Even Dawn Cried About Death of the Poet

Even Dawn Cried About Death Of The Poet They that see dawn in softest crimson glows Having sought to embrace the golden moon! They that ink paradise as a true gift, Sings praises of the gentle month of June! Whilst feeding at midnight the hungry crows Sometimes with iron, and with eager breath Oft each stands alone, watching dark world turn Then she that inks paradise as a gift, With compassion, romantic flames that burn Wrote faithfully, even unto her death! Dawn that foretells of living and true love Helplessly seen as the poetess died Cast its brightest rays to heaven above So angels could see how too few cried! R.J. Lindley, Jan 25th, 1987 ******* Dare We Pray, Humanity Wakes To Be Redeemed From blacken hills into magical woods we wade Where golden mushrooms ring shrouds of ancient trees Praise God, that this earth and humanity he made Although from great divine wrath it so often flees In morn's mist, airy shadows rise and slowly fall 'neath hopeful promise of resplendent future state Whilst those ever beckoning hills heed Nature's calls Same as man bows to ravages of horrid Fate. Therein comes immense pleasures of paradise dreams Too often laced with folly of human schemes Were it not that love may gift that which hope redeems? Aye. Love and pleasure are as candy to a child And thus sweet blessings flow unto those meek and mild Whereas thistles and thorns pierce deeply those too wild. Dare we pray, humanity wakes to be redeemed From evil wickedness, that mankind daily schemes? R.J. Lindley, March 6th, 1987 Rhyme ******* From The Virgin Light Into The Dark Mist There within such immensity of solitude Rests a billion threads but a sad solitary thought Of life, earth and barest naked soul therein nude In worldly prison, dying entity thus caught. Oh but, tis not that tragedy our daily bread Fodder for rampaging fires eternally lit We but sacrifice for those gods long ago dead, And bawling mass for Hades and its burning pits? Tis not mankind a true enigma and a bit more Far, far more than a fallen fly in the hot soup Once stuck down below but by own hand now can soar Risen up by vicious might in one dark fell swoop ? Aye! One may fear to such reality admit As it leads backward, to thoughts of hot burning pits! R.J. Lindley, March 22nd, 1987 Rhyme