2day once more was fun day, because the sun was there:
Of course! Like all the sundays, as usually they were...
if only you were there 4 me, and not 4 all together!
The sun has gone, and in the mood, it's moon day that begins
and all around the ticking sounds that I hear all around me,
there's suddenly my Blackberry: a ringtone's sent to me.
As yesterday was 'gain your birthday, told the ringtone sent to me,
As usual, I'm sending you 4 tunes to comfort me;
because I know that once again, as for many a birthday
you surely still are thinking of the things that run the same way:
There is The Sun, there is The Belle and Moon day !s their frenemy's day;
and I am used to sail away for it's too hard to see
that your stubborness clings to him and it won't let us be...
Goodbye, my love; I hope next year you'll come4tunes to comfort me.
Along the way, I found this site:
Now a full year has come around;
Niche a verse play as words recite;
Indulge some cheer as stanzas ground;
Voice piquant rhymes as wordplay streams;
Emote and feel a surge of fun;
Rouse space and time with muse and dream;
See sensuous will succinct with pun;
Align my heart with mind and words;
Reach deep within to feel word craft;
Yield to fine start as voice is heard.
Glimpse thought unseen in sanguine drafts;
Love what I do with passion's poise;
Opt verse to woo by sacred choice.
08 February 2015
The Sussex lad, to title and land born,
An alumni, now he stands proudly tall.
In Oxford students pass at future’s dawn,
For some the inspiration was his call.
Provocative, a mighty pen his sword,
Expelled for godless view from hallowed hall.
The Baronet poet, friend to a Lord,
The Gothic king’s voice did incite them all.
His Mary worshipped at her husband‘s feet,
She held his heart tight from death’s final flame.
Did they engage in black acts, pagan mete?
A dark and often troubled soul laid claim.
Into the storm set sail to the end foretold,
He died before his talent could unfold.
He stood bravely before me
with a medal of honor in his right hand
and a bandage of agony around his left knee
It seemed like he had struggled to stand,
his crutches lay useless on the ground
I found it hard to understand why,
a soldier in pain didn't even frown
With a voice firm but dry
his words shook me like thunder
"You're now the man of this house"
he uttered like a worn-out hunter
quivering up my legs like a terrified mouse
Drowning my mind through cold ears
he passed his sincere respect and sunken tears
The anniversary of your treason
Disturbs the air—again! Like every year
Floating, whispering, the one real reason
You left me; the name never leaves my ear.
“Him!” a name I can’t even speak, wouldn’t dare.
For it would cause chaos and confusion
Too daunting, distances too far to bear,
Can’t even comprehend that illusion.
You left me here to sit—sick! And the thought
Of you and him in that beautiful embrace…
It’s a damn shame what you did! I OUGHTA!!!!!
Just, calm down—please! Dear Lord, please give me grace.
The love you gave—your perfect portrayal,
The love you took—your perfect betrayal.
Submitted for Olusegun Adelana's "Betrayal" contest
Good poets like precision, real art is
an economy of words that define.
That is why the subject of love will mess
up even the wisest of poets that line
up to talk much of unrequited love,
that sounds more like lust most of the time.
True love may not be eternal or above
ordinary humans but found to be divine
nevertheless because it endures in the coffee
made each morning, resides in the same bed
every night, lasts through mistakes and daffy
misunderstandings, diapers, children fed,
sickness, health and death, life's distracting lures.
When loved ones work at it, love endures.
no i don't make sense
i'm most always tense
and my heart has dents
but why should that stop us?
my theories are juvenile
my thoughts are in a pile
and my worries go on for a while
but you won't notice.
i don't have much
i can screw up everything i touch
and my morals sometimes wind up in a bunch
but i won't stop being in love with you.
no i'm not pretty
my days are most always shitty
and i have too much pity
but my soul is open to you.
Count thy Blessings
Count thy blessings, name them one by one
Compose thyself as pythons do on their preys
Ignite thy spirit to the rising sun
Rejoice with thy hands for points of thy being.
Compose thy songs with a theme of pure praise
Shout a Holy name thee deemed worthwhile
Wine and dine in the hollow of thy soul-
A resourceful asset for impulses,
For pints of freedom worth warm worthy toast
And radiant of clustered wings like birds.
If by chance thee spot ways to noble course
Count it to thy pride by abstracting lines.
Behold how cute to have survived the game
Count thy blessings aloud one by one.
We boomers, as our generation’s called,
have lived through two seasons, considered great,
during which our values were overhauled --
The Summer of Love and Autumn of Hate.
Both brought us together and gave us hope.
In the face of injustice, both were staged --
the first, a celebration with free dope,
the other a tragedy that enraged.
We were innocent in ‘Sixty-Seven;
we saw world violence and were appalled.
Our attitudes changed by Nine-Eleven;
we sought revenge, though we were shocked and galled.
While Winter of War passes, may we find
The Spring of Renewal and peace of mind.
Remember the day when conversation strikes
Between the two of us for the very first time
Back then, I had no inkling of your likes
The way you know not of my love for lime
Remember the day when you first called me
I picked up the phone at the very first ring
We chatted freely from the trees to the sea
And together this ballad we start to sing
Remember the day when I'm asked to be your girl
I was blushing and grinning from ear to ear
Till now, you are still as precious as the pearl
Just like the first day we dated last year
Remember this special day of the many few
When I tell you just how much I Love You!
I carry crimson pain within my fur;
'Tis how my wretched stripes have come to be.
My motion swift as wind, my vision never blurred,
My stature mighty as the waves at sea.
I frown at camouflage, I need it not
For hiding is a trait built for the weak.
Through diligence and wit my prey is caught;
Through stringent fangs that hide a heart that's meek.
Auspicious silence e'er befriends my paws
To tread the lonely vicious jungle that is life.
A life sustained by keenness of my claws,
And by the bitter hatred of my strife.
In years gone by, my roar shall still be heard;
E'en when I die, and when my soul's interred.
(A Tale of Fifty years)
It was a dreary cold teenage wedding
all the old folk gave us absolute hell,
organ player plays “Where are you heading?”
Only the bloody dog wished us well.
Knaresborough, a freezing December night
gave us a hellish chilly reception,
the caravan gas stove refused to light
gone the illusion of rampant conception.
Fifty years on, a love of heart and soul
here in our terrace home in “Kitty Fold”
Played our part in life’s perpetual scroll
now yearn to the young our story told.
All around us an institution fails
this dreary teenage wedding onwards sails!
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Across starboard bow the cliffs drew nearer,
Into harm's way mighty battalions drove...
Men and mule upon cold waves of terror
Stormed the beachhead landings on Anzac Cove!
Army Corps great red and white standard stars
In battle hymn out of Commonwealth port:
Where the flame of liberty fiercely chars
In every heart whose sons fell and fought!
Raise the flag and let us honour the few
That march at dawn - the glory and the ghost
Of those brave Diggers in foreign graves who
In duty stood their ground and stood their post.
These young men and soldiers went off to war
And fought for King and Country and the Corps.
Dedicated to the veterans of the Australian
And New Zealand Army Corps. Lest we Forget!
He was born in Genoa,
and his mother was Susanna;
and he set sail at the age of fourteen,
to begin a new exploration age!
His father Domenico
gave him inspiration and courage...
while his three brothers: Giacomo,
Bartolomeo and Giovanni ventured with him
on his long and dangerous voyages,
and accused of many atrocities...
they were sent back to Spain in chains!
A visionary with an extraordinary man's ego,
followed in the footsteps of Marco Polo...
and in his final days, he died a disappointed man!
FOR THE NEW TORCH BEARERS
(APROPOS MLK: 2)
I have voyaged over many tempestuous oceans and seas;
I have been pursued in woods by vicious dogs,
Salivating stale slave smells left in hanging trees;
Been hunted, trapped and penned like sliming wild hogs.
I’ve waded rivers buoyed by the bodies of ancestors;
My blood has caked on their banks in the golden dawn;
Yet I’m still here; solid like a rock, standing in the mist
Of our debtors;
For I am the flaming spirit from the black phoenix’s spawn
I am that everlasting arm of which the ancestors leaned
I am that of which the ancestors long ago spoke;
I am what sustained them during their bloody rebuke
And lashing scorn;
I am the anchor that strengthen them with an audacious
And undying hope.
So come chosen children; everybody gather here
Let us sit together talking and praying for a while.
Like Papa, let us keep our eyes on the prize; gaze
Not down on the ground.
Raise high your heads: strutting down the blood stained
Listen children, the battle is not yet won; there’s still work
left to be done.
Girdle yourselves with an ebony pilgrim’s pride; girt
The rising sun of new days begun.
Rise up little children and give rebirth to the words
The ancestors said;
Rise up little children and cover yourself with the blood
They have shed.
Rise up little children and rip apart the new veiled shackles
And invisible yoke;
Rise up little children, raising your bright new torches
Higher than everlasting hope:
You are the new torch bearers of the dream;
You are the new Martin Luther King.
Speedily sprouted, sheltering shrubs
Yes from sun-like Sirs
Planning to fertilize our farms
And mechanizing micro melons
‘966 found them chopped
Them the Irokos
Ironically from well meant members
Yet again, they too felled
In their quest to unite and grow
Our hearts aches, bleeding and saturated
Yet our mouth guffaw
For our mother had lads
Sons that could lay inert
That others may sprout
Delicious scents of cocoa tease the nose
While baking a cake for candles to crown
A tender greeting for a birthday treat
As brightly wrapped parcels gently repose
All chosen with care so my love is shown
Today it is her I shall celebrate.
My passion baked into morsels, sweet
My love declared with a scented, red rose
And breakfast in bed needs no dressing gown.
It is her love that made my life complete
From that first tender kiss on our first date
I’ve welcomed the warmth she placed in my heart;
Now love’s wants and needs can anticipate
As from her side I can never depart.
Align dear heart your passage here;
Niche happy fare as fate is set;
Now live true art in message clear;
Invest in wares that posture bets;
Vouch for your best in sphere and poise;
Embark and gaze beyond the bend;
Reach fervent quest in chase and choice;
Seek to steer maze in facts that trend;
Attain fond joy with peace of mind;
Reap what you sow in your trade pact;
Yield fine employ as sure heart finds.
See and thus know the way of tact;
Give zest and wit true jest that fills;
Plan to fund hits with wonders still.
04 June 2014
A SONNET-My God for me
My God for me-
set me free
to bring me peace
My God for me-
eyes to see
or hope-less lives
My God for me-
none can destroy
My God for me...
Hung on a tree
inspires by phrase from C Rossetti's poem-Long Barren
Listen, my heart brings you greetings:
Offers clear rhymes simple and plain;
Voice that now starts lovely feelings;
Each thought takes time to fling fond gain;
Let my soul sing with words that come;
Yes I can share fond style and poise.
Glimpse how love flings a lovely sum;
Rejoice joy's fare with cheery voice;
Express a touch that feels so light;
Explore a tense of here and now;
Take time to nudge beauty most right;
Intuit good sense in Why and How;
Nurture fond feel that springs good cheer:
Gifts of goodwill that lives right here.
08 July 2014
Today we've been married eleven years. We've smiled lots of smiles and we've cried lots of tears. We've had good times and bad times. We've had our ups and our downs. You've always been there to help turn them around. When ever I'm down and don't want to get up you come along and stand firm and strong. You stand by me no matter what. You're even there when my temper gets hot. You calm me down and get my feet back on the ground. Yes we've had problems but we handled them well. Now I'd stand by you at the gates of hell. I'd fight off the devil himself to be by your side, because through this life together we will ride.
(Dedication: For Ann)
On this fine day, one simple thought:
Unwrap the gift, urge knows fond stray;
Rise to life's play, roar in sweet spot.
Ask love to lift, apt as fine sway;
Note kind align, new and old ways;
Nice fragrant spice, notice wit style;
Indulge these signs, include word play;
Voice speaks so nice, verbs that spring smiles;
Embrace swift flow, endear old times;
Reach and recall, reap gracious feel;
See that sure glow, sense beyond rhymes;
Aim since the fall, art that now heals;
Rest funds the quest, rich moments thrill;
Yield to pure grace, yes peace floods will.
10 October 2014
(Dedication: For Michael and Clara
on Your 1st Wedding Anniversary)
Observe and see the love that fills,
Urge knows a touch that blooms and grows;
Reach out and be one with fond thrill.
Abide deep nudge in feisty glow,
Near or far sense a lovely cheer;
Niche in twin hearts a starry dome,
Indulge swift tense that works right here;
Voice a fine art in thoughts of home,
Explore the world with grand delight;
Reap in good time the pulse of spring,
See lovely swirls beyond mere sight;
Appoint fond chimes to laugh and sing,
Remember joy in healthy play,
Yield splendour's ploy through night and day.
19 July 2015
Magic of music…Dionysiac frenzy
Dizzy day…muzzy mind
Fettered soul gets unbridled
Nude carnival…gait crazy.
Passionate potion pacifies pain
Red crystal bubbles wink
Halloween show hurls horror
Putrid flesh breaks hibernation.
Head buried in hands frail
Stressed-out forehead…foretold fate
Dislocated mind…disjointed narrative
Femme fatale…hemlocked grail.
Drooping eyes…rigor mortis…cold grave
Monodic music muffles the mouth.
Nigeria is this you the golden eagle
Feeding on dried vegetation with wings in black
Once like Isaac in sight of Abraham
A rose in the hands of jezebel thou are
Could that be you so lean as if HIV positive
Infected by unfaithful partners of yours
That prefer thy quality to that of leprosy hands
Oh! What a paradoxical life
Can you ever grow Inspite of all this
Like the great Iroko tree in my village
But if the red cap, the talking drum
And the great amara eaters will come toge’er with one voice
And say like the biblical Jesus, “stand and walk”
I know that thy bone shall rise again.
This year that day wasn't seen,
And we missed it's feel,
'Twas if it had been,
And we know it's real.
I went about the park,
And a glimpse I saw,
It really wasn't missing,
It could be seen from near and far.
Endless memories wandering there,
Alone, yet all about,
The day was clear and wondrous fair,
We're alive our hearts did shout.
That day I did see found,
I looked about and turned around.
Kingfishers So Deeply Water Diving
The moon filled nights are now waiting
In a sky filled to its fullest view
As life catches the fish we are baiting
Hope brings love forth once again anew!
Sweet trees are now ripe and bearing
Huge fruit destined to be our gift
Faith and love are both softly caring
For streams flowing with us so very swift!
Future days await our faithful arriving
Hours we spend storing our hopes in dreams
Like Kingfishers so deeply water diving
Sweetest loves flow in the brightest streams!
Forever our hopes hold us in this deep embrace
We that love God and accept his eternal grace!
Robert J. Lindley, 07-23-2015
Note- Forgive me for being on a sonnet blitz and writing so many as of late.
This was written tonight and posted on another forum where I moderate a Creative Writing sub-forum.
There was a time when 45, I thought life had passed me by
I had spent too much time seeing the night train leave.
Through the rain, soaked train windows saw people reading
some looked into space and there were those who tried
not to cry. My friends had drifted away and my old mate
Trond had found God and to think we sat all night long
talking about books and in the morning we went out in his
boat fishing drinking cold beer and falling asleep as spring
the sun danced on the blue water in the fjord and wind from
the dark mountain didn’t blow.
The best women too lost patience and took the tram home
to mum and dad waiting for you to grow up.
At 45, your parents begin dying the impossible happens and
you are a floating iceberg lost in a glass of whisky.
And just as wheels on suitcases are invented you grow up
polish you shoes and find that little cabin in a hidden valley
it has a leaking roof and has been waiting just for you.
Why must I lay here barren and wasted
What beauty don’t you see in my being?
You’re rejecting the fruit you have tasted
On deaf ears fall the cries I am pleading
You say your attraction to me is deep,
For you there will never be another
So why does my poor heart every night weep
Because you refuse to be my lover;
How can I make you understand clearly
Has this love become stale and bittersweet?
As I let my blood pour out it’s merely
A hollow attempt ending in defeat
How cruel is the heart armored in malice
Just like a bitter end; cold and callous