Best And Sad Poems
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)
Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekt, born at the close,
defeat your only destiny.
Thunder Rolling Down the Mountain, sometimes the strong
are chosen to fight the hopeless wars.
You began to lose before you rose;
they who called you Joseph
sought the land which held your father's body,
but you would not sell the bones of your father and mother.
Chief Joseph, they followed you a thousand miles.
You left your home,
but they would not let you go.
You fought with the frantic fury of the bush fire.
Thunder Rolling Down the Mountain, they caught you
but forty miles from your goal.
Your people broken, slaughtered, scattered.
Count the children, O Chief Joseph.
Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekt, they would not kill you.
The heart beats, the spirit dead.
The strong man born to bitter end.
"From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever."
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...
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.
How do I pen a cliche’
so it isn’t the cliche’,
but the reality.
My skin has soft little wrinkles
that look like ripples on water.
Yesterday it didn’t.
When did I start needing naps,
that have now become mini comas.
Yesterday I was working until I got my second wind.
The mirror seems to feel the need to taunt me
with an image of someone I do not know.
Yesterday the image was 18.
When I forget and sit too long,
it takes the length of the room to work out the stiffness and pain.
Yesterday, I didn’t have time to sit.
I won’t think about this today
I’ll do it tomorrow
But, tomorrow was yesterday, and the year is gone.
I must have blinked while laughing in the face of spring,
a brief summer warmth on my eye lids as they go down,
and as they started up again, fall is turning to winter.
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
From the cloudy blue sky ,
Through the birds that freely fly high .
I am happy !
With those animals and trees ,
With those flowers and bees .
I am happy !
For those kites and planes ,
And those sweet , sweet sugar canes .
I am happy !
With those green hills ,
There's something i really feels .
I am happy !
Those are things that makes me HAPPY . . . .
But one thing that makes me sad ,
The thing that I am alone and you're not by my side .
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.
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
Under the pale and sad moon,
her eyes pierce through illusions thin as parchment,
igniting fears into flames that rise from the steel of her heart,
and her trembling fingers reveal tears that flow like molten lead,
struggling to gather the loosened shards of pride, dissipating into the whisper of the evening.
She once believed that, in finding you, she had found her soulmate,
never imagining that your hearts could ever drift apart.
In words sharpened by love and hate, she cries out her suffering,
watching her dreams unravel like waves crashing against forgotten shores.
There is no innocent flirtation in the dance of fantasies;
it is the first crack in the fragile glass of love.
And the lies that overshadow it creep into hidden crevices,
tipping the scales of happiness towards an inevitable collapse.
Jealousy is a graceless dance, spinning
around the glimmering flames of romance.
Among the wavering shadows of betrayal,
she stands with a pierced soul, dreaming almost extinguished
of times when love was just a smooth flight.
Messengers of longing, the stars speckle the high skies,
reflecting a soul shattering into the embers of memories,
and her sigh becomes an endless echo
in the labyrinth of shadows deeply carved into her chest.
Funny how some people realize that they're in love ,
but the truth is that they're not ,
Funny How hard some people love others ,
to get what they regret in change .
Funny how loyal a person could be to someone ,
To get a stab in the back .
Funny how they always wannabe be friends with you ,
when they already took every emotion sense you have.
Sad how a person think and forget how to sleep ,
about someone thousands of miles away ,
And sad how someone really thinks that he cant give,
when he always gave everything others can't .
Its truly hard to releaf an ill without a cure or a dosage of it ,
its truly hard to beleave that beeing ill is the only way to releaf ,
its truly hard to sleep at 2 AM and wake at 6 PM ,
when sleeping didn't actually arrive ,
and laying thinking too much was to take sleeping's place .
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.
Rain
Dark clouds
Ink black sky
Stormy weather
A rainstorm always makes me feel happy
Hate the glare reflected on wet pavements
When the rain stops
Hurts my eyes
Makes me
Frown
Jack Horne for Michael’s Smiles and Frowns
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