Best Allaying Poems
I like many others have lived in our dreams
In this world where I lived amongst forests and streams
Where the Great Plains stretched and our rivers flowed
If you could see through my eyes, how my tribe glowed
Born from my mother of Arikara descent
My father a Sioux warrior, his stature, augment
My growing up was no different than the others around
For the learnings that grew from our ancestors surround
Hunting and fishing, being told of the dangers in life
Cultural indifferences, to fearing tribal strife
But it's what my father taught me every single day
To learn from our lands for through the years they'd display
Tracking, seeking, searching, living from our lands
Every year more learned, growing in understand
From a boy to a man becoming a warrior through my years
Protecting what was ours, allaying modern fears
But the changes that we faced, suffocated our souls
There was only ever one outcome, other man's goals
I like many others, to live and eventually fall
Born from Arikara, Sioux, my name was 'Standing Tall'
..
A little story from my heart, where the Indigenous will always be.
(1.)
From Dawn's Spirited Breath, See Red, Red Rose
When Summer rose meets dawning's sweetest hush
Sun comes to bequeath its dawn bathing rays
Red beauty gleaming, rose stills early rush
Into man's world shines, another bright day.
With red rose petals spreading ever wide
Calming thoughts, heavenly blue ocean waves
One may from duty or play thus decide
No plucking, to rose's truest of beauty save.
Within Nature's truth, rests a native song
Of wanderings some lost souls have traveled
In desperate search for truth to belong
Hope, such tapestry, can be unraveled.
From Dawn's spirited breath, they see red rose.
And wonder why its color, Nature chose.
Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet, Rhyme, ( To Gaze In Awe At Red Rose Radiant Colors )
(2.)
Red Rose, Sing Me A Sweeter Melody
Alas! Flowers winter breath soon must feel
Frigid wind, that fierce and dastardly blows
Pray I, mildest winter, on knees I kneel
Begging for Spring, when fantastic green shows.
Red rose, sing me a sweeter melody
Of paradise that hold Spring all the year
Casting winter's fangs into darkest sea
Allaying this man's dreaded icy fears.
Shall I, for deepest beauty thus reward
A plastic cover to thy life extend
For here blasting winter chill 'tis so hard
Harsh reality, let us not pretend!
Red rose, thy bright song must for a time end.
Solemn vow held as, magnificent friend!
Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet, Rhyme, ( Red Rose, To Admiring Heart, Thy Truest Song Sing )
(3.)
Then Red Rose Blushed Its Petals Brightest Red
Songbirds to red rose, thy colors cry out
Bestow thy harmonious songs as gifts
We sing melodies while flying about
Hoping thy red souls it truly uplifts.
Red rose, songbirds assuredly you know
In my soft flowerbeds I welcome thee
In Mother earth's soil I happily grow
With pleasure serve her busy honey-bee.
Listen Mother Nature so softly said
Birds to you, I giveth earth and blue sky
To red rose I gift my fine virgin beds
None but blinded man would be asking why!
Then red rose blushed its petals brightest red
Proving to all, truth Mother Nature said!
Robert J. Lindley, 11-27-2019
Sonnet, Rhyme, ( Red Rose, Songbirds, Mother, Nature- A Conversation )
Midnight breezes echo a snuffed demise from this lament ,
While time hangs amidst moments on pale skies from this lament.
A lone ibis drifts on weeds reflecting my emptiness
When summer dreams grow dull through ashen eyes from this lament...
How bitter this grief of a mother stripped by innocence--
To touch to nestle a child without cries from this lament.
I recall laughter shared before eve’s veil wrapped my babe , cold :
Now , plush dawn gives way to angst of goodbyes from this lament.
And each bursting tear stains a frock I wear to memorize
The hour I closed life and prayed for what’s wise from this lament.
Till a little voice hums like a cherub across moon’s view
Allaying glum heart taming breath which sighs from this lament.
Form G Contest Or Give Me An N/A 2/07/2017
Sponsor: Broken Wings
14 syllables per www.howmanysyllables.com
One step I go back, and
I see you holding my hands...
With a smile, walking down the lanes.
Yesterday I acquainted me in you
When your hands grabbed mine in your fears
With such reliance, allaying down the pains.
And Today when I stood still
I saw myself lost in despair
When my hands sorely waved you goodbye.
Another step I go back, and
I see you resting on my shoulder
With an ease, breathing out all your whimseys.
Yesterday I held myself in you
When you hugged me in your tenderness
With such peace, grieving away all the hearsays.
And Today when I fastened myself
I felt I betrayed your trust
When my arms direly opened to free your life.
Further I stepped to go back, and
I see you lying up on me abreast
With an intimacy, desiring all your fondness.
Yesterday I mellowed my soul in yours'
When you lusted me in your reverences
With such warmth, melting down all the iciness.
And Today when I lie down
I realized I burnt my essence
When my deity hollered out to coffined my soul.
Yet I wanted to go back, and
I see my shadow fading out slowly under the daylight
With such isolation, deafing all those mirthful moments.
Yesterday I was in a state of solitude
Till I acquainted with your heart and soul
With such reliance, peace and warmth, gratifying all forbearance.
And Today I am back, where I was
I raged as it was hard to believe
When my heart panicked to say you GOOD-BYE.
To compare you to a moonlit sky
Bathed in the light of the stars aglow
With gloom and Night across the earth
Your face, the Moon, a beauty to bestow
Perhaps a glee of only a few hours or so
For the darkness shall flee and the sun shall glow
Yet beyond all time your visage shall shine
Whether the murk shall come or afar shall go
Allaying placidity with nightfall shall grow
An embrace that renders your charm of woe
When the heart succumbs to emotion, to Night
Reason lives not within the core below
So ebbs the Night beneath clear dawn
I now shall await that you emerge anew
"Shades"
You shade me
I shade you
stops the sun burning
eternally through
long nights’ deep bleed
the blue birds lead the way;
"definitely no more flowers",
you say.
I say, "fancy some
foxgloves?"
You say, "Slinky opera-like?"
I say, "No way, Prospero
digitalis are us
behind eyes that pray."
Just for good measure
I say,
"I’m not Miranda,
I’m Prospera,
by the way,
my high charms work,
and these my enemies
are all knit up in their
distractions, they are
now in my power.
I hear tell that
Hell is now empty
and all the devils are here."
"I believe you", you say,
"digitalis ready
lead the way."
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it”
“Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.”
“We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again.
And by that destiny to perform an act
Whereof what’s past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge.”
“I'll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book.”
“Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.”
Old Roxie is dead. She's gone to her bed
Near the drop-off where leaves are decaying.
Yet she rises again from that terrible fen
In a manner grotesque and dismaying.
The grave that we dug, although tidy and snug,
Was too shallow for her to be laying.
So the volatile gas that shot from her ass
(Excuse me for vulgarly saying)
Overexcited, spontaneously ignited
And created a monstrous spraying!
The guts and the hide were strewn far and wide,
Festooning the branches, displaying
Those rotting remains and even the brains
Of her corpse. The crows are buffeting!
There's no consolation for miscalculation,
No comforting words for allaying
Our grief and chagrin for committing the sin
Of the mess for which now we are paying.
After July abdicates, august August arrives,
and the year advances, as annually agreed.
After assessing alternative alternatives and accords,
as anticipated, no other affirmative alternative is advanced.
Actually August is always an annual actuality, affably accepted
as amicable and always awaited ardently, as July avidly absconds!
Anxiously active actions advise August adherents, to atrabilious accordingly,
as days are abridged and abbreviated, around-the-clock! Slowly
as all administrations adjourn, advocates abort all agonistic argument,
as analysis of aforethought Acts are advanced, and addendums
are amicably agreed. After appropriate and amusing accolades are accepted,
all approve of appeasement, as another additional accidental adventitious
activity appears! August is always appreciated and advances, as aide-de-camps
award and authorise aristocrats and actuaries, to amalgamate advertising agencies,
although angry animosity always aggravates, angers, and aggrieves
anti-agreement antagonists! Assuaging angry aged academics and agents,
aghast at angry animosity, always attracts acrimonious atrabilious attention.
As an acknowledged antidote, an amusing anecdote is always acceptable,
as an agreeable anaesthetic appetizer, and allaying fears. An atmosphere
of aggravated argument, also assures all august, August activities are
axed and abolished abruptly, as September appropriately and advisedly appears!
Adieu, Adios, Arrivederci, Au revoir August and Amen!
Rhymer. September 1st, 2016..
Waking me in the wake of her brilliance
words spoken,written in convoluted high tones
ringing meaning esoteric and quite unknown
the craft was hyped in meteoric terms
shining bright, sending craven tremulous brain numb.
Harking, in glory she strode the road
on which no one else was allowed
they lined up till she ticketed
them for her rich comments
looking at the teeming crowd
I too went and pushed as a throng on.
She was allaying the fears of an unwary(me included)
do not worry if you do not know'tense agreement'
I am here and with you the manna heaven sent
I would 'salad';I would 'marinate'; I would'contemplate'
and 'I would ruiminate',for heck as sure I would,
your poem would come out shining from wood
wait till I am through with that ,sit there in suspense
as I put on spectacles English and thrash you hence
the poor bloke waited with breath baited
like a rabbit flagellating as a helpless bait.
After an hour, the wise lady looked up
gave a list of typos to the poor bloke as his corrective sup
and in the end she wrote
with ten spell mistakes of her own galore
this poem was all wrong and even the topic was
actually this guy should have come to me
and got the poem written by me
on a topic of my choice
and claimed this was his and will be
it was only then would I give a positive critique
as it stands it is a loser because this do-no-good
pooh phah phah, is the author.
Now let me do the right thing
somebody close has died
yes,he did and they did not lie
I began a poem for lament
but that young bloke came like scent
I forgot the lament and wrote
a collaboration of ass cream whip and ah! in it sent.
Well the critique royale with her hyped and marketed skills is on to her next critiquing ticket.
I’m slowly dying ... being pillow buried alive,
and ain’t nobody’s pity coming
to prematurely save me
I fell into this death trap of my own crypt choosing,
when the creeping lust
of a sultry smile
enticed me so hypnotically
I shouldna went scuba diving for pearls only skin deep
Whispering desires wrapped around
my lascivious, madly buzzing mind ...
Entombing this naked truth —
I was in a web-caught moral decline
She passionately covered my fake naïveté
with a blanket of silky lies
My virgin pretenses got cocooned
by a sly black widow so fly
Oh, woe is butterfly me ...
so delusional, as not to see
what was happening
around the warm fireplace lit cozy
I was being pulse poisoned
by a scent pleasure sweat fantasy
Her lipstick negligee pleas
wanted my gentle, caressing touch of
bosom acquiescence
With empty resistence,
I yielded to the fatal kisses of death
Paralyzing inhalation of erogenous stimulation ...
she then sensuously took
whatever chaste dignity I had left
Her silhouette hungering ravished me,
as she feasted on my bio-cellular needs
Slowly draining every tear drip
of pulmonary sustenance,
she cradled me in a dying ember embrace
Whispering low, vow falsities blown so sweetly;
allaying these lullaby fears ...
putting my vulnerable doubts to climatic sleep
She said she would nuptial lie
in a cold dirt bed for me
But I’m the ungroomed bridesmaid
folding the coffin sheets
The woman of my demise
said forever
she would always love me
As her softly woven blanket of ecstasy lies
slowly suffocated
my willingness to breathe
Stillness envelops me now
Wishing I could hear your whispers
But mortar shells rattled my ears
From air raids on the battle front
Constant blasts pierce anvil and hammer
Leaving me deafened through echoes of night.
My return leaves you waiting among flowers
Allaying fears and speaking through warm eyes
I go damn , damn to those who harken your calls
Like sweet pitch of birdsongs playing on those lips
Whipping gently on my furrowed chest
As my heart listens to the tap of your touch.
And the swish, rumble , purr of your skirt
Cascade with the usual morning breeze
Remembering how we moaned on our first kiss
Where l howled at evening’s sweet chorale
Now, we lay on the sheets of moonlit grass
But the silent code between us wakes me up.
P.D's Contest: Free Verse Old/New
by nette onclaud
I zip swiftly along on my snow machine,
admist a white blanket with spots of green,
my trapline runs along this stretch,
Alaskan cold makes smoke of breath.
The snowpack has been good this year,
goes a little way to allaying my fears,
but who knows what’s in the traps I set,
too early to count my dollars yet.
The first trap I find quite empty,
so I drive to the next, hoping to see…
A Marten! Yes! That’ll bring in cash,
he goes in the bag, then I’m off in a flash
I have many more long miles to go
across this bitter, cold, sub-arctic snow.
Some wonder why I come up north
where wolves are literally at my door.
Why do I make cash in this old way,
and in a tiny cabin have to stay
for three months out of every twelve,
away from my wife, and daughter, Isabelle.
I think then of ‘normal’ office work,
with gossiping cowokers, and a boss/jerk,
stuck every day in the same routine,
answering calls, staring at a screen,
Stuck in a cubicle, dull and beige,
waiting only for the day I get paid.
That’s what they same is normal, right?
How I’m ‘supposed’ to go about my life?
A life of punching clocks and paying bills,
if that’s what life is, give me the chill!
Out here my office is endless miles
of sculpted beauty and manly trials.
Never know what’s coming the next day,
be in caribou, wendigo, or snowstorm’s gray,
to me there is something to all that,
so I push onward to my next trap…
Look! Another Marten! Awesome.
She hailed from the kingdom in the north named Israel.
This woman must have had her beginnings in hell.
She was wicked princess of Ahab and Jezebel.
Intemperance nearly led to great Judah’s death knell.
A heathen worshipper of idols and deities;
rule over God’s people made the worst of travesties.
This wife of Jehoram was a despotic monarch.
Her son Ahaziah’s death made her the matriarch.
For six long years ruling from the throne of Judah,
the nation’s only queen; her name was Athaliah.
She killed all her grandchildren hoping to rule alone.
Only infant Prince Joash would be spared for the throne.
He was saved by Athaliah’s daughter Jehosheba.
This princess was married to the high priest Jehoiada.
They sequestered the grandson of the queen for six years
with a nurse in the Lord’s Temple allaying all fears.
After seven years, Jehoiada gathered his forces.
In addition, the king’s support came from all sources.
The high priest said, “Our King David’s line must continue.
We should depose this wicked queen and then start anew!
This perverted usurper has much blood on her hands.
Here is your rightful King Joash the Lord God demands!”
Jehoiada proudly held up this seven-year-old boy.
They crowned the young king amidst the overwhelming joy!
Proclaiming the ascension of a new king quite loud,
Athaliah soon would hear the cheering from the crowd.
The queen then shouted, “For whatever is the reason
there’s a new king’s coronation here? This is treason!”
Athaliah appeared, and her arms the guards would seize.
They were ready with their swords as she was on her knees.
The priest said, “Do not stain with blood the House of the Lord”.
So they took the queen outside, and put her to the sword.
She was the most disgraceful woman in history.
The likes of her never existed previously.
Her name will live forever ignominiously.
Mentioned in both 2Kings and 2Chronicles in the Old Testament.
The more I learn, the more
I realize how little I know…
which insightful, gutsy,
entrancing, catchy apothegm
attributed to Socrates by way of Plato
subsequently self ranking myself
amidst Phylum Chordata with the Dodo bird
Class Aves (namely
said extinct flightless winged creature
with a mass of 29 – 51 pounds Oh!)
once endemic to the island of Mauritius,
east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean,
none would be espied,
no matter how thorough
going across aquatic spreadsheet,
one might row
eventually coordinating
dropping vertical column in toto
arriving back to original
mentally ponderous premise
gamboling feint enroute to see
Old Man Wizard Of Oz
meets Crow Medicine Show
pitching thy quasi recursive query - bro
ching concurrence with another maxim to boot
“ignorance iz bliss”, which lack o'learn'n
doss appeal to this old coot,
yet such pithy accordance came
to this smart ass to late,
a mister wordsmith
with a palm pilot maximum glute
clamors (at risk of life and limb) to hoot
and holler when new kernel
of knowledge gleaned finds me mute
as if raw bit of savored information akin
to unearthing a rare gem,
or rare species of newt
temporarily allaying fervent quest to root
thru hefty tomes of great literature,
and tracts that suit
many other subjects,
less to be arrogant and toot
my own horn, but more so...
to satisfy an increasingly
insatiable hunger grow
wing nsync with unquenchable
thirsty ambition less for dough
(cuz bing po'
with treasure trove of voluminous
expansive bookish notions doth shaw
surpass becoming suddenly wealthy tin pot hustlers
with un hewn fifty nine shades of gray straw
this haint no cowardly lion seeking Androcles
to extract thorn from hum my faux paws.
Kohl is nightfall when bright hours decrease
Etching the silhouette of trees ;
Beneath drooped willows, grief ‘s ache unravels
A mourning in fallow shade
Twisted as petals, cold:
How endings throb again again
Without his blossoms for our sky;
That gushing out into soft rain
Lamentation is my reply .
Murmurs of branches
Deepen a caressing tune,
Allaying eve’s wail
Still, crystal leaves pour on grounds
Misty like fluid tears… ebbing.
4/21/2018
Broken Wings’ Contest: It’s All About Four