke his back,
to feed us beans.
When winter came,
our food ran out.
We found old Dad
hung by a rope.
Without poor Dad,
no food, or fire;
Mom took my hand,
the day was dire.
The Sister's face
looked mean and sour.
I thought of Mom
most every hour.
They scrubbed my back
until it bled,
cut off my hair;
then I got fed.
'Twas many years
before I left.
My Mom had died
a tragic death.
Now all alone,
I lived and slept.
I begged for food,
and sometimes wept.
A life of days,
and endless woe.
Now time is dead,
and death too slow.
As you walk by
those 'homeless freaks',
with dimpled cheeks.
I do not know?
by Lori Maria Walton
Come walk with me among the daisies
Not with the roses, as they have thorns
But among the lucid pulchritude
Waiting with open eyes to the sky
For whom she lives
Today, walk with me among the daisies
Elevate your eyes to the indigo azure
And ascertain love’s authentic disposition
Contemplate the sheltering expanse dancing above
Admiring the daisy field
Walk with me among the daisies for a moment
Knowing they fade into the winter
Receding into the cold earthy mirth
Waiting for the sun to coax a new blossom
into obvious view
Live with me among the daisies
Bring your passions to these fields
Inosculation of spirits
Brios entwined in submission
To the seasons of life
Leave with me to the daisies
When time can be no more
When you are tired from the roses thorn
And long for gentleness and mercy
To hold you through the night
Lay me softly among the daisies
And let me dream of how they made you smile
And you remembered life’s sweet innocence
As you played in their petals creating
A life of beauty and goodness
A small thunder of beating wings fell
Into it, I threw my hopes and prayers
should his light fail and end succeed,
the thunder would roll on
The fury of his need steals his days, and
I cannot breathe for lack of understanding
why the good die young, why
the good does not last
Chaser of fear after a pint of exhilaration
drowns my joy in knowing
the horizon rises against him, and
I cannot change his course
- A. H. Sewell ©2015
When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood
just how much words effect us.
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.
In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.
The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...
Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...
Together As One
To dream as one.
When we dream we dream as one. When we laugh we laugh as one. We have a life
together that compliments one another. We have a love that is like no other it’s as
one. We reach for the stars and look for the moon. We support and care for one
another on our journeys as our journeys cross paths.
We listen with excitement to each other’s dreams. To understand and encourage
comes from the heart. Knowing with certainty that we deserve the love we give and
receive as we are as one. What is wonderful for one is so for the other for our life
path is the same. Knowing one so well is to know one’s self without a doubt.
Dreams that come together both big and small shared by knowing hearts that want
the same want are as one. A love so strong can feel and guide with the stars and
moon. Set in motion a force together nothing can sever but blessed be a dream
together as one!
Dream, laugh, and love we do as one for we became one. Together we reach for the
stars and the moon as we share the paths we take. Our journey takes us many
directions to which we share our delight. A journey worth taking is a journey worth
sharing…sharing as one!
I smell the scent in the water
As it pushes through my gills
My desire to return
beckons me to the place of my birth
For me the desire consumes me
I struggle against the current
Imagining my place of rest
I desire to place my children
safely on a bed of stones
Sweet water to welcome me home
I know this to be a perilous Journey
I may travel over a hundred miles
Grizzly bears and Eagles block my path
They are to be my test
Yet I am strong
I have swam the oceans
I have known predators greater than these
They will not impede my path
Flying upward in the air
I glimpse the night moon
reaching towards my horizon
water splashes as I make my way higher
yes, almost home
I push beyond my limits
My sisters and I
we turn the river red
imagination spawns reality
I release seven times
Now, completely exhausted
I can finally rest
I have waited
To come home.
A thousand steps in between
who I was and who I am now
do I wonder about the detours?
do I wish I took the dirt road instead?
Would my path have been smoother if I said no instead of yes?
Would the worries have been less then what they are today?
I guess I’ll never know,
unless I go back in time
choose a different path
choose the least attractive offer and run with it
pipe dreams that is all my journey back in time would be
‘cause I would not have met you
and you would not be reading these words....
Everything in life boils down to an immaculate plan,
it may not be my ideal plan or yours
but in the end the voyage continues
whether we want to or not…
‘Cause it is all part of the bigger picture
in that image is your life and mine...
We just got to embrace the journey
no matter how uncertain it might be...
Contest: Anything Goes
Place my mind into a boat
doused with kerosene.
Create a lantern on the water:
light the boat a-flame
and push it out to sea.
Then my heart will be more free.
Man's Quest For A Greater Future
Sunken man, a mystery in the making
earth gives and gives to we so selfishly taking
Blue sky, giving color to a tired, hectic life
time to sit to rest , to break from daily strife
Shattered homes, they decay as we flee
racing into a future we imagine , so rarely ever see
Earth eats up , the mess we so often make
shouldn't man rest, rest from all the greed and take
Parched and dry ground, foundation we need
as we cut and stab we see not all the terrible bleed
Mother earth a bounty, yes, tis Heaven sent
we must stop, enjoy before all earthly beauty is spent
A rest, a hope, before onward we often so foolishly race
We that take too much and rarely ever bother to replace!
Robert Lindley, 12-07-2014
The Tumid River of Acheron (the journey) Part 1
Dark the tumid, rushing waters flow
where man most wisely fears to go
Liquid blackness sings of epic pain
torture, misery and cries of insane
Echoes of evil Eperius in the West
shadow realm where evil never rests
Black ship of Kharon eternally sail
into the sunless land of a dark hell
Land those lost , family and friend
exists for all wicked women and men
Black abyss where Apollo never walks
lost souls ripped by screeching hawks
Forever filled by rowboat conveyed
miserable, crying souls are relayed
Crossing the tarn of Acheron then
cursing future torments for all men
Seething waters set to ever separate
those lost into future tortured Fate
Father of evil waters from which sprang
the Styx of which man's curses rang
Flowing stream holding back evil foul
where tortured spirits scream and howl
Acheron, into a lake of scorching heat
where demons play with souls they eat
Delivered shadows fall on prayers cast
vanity briefly soothes, forever lasts
Prayers sinking like river cast stones
dreams birthed from dead skin and bones
Waters that wrap around Haides evil realm
with Daimon, the dark Lord at the helm
Gushing forth from the bowels of rock
mighty blackened waters rise to shock
Upon its moving mass of wretched stink
poison so lethal no mortal man may drink
Kharon, the ferryman awaits at the oars
to deliver the lost upon evil's shores
Far below the path of Mariandyni coast
the Acheron ferries victims to its host
Loaded with spirits of cries and moans
Kharon laughs at all the misery groans
From the south shore of the black sea
in sun's light never again will they be
Many are the tales of Acheron's fame
its victims steeped in sin and shame
Anguish rises as dark waters deliver
the wretched lost to painfully quiver
In this dark abhorrent , torturing Hell
those embracing lustful sin into evil fell
Robert J. Lindley, 09-13-2014
note: This is part one. The journey into HAIDES
by way of crossing the Styx. The river Styx is
actually an off shoot of Acheron that splits into
the Styx and the Cocytus.
Part two now has two lines written. It will be titled ,
Haides and Tormented Souls (the Dwelling)..
I have no preset limit to the second part, may be
longer or shorter. I suspect it will be even longer.
I hope the readers enjoy this write. I wanted to do
something dark and move away from all my love, romance
and Nature writes. A bit of variety to stir my
I used to mow the lawn with joy.
And trim up all the trees.
Prune the hedges, tend the garden.
Way down upon my knees.
Shoot the bull with good time friends.
Now, most of them are gone.
And, I know my day is coming.
I guess it wont be long.
I sit in shade, with tea in hand,
And wave out to the guy,
Who mows the lawn and trims the trees,
While I just sit and sigh.
I dream about the friends I've had.
We always sang life's song.
And, I know my day is coming.
I guess it won't be long.
I've made some new friends here and there.
It's hard to be alone.
Have shared some stories, had some fun.
A few more friends have flown.
Created some new memories.
When memories are strong.
And, I know my day is coming.
I guess it won't be long
I wrote those verses years ago.
But, I'm still going strong.
And, I know my day is coming.
I guess it won't be long.
If you continue to hide
How will they know?
Who you are
What you are
Behind all the guilt
Hidden behind the negative thoughts
You don’t realise the depth of you
You don’t get the image
God sees when He looks at you
Faults - mistakes all forgotten
Shackles broken long ago
The only prison you are in; is man made
By your hands
By your thoughts
By the misconstrued image you see
In others eyes
Focus on your race
Not those around you
This chapter is for your book
It's your path
Philosophy on Life, Evil and the World
The Masters, serve their greed
take from those in great need
Such is evil's darkest cloaks
swallows that so often chokes
The Blinded, serve very well
masters in the pit of Hell
Each has a false laid pride
darkness is where they hide
The Slaves, eat deep regret
of life they'll never get
Each accepts a darkened yoke
defiance rarely ever spoke
The Brave, sail with heart
paying from the very start
Sacrifice to save our Souls
Deep river, so many shoals
The Warriors, cut ever deep
die as family sets to weep
Freedom's mantle they serve
with epic hearts, iron nerves
The Innocent, stand so bare
suffer greatly, so few care
Yet they are the true treasure
their test is the real measure!
Robert J. Lindley, 09-05-2014
note: Impossible to include ever
group so this poet came up with
these six to write about...
I remember you well
The happiness and the perfection
A lifetime in which to dwell
No worries to block my path
Playing make believe with my dolls
Unaware of the passage of time and age
Oblivious to hate and cruelty
Happy and content with my thoughts
No nightmares to disturb my peace
Teddy bear pressed to my cheek
Friends to laugh with
A Mom and Dad to hold close
Boyfriends that came and went
A long life ahead
A career, love, marriage, children
No rock left unturned
Do I know this reflection
This woman who bears my name
Where did the little girl of yesterday go
And the woman that was me
She only resides inside nowadays
My hair has lost its sparkle
My cheeks are hollow and pale
Eyes that are too dark and empty
My beauty has faded away
Many deaths have left me alone
Nightmares rock me to sleep
In the dark I weep
I fear the end and wish it also
The pain of old age pulses in my bones
Dear God, take me home
I lay beneath the green earth
In peace I dwell
Here I watch the changing sky
The rain drenches me
The snow is beautiful as it lays upon me
The sun soothes my bones
The cool earth wraps me in her arms
Filigree clouds drift by dreamily
I listen to the wind in the trees
I hear the voices weep above me
I gather each falling tear
Death is not such a terrible place
I want to say to those above
The youth of yesterday was fleeting
My elder years were long and painful
And only death has loved me well
Now I reside in Paradise
My only regret are things left unfinished
June 21, 2013
For the contest, Talking to Yourself
Do you know my sunny days?
Do you only know the rain?
The man a woman can praise,
Must come alive again.
Do you know my smiling face,
The brighter side of me?
Have you seen my different shades,
How I can truly be?
©2014 Honestly JT
It's always just my luck,
She likes what she sees.
Otherwise, I'm not enough,
And she's not right for me.
If I tried too hard,
It's then I will fail.
The matters of my heart,
Will they soon prevail?
©2014 Honestly JT
I drink of Life
Of lavish beauty
Consuming its fragility
I drink of Death
From which I flee
And cheat with immortality
I drink of pain
Its utter grief
And spew out my humanity
I drink of time
Of frozen bliss
And Change’s continuity
I drink of love
And drag it deep
For it is my serenity
© Donna Golden; December 25, 2014
It is the old man from the threefold of life
To whom I have taken control on this
But the poet whatever
The cause should be
The one who must walk
Along the concept
For which beauty fades from
Measure of apparent
Size of naturalistic explanations
Regardless how rich your heart is
And none of us is able pass through.
It is the poet who is living
Psychologically into this burrow of guesses
And paradises within him
With reflection and with correction
Of life this creates such
A record that commands he must live or die.
we are human tuning forks
vibrating to our own frequencies
searching for the rhythm and the pulse
of the universe
the peace of mind
we're looking to find
the occasional perfect moment
to prove we're not blind
so I accept my flaws
and their probable cause
because in the last place to dream
there can be no laws
I never asked to be born; yet now I am here
My journey through life is not one that I fear
I cherish each moment I live on this earth
Thank god for my mother for her labour and birth
I sail like a ship on a sparkling blue sea
Try avoiding the pitfalls that may befall me
Rising to the challenges as I navigate through life
Through childhood, adolescence, becoming a wife
We climb many mountains and difficulties we face
That’s the essence of being part of the human race
I’ll never let a new opportunity pass me by
I want to remain living until the day that I die
Written for Wanderlust Contest Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
~awarded 5th place~
The world makes more sense,
When I tend to write it down.
I'd rather use my pen,
Instead of speaking loud.
Does conversation win,
In the place of falling rain?
Where do I begin?
The heart may explain.
©2015 Honestly JT
Ode To A Former Wild Life
Drank too hard, rode my horses too fast
didn't give a damn if my body did not last
Midnight was a bell for me to pour it on
get wasted until my head felt like a stone
Pretty gals, O' how they spun my wheels
woo'ed them as I pleased, made no deals
Passionate nights spent dancing in the bed
plenty of time for sleep after I am dead
Life was just a big box to rip'er open
bigger thrills , prettier gals I was hoping
Once a spirited mustang, wild as all hell
wildest things I did I dare not to tell
Memories good or bad often can not decide
yet one thing is sure, had one helluva' ride
Memories good or bad , often know not which
yet having none at all would be a real bitch!
Robert J. Lindley , 04-18- 2015
There is a place you can go that is full of only love and Warmth .
you will be surrounded by a light that shines from the Heavens ,
Sprinkles of Silver and Gold.
This place is filled with brilliant colors of Purple , vibrant Gold, all colors.
not one Color is less significant then another ,
for every color is equal here .
This place is surrounded by the beauty of different Flowers.
All flowers have significance here . No one Flower is better then another .
All Flowers are equal here .
It is important you know , you can cry here , and should cry as often as needed .
For the tears will cleanse your Soul and give the Flowers water to grow.
No one Tear is insignificant here , every tear has value and not one is better then another .
money holds no value , Where you live , what you own, has no significance here .
You will be surrounded by a beautiful light that shines from the Heavens .
A shining warm light will encircle you and allow nothing to hurt you .
Hate will be shed at the door like an old jacket of no use.
There is a place of beauty and Worth.
This place will not be found on Earth .
It is a place where no one person is better then another .
Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013
I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over
Taught me to fight back
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over
He gave me my stubbornness
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over
How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over
Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on
I may stumble I may fall
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over
Sabrina Niday Hansel
Placed 1st in "Unsung Hero" 7/2014 contest
Also 3rd. in "Portrait of a Poet" 1/2014