Chicago’s skyline would never disappoint
non-hysterical people in their right mind
but I am useless, so I stare out into her point
feeling like a crushed bug, the last of my kind
my feelings are my own, I keep them well hidden
others on this metro train are phone-staring
sharing emotions with strangers is Chicago-forbidden
my small- town parts are way beyond actually caring
I stare into the night, wondering where this train is taking me
my disappointment is acute, well-known to me once again
If this was not just a Great Lakes, I’d drowned myself in this sea
on this metro train of strangers, I let my sadness begin
There is a most peaceful, restorative place
where I can spend hours to unwind and renew.
Our sunroom addition becomes a showcase
for nature's blue sky, rolling hills, river view;
for many a year, my own magical space-
clear walls, a glass roof with sun filtering through.
My heaven on earth where life's joys multiply
indoors, yet outside, neath the beautiful sky.
Conversely, there is a vast space that I hate
and so, I spend minimal time being there.
It bothers me so to pull down the wood gate
to our attic above as I climb each stair.
Sixty-seven long years, to store things, our trait!
Claustrophobia hits the moment I stare
at all those saved items with no reason why!
I'm out of there fast before I start to cry.
Dead to the world
he turned to face the wall,
it was an interesting wall,
it had a painting
of his semi-naked ex-wife
hung upon it.
Usually that wall picture
made him both sad and happy,
but this morning he groaned
like a man giving birth
to an unnamed sorrow.
He had become ennuied,
habituated to this strange demonic world,
where he was a criminal without a crime.
In a strange way
he longed for some jail time,
just as long as he could take with him
that portrait of his ex-spouse.
Two daughters they had – Happy and Sad.
They had other names, but this is what we neighbors noticed.
And it is what we called them.
Happy was always laughing, smiling, joking, playing.
She was upbeat, positive, excited about life.
She was a terrific guest. We all liked having her around.
Sad got dragged to our houses sometimes by her parents.
She was down in the mouth, and in the mind.
Everything was worst scenario, and she had a bunch of them.
When Sad arrived, the party began to implode.
You have heard of the term wet blanket?
This was more like bringing a crashing meteorite of gloom and doom.
Happy went to college, which means the family stopped going to parties.
We did not see much of them, but this meant seeing less of Sad.
Which was a good thing.
The night before Thanksgiving we were all ready to welcome Happy home.
She was late – several hours. Some of us wandered back home with our signs.
Happy had been killed after her car slid on black ice.
Sad was even more sad now, which I would have not thought possible.
3/31/21
Stoner
Loner
An addict
Always at it
The chronic
Still on it
Can't get off it
Or stop it
On top of it
A serious alcoholic
The problem
Is constant
And toxic
Causing conflict
Being honest
Often catatonic
Nearly unconscious
Shoutout to Juice Wrld, "everywhere I go feels haunted"
"This isn't the life I wanted"
Damn it
Battling habits
Bringing me closer to a casket
Using gadgets
And tablets
During daylight or pitch blackness
It's gone beyond
Doing my body and bank account a lot of damage
Even if I manage to "manage"
It does me no advantage
And is extra baggage
Dirt I dug and shoveled
Remaining humble
People quick to burst your bubble
In ways that are obvious or subtle
On the double
Staying out of trouble
Even though it's a jungle
Got to solve each and every puzzle
Can't buckle
Even though I continue to struggle
Been far too dependent
Temporarily splendid
But really unpleasant
The cycle has not ended
Eventually the heart stops beating
When it comes to death, there is no cheating
Unrequited Love And Sad Nightly Calls
Wherein solitude, shades long day's travails
my desire for your true love yet remains.
Nights arrive, I battle through living Hells
death knocking loud with heartbreaking pains!
O' that your deep sorrows, you had not found,
into your private island had not fled.
Now, I am buried in unholy ground (*suicide*)
each night a pale ghost rising from the dead!
Yet I struggle, in haste to fly to you
with ghostly arms, begging you to follow.
You heard sad moaning voice, asking not who
your refusals, bitter pills to swallow!
O' that I had lived and gave you my all.
You would love me, not hear such nightly calls.
R.J. Lindley,
August 7th, 1975
Sonnet on (Death, Unrequited Love and Suicide)
broken hearten misery, my love
Broken time is precious, you left me
Broken as I clasp my hands and weep, you're gone
joined into the future, you said
joined for always, you said, yet you're not here
Broken, my love you're gone
Now, I am only memories, my love
broken hearten misery, my love
please come back to me my love
7/11/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
J-oyful
A-tmosphere
C-reates
K-indness
I-nside
E-rasing
B-ad
A-nd
S-ad
A-ura
Topic: Birthday of Jackie Basa (January 29)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Master yourself
Think first
Gave my power away
I was the very angry kid
Little things used to infuriate me
I said people made me angry
Mad and sad was my choice
Don’t speak in haste
Master yourself.
Because my moods are fickle
One moment I long for company
The next moment I tickle
Changes in the litany
That entertains mood swings
Repelling targets for which I long
As on a butterfly’s wings
I fly to destinations so wrong
I end up burning my fingers
In a vain hope to boost my perceptions
Of balladeers and sad love song singers
Whose melodies and tunes accentuate my conceptions
When in a crazy cocoon I dream of a blue moon
In which I cavort
With the goon in a cartoon
Where I abort
Moves towards cleansing the malady
That spews conundrums
Heightening the perfidy
That beats dissonance drums
To pronounce me mad
Cos I strike the wrong note
When I feel sad
To the extent where a plethora of confusion I connote.
Sour Grape and Sad Shape
As usual are using things as an escape;
Could call this a Republican sour grape;
Coast to coast,
Brag and boast;
Sure seems to be in such a sad shape.
Jim Horn
Spinning Webs And Sad Gray
Spinning webs hold my life in place
gems waiting from flames yet to be lit
Why would set sail to another shore?
When this one, rocks as it slowly moans
Morn's new frost never touches my toes
nor dawn's beaming rays fail to inspire
Car wreck yesterday by our home
roadside two bodies, lifeless there lay
I wondered will school be different Monday?
Now that death has touched my soul
Last year father died, and my tears I withheld
not manly to show such a display
Lessons learned at home and at life
Death, death has the final say!
R.J. Lindley
1970
Old Note. Winter's bitter cold tells me I am still alive..
New Note - First poem in my oldest surviving private journal.
I thought today may be a good day to post it , as it was written in June, one year after my father's death in 1969..
Third Note- Funny how it doesn't even rhyme...
Begging Again, Alone And Sad But Bold
The moon is a curving flower of gold,
heartache you gave turned me so old.
Bloody daggers cut deeply into this soul.
Not forgotten was our sweet loving goal!
Lost dreams ache as sad stories are told,
I beg again, alone and sad but so very bold!
Robert J. Lindley. 07-23-2015
nette onclaud
Contest Name COMPLETE THE LINES!
Line 6-
The moon is a curving flower of gold,
Sara Teasdale
Lies and Sad Eyes
Your huge eyes appear bright, blue and so sad
why after all the those rich men you have had
There was that guy that owned a jewelry store
he gave you so much yet you stole so much more
There was the dude that owned nine car lots
he figured you out after I showed your spots
Other cat's parents left him massive wealth
you took all he had and ruined his health
Your big eyes now appear swollen and so very red
Told you I'd endure and torment your silly head
Now you cry and moan for riches you think your due
Life is about family and love yet you haven't a clue
I gave my all and everything hence you never learned to love
Karma bites you while rewarding blessings for me ever since from above
Robert Lindley, Nov, 10th, 2002
Oldie from centuries ago it seems.
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