Inside me shrieking like a banshee,
dark shadows hold an accursed grin;
Old wounds are licked fastidiously;
Always wreaking havoc painfully,
squirming below my butter soft skin;
Inside me shrieking like a banshee;
My darkest demons they run madly
and feed on that deeply buried sin;
Old wounds are licked fastidiously;
Any who harbor them would agree
it’s easy to tell where they have been;
Inside me shrieking like a banshee;
They taste just like insecurity;
You can feel it before they begin,
old wounds are licked fastidiously;
No matter how I try I can’t flee
they’re that part imbedded within;
Inside me shrieking like a banshee,
old wounds are licked fastidiously.
Once Submerged Beneath The Dark, Accursed Sea
Darkened winds beyond the long and hidden veil,
Rising sea its calm repose then casts away,
From some distance away, moaning church bell
Calling faithful and sinners, come lets pray
Tho' Fate with its power cries more in store
Here I stood, stoutly battling the unknown
With feeble words, I did each plea implore
For greater mercy and light to be shown.
Horrific dark power blasts heart and soul
Curse given out by death's repugnant hand
Raging waters swirl, bringing Fated toll
Painful cuts slash beauty of all the land
Fate with its power cries such shall be so
And mortals shall then fear my awesome wrath
At birth each is destined to soon go
Beyond the veil on a mystery path.
Although the defiant this end may cry
And with bravado seek to change that course
None, nary one Fated ending defy
Beyond the veil, all dreams flesh must divorce
Thus I stood, sword broken shield cast away
Mere flesh raging against eternity
Then the bell rang, sounding, come here to pray
For light and truth offers infinity.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-19-2022
Rhyme, ( Praying To Again Embrace The Much Needed Light )
From Poetic Thoughts On Mankind And Its Accursed Fate
Hark! Grasp firm precious golden ray of moonlight
Wrap in heart's grip, let seep into awaiting dreams
Release it next dreadful, hellish-cast storming night
To delight in its saliently flowing bright streams.
With fervent prayers, bid high Heavens to cast down
Manna and wine to the feast-born unwashed masses
Without need for a foolish king and crushing crown
Or enslavement and wars from rebellious classes.
Flesh and blood are wont to beg unto shining skies
Filled with grieving's of broken souls and lost hope
Surrounded by dark world and deep burgeoning lies,
Ever present rock strewn dangers of its pitted slopes.
Alas! Tis it not true, chains of our mortal curse
Groom enticing pathways for us to do our worse?
Dare we this proclivity to set asunder
And thus, into redeeming light far further wander?
Robert J. Lindley, -early 70's
Edited, 9/23- 2021
( When Dawn's Enlightenment, Its Golden Rays Unto A Young Lad Gifted )From
An unacceptable poetess,she.
How dare she pen of her reality!
We, in the upper clouds of poetry,
Not glad of her beingn present here, eeks!.
Can't we just lock the golden poetry door,
And bid her farewell, alas evermore?
She will never be as grand as we,
Who swing from the officious Poetry Soup Tree!
Off to our unicorns and grand delusions we go.
With lovely , faithful muses, in tow.
Someone please lock the door on her,or
Let her freeze in the ice, cold snow!
We ignore her ilk the best we can.
And curse the heavens,when with
POTD's she received, with honors?
Much to our Poetry Soup Tree horrors?
We punish her by not commenting.
Yet her desire to pen is grossly unrelenting.
Muses, please remove this horror from us.
Oh, how she doth so greatly bore us!
10/13/2020
Opus # 5
10/12/2020
Opus# 4
The blinking cursor taunts
I know not what it wants
Alone it sits and pleads
I know not what it needs
And yet.....and yet....
My fingers hover
over a keyboard
Aching....longing
for the touch
of a distant lover
lost
not for words
but for passion
not lust
but fire
The cursor winks
come hither
caress me
whisper to me
to us
John G. Lawless
7/11/2020
Horrible Monstrous
Unforgiven Eternal
Foredoomed Misfortune
Lolita’s Conceit
Obsession defined
Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov
An accursed passion
Love’s true abomination.
Literary allusion
Tintinnabulation
Sounding moral oblivion
God’s sure condemnation.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
August 18, 2018 (Double Dactyl)
thrown back
amidst the liar's ruin
weathered with the reins
wrapped around his hand
pressed on
over dusk flooded fields
should it never lift
and drown the thistle
heard still
phantom hoovesteps pounding
as the drifter accursed
takes flight and is gone
The churches are closed and it’s cold.
Outside on these holly grounds,
The tired and hungry huddle,
Become part of landscaping, pray.
They are all alone,
Each with their own story,
Telling it to God and anyone else
Not bothered by their circumstance.
Tonight I am one of them,
Shuffling for a place to sleep,
With empty pockets and stomach
Growling at God and religion.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.