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Best Poems Written by Lorenz Lynn

Below are the all-time best Lorenz Lynn poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Lorenz Lynn Poem

Ode To Tai-Ana At Age Ten and Far Away

1

Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still burn
thine absence half a decade spent in vain
to break the bonds that tie, that fett’ring chain
that holds me from embracing  thee, thyself  in turn.

Thine all enchanting smile, piercing eyes–
thy flailing arms, the limbs, with rhythmic stroke – 
responses soundless to the silent words I spoke
to thee before from thee Fate forced me from thy cries.

I watched thee grow through temp’rate times of yore – 
remembering the gall’ry of my mind.

‘Twas all I had.
			
			2

Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still ache
thy presence all too far in distant land
where careless arms push thee with calloused hand
away from mine where once I swore thee none could take.

Thine eyes with tears I shared I shed alone
so thou might never feel the agony
the anguish, loss of my identity,
thy father, thee my offspring, daughter, dearest one.

I watched thee grow through chilling times, and more – 
remembering thy portrait in my mind.

‘Twas all I had.

.			3

Oh, gentle child, how doth my soul yet yearn
those many hours oft upon my breast
thy head thou laid safe harbor for thy rest,
thy questions,  mind alert, thy hungering to learn.

Thy voice I hear through dreams and zephyr breeze,
thou lark by morn by eve the nightingale,
as Dawn and Dusk, Aurora without fail,
thou hast my heart and soul kept warm with ease.

I watch thee grow, and will,  forever more – 
remembering thy sculpture in my mind.

‘Tis all I have.

		4

Until we are as one renewed
some future date somewhere awaits
when thou her servant dare to flee 
that which with thee so long accrued
where here I love and there she hates
that wily witch who bindeth thee. 

Break loose those  prison bars that bind
thy tired wings that flap in vain – 
Renew thy pledge at length to find
thy youthful freedom once again.
Then shalt thy flags fly high aloft
while eagles scream thy freedom song,
while robins chirp with redbreast, soft – 
all a capella – pure and long.

Then both our souls shall share their peace,
a father and his daughter, found
to spend their lives on borrowed lease
to live and die on hallowed ground.

Thus, take, Tai-Ana, this, my prayer
that fathers and their children hear
of this solemnity
that children here and everywhere
ne’er shed a sad though soulful tear
for all eternity.

[Finis]

Details | Lorenz Lynn Poem

What Shall He Be Called, the Bastard Who Innocently Lies Wit

Not every woman’s dream 
 	of procreation 

can be fulfilled;

not every woman dreams
	of procreation, 

her body thrilled.

But loved and lovers’ inclinations – 
	recreation
not 	re-creation – 
cannot, will not be stilled.

until

one day

intervention
bypassed her – 

she –  unplanned –  filled
her womb with him – 

left herself swelled, ahh – 
	SWOLLEN
swooned with him
inside her womb within

where unnamed seed
became
a named existence: But what?
	CHARLES WALLACE
	for example
from L’Engle’s Wrinkle?
	DAVID for a King
or Copper field?
	JOHN for having been begotten
DON, but not forgotten?
	BILL, for Will that Shakespeare geek?
or anything from A      to        ZEKE?

AHHH, “But what’s in a name,”
said Juliet to her Romeo, 
as they wooed before they wed, 
then lived too fast, a mortal blow
by Fate, so Willy said.

But HE and SHE should have a say,
together name the child
meaningful – not wild –
a name for life
from birth through final day.

SHE lay alone by night
		and more alone by day
			since “Daddy” went away;
		she wouldn’t play
his childish show of might

as in: Stay?  I might!
Pregnant?
Good Night!

He left with stormy words
and even louder silence
whose echoes shake the very walls
within where 
whatever-his-name-will-be
is growing
no one knowing
what to call him yet.
No names are set.

Twelve weeks are gone
		somewhere
and Baby what’s-his-name
still asking (in his silent way)
“What’s my name, Mommy?
Don’t you have a clue?
  I need a name, my Mommy, dear.
It’s up to me and you 
since Daddy’s gone, I hear,”

	She  heard his voice 
through pumping 
of his little heart
with hers
offering his private choice
a conversation of love
two ways instead of three,
the father gone 
and he inside, said she.

The trochee beat, TRO chee, TRO chee
kept repeating
kept repeating
kept repeating
till the trochee names appeared
by all the saints with Michael in the lead,
her father smiling, his name upon her seed.

Today she lies contemplative
no heartbeat more than hers – inside – 
no breath than hers to breathe the same – 
not since the night the child died
before the coming of the morn – 
the dawn of day he should be born – 
and none on whom to cast the blame.

A quiet muse just pens the words
the rhythm of the tone that girds
the spirit of sweet Michael’s name.
In life or death he is the same:
before he lived, his life was done
though lives he still, her darling son,
for evermore in memory
in poetry eternally.

Details | Lorenz Lynn Poem

Yoga a Dance of Gypsy Spirits

Part 1

When YIN Hatha Will, YANG Hatha Way

Introduction:

ADAGIO!
said Sam, a Barber, to his strings
who wed Savasana to her beloved
Pranayama, breathlessly waiting
for her to relax in his waiting arms.

she did 

deeply reveling in Ravel’s
ultimate crescendo of Bolero
their thoughts without body
meditating in a Methodist Church
no dancing sugar plums --
just asanas – 
marching six by six, erect postures,
along the Ridge of the Road,
relaxing deeply, 
concentrating on a Panorama 
still barefoot bodies
sitting, standing, kneeling
all cross armed
cross legged
breathing – breathing –
s l o w l y          b   r   e   a   t   h   I   n   g

Pranayama 
copulating with
Savasana
from Dawn’s early light
Till Dark’s endless night,
Love’s song they sang
in silence
when Yin met Yang.

Yoga, The Love-Dance of Gypsy Spirits

Part 2

Dusk 			

slowly 			slipped 
towards 
deeply 		dark 
abysmal 	night
Savasana 	seeing 	nothing, 


sightless, 	seeking 	solace

relaxing – 

Savasana  	so 	steeped 	
in 	savasana 
itself

Savasana

stood 	erectly, 

soundless, 

silent – 

one 

l     o	n	g 

s	i	n	g	l	e 

note, 
s   u    s	t      e	n         u	t               o – 
s   u  s  t  e n – n – n – n – n – u    t   o o o o o o o h
breath		less		ly 
h	e	l	d 

embraced in pranayama

while Asanas

manipulated their arms, legs, neck, spine

all arranged in flowing, fluid line

flowing smoothly like luscious wine
Pranayama praying posturing
a    s    s	o     r    t	e      d

a
	s
		a
	n
a

s

Kundalini singing chants
chanting solemn sounds of sirens’ songs
in these soundless silent nights
where
Pranayama
meets
Savasana
until
Ashtanga
rises
in blazing majesty.

Details | Lorenz Lynn Poem

Floccinaucinihilipilification

When you were unfaithful
to your promises to me,
I told you in no uncertain syllables,
I need no empathy nor sympathy.

I simply said:
I flocci-
nauci-
nihili- 
pili-
ficated you.
You dumbly asked,

“Wha- uh, what do you mean?”

At first, I looked at you and said nothing.

You became more forceful in your demands.

This time I said, “NOTHING!”

You left, nothing in or on your mind.

Details | Lorenz Lynn Poem

Ode To An Eastern Lady

1

Behold!  that human angel hovering
not in bright skies but on far-distant land
a siren voice, hypnotic, echoing – 
desperate singing, sundry songs without demand – 

Till comes that calming gentle rest.

Unfettered wings whose feather tips remain
too still until in cauldron stirs the beast
found’ring gales ablast from vicious East
near off rip her appendages with his disdain – 

Till comes that zephyr from the West

resounding with his promises, his prayer
that joined would be they both in aether air.
		
		2

But, lo!  Across that mighty depth of sea
where stands that noble knight in disarray
his hand a pen to wield in poetry
an arm to hold a shield from harm to her delay – 

Till comes for her he on his steed – 

The mighty dragon spewing searing flame
to burn her tender flesh with hateful scorn 
repelled she with her wits not words foresworn
an oath to not repeat nor say his hated name – 

Till comes the time they both agreed –

resounding with his promises, his prayer
that joined they may be one eternal pair.

		3.

At length their spirits crossed the massive span
that ocean looming far too wide and deep
one lady waiting long, 
long waiting longing for her patient man – 
her promises, the oath she vowed to keep
for him in loving song.

At last their spirits met in fond embrace
and bodies twisted as a knotted rope
in love together found,

though sight unseen, he never saw her face,
nor did she his except with faith and hope
their love at last be crowned.

		4

The gods looked down upon two distant lands
upon what kept two loves apart
and joined the knight’s and his fair lady’s hands
into one soul, one beating heart
exhaling into each as one communal breath
immortalizing them without eternal death.

Till now, no eyes have seen with certain sight
these loves that burn in morn and evening light.

Details | Lorenz Lynn Poem

Eden

Thirty years ago
many choices
opportunities
for Eden

Mine failed;
sexually:
push, pull
stop, pop
thrice
no words of love
by mutual agreement –
vacuum unfilled – 
a violation of natural law;

Mine field
sensually,
wet, dry
non-stop,
no words of love
avoid disagreement – 
desires unfilled – 
a case of unnatural law;

No choice to leave
no time to grieve					
	

The quake shook 
wave took
my world
missing words
refilled my empty heart with hope
progeny propelled
their orbits sown
their choices
challenging social law;

I look through space
unseen face
recaptures
what I lost
thirty years ago
new opportunity
now
for Eden

Details | Lorenz Lynn Poem

By the Bedside, Weeping

A visitor, 
I sit by night and day
unmoved to pen a loving word
no more the Muse its lightning thrusts
of inspiration cast my woeful way
while waiting, watching, 
nothing left
of hope, of comfort – 
nothing right to say
to ease the anguish, 
relieve the constant pain
of dying – not a chance to start again
armed with the choice 
to choose another way.
A visitor,
I sit by sunny day by dismal night,
while Mother lies upon her bed
the only one left living still
all brothers, sisters, long since dead
though living still inside her head
confused – 
where right is left and left is right,
where here is there 
and never is today – until
just yesterday refused
to disappear
into another year.
For ninety years, she sowed her seeds – 
no dreams fulfilled but hopeful still
that someday soon – one day they will
reward her for her loving words and deeds.
They didn’t.
Here lies her battered bones, her quaking frame,
held loosely by the folds of wrinkled shell,
the purple skin, protruding joints,
the hairless spots as well 
where once flowed glowing locks,
where rounded nails 
have grown grey jagged points,
this agony on earth,
these waning moments left on earth
not heaven but her hell.
My pen lies dormant
nothing left to say – 
just sit,
and watch
night turn to day
and back again,
tranquil, placid vigil
over weeping eyes
with empty stare
tears trickling, tumbling
through chasms of each bony cheek
once flushed with vibrance
now crushed with aged erosion,
lips cracked thin lines of grey,
her heaving chest slow moving
as clear plastic tubes feed air
and saline fluids – morphine flow
to make her passing easier to go.
She turned her head
her reddened eyes unwiped
by crumbling claws
and spoke with broken word-like sounds
that rumbled to my ears
“You know – 
I love you, Son – 
and always – will –
no matter –
if I live – or die?
Come closer – dear. . .”
(forgetting it was she who couldn’t hear)
then stopped, exhaling just a sigh.
I watched her many moments more
awaiting long her words of love,
as Mothers always know;
but, she was silent, 
still, asleep – 
as sightless as before,
and I had hope her soul would keep
her longer here
to share the smile that she wore.
For now, her weeping eyes are dry – 
and mine?  Still watchful, wet,
but calm, serene, her sentry, here,
to watch, to wait, and wonder why
we all fear what our fate has set 
for now, tomorrow, or another year.

Details | Lorenz Lynn Poem

Good Morning

Throughout dark moonless night
when dreams pervade all consciousness – 
throughout bright moonlit night
when none can rouse unconsciousness,
what element lacking would you miss?
The hand rocking gently you in bed?
Perhaps, the unexpected morning kiss?
Another act of love instead?
Perhaps another poem we read
about us, lovers, sharing bliss.

Details | Lorenz Lynn Poem

Night and Day

My day
your night

You sleep 
your  lover in your arms
while I awake dream

My night
your day

I sleep
no lover in my arms
while you awake dance.

Along the threshold
we both weep
I for hopeful years
you for woeful tears
he – faithless, old
you – faithful, bold
I – with faith oft told
in poetry, my soulful whim:
I loving you;
you loving him.

Details | Lorenz Lynn Poem

An Absolutely Perfect Presence

I see,
in she strides,
the white-clad love of my life
sweet lover not my wife,
the aether air
too thick to breathe
as always, eternal,
she, almost maternal

her final word
a judgment
of her will.
Why stay?  Be still?

To clarify peculiarities, solely,
she comes,
and certainly she will again,
no change;
the same.

All those minutes, hours,
convolutions of the brain,
left with the stain
emitted
all remembered – 
all the same –
redone again.

now?
Why?  Satiated
that depth 
of lustfulness 
engorged with passion.

“You’re still as beautiful,
to me,” she states,
and thoughts of delighting her
inflicted me through every pore
as she sprayed Obsession
here, but mostly there. . .

(there’s no elegant way
of showing this, 
unforgettable.)

How herculean is the strength
of emotion,
of devotion
knowing one or the other
can save

lamb from the slaughter
the drowned from the water

and the “she” and “I” that forms a “we”
creates an absolutely present perfect entity.