Best Adjusts Poems
When I think of poetry
I think of a child manipulating
his first steps, the wobbly nature
of his strides~that confused, meandering
toddle, and then trip and fall – the dear
first efforts of us all. When I think of poetry,
I think of my introductory cords attempting
articulation: the naive study of lips, the spitting
aspirations, how the throat struggles, and then the
mouth opens to the notion of sound. When
I think of poetry, I think of the squinting and the
rounding of the eyes first awakening to light –
how the heart adjusts to thought...and how,
somehow, it is all related to love, the cooing,
caressing of a mother, before weaning.
Then when I think of poetry, I finally think of nothing...
empty myself, letting poetry think for me –
become my sight and voice, my very direct
line to God~knowing best the language
of creation.
Autumn's beautiful changes
- radiance glows
carved out of the rainbow
The chameleon adjusts the colors
- the display is magnificent
The thirst that rises from the soul
long drink glass with ice cubes and fruit
- autumn's honey breath
Exploring multiple dimensions
Beauty is meant to be appreciated
in trusting kisses
My queen, at her death
you were a momentary ornament in gold
- affection gracious
Shadow of the chameleon grows
In the faults of the earth the last act is shown
with a soft voice that caresses your ears
Every stormy night, she rests in the earth's temple
Abandon Dead Trails And Thy Sybarite Lust
If Nature's earthen-fires thy bosom holds
and thy heart's countenance mind's eye thus sees;
life serves best those adventurously bold,
walking worn paths, resting under its trees.
Seek in truth the great beauty God has made
the opulence of colors in blue skies;
let not dark, thy human empathy degrade
to sorrows that in turn, love's joys deny.
Instead, denude kings of their purple cloaks
and the golden castles they have stolen;
take time to visit regale forest oaks,
ride the rapids of rivers swift and swollen.
Abandon dead trails, thy Sybarite lusts
in Nature's awe, seeking heart there adjusts.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-18-2018
Sonnet, ( Nature's Great Gifts And Its Awesome Healing Powers)
A cloudless day, should have been warm but the frigid southern roaring 40’s cut like flailing daggers into the skin, leaving bones and joints to succumb to the maddening icy grip of winter’s callous fists. Even the Curlew, who, usually undaunted by such torrid tempest, seek shelter among the rocks and crevices that dot the sea, battered coastal fringe.
The boy was lost….
Melaleuca trees stand century, like gnarled soldiers gathered around the fallen, giving full acquiescence to the polar blasts that bend and twist them further still. Their wispy fingers reaching down to engulf the child with grasping hands, beckoning further into their forest lair. The only sounds that can be heard is the deafening roar of tree and wind as they battle in the canopies above.
Panic fueled anxiety long ago gave way to terror, since replaced by resignation as night enclosed the restless child, who battles the lure of sleep against fear. For in his mind he believes that in this foreboding place, creatures beyond the realm of humanity will visit unspeakable harm upon his being. Their prying eyes ever present awaiting the moment he slips into unconscious sleep to exact their egregious deeds.
When dawn arrives the child awakes to the gentle touch of sunshine’s warmth. Like God himself has stroked his face and chased the demons from his thoughts. His weary eyelids flick open like snow pea slits as he adjusts his sunken, fretful eyes. A smiling face before him bends and before realisation takes hold in his mind the words escape his cracked and tortured lips. “Daddy”.
The mind of man defines his self
Thought separates him from the beast.
For rationale transcends all else
So with reason was man bequeathed?
Nature adjusts its balanced scales
Predators thrive upon their prey
Quarry decays in mankind’s trail
While intellects cloth, does sadly fray.
Conceit within sees simple creatures
Instincts supply for lowly needs.
Hunter, hunted, duelling features
Equal basics provide life’s creed.
Assuming nature has mans own evil
Perceptions mirror his within.
No other beast shall cause Earths’ upheaval
‘Twas humanity first committed sin.
Smart man can plan tomorrow’s time
Consciousness learns from lessons past.
Hear and heed are two peaks to climb
Strides from missteps are often last.
Meek swallows will defend their nest
Grace transforms toward obstinacy
But repose rewards a fruitful quest.
Vengeance just grasps humanity.
It’s man that fights a thousand wars
Pleas to ignorance seldom thrive.
Nature’s pursuits have righteous core
A pair for death means life survives.
The mind’s a mask of cunning guise
For closed minds, know not how they feast.
Heavy footsteps can cause demise
And what sets man, apart from beast?
SONNET FOR A FRIENDLY TAX MAN
Once more the seasons turn to time for change
The sun adjusts to lower its trajectory
The fates have cause once more to disarrange
Emotions and confer an elan-ectomy
As many have observed two things are certain
Although we may resist a near demise
One sure contingency will raise a curtain
On that other threat to slowly jeopardise
With smile like crocodile and salutation
He writes ‘It’s been so long! Please get in touch’
Our ‘friend’ would really welcome our collation
Of generous donations to his clutch
Will Hell be desolate with fire that burns
Or eternity of endless tax returns
As red musk fragrance from the steamed en suite
escapes to her boudoir
from oil essential jar
a silken nightie trimmed with lace complete
she slips light-fingered on to flawless skin
then she adjusts the light
soft glowing for the night
with graceful movements lifts the sheets, turns in.
Then on the pillow she lays down her head
relieved to leave behind
the weight of weary mind
the balm of slumber she will seek instead.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Enclosed Rhyme contest
Hosted by Dear Heart
Placed 6th
27th September 2018
Mahogany pillars
Lace mosaic,
Velvet on silk
Champagne taste,
Heartbeats rush
Smooth on rough
Muscular, petite
Tongues encourage
Elevated pulse,
Lovers blush
Insatiable thirst
Skin upon flesh,
Begging, obeying
Sweet nothings, yes
Loose headboard, hush
Satin sheets ruffled,
Pillows lost
Mirrored ceiling
Nails sink deep,
Softness, plush
Rhythm adjusts
Gods name in vain,
Animal released
Triumphant,
Life waters, gush
Timeless innate
A side effect,
Something’s late
Unexpected gift,
Breathe, push
By David Kavanagh
The man in the elevator standing there.
His chiselled face, blue eyes, dark hair, very handsome.
Holding breath, as lustful eyes have spied him
Just who is that striking man within reach?
I’m sure he knows, what affect he has on women.
How could he not? Tall, so good looking, well dressed,
And I bet he is ever so nice to talk to.
Smiling, as he watches his own reflection
God I am gorgeous; he thinks to himself.
As the elevator door slowly opens
Adjusts his stance, picking up his briefcase
He smugly takes one last reflective glance.
Between the chimes………..…… of twelve and two
Darkness adjusts…………………..… the doors of dreams;
I perceive a presence …………..….…. pausing, perhaps,
as one who watches……………..……..... within.
Something beside, sly, ………………..…... speaks cruelly,
whispers words which wound………….......condemn.
Catch me Jesus.........I am near the edge…….. falling…
to your stronger arms beneath.
awakes, striding seamlessly towards the
trajectory of daybreak. Abed, passionately
attended by orectic thoughts; of whom
early on was created from man’s thoracic cage.
~Envisages;~
Without the least trace of compunction; exfoliating the
Saccharine damped canal with the tongue. Combined oils
and aroma lingers on the lips. Though the stiffened, unbridled,
solid thick muscle would supersede the tongue as the
warm tightened canal adjusts to its width inextricably.
~Pausing~
Waterfalls pouring profusely
Eyes trudge backwards
to that of yesterday
Fingers ascendant
to the nearest limb.
Digits of the foot holding forth
discourse with the sun.
~Orgasms~
Simultaneously
In due course.
Garnished bed linens
Accompanied by
Whitish fluid
~P-H-A-N-T-A-S-M-A-G-O-R-I-A~
"1st Pace Winner"
Contest Name: Best Descriptive Poem
Pace, G
INK-U-SCRIPT
Kestrel
Focused falcon
Honed huntress hovering
Adjusts; stoops; lands; dispatches
Raptorial
The mind of man defines his self
Thought separates him from the beast.
For rationale transcends all else
So with reason was man bequeathed?
Nature adjusts its balanced scales
Predators thrive upon their prey.
Quarry decays in mankind’s trail
Intellects cloth will sadly fray.
Conceit sees but simple creatures
Instincts supply for lowly needs.
Hunter, hunted, duelling features
Equal basics provide life’s creed.
Man that looks finds natures evils
Perceptions mirror his within.
No beast shall cause earths upheavals
Just man will oblige earthly sin.
Smart man can plan tomorrow’s time
Consciousness learns from lessons past.
Hear and heed are two peaks to climb
Strides from missteps are often last.
Meek swallows will defend their nest
Grace transforms to obstinacy,
But repose rewards a fruitful quest.
Vengeance just grasps humanity.
It’s man thats fought a thousand wars
Pleas to ignorance seldom thrive.
Nature’s pursuits have righteous core
A match for death means life survives.
The mind’s a mask of cunning guise
For closed minds, know not how they feast.
Heavy footsteps will cause demise,
and what sets man apart from beast?
branches and leaves catch ultra violet rays
you can almost taste the cool summer shade
little hands and feet are there most of the day
marbles, jacks, and double-Dutch are played
suburbia served from the tray of life
beneath Miss Hunter’s tree
on the highest branch between the leaves
a fortress of twigs house chicks who plead
to their mother for the board they so need
to grow, survive, and one day leave the nest
a budding ethologist adjusts their shutter speed
beneath Miss Hunter’s tree
lovers descend upon this tranquil site
anticipation declares their hearts were right
they begin to coddle through the din of night
carved initials on the trunk reveals their plight
they share a kiss and a bit of moonlight bloom
beneath Miss Hunter’s tree
"How to Touch the Lips of an Eclipse"
calamity, the heart rushes in
up against a wall of thorns
and the one removed watches it all
Love comes in little steps small,
or the opposite, thick fast floods
that break the walls
drowning,
you drown,
in the best drowning of all
time stands back
adjusts its hands
dials in time with the Sun
pulls you in closer
like you're the tide
and the other, your shore
yet Love stands back,
barefeet, feeling
the sands of time
moving underneath
surmising the deep
afraid of it all
and Love, stands back
watches and waits
for the Moon to rise
how to touch
the lips
of an eclipse
waiting for some
rouge command,
the curves of a kiss
rippling like waves
across a waist
caressing the time it takes
dragging the delicious
birdsong quilled against
a body like Love
the words unheard
invisible
written on a page
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)