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The Best Art Poems

Details | Art Poem |

KING ARTHUR - A collaboration with Darren White

He is the king of words and poets alike
Assay as you may, this man you won’t smite
His armour sparkles in night or day
Defending those too meek to say

His table is round, there's room for all
There are chairs with wheels so no one will fall
He hands out bronze goblets with sparkling wine
This king of lush gardens has spine

Renowned through the kingdom, for deeds he’s done
There is no battle, he has not won
His knights are loyal to a fault
So you better beware who you assault

Lancelot and Guinevere are by his side
Uniting followers far and wide
So sit and drink with us in harmony
And enjoy food presented artfully

Details | Art Poem |

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis

ONE WORD~

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Running through my mind,
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Running through my veins,
                                   
A silica odor, dust walks through a fresh desert night
Cool air beneath and above the sea
A warm furnace smell, I don’t understand
Intricate to rise and receive without knowing
Up ahead in a virtue distance
A mysterious poisonous effluvium light-     
My face feels like a leaf'
My sun holds up its own pendulum rods
Inflammation comes and settles in for the night,
There it stands in a pertinacious manner, with quality
I resurrect this air created from madness, all over again
Twilight, rain stranger than strange
Visions, pursue my path into an infested dark pasture
"From the red Heaven I fell into the waters of a cobalt Hell"

Perhaps this venerable moment, will pass slower than slow
PERHAPS NOT!
If I accept, and then decline
Would this balance the precocious state I live in?
How about when wrong directions follow my promiscuous ways 
Is my conglomeration of ideas, no longer safe?	
When I no longer value the values of the young
Will I sleep at the mercy of his ancient heart
They're the voices give and take from our health

Today, those soft, perfect eyes are calling from far away,
Ashes high, vapors and infection welding me
The bright skies swallow every thin silver line,
Where the clouds sit somehow~ in bacteria
UNITY! 
   UNITY! Like a common curse
Always, wanting more than love can touch

We are living' it up with no alibis!
A way to be and not to BE!
The champagne leaves their cup
Awaken in a life, disturbed ~ NOW INTERRUPT!
Only in this world, lava will reach her lips
Prisoners and doers; 
All night…. Too late for a treatment
Lungs, decaying, evil rats
Direction, affection, ending all the inhalation

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Running through my lungs,
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Flat-lined my life ____/\ /\___ ___/\______/\___ _______________

By: PD

Details | Art Poem |

* * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * s * * * * * * * * *
* * t * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *
* s t a r s * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *
* * * r * * * * * *
* * s * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *

A
fine
Parrot Tulip
in vibrant intensities
with unique undertones
of green acquirable only in a
few forests. A ruby red swirls within
its petals beckons awareness of those very
strokes that live in the luster of your shapely lips
like fantasy realized. Mirthful yellows in all those lacquers
barely ever seen as one would scorch their eyes to gaze lastingly
directly at the Sun - though I have been fortunate to witness identical
iridescence in strands of your hair you unintentionally flip and like dainty
fingers wave me on to move closer to your flawless frame - memorized easily.
A
special
fuchsia sparingly
paints the flower they
say exists only in certain
singular gemstones yet l know
this tincture for I have seen it in your
cheeks when we play and laugh. Oh your
laugh how it fills me - replacing noise surfing
the waves of sound in the surrounding atmosphere.
How enchanting when your laughter there - dwells to
tickle molecules invisible to the eyes but felt by the human
heart. Parrot tulips with their soft myriad shades become stunning
against a deep black backdrop which shimmers bright like your ebony eyes.
Sparkle like your smile and I grin happily just thinking of you, just thinking of us.
A
pearl
white that also
adorns the flower a
special light effect I have
found in your complexion - dazzles
my mind each and every time I see you.
Parrot tulips a miracle of nature, a special
breed I admit are as remarkable as any offering
that grows in our gardens but rarer still - you the flower
I share my life with. No one, no thing, no life compares to you,
your approach - for every time I even think of you, the joy it brings
completes the meaning of my existence full. If not for you no other delight
would have that extra zest I feel from the sharing of your love and light always.
A
Parrot
tulip oh
what joy it
brings. How the flower
draws these words from
me. Ironic how true allure felt
fills our glass so I thought I'd share
with you how it uplifts my days - knowing
confident in our love as one - you'd never resent
me speaking of an elegance other than yours. So you may
know - understand what the fibers of ones constitution compels
them to write. Now - about a mystique other than the one you sport with
humility. Finally I can not write a poem on aesthetics that does not mention you.
A
closing
monologue.
Just above and
beneath the dirt grows
riches unimaginable. Made to
be absorbed by senses recognizable
only by a few. They are free for the taking.
An appreciation, a love of a natural essence.
A flower, a person, romance you breathe incomparable
to anything real or imagined. It alone are the wings we humans
seek...as real and as precious as all else consumable. How lucky I
am the magic handed out daily on these pages. The people I could never
find anywhere else then here. I am in love with their words in love with them.
barkbarkbarkbarkbark
barkbarkbarkbarkbark
barkbarkbarkbarkbark
barkbarkbarkbarkbark
barkbarkbarkbarkbark
barkbarkbarkbarkbark
barkbarkbarkbarkbark
barkbarkbarkbarkbark
earthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearth

the refrain is a parrot
tulip hidden under f
this majestic a
evergreen e
with a l
dew f
d a
r e
o l
p
s
t
e
m
earthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearth
r r r r
o o o o
o o o o
t t t t
s s s s

Details | Art Poem |

The Park Bench

The Park Bench

I wish I was a poet
With magical words
To make people see all of the absurd
Tears fly, paintings in pastel die

When we look into our mirrors
We sometimes miss
What love dumps upon all of us
We shed tears, for we forgot to shed fears

I have no legs, nor any crutches
So my voyage has ended
I only observe
Sadness upended

When goodness is confused
When gestures are refused
When the kiss that could have been
When a poets tear seems obscene

The one who hears is often deaf
The deaf sometimes have nothing left
If I could give a kiss away
I would give it to lovers with hearts that sway

Drawing love on paper in may

Details | Art Poem |

In A Sad Blindness, One May Yet Find Hope

In A Sad Blindness, One May Yet Find Hope
           (The Solemn Prayer)

Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.

On this day, life should see past these looming black-storms
Find solace in love, hope and my loving wife's arms
Yet that stone wall, yields to nothing but great power
Far more than this broken soul can muster this hour
When thus lost, can one ever find again that Light
Healer of dagger stabbed wounds, found on a dark night
I pray, gift wisdom to walk that one true-lit path
Release this sad soul from, this evil, wicked wrath.

Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.

Robert J. Lindley, 2-07-2017

Syllables Per Line: 
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
Total # Syllables: 288
Total # Words: 225

Note-  I decided to write this poem, this morn. About half had already been composed in my head yesterday afternoon and I finally sat down now to put pen to paper.
Believe me, in that it was not an easy task to finish this and be satisfied with the results.
Maybe I am just tired and stopped because of that.
I don't know. Maybe on another day, I could have and would have thought this lacking and rewritten it..
But today, I have only enough to say, this is as it is(and thus it may stay), hope you may find it agreeable and not fault me too much .......

Details | Art Poem |

The Forest

"What happens in the forest stays in the forest"

The trees are trimmed, 
The leaves on the ground 
Proposing passion, sweet mist
Naked with nothing to bare or wear
Nature's breath lightens the atmosphere
She breathes in, he breathes out
The auditory sensation of rain 
   - drums down and deepens
The course is near its end, 
Deep in this forest night
A Gentleman among the trees, 
Hibernating new seeds 

"On the other side of the forest"
He guides a path, with ebony eyes
A convincing vent, I accept
The fear is broken, I sleep in glee
The whispers disappear 
Drying in peace by the secret bayou 
Broad leaves lay under raw landscape
Lulled by the chills he quills
A quarter past midnight 
Mr Romantic
   - prepares the new sheets of Winter. 

11-11-15
~*~

Details | Art Poem |

Try

Try to live
Try to feel pain with no tears
Try to remember years past and often lost
Try, oh try to know life need not be cold as frost

Ear not the words of those proclaiming silence
Listen to the rhythmic melody; give voice to a new start
The world will follow when you sing from your heart
Believing in things that some may only try

Try, to see, the truth is musical to you and all of thee
Telling histories with music, as soothing as can be
When you sing, and when you inspire our romance
Ones on crutches, they too shall rise and dance

Try, I beg
To see as eye
Even the ear is lost in the sky
Purest of hearts, they never die

Note: If you cant open the video, as sometimes different Countries have different copyrights, just search YOUTUBE for "Mandy Harvey: Deaf Singer With Original TRY"

Details | Art Poem |

Floccinaucinihilipilification And Very Little Bread

Floccinaucinihilipilification And Very Little Bread
       ( First of Three Poem Trilogy )

I

I've no problem with bardolatry fans
their barmecide and oft humorous rants.
Give me golden words not found in empty cans,
not bawbee's from those with sad, empty pants.
Truly I enjoy, bright golden attic wit,
creators of canorous verse that soars.
Those I may share bumbo and be a big hit
not with callithumpians that so sorely bores.

Nor do I fancy to become a bichon frise,
beholding to those with comminatory ways.
Finding some will cut you off at the knees
as a criticaster dariole for fugacious pay.
Floccinaucinihilipilification,
judged by Flews that chatter in morbid tune. 
Give me saudade and a sandy beach vacation
with very little scrippage in the month of June.

Aye, no snollygoster soucouyant will do,
for my heart and soul begs sun-grazing songs.
Not a superbious umbriferous critic or two,
with the poet's soul this body truly belongs.
Seeking no uroboros legacy my ink doth stain
as a soulcatcher with a selkie as a muse.
Alone, in this rawky terrain my life will remain
for solitude and honor my poet's heart doth choose.

I've no problem with bardolatry fans
their barmecide and oft humorous rants.
Give me golden words not found in empty cans,
not bawbee's from those with sad, empty pants.
Truly I enjoy, bright golden attic wit,
creators of canorous verse that soars.
Those I may share bumbo and be a big hit,
not with callithumpians that so sorely bores.

Robert J. Lindley, 3-21-2018
Rhyme

Note: 
Make of this what you will,
I give thus and surely shall send no bill
Yet in my poet's heart my soul oft grieves
for the Autumn colors not the decaying leaves
For the heart that yearns to write and truly give
and the mortal soul that writes to live
With inked symbols and a mind tired of toil
wading through worlds filled with pride and hidden turmoil
I write with purpose to give to others, not to take
tho' oft my poet's heart over burning coals some gladly rake.

Details | Art Poem |

American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf

American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf

Thirsty for red moon, its sacred beams and eternal pull
howling-out to speak to this dark and blind world, without fear;
Your echoes enter, soulful bones of insightful red man
birthing growing urges to return and run truly free,
falling upon ancient trails, foraging for lean red meat
race with red-heart's deepest desires into widest abyss,
embrace our mother earth, unified into one body. 

Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'. 
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.

Standing proud, atop very high and lonesome mountain crag
winds caressing one of Nature's most beautiful creatures;
Notes calling loud, that give night's resplendent moon pregnant pause
in that silent and golden moment, where man so trembles,
for it is then knowledge comes, therein sings of true freedom
having no need for dreams of blind men or dark worldly lusts,
speaking to pack below, mirroring its deep felt tones.

Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'. 
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.

Alas! Fate and Fury- rage combine and oft delivers
soul-crushing, black-handed cuts from darkened realms far below;
Wherein has justice overcame Fate's most savage attacks
when hatred and greed both conspired to not be defeated,
in infliction of war's sorrows and deadly destruction
while parading under banner of Light and compassion,
tales of malevolent beasts, benevolently destroyed!

Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'. 
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.

R. J. Lindley,
Feb 2nd, 1973
Poetry-- Subject Nature, Wolf, Amerian Indian And Injustice...

Old note: My mother's father was Native American. I gained
great insight into the life of Native Americans from words
he spoke to me. Since his death, I have read many books that
gave even more historical knowledge on the subject. Finding 
the ones that did not deliberately cover up the savage acts
carried out by "whites" against Native Americans.

Details | Art Poem |

The Angel Inside

Coral life forms in copious swarms
feast in the Cambrian chyme,
dividing their cells and forming their shells
to end on the seafloor as lime.
Tectonic churning and magma upturning
renders marble whiter than bone.
The marble is mined, but the cutters are blind
to the angel confined in the stone.

A young sculptor arose, with a bend in his nose
and a transcendent creative spark,
charged with ambition to fulfill a commission,
an angel for St. Dominic's Ark.
An artist sublime who will live for all time,
his genius is to see things not shown.
For an angel to achieve he first has to perceive
its splendor enclosed in the stone.

At dawning's first glow he surveys the tableau
of the blocks the stone cutters supplied.
In some he sees dreams of potential themes,
but only one holds an angel inside.
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain 
as does failing to hear it and see it.”
The block that he chose was rejected by those
who then lied and claimed to foresee it.
 
With talent and skill he falls to with a will,
surrounded by rubble and relic.
His method you see, for the angel to free
is to remove all the bits not angelic.
Michelangelo’s art for all time stands apart
but there's something further to heed.
For there's a bit more to the fine metaphor
in the tale of the angel he freed.

“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain 
as does failing to hear it and see it.”
For in all our insides a bright angel abides
and is just waiting for something to free it:
to remove all the parts which harden our hearts,
to chip out the darkness and pride,
to smooth the rough patches, to polish the scratches
and unshackle the angel inside.

© January 26, 2013

Details | Art Poem |

Suicide Masterpiece

Suicide Masterpiece

Sweatdrop
On top
Trigger pop
Written note
All I got
Hang knot
Body rot
Suicide cop

I hope not
Cry out loud
I think not
Body's hot
I am too proud
I am loved a lot
Rooftop.
Suicide bride

Heavy rain
Your game 
the same
Trapped shame
Gone insane
Who's to blame
Red stain
Suicide rain

Addictive dope
Needle hope
Poison taste
Drowning beer
Gunshot
Painless fear
Powder nose
Suicide dose

Razor blades
Flame stare
Pain fades
Sadden tear
Candle wax
Smoke dare
Burn down
Suicide flare

No bluff
No name
War zone
Innocent prey
Soul blown
Cry all day
Set mind
Suicide bomb

Terrorist 
traffic jam
Plane jack
Headstrong
Help protect
Customs wrong
Dead plot
Suicide stop

------
stop the suicide 

by:-)

Details | Art Poem |

Desire LOVE Romance

All lovely words
when understood

All so misconstrued
silence envelopes our delusions

Desire, we lust the attention
at the forfeit of philosophy

Love, we crave at Kings expense
	at times
		Sacrificing those whom love us true
			spilling blood at humanities alter

Romance, we desire for loves embrace
knowing serpents sell snake oil remedies

Beware the soft spoken 
cringe when you hear words only a token

Seeking the truth, not platitude
discover love, in those that.........

Breathe actions, not poetic verse

Details | Art Poem |

Other Side of the Wall

Silence?
or
is that a cry
I hear

Screams?
or 
is that
memories
hiding?

Wall
yes I listen
to a wall
days
weeks
forever

A white wall
stares back at me
curiosity mounts
I feel the wall
whiteness
blinds me

My heart stops
a rhythm
still
dances

ah
a smile crashes 
into me
two
yes two hearts
one
wall

Details | Art Poem |

In Dreams, Her Spirit Sallied Forth: with Lin Lane

Through frigid months, she waited for Spring rains
to give relief and ease heartbroken pains,
Nature will award that which Life commands
placing her true love, in its gentle hands.
O'sweet promise of passion's fine delights,
candlelight dinners and intimate nights.

With eager dreams her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, in the far North.

Countless, were the eventides spent in dread
Praying he'd stay safe 'fore lying abed
She wished on stars in darkened Winter skies
as tears pooled in her melancholy eyes
Arctic winds blustered; through tall pines they'd blow,
layers of oceans, in white waves of snow

In Wintry dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, of the far North.

Pictures sent from her beau, her Southern man
whose dashing looks, deep blue eyes and bronzed tan,
had her heart remembering their first kiss
Without regret, love said, "Hold onto this!"
To wake with dawn's sweet warmth, upon her face
would ease her sorrow and heartache erase.

In ardent dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Beyond the frosty chill of the far North.

She brushed her hair, raven tresses fell
Her firelight shadow evidenced the swell
Softly, she hummed, cradling her unborn child
A motherly instinct that brought forth a smile
Having a babe, they had both long revered
That he'd be back in time, she deeply feared.

With anxious dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Further from winter's chill of the far North.

She was haunted by his voice in a dream
and awoke with the sound of her own scream
Rain, her companion, on an April morn
Pains let her know their child would soon be born
Alone, she prayed that she'd know what to do
In the door strode a man; eyes of deep blue.

No longer a dream, her man had come forth
To deliver their child in the far North.

11-01- 2018

Thank you for writing with me yet again after such a long break my friend. Your invitation to do another collaboration was a great gift and a blessing given to me. I sincerely appreciate such great kindness as well as your great advice given on poetry/editing. As such shows great talent and true poetic heart. You magnificent verses makes this a truly golden poem.
God bless always..

Details | Art Poem |

BASTARD

"All Children Are Beautiful"

His heart of white,   deep shallow wells,   -yet beautiful
He smirks with a grin,  an ego that won't let me in' -he's beautiful
Bastard of beauty,   running ashes without a name
A face with no claim, a young man pound from shame 
What is his sin,  -he's beautiful!
I want to breathe from his ashes, swim through his veins
I want him to come into my light, like a good man

I sing and tell a tale, "A Bastard through the night"
His eyes I wage a thousand times,  young and poor, I felt saved
Lying down in the arms of my white knight
My hair perfectly caressed,   he came to my light
The furnace burned, the night was fast becoming trite
A lover,  he did it well,   then went back to his wife
A moment of gold,  the ages live,   his son is born
   "He Was Beautiful!"

Another Bastard brought into this world

Details | Art Poem |

A Man's Tale

A man’s tale 

With mind control there he was,
A man for sale…
Hearing the vocal sound from this wordsmith, 
A man in his own tale…
Currently, he was sitting and calling upon the earth.
Prior rumors about his love for the Queen.
Yet to come would be a bard, singing for Her Majesty-

A fool wrapped in a cowardly way.
Flowers and scars sat on his floor.
A torn heart, making its way out the door.
He caresses the image of her in his mind.
This man, this bard, sang a song for the blind.

Releasing a soft note, she turns towards the sun.
Forgetting the ferocious rage of the king.
The man kneels with the light flashing in his face.
He drinks with his eyes, one moment of glee.
His headlands under the moon's winter space.

Never again, will he spend his days thinking.
Never again-
 will he feel the shivers when calling upon the earth and her beauty. 
Never will he know, he was the tune that eased her thirst.

A man’s tale always ends under a woman’s spell. 

by;PD

Details | Art Poem |

The Blind Painter

There is a part of me missing
There is a part of me that shall never be
Inside of this dark sad brooding mind
Is the painter who will never see

So I take my pen, and vaso of wine
I contemplate
I get lost in the drunkenness of time
Stooped over my own memories on a sour palette

I had the brushes staring at the naked breast
My paints were frozen, at such beauties unrest
Erect and tall, at her feet I did fall
The blind painter, who lost it all

So now you see I am a poet of some seedy sort
Painting Braille, is poetry of my last resort
I write down words with the flourish of my pen
The Braille poet, cause painting I could not fend

I take words and wish them bountiful explosive colors
If only I had talent, a painter and not a story teller
So for me, in pain and clad in the cloth of sadness
I write words, for this painter has only Braille

I have no painting brushes
I possess no smile, wandering along on wistful miles
Of blindness, blowing in the winds of the frail
No map for the future, and yet I set sail

Hoping my words one day will be seen
By an artist who paints the soul and the serene
She takes my blindness and paints boldly my dreams
Taking my words, from Braille to bright pastel creams

Details | Art Poem |

Humanity

Shadow not over the words of love
Love is a language known only to the heart
Hear it in the wind and the birds above
Paint it on a canvas skin and call it art

Eternal beauty walks among us all
Seekers of knowledge may know its name
But true wisdom lies in hearing its call
As the oceans causes the moon to wane

Its gentle touch, abundantly crystalline
Euphoric in nature, its secret is kept
With its healing powers all part divine
Though many an angel from love has wept

Compassion and caring, make love's trinity
And kindness a guide that leads to bliss
So make love your one and true reality
For you are worth much more than this

Details | Art Poem |

RETREAT TO HEED OUR HONEST DEEDS

RETREAT TO HEED OUR HONEST DEEDS

Two old oak trees weathered by winds and rain
with fallen leaves, branches and toughened bark
to shield a core of grandeur, and sustain
the wisdom borne to see the light from dark.
Two noble men aware of twilight time
both face evil world with courage and grace
Love and Nature gifts each, a life sublime
all standing with courage none can erase.
Each rooted within mother earth's great fold
weathering this world's darkest raging storms
images show lives lived regally and bold
tho' existing in weakened earthen forms.
With words of wisdom written in our seeds
we seek retreat to heed our honest deeds.

22nd June, 2018
T.J Grén & Robert Lindley

Details | Art Poem |

Achilles, The Journey To Troy, Part Two

Achilles, The Journey To Troy, 
(Part Two) of (Part One-titled, Achilles, His Heart and Soul Were Mortal)

Woe! wretched horrors Olympic gods sent that day
mighty king suffered, his treasure stolen away,
power of Troy against strongest of Grecian might
testing magnificent force of great Spartan fight!

Saving proud Greek honor was the summoning call
an arrogant king demanded Troy's suffering fall,
swift as Hermes, to warriors, messengers sent
his request answered, they came in flooding torrents.

As Grecian phalanx were boarding its warring ships
strong was the question upon the warriors lips,
Achilles! Achilles! Will our fight he now join
for he answers not to king's selfish whims or coins.

Roaring loud happy cheers as his ship sails were seen
warriors, certain victories plunders they'd glean,
his godlike bearing seen at, warships splashing prow
for not even Troy's massive walls, could stop them now!

Soon Troy's riches they would gather with bloody hands
slaughter its haughty citizens, burn its rich lands,
steal its power and gold, take its women as slaves
for its sins, cast its rabble into early graves!

With sacrifices made to Ares they could not fail
their gods had sent favoring winds to fill their sails,
Poseidon. rewarded faithful kings, gave their dues
they sailed on with pride of warriors and ships crews.

Eager to land and fight battles for glory's sake
to Olympic gods they prayed, their lives not to take,
gift them courage and hone well their slashing sharp blades
allow the joys of victor's homecoming parades.

Dawn's rays saw Achille's ship surging far ahead
he had his prowess and dark blood-lust to be fed,
in his heart he knew, this battle would be his last
glory and fame taken, would set the world aghast!

As night fell, they knew new day's light, would blood-lust sate
they each sought to placate dark master of their Fate,
with prayers and incense to burn throughout dark of night
each prepared for this, the greatest of all their fights!
 
 Robert J. Lindley, 8-12-2018
  (Part Two) -  The Journey To Troy

Details | Art Poem |

All In All, True Magnificent Treasures Given

Luscious the fruits, beautiful under moonlit beams
firmly planted roots, outstandingly hot, lush-sent dreams
all in all, glorified visions, heavenly sent
treasured deeply with rapture stored, sweet love-nights spent.

Tender kissing bites, honeyed dessert offered free
wonderful the flights, through blossoming forests of trees
all in all, miracles were given, lost soul found
in resplendent nights, covering soft virgin grounds!

Gold fairy dusted, jeweled eyes sending bright smiles
each promise trusted, an angel with no dark wiles
all in all, true magnificent treasures given
gracefully sent, in true-deep bliss, purely driven.

Beneath plum skies starlight glistening in her eyes
I see all I desire and I do fantasize -
looking into her goddess blues, crystal gazing;
of our wild delight to be forever blazing...

In Eden’s solitude we dance to soft sighs of
waltzing wind-songs’ stirring verses promising love,
with lilting whispered melodies so inspiring
my appetite for her wanton and untiring.

Ancient woodland’s moon casts smitten luminescence
breathtaking in beauty she outshines its presence,
ecstasy flows an intoxicating river
inebriating essence in love’s deliver.

Your vivacious beauty enhanced by golden rays
illuminating your grace with a loving gaze
with ardent reflection of my phantom desire
to allow the pledge of love finally transpire.

Two common souls released from infernal abyss
to engage a rendezvous with heavenly bliss.
Together our spirits soar to realms of delight,
two lost souls united in the fading twilight.

With a chapter closing in reverie’s accord
we share a secret paradise of love’s award.
All in all, wondrous senses of passion recall,
from heart to soul we reminisce, as love is all.

Robert J. Lindley, Susan Ashley and Teppo Gren
(a collaboration)
August 26, 2018

(a collaboration - joining as one voice and one searching soul)

Note: Yet again it is my great pleasure to present here another collaboration written by we three poets, my dear friends, Susan Ashley, Teppo Gren and I.
I feel very blessed to have written my part several weeks ago and then watch as each of my wonderful writing partners carried the torch
to make this a very beautiful and far richer creation. As always both crafted such exquisite and profound verses to bring this poem to a very fine finish.
I hope the readers enjoy the fruits of the unification of our three hearts, souls and minds, with the sincere goal of each- striving to give to others..

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