Best Ajax Poems
Scrubbing Bubbles, Dreft, Life Buoy, and Shout.
Help me to get my greasy grimy out.
Irish Spring, Dove, Windex, Borax too,
I turn to them when I am blue.
Cleaning is something I resolve not to do
unless I am in the throes of a horrible boo-hoo.
Clorox, Borax, Tide, Dawn, and Ajax too.
They only come out when I am mad at you.
If you see the Pledge, you had better run.
If I bring out the Zest, for you it is not going to be fun.
If you see Old English you know you are a cad.
Because I only clean like this when I am truly really mad.
Or if company is coming, which is only two or three times a year.
Where are you going,- as I reach for the Tide - afraid of me, dear?
Upon Battlefields Fallen True, Their Bloody Dead
Part I.
For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead
Thus many, from Greek mothers loving hearts were torn
Raised to be Greek heroes from day they were born.
Those giants brave and true as Homer did so write
Marching, fighting both by weary day and dark night
Shields held firm, plunging deep-red sharp sword and long spears
As fighting machines bereft of concerns and fears!
Achilles and Ajax mighty killers born to be
Destined as heroes, of valiant Greek tree
Godlike power in limbs of Herculean might
As was told by Homer's tale of Troy's last great fight!
For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead!
Part II.
Fallen, courageous souls fleeing blood soaked soils
Battles no longer fought, long dark veil coming down.
Cessation of Life its pleasures, its daily toils
Small tis the reward of fame and hero's renown.
Yet such better than oblivion's return to dust
As life's ending, oft the payment for warring deeds.
Sacrifices for others power, greed and lusts
War torn ground soaked from brave warriors that bleed.
What of Greek pride or mighty heroic defense
Were not some deeds worthy, justified?
Are we more than just raging savages with no sense
Was heroic sacrifice true of those that died?
Were not some deeds worthy, justified
Was heroic sacrifice true of those that died?
Robert J. Lindley, 6-04-2020
Sonnets, ( What my muse just demanded of me )
Presented from my new blog./ 6-04-2020.
Double sonnets...
As the Third Part of my ongoing Greek Mythology Series
"The Stain Crusaders"
Plath left the pages long ago
and Bacharach’s Blue-on-Blue
is an ineffectual softer numb-shade-of-Blue
dear green green Anthropocene
this much is true
with all the I love you’s
the wandering crusaders
are far far removed
sitting atop their soap boxes
sudsing up all the rooms
the silent stains in the poetic
are hard to remove
Ajax came coding unseen
like anticeptic borax
scrubbing out the irrelevance
dear green green Anthropocene
Shakespeare was never here
just a codex with a recipe
we seldom heed
most never read
the page book marked
dog-eared
maybe tomorrow
for the forget:
“My words fly up,
my thoughts remain below:
Words without thoughts
never to heaven go.”
Candide Diderot. ‘24
“We know what we are, but know not what we may be.”
“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Please Officer, Mr. Clean is not like that,
though will admit that we had a little spat.
I used Pine Sol, and he wasn’t really happy,
but assure you that it never made him slappy.
Little Joy was there and Dawn saw it all,
I swear I never used any of the old Lysol,
Brillo in my hand and dab of OxiClean,
I’ll admit that once I turned to Mr. Sheen.
Okay, all right! I’ve cheated other times,
it is hard to write all these dirty rhymes,
I loved Borax and was a real big fan,
Did ménage a tois with spicy Spic & Span,
Slept with Comet, but he wasn’t really bright,
that didn’t help when we got into this fight,
and know that once I really made him boil,
when he found out about Mr. Murphy’s Oil.
But it's such a mess and I needed extra lift,
it never should have been such a kitchen tiff,
news of my betrayal really made him stammer,
When he heard of Ajax, brought Arm & Hammer,
But love him so, locking him up is not my wish,
and don’t want to be left with only this Vanish.
Calgon couldn’t take me away from this
not only was Calgon on our TV
it’s what mother always told me and sis
she wasn’t happy until she was free
if Calgon wasn’t in the tub at all
me and my sister would know Ajax was
she’d be using Ajax having a ball
on the weekends she came home with a buzz
that was back in her polka dancing days
her days of soaking in Calgon gone too
I know she misses the tub on weekdays
sadly mom thinks I belong in a zoo
I don’t see my mom much now by my choice
my mother has always ignored my voice
In eighteen hundred ninety-three,
back in those silver-mining days,
a figure walked into Aspen town,
and it was the devil they say,
come looking for new souls to take.
He didn’t look like you would think,
the first time he appeared.
He was dressed like any old cow-poke,
and spend hours in saloons drinking beer,
a rough figure, but not much to fear.
They say he spoke with some miners,
and stirred up their jealousy.
Got them so mad they burned the house
of their foreman Bud McKenzie.
That night all heard poor Bud scream.
Most folk would’ve written if off
as drunken fools losing their heads.
But in the firelight dozens saw
the devil’s face shift, and grow red,
his sick laugh filling folk with dread.
He vanished that night, and for two days
things seemed to return to form.
But then he appeared as a three-year old
in young Maggie Delgado’s arms,
and she did not seem too alarmed.
She didn’t know her baby lay dead
her body left in the woods for the crows.
The devil took her form and that morning
went everywhere Maggie would go,
‘till ‘she’ jumped down and ran in the road.
Maggie cried out and ran for ‘her,’
when a horse came riding, lickety-split
It slammed into Maggie, trampled her down,
heavy hooves ending her in a lick.
The rider looked down, and was sick.
And then in the street many did see,
Maggie’s daughter grown rather tall.
Transforming into the unknown cowboy
who had lead the foreman to his fall.
He laughed again, having a ball.
Folks started to panic, leaving town,
a few stayed and found the sherriff.
Abner Gidden was his full name
a middle-aged man of quick wits,
would not sit still and put up with this.
He went to a priest of Catholic faith,
who instructed him to God to pray.
He spent a whole day seeking advise,
while many in town fled away,
to be free of the devil’s sick games.
When Abner emerged, he headed up
the slopes of Ajax with his gun.
Spent the day searching abandoned shafts
looking for perdition’s dark son.
Then at nightfall, he found the right one...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
She told no lies, from behind her all- seeing eyes.
Cassandra could not return the love of Apollo,
His curse upon her truth belies.
And left her prophesies empty and hollow.
She knew the destruction of Troy would come.
Her voice to land on the ears of disbelief,
It was truth she spoke to become
The Greeks emerge victorious, Troy is led to grief.
The daughter of an ancient Trojan king
Her beauty must have been abounding
For the love of such a powerful god to bring
Apollo’s gift to her was astounding.
The gift to see all the matters to come
But love for him she could not conceive
From a gift to a curse it would become
For her prophecies, no one would believe.
She would rave the truths along the walls of Troy;
As a mad woman she was perceived by all.
Her father. King Priam. her ranting would annoy
She was imprisoned, that her word would not befall.
She knew of a child that would seal the cities fate,
His name ,Paris, left for wolves to raise.
He would come to take his love and her king to berate.
A thousand ships, Helen’s face, to them she betrays
.
As she watched the burning skies
Soldiers spilled form the bowels of the gift horse
Tears were streaming from her eyes
As she had told, the Greeks ran their course
Amidst the cities destruction
Cassandra was free from the prison walls
Hoping to avert a further abduction
She took refuge in Athena’s halls
Unaware of the hidden peril waiting
She did not see Ajax the Greek
Standing adorned in amour plating
He raped and took her, her spirits bleak
Taken to Mycenea to become a concubine,
Of the Mycenean king, Agamemnon.
Of who her life was to entwine,
A rivalry with the queen this would spawn.
Cassandra tried to warn the king,
To deny the queen’s request.
To walk a purple carpet, its sacrilege to bring,
Both were stabbed upon their chest.
Cassandra’s fate was undeserved.
A victim of her gift and her torment.
Of which she powerlessly served,
Of which was her solemn discontent.
Not for glory, even honors sake
He fights for his family, wife and son at the gate
Greeks attack, they push us back
Hector must now lead the counter-attack
Hector!
Tamer of horses
Holding fast
Prince of troy
Ajax the great, slayer of nine
Duel “the Trojan’s head shall be mine”
To a stand still, day and night
Matched in skill, courage and might
a truce is called
Waves and spray clean our fallen
Zeus weighs our fates
the great sits, staring at the gift
the horse prince’s sword
Why?
Smashing gates, scaling the wall
Apollo on my side, standing tall
Killing patrolus, a child in man’s armor
Dying words, Hectors fate none the better
Hector
Tamer of horses
Holding fast
Princes of troy
He knows he is doomed, gods have spoken
there stands Achilles, at the gates still of motion
Warrior to the end, challenging the gods
Draw weapons, defying the odds
*************************
Tribute poem-
With Promise Of Entry, Elysium
Childhood, seeing from afar, candle burning bright
with courage, imagination seeing life through
always and forever the promise, heard each night-
walk a brave path, receive entry, as is your due,
heaven searching, whispers of two stars gazing back
honor true, never shall a God's power you lack.
Elysium- open gates, paradise awaits.
on battlefields- glory, set by "Hands of the Fates".
Ajax, blessed child and great warrior born to be
father- war god, mother a nymph of the blue seas
as a child roaming forests, with sword and long spear
a hero born and one totally without fear,
star gazing- seeing death would come, Elysian fields
his destiny, gifting all of its golden yields.
Elysium- open gates, paradise awaits.
On battlefields- glory, set by "Hands of the Fates".
Ajax, scarred and toughened, many battles fought
never surrendering, ever giving his all
a warrior true, there within Olympic feuds caught
steady and ever mindful of his final fall,
sky hunting, watching universe's resplendent glow
as decreed by the Gods- set to put on a show.
Elysium- open gates, paradise awaits.
On battlefields- glory, set by "Hands of the Fates".
Ajax, courageous warrior of Greek legend's fame
gifted with prowess of strength and courage to match
of Homer's Troy, that Greek hero, one and the same
always fated, for a Trojan war death to catch,
there on bloody soil, as Olympus had decreed
death claimed he, born of true and heroic Greek seed.
Elysium- open gates, paradise awaits.
On battlefields- glory, set by "Hands of the Fates".
R.J. Lindley, original version, May 9th, 1972
Rhyme, ( On Homer, Greek Mythology, Greek Warriors )
edited, and updated with link.. 8-18-2020
From new blog...
Syllables Per Line:
12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables:384
Total # Words:256
I can still feel my finger slide across the chilled glass panes of our kitchen window.
The simmering warmth of my grandmother’s stew against the freeze of a cold winter’s morning, gave birth to a fun filled coating of "dew".
I can hear her melodious chide as I continued drawing stickmen in the steam against her wishes. Such was a typical morning of my youth.
The "bouquet" of Ajax cleanser would descend as I watched an old Shirley Temple movie, redeeming the shrill notes of the scrub brush in the tub, a sure sign that it was Saturday. Though the dwindling mound of laundry announced that we’d soon be off to market,
I still hoped for a reprieve.
Alas, no time for Mighty Mouse!
I'm free falling, heaven's no longer calling
The sins I've committed are beyond appalling
I dream every night without a good moment
Every vision that came became pain's atonement
I don't condone these premonitions
I don't clone my emotions
There can't be two of me in existence
Second guessing my first wishes
That set never came true
My life has been soiled
Time to do the dishes
Cleanse the spirit of dirty plates
My fork and spoons need the Ajax
Because times before with these I still ate
My intercourse sanctions sour grapes
I poured the wine through my dream's virginity
Til it no longer wakes
Dreams still remain reality's plate
Rolling on thin ice
With the sharpest of blades on ice skates
Drowning in frozen water
Baptized in ice
Anointed with another overtime dream
In the middle of hell's first quarter
These themes of dreams Reach peaks and plateaus above Earth Where the air is beyond deep
Sleeping as lung bursts out in flames
In order for my soul to keep
Today I am doing better and I have written a poem . One inspired by my reading a post a member made at another site I am a member of. In which a member posted a poem by Thoreau: , ....The Summer Rain....
I found the verses about Homer, Ajax and the Greeks so inspiring that I sat to write a very quick poem, one my muse insisted I give birth to.
Written inspired by this stanza in Thoreau's poem
The Summer Rain - Poem by Henry David Thoreau
" Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn,
If red or black the gods will favor most,
Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn,
Struggling to heave some rock against the host."
**************************************
Upon Battlefields Fallen True, Their Bloody Dead
For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead
Thus many, from Greek mothers loving hearts were torn
Raised to be Greek heroes from day they were born.
Those giants brave and true as Homer did so write
Marching, fighting both by weary day and dark night
Shields held firm, plunging deep-red sharp sword and long spears
As fighting machines bereft of concerns and fears!
Achilles and Ajax mighty killers born to be
Destined as heroes, of valiant Greek tree
Godlike power in limbs of Herculean might
As was told by Homer's tale of Troy's last great fight.
For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-26-2019
Sonnet, ( What my muse just demanded of me )
Written inspired by this stanza in Thoreau's poem
The Summer Rain - Poem by Henry David Thoreau
" Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn,
If red or black the gods will favor most,
Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn,
Struggling to heave some rock against the host."
celestial moons celestial suns celestial stars and black holes
reflected in our vessels windows
all rainbow colours that seemed to bleed into the velvet inkiness of
the planet's atmosphere
not much was growing on aJAX I could tell
as Ij umped from our vessel- jumped high
for miles I could see cactus by rivers
and the heat was almost palpable
sweat was pouring down inside my spacesuit
as I jumped I jumped I jumped
weightlessly from rock to rock to rock to rock
to stone to stone to stone to stone
I was alone amongst the cactus and rocks and stones-
my cohorts were exploring on the other side of this planet
I saw another vessal land
gently
doors opened and lights whirrd out
and a funny noise unfurled itself in my ears
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
I was mesmerized and held in a sort of fearless moment and
found myself calling for my fellow spacetravelers
they appeared and
in a split second a profound connection was made
these bubbles of energy
consumed us in an embrace
filling our organs and our minds with a kind of white light that
smacked of Nirvana
and suddenly the planet revealed itself to be a garden of eden
with air we were able to breathe with our human lungs
and many different hued fruit
simply dropping from green and white bushes that crawled along the edges of the
streams
and the bursts of energy were able to assimilate themselves into humans
as we discovered we were able to assimilate ourselves into these bursts of energy
and we discovered
we were one
in the same underneath it all -
even the planet that gave birth to us out here...............
Form:
Above mentioned places, how I feel so for you with an m p
mark holland, who dragged you all through, the agony of con-vid oh
What a 'to-do' I beleive hes proud of locking your elders? Away And proud of that potion..The coercion and hey! He's
Glad that your churches were closed all around he's proud
Of how upon the truckers they came down, if you've blood clots
He's happy.' If your homeless and sick, he's estatic he was
Paid well. His wallets real thick, not as quite; as thick as his
I Q now thats something else yet back to my thoughts on
His inflated self' i lhear' he advises eye contact, why not
Take him at his word? Confront how he stands before you in
True actions get heard.!