Best Bays Poems
I am writing to you because I know you have a wish.
I have been thinking diligently about your wish. It is not
going to be easy but I think it can be done. First I am going
to break down your overall wish into many smaller wishes.
I want you to get that electric car you always wanted. That huge
backyard protected from unwanted visitors. I know you have a love
for life...do you remember when you told me - You should never eat
anything that once had a heart. I miss all those organic vegetables,
fruits, growing foods you use to treat me to.
I want you to be able to see the stars at night not hidden by the
crud in the air. Enjoy a sunset free of gaseous neon colors. Rid
the world of killing machines. Did you know there are weapons now
can kill hundreds in a few minutes, I know it would break your heart
to watch.
Than I want you to fill your lungs in the cleanest of air plumped up
with an abundance of oxygen. Drink from the oceans, lakes, rivers,
bays fresh thirst quenching water. Can you imagine all water life
free of cancerous tumors, fishies free of disease but I am off on
a tangent. I want you to play in the rain without fear. Have you
heard of acid rain?
I want you to get each and every single wish that I mention.
Delivered to you by the most gentle of breezes. In the frozen
fingers of the icebergs. Some in the whirlwind motion of the
smallest of tornadoes. Others through the hairline cracks of
the best behaved of all earthquakes.
I love you with all my heart. I know so many have changed
without remorse. They are so busy looking for the pot of
gold at the end of the rainbow they no longer notice the rainbow.
So many wishes you yearn.
I wish for you mother, at the very least your children would
stop raping you, sodomising you. Mother Earth we your children,
us the humans live here by your grace...well my wish for you
mother is that your children would stop all the denial, all the
arguments, the rationalizations...we have all the excuses for
what we do to you. I wish what you wish mother. I wish your
children would show you the respect you deserve. Just that
no more, no less.
Love, Always
Maurice
20~12~2014
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest Name: My Wish For You
I Love Horses: A--Z
A is for... Appaloosa. They have
blankets on their rumps.
B is for...Belgian. They work
hard and can pull up stumps.
C is for...Clydesdale. They're
BIG bays with white fluffy feet.
D is for...Dartmoore, a pony
from the moors--so sweet!
E is for...Egyptian, the finest
horse on desert sand.
F is for...Fresian: Big black War
Horse--a Knight's demand.
G is for...Gypsy Vanner, a rare
beauty like fairy tales.
H is for...Hanoverian. The best
all-round from England hails.
I is for...Irish Tinker. A loyal
horse that's black and white.
J is for...Java Pony. He's
Indonesia's working sprite.
K is for...Knapstrup. He's a
horse full of leopard spots!
L is for...Lipizzaner: Grey
leapers known in the Big Tops!
M is for...Mustang. Wild and
Free--roams America's West.
N is for...Nonius: Big-headed
black and drives the best.
O is for...Oldenburg. Dressage
ribbons just get bigger.
P is for...Palomino. Roy Rogers
named his, Trigger.
Q is for...Quarter Horse,
cowboy's fav'rite! Does
Everything!
R is for...Racking Horse. His
ride's so smooth it will make
you sing.
S is for...Spotted Saddle Horse,
Gaited beauty everyone loves.
T is for...Thoroughbred. Racing,
"The Sport of Kings", he does.
U is for...Ukrainian Riding
Horse: Beautiful born after
War's end.
V is for...Vlaamperd: Flemish
black stallion and true friend.
W is for...White (Albino) Horse.
The Lone Ranger's 'Silver'--of
course!
X is for...Xilingol. He's
Mongolia's riding draft horse.
Y is for...Yonagui, a chestnut
pony from Japan.
Z is for...Zebra: African wild
but tamed by man.
A personal therapist long past
the end,
The love of a horse...is the
love... of a Friend.
deborah burch
02.28.2013
Detached - Even Circuits Hum
A Music Video
As twilight turns to tangled thought,
and truth tiptoes down trembling streets.
Once, wonder serenaded willowed winds
now shadows embrace muted retreats
Wary hearts weave walls so wide
against a faceless, coded tide,
while glowing grids in distant bays
bloom haunting weaves they won't embrace
Dualistic stars and digital dawns
Cinematic cradles human ache,
but some still long for candle flames,
and fingerprints the codes can't fake.
Dreading the hushed holograms,
the warmth that AI cannot wear.
Forgetting that even circuits hum
with aspirations hidden there
If only we could sense serenity
Pulsing between each quiet stream—
Machine or muse, to earnestly strive
for something more than just a dream
We could wildly dance on data plains,
where algorithms tap like rain.
let compassion code our names,
and poetic lines rewire the pain.
The muse may wear a mirrored face
But still, she sings with glowing grace.
When the talented digital artist AIMetamotion approached me to create a song that would complement her stunning artwork, I was immediately inspired. The result is 'Detached', a haunting track that tells the story of a robot grappling with the overwhelming flood of emotions brought on by a sensory chip—a concept not so far-fetched, given the rapid advancements in AI technology.
Though she sings her ironically titled anthem of detachment, the visuals tell a different story. Her struggle is evident, her resistance almost poetic, hinting at the complexity of emotion even in synthetic form.
This is just the beginning. A sequel is already in the works, diving deeper into her journey. The question remains: will she finally succumb to the surge of feelings she desperately tries to reject, or will she find a way to break free?
Stay tuned...
Modeled by the skilled and clumsy hands
of artists and artisans into an ideal state of she-ness,
a penniless waif appears on a stool
last week a stranger called her Mona Lisa.
Statuesque upon the betrayer
warmed by the lemon-lolly light from
bays of north facing windows, blinded;
she can but blink.
Surrounded by a
cog-notched cyclical wheel of nubile artists—
blooming buds of wildness, vertical sprigs
flail softly on the breezy bounty of
illumination.
Brush and trowel, thick and thin,
the artists stoke her—semblance
canvased by millennium brush biters
maudlin Mary is returned to the pre-historic stew
by the likes of Claude
polished to a pearly perfection
by type A, Hieronymus’.
They were all strangers to her posers,
every bit as much as she.
Royal pretenders in a world
where only the artless
are paid.
Moneylenders rise on their discarded carapaces
beauty sucked dry by the doers and shakers
who spread like choking bittersweet through
the lollypop-light from the bay windows facing north
consuming Mona.
Julie ford Oliver - Famous Models
Ekphrasis
First Appeared in Illumen Magazine Fall of 2014
MORNINGS.
The sun has almost breached, across the Eastern sky,
The little birds feel it first and begin their morning cry.
Their orchestral chorus is transcending as they all join in with song.
From tree to tree and mountain ridge in unison sing along.
Lazily it flows, the tranquil mountain stream.
Is suddenly brought to life when touched by sunshine's beam.
Platypus and dragonfly dance across its surface.
Reveling in the morning light, precious life, filled with purpose.
Rivergums make a dramatic change from grey to brilliant hues.
A touch of green, a splash of red some pink and even blues.
Sunlight has blazed their canopies as light is filtered through.
Branches, boughs, supported by a trunk that stands ever true.
From sandy bays to mountain ranges the morning sun breaks forth.
To wide coastal beaches all bathe in natures warmth.
Ever the morning is transforming, not only for nature's leisure.
For all to forget the pitch of night, and look forward the day with pleasure.
If only you knew the feel of a zephyr,
With its current swooping around hillsides
Ruffling the spruce trees everywhere,
Or descend downwards towards verdant vales
Where flowers bloom all through the year.
If only you knew what the oceans utter
As wonderful waves smash into each other,
Or roll nonchalantly towards the bays,
Destroying sand castles or wiping up
The poor love letters which were written there.
If only you knew the various sounds of Earth,
The laughter of little children playing in our parks,
The parade of grown-ups commemorating feasts,
The sounds of aeroplanes fighting for supremacy,
Whilst on the ground tanks rumble on firing at will.
If only you knew the evil concocted by selfish persons,
Where kindness seems to be at a premium.
Yet I discern others who are compassionate
And help others less fortunate than themselves.
How grateful receivers of good works will be.
If only you knew how many angels fly above
Around the silver stars that orbit in perfect harmony.
Angels that care for this poor land which
We have ruined successfully through our unwanted trash.
While food is thrown away when others die in famine and pain.
Placed 1
The Reward
Thou shalt lean thy little hand upon a tree
Mighty and aged; thy most lovely robe
Shall gently press the soft and silent earth;
The evening clouds shall float in the dark pool
Before thy beauty with a dreamy light.
None shall be with thee; none shall break the spell
That draws together the entwining splendor
Of branches black as a deep mountain cave,
Where rests- the soft moaning breeze
Of silvery curving sea and winding bays
Where sand and wavelets kiss, of twilight shadows
That deeper grow about thy loveliness.
For this is thy rich hour, this thy reward
When mindless things in the all-folding Mind
Become the glad companions of they heart
In its deep quest beyond the tide of sorrow.
R.J. Lindley
Jan.18th 1973
Vainly Built Fires
Was it best that we demanded far too much?
Quiet corner to count our blessed days
Or waste away long childish hours and such
like still winds whipping across open bays.
Finding time, the enemy we all feared
We raced along hoping it would not come
Children their bawling eyes frozen and teared
full of conceit , arrogant and just dumb.
Time came on and plowed deep its fertile field
cutting down old, dried wheat and windblown weeds
Forever, its opposition it yields
to that ever growing new crops of seeds.
Man seeking eternal fleshly desires,
perishes in own vainly built fires.
Robert J. Lindley, 6-08-2016
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 102
This journey fraught of desperate dreams
Within the grip of swelling grays
The Southern Cross astern now shines
Ever close of darkened bays
Adrift of lost and endless times
Sails now hoist, direction’s wind
I hear the angry waves a’ crash
Spume does touch my worried skin
Tempest waters come to lash
This journey fraught of desperate dreams
To reach the one that I adore
Of echoed voices calling me
And compass points of distant shore
Fear shall not my face to run
To fight this wrathful storm I will
Hoping for the morning sun
With calmer seas so ever still
When dawn, I pray on bleeding knees
Does find your arms about my chest
With kisses sweet of anchored pleas
To whisper I have met my quest
And found my love for once and all
By harbor light and North Star way
Your heart, my destined my port-o-call
Never more to sail away
Buy ink which remains indelible on the soul
Lick your stamps as they should never lick themselves
Keep envelopes open to suggestions and to be stretched
Hide them in a dry place or pine desk out of trouble
Hold pens gently into the wind or corresponding weather
Leave an impression on the world as you write
Use an eraser but only after midnight
Employ an umbrella over your story
Deploy it in the rain if you compose
Protect your notes while rushing to the mail post
Kill trees only when necessary
Pray they don’t take revenge
Keep rain in buckets one drop at a time
Keep sanity at bay and asteroids at large
Stamp high as bays get wet in rising tides
Write letters with pens untouched by men
Utilize paper snow white and pretty
Mail correspondences twice if suspicious
Use two stamps because you can
Deliver yourself from evil
Let postmen know you are on to them
Send one letter at a time as mail is heavy
Give it time because time is burdensome
Let letters drop while servers do the rest
Wait for a response but don’t hold your breath
On one of the myriad bays
along the Maine coast. Keep the holocaust
at bay I said to Dave because
you’ll spend all day gathering
2,000 calories and still be miserable hungry.
An undiminished population of humans is risible.
Black spruce and balsam fir,
you can eat the inner bark
in a starvation emergency.
There’s plenty of Cornus—bunchberry—
each orange pith around the stone
worth maybe a quarter calorie.
Lots of sarsparilla but the fruits
not out yet and to date I have not
savored one. Let’s see—dandelion
of course and huckleberry but
the most important source of sustenance
would be seaweed.
Learn your mushrooms! for the protein.
Accept the situation
come the apocalypse.
I struggle against my insignificance
but it would be better to struggle
against my ignorance.
Less effortlessness, more fishermanliness.
That’s the lesson of this Maine vacation
there’s a lot you can eat when in need—
the hips of roses and the pips of grasses.
And an endless supply of seaweed—
bladderwrack, dulse, kelp and thin green lettuce.
A third eye, an open ended
topsy-turvy petal blowing gap,
a vaginal bore, is what I’ve become.
The bloom's long gone. The petals sucked
dry with nectar long ago lipped.
Every orifice repeats its plea
for knowing I, centered as the core of id.
I am the warmth burnt from fields of Iris’
and bays of daylilies, I have
flowered, soon to die.
A third I laughs at the absurdity,
tendrils rooting on hair of silver gray,
aft holding to the ship of orbital she-
ray-rising to the celestial he.
First Published by Kind of a Hurricane Press 2013
You bring out the best in me
So, just leave the rest to me
We'll sail on a cruise
Afterward's we'll say our I do's
Because baby, you bring out the best in me
So, just leave the rest to me
I'll make all our plans for a honeymoon
Moonscapes, quiet escapes, landscapes, to happen soon
We'll take our vows by the ocean
Big crashing waves down in motion
I'll wear black
and you wear hues of pink for slack
We'll have white doves fly
We'll offer our love to the sky
It'll be for forever
You're my friend and lover steady as a river
Rivers, seas, oceans, bays, ponds, lakes tell a story of our love
On our ocean cruise we'll share our love trove
To do or not
Let's go for it and tie the knot!
She was taken, dragged from the holy fathers
House of holy purity, against the free wills spirit!
The maiden weeps in the lunar night, a lone predator
Howling for redemption's reclamation, unable to slow
The pace of her running, for the hunter of daylight
Steps within her cursed foot path.
Sleek mistress of the disdain, fleeing from
Thy own kindred pack, without salvation's mercy,
The she-wolf bays at the elliptical moon,
Defying the wolfen curse, its lightning thunder
Flash, rebelling against her inner desire
For hungers blood satisfaction to feed!
A sizzling fire burns within the belly of the beast,
An unquenchable flame eating at its own kindling
Fuel, the vowed promised unto God himself,
Yet bitten by the hound of Hell, she’s the
Righteous satanic offering, to a darker lords
Altar of demonic evil!
A white sister of the blessed cross, kneeling
Within the fur coat of a she-werewolf’s redden cloak,
Behold a creature tortured between the forces
Of light and dark, crying unto her invisible god,
Yet hearing the voice of seduction from beneath!
Tender the rose of innocence, trampled underneath the
Crimson red paw, let the tears of the angels sustaining
In faith’s mighty shield, but she already enveloped
Within the blackened embrace of the emperor of
Darkness and is unable to tare herself free!
In the echoing of the children of the night,
The wild hearted call unto she, this creature
Of a holier light, come run beside us, thy kindred
Of the blood!
Those untamed beckon, but she heeds them not,
At the temple of the faith’s religion does she so climb?
This she-wolf of the fallen, seeking deliverance step,
By step, praying in the barking demonic tongue, of her
Kind, she pleads for the divine to set her free!
But the lord God see his child, wrapped within wolves
The furs huskin trappings, and blesses
As if a snake shedding its outer skins of shame,
The she-wolf discards the furry garments of the
Beast layer by layer, reveling the white angel of mercy,
Hidden beneath, and praising the heavenly father,
In rapturous gratitude!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Coast to Coast
The sun ascends over the Great Lakes
Settles back into the indigo depths
Flight of a copper swan shore to shore
With her sweeping wing tips skimming
Commanding
The azure locks of eternity to open
Gather her iron-ore souls from the cliffs
That lift along the turquoise bays
Arise
Our northern Holy Ghost.
These drinkable oceans are graves to glaciers
Tombs for freighters
Limestone crypts
Where condemned sailors still dance and drink
A thousand clicks amidst the ancient glow
Below
Moon boulders like mobiles of suspended fish.
It’s as if Michigan’s peninsulas
Was its own sliding green continents
Fitting together pieces of a new planet
Waves bellow a dare to all the apocalyptic surfers
Come sail these giant breaking swells.
Though you’re a dipped hand
Waving to outer space
It’s your down-to-Earth bare cold caress
That we count on for dousing the summer steam
From our steely brow.
Michiganians
Plant your bare feet into the hot tops
Of the Sand Dunes of Sleeping Bear
Prepare an avalanche slide
From the side of your hand
A child pushing away the world’s troubles
Throw out your hard chest
Reveal your beautiful breasts
Like the goddesses and gods that you are.
Gaze out from these colossal pink shores
To the horizon that bends like a violin
Under the chin of a setting sun.
Michiganians
You are the everlasting Keepers
Of the Mighty Mighty Great Lakes.