There Were the Echoes of Her Touch

There Were The Echoes Of Her Touch In my lost and wandering days Old black shoes and eyes cold gray Wind whispering in dawn silence Could world ever stop its violence. There were the echoes of her touch What the hell, I loved her this much She was an angel deep inside I lost her on a midnight ride. O darling, want you again sing And with your beauty, love again bring With true heart of love again sing Without you, life don't mean a thing. Now dark corners how they crowd I wander aimlessly moaning aloud O darling, want you fly back home Now settled- no more do I roam. There were the echoes of her touch. What the hell, I loved her this much. R.J. Lindley, Sept. 17th, 1975 ( Where The Trees And Skies Sought To Touch ) ***** Once Away From The Insanity That This World Births Unhurried preparation and solitude in that place: No displacement but the executing of Pavlov's dog, Mysterious chains on destitution and darkness, And fading remnants of those long dead Olympic gods Trees that bowed to amplifications of silence, And a sign that proclaimed, rare is a good-hearted man. Heaven and hell were two ancient fallen trees there Power of decay having worked its magnificent magic. Oceans had beautiful rock gardens floating in grace The waves echoing, only soft stillborn whispers, And looking above, mountains that reached into eternity A long thin and very healed crack ran across a gray sky. And in the cold summer, Alice sat upon a silver throne With her enormous beating heart held out for all to see She with pursed lips that stretched for miles and miles, Cast an illumination upon the gentle huddled herd And only wind chimes stroked the draining eons of time As the white owl hooted, saying this is real- not a dream. Alice rose from her silver throne and quickly took a bow And everybody noticed that she had a bright rosy smile A huge yellow rose in each long, slender pale white hand And she calmingly picked up Pavlov's dog and flew away. Unhurried preparation and solitude in that place: No displacement but the executing of Pavlov's dog. R.J. Lindley, Jan 9th, 1973 ( Wherein, we are blinded by our worldly ignorance and darkness ) Note: Presenting these two very different poems. Composed way back in 1975. My conclusion to the third and final part on the Edgar Allan Poe poem will not be ready until tomorrow. I hope to present that and then again perhaps rest a bit..