Walk down the old path that many have walked
But I walk down a new path the path that I once balked
Death is the deliverance from sin
Death ends the battle within
I would rather die than submit to Your will
I would rather die than swallow the bitter pill
Don't wallow in your guises and guiles
Don't relent, don't remain in your sin and your trials
Until the day that you die, you will die
Shaking your hand at the storms in the sky
To all the sapient sentients and ye obstinate serpents
Repent, repent, repent, every morning filled with a new sense
We are reluctant to preach even though we are a priesthood
A peculiar one at that, making idols in our minds and of wood
We often walk away from the open door of a Gospel chance
We would rather revert to the old path of least resistance
Instead of the new path, it's not happenstance
That we are guided by the Providential and Chastening Hand
Don't harden your heart, do your part, count it joy
God does not plod, even though we scheme and ploy
Jonah's anger was Jonah's defeat
Get on your feet (feet that are effete)
Lord help us to pull ourselves up by the bootstraps
So we can walk down streets of gold, our new paths
Worth every penny although the pennies were made of adamantine freely smelted in finite charnel kilns, so vested and vain, that cruel shadows balked not against the weekend of endless paraduece though not one such thing was found since the recompense. It's another world, another word, another facet of divulgence but it ends here. This line the last: by inauspicious supplicants the temerity folds over more than eternity, it precludes the none of the course, CCTV look at last for the last time, monster of the manifold, final breath, look your last.
A burr stuck smack-dab in the back
of his white tuxedo
Everyone pointing at it
He couldn’t quite reach it though
Balked at removing his tux
No idea of what it was
His life on hold
Donkeys are known for their sheer stubborness;
determination beyond compare.
I see three "saints" for donkeys, nonetheless -
Mary's transport to Bethlehem's square
and Balaam's unique donkey, quite rare.
Mary's donkey is not mentioned per se
in God’s Word, but I don’t think she walked.
Balaam’s donkey saw an angel guarding the way.
After two beatings, he sat down and balked;
and in self-defense that poor donkey talked.
Balaam had not seen the angel’s drawn sword
warning him not to return to Balak.
Now he was told to speak only God’s words.
And what of the donkey? now on a sidetrack -
I hope Balaam had some treats in his knapsack.
There IS one more donkey, I should mention,
the one who carried Christ to Jerusalem
near the end of His salvation mission.
The foal of a donkey, a colt bore Him
to His venue of death and human mayhem.
I didn’t stay young
but I never got old
My cards often weak
when watching you fold
I sailed into weather
the saltiest balked
And bit off big pieces
while walking my talk
I painted with brushes
DaVinci had blessed
And wandered and wondered
much better than best
I took from my heart
and gave to my soul
The circle expanding
— three halves to my whole
(The New Room: April, 2024)
Arms outstretched.
Hands out thrust.
Fingers stretched out, reaching, straining, hurting,
just barely fail make contact, left hanging untouched.
Only a tiny spark zings between the fingers.
Like static electricity,
which flows when bodies
stroked with emotion
get charged up with a warm dry rub
and discharge with a tiny whip's crack.
Our love forever poised,
never had the impetus
for completion to fruition.
As we balked at commitment
fraught by quandary and trepidation
of expectation's negated equation.
Poised thus, we now will never know
what could have been,
what becoming could have done
if our fingers touched
touche.
When I visited Victor today,
overwhelming stench drove me away.
We stood outside and talked.
I complained, and he balked:
“Don’t be mean. I can’t help it. OKAY?”
He let loose with a string of loud pops.
Neighbors fearing gunfire called the cops!
There would be no arrest,
but at neighbors’ behest,
they said, “Sir, make sure this problem stops.”
The police are now summoned no more.
There’s a problem, but not like before,
one that cannot be heard;
thus, no neighbors are stirred,
fearing terror of gunplay’s in store.
Victor has diarrhea a lot,
spending hours a day on the pot.
I declared, “We will go
to the doctor. He’ll know
how to diagnose just what you’ve got!”
Sugar-free treats, as Victor now knows,
were the cause of his gas and poop woes.
Way too many he ate.
Though he thought they were great,
doctor’s orders he did not oppose.
Victor called: “Come and visit me, please.”
I approached his front porch; on the breeze,
came an unpleasant smell.
Before long I could tell
he loves pintos and limburger cheese!
Yet Pushed, Ever Onward, I Dare Tread
BEHOLD, I wade into darkening mists,
My journey, clarification of Fate
When I balked, black ghost said, I insist
Hurry destiny cries, it is too late,
Strolling deep within, horrific the sounds
So strangely pungent the circling winds
In distant valleys, baying of the hounds-
I fear what that hideous sign portends.
Now so afraid, through weeping years I trod
Yet pushed, ever onward, I dare tread
My shield, simply faith in Light and my God
And bushels of truth, to me, life has fed
I pray for salvation of divine light
Blessed ending of this courageous flight.
Robert J. Lindley, 9-02-2021
Sonnet(dark)
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021
I've never cried as much as I did last night
The crime scene was not a pretty sight
Seeing her lying there unmoving with her blue eyes open wide
I didn't want to investigate the murder of this child
What I wanted was to run away and hide
But when I looked again, I plucked up enough courage and crouched down to check if I was seeing right
And I balked at the sight of every huge bite
The ugly marks on her arms and neck had sliced open her smooth soft skin
Dried blood covered most of her chin
I clenched my fists
And felt a deep burn penetrate my wrists
Finally, I mustered up enough courage to touch her silky hair
And I found a significant clue hidden right there
In the tangles of her long dark hair
A tiny weeny pearl
And I knew who had done this to my little girl
Your smile was brilliant as you took a bow.
The upper echelon had welcomed you.
You donned humility, expressing how
we loyal members of your staff were due
deep gratitude. So few attendees knew
how often you’d demeaned us through the years
by saddling us with your less pleasant tasks.
We balked a little; you played on our fears
of job loss. We put on our happy masks.
Quite frequently, you saunter by and ask,
“Do you still like your job?” This time I’ll say,
“I don’t; I never did, your Majesty!
Your fine machine will lose a cog today.
If other peons leave, perhaps you’ll see
a boss like you makes people want to flee!”
May 9, 2022
Contest: Pick-a-Title, Vol 30
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
They laughed at us when we selected our books but we learnt how to read.
They poured scorn on the way in which we held our ink but we learnt how to write.
They got comfortable in the airs and privilege but we learnt how to persevere.
They scoffed at the way we talked and danced and sang but we learnt how to sing.
They balked at us when we set sail but we learnt how to swim.
They wanted to watch blood pour from our veins but we learnt how to heal.
They’d turned their noses up at our food but we learnt how to feed.
They wanted to see tears in our eyes but we learnt how to see.
They wanted to see us crawl, beg and steal but we learnt pride and dignity.
They pushed us and taunted us, they’d tried to make us lose…
but…
…we learnt how to win.
From Galilee then on the scene, He burst
For John to immerse Him accordingly.
The Baptist balked; he thought their roles reversed:
“I am in need, yet you come here to me.”
But Jesus answered, “Let it be now so;
’Tis fitting we fulfill all righteousness.”
So John consented, plunged Jesus below;
Into the watery depths, He acquiesced.
As he arose and took a breath of air,
The heavens parted, opened from above.
Then, clear to those who stood nearby them there,
The Spirit fell upon him like a dove.
A voice from heaven cried, “This is my son!”
I am well pleased with him; He is the one!
(from Matthew 3)
This light were much the duller
Embellishment by far
When set against, antipathetic
Of what seemingly mar;
For those shadings, tree-blown
In the woody storm-thrown.
In one, who so pretending
To be perfect always
A smirk, a sour-faced contrast
Could enliven my days!
Refreshing, if fearsome walked!
And if finally balked!
God, thank all the earth angels,
Teaching me to once again walk.
Days ago, I grimaced and balked.
No, not yet dancing nor wearing
belly dancing spangles.
Yesterday, it was 80 steps I so
profoundly pleased.
Today I insisted on going further.
I’m not patient with my life on a
back burner.
I like life only on the challenges of high
seas!
So with astute guidance, we cheered
when I reached 160 steps.
To those with my good at heart.
I pray for you all, like golden apples
in a cart.
Thank you for making this possible, we
have a bond of love, which you kept!
Merci
Pangie
12/22/2021
-Dedication-
A special thanks to all who have my back,
are in my corner, and those who prayed
for me..,Merry Christmas. You really made
this the best holiday ever!
Mrs. Claus kept warning Santa that this day might come.
But he pooh poohed it, and thought surely not, surely not.
Today he balked as he stared at the chimney, tight and glum.
Wishing he had spent last year eating more “what he ought”.
He had downed pumpkin pies, sausages, and hamburgers too.
He had tossed out salads with cheeses of yellow and blue.
He had devoured donuts, pasta, and spaghetti with delight.
So now here he sat staring, at a chimney that already felt tight.
Get on down there! Rudolph said with a snort and a wink.
You are magical you know, did you forget that, you twink?
Santa rolled his eyes; he got no respect from reindeer these days.
With a yippee coyote he went down the chimney in all kind of ways.
He scraped his knees and he bent his left foot a bit on the land.
What did you expect? Donner hollered down after him. A mariachi band?
Santa hear the reindeer having a good laugh at his body’s expense.
That’s okay, he thought. When I get back, I will install an electric fence.
Sub Categories
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.