Best Calls Poems
She Calls Me Home…
At days long end
Left on troubles shore
When I just know
I can't take anymore
When the last light
Of hope is gone
She calls me home
She calls me home
When my thoughts
Are racing round
And I can't find
A friend in this town
When every door
Has turned out wrong
She calls me home
She calls me home
She calls me home
To her embrace
Wipes the tears
From my tortured face
Calms my soul
Til the demons are gone
And with her sweet voice
She calls me home
When the dark
Won't give up light
When the wrong
Outscores the right
When the noise
Outdoes the song
She calls me home
She calls me home
When the clouds
Won't seem to break
And the sky
Just seems to ache
And the sun's
Completely gone
She calls me home
She calls me home
She calls me home
To her embrace
Wipes the tears
From my tortured face
Calms my soul
Til the demons are gone
And with her sweet voice
She calls me home
It was like the sun did not rise
and mourning birds sang
no morning melody.
The heavens were so grey,
pouring like Noah's floods,
preparing me for the storm,
which drowned my heart.
I felt like a butterfly helpless against the wind.
I had no time to build an ark
nor to sail towards those uneven paths,
which would allow me to hear your last breath.
Maybe hold your hand and hear you
call my name one last time.
I will never forget that moment of silence,
when the world seemed to pause
and I feel, I'm still standing still,
feeling numb, unable to express myself,
so I supress myself.
Waiting for the birds to sing.
To trigger suppressed sentiments,
but there is no metaphor for this void I feel,
like the emptiness of the room,
where you would say;
"my prince has come home"
You would always ask if I was hungry,
still force me to eat when I was not.
Together we would pick
sweet grapes from those vines,
which ran high up against
your sage veranda.
You would always bring out
the pot I cracked,
when I was six,
saying with a nostalgic look;
"Hands of my first grandson broke this."
How you would treasure such memories.
The season of death has returned,
to steal my jewel away from me.
I look in dismay at discoloured fallen leaves,
scattered like my emotions.
Will those fruits ever taste the same,
now that your precious hands cannot pick them?
Who will treasure what I broke?
You used to always call grandpa's name,
now I know you are together again.
Mama still calls for you,
I say to myself, she has gone, mum,
as has her laughter and her smile.
There will be no more hugs,
no one to call nanna now.
The sky still remains dark,
but the floods seem to be easing
and
I know one day the sun will return,
as will the birds,
singing in your remembrance.
I will always remember those uneven paths,
which led me to you -
sorrowful reminder of promises I could not keep.
All you wanted was to sit with me for a while,
to talk and maybe try to make me smile.
Yet fate did not let us share the stars,
not even for one night - now there is only darkness.
I will never forget,
how you would sit under the sage green veranda,
sipping on your sweet tea, laughing and chatting away.
Many would sit and listen to your non fiction tales
about when the air was clean and the fields were green,
childhood mischief and forgotten memories.
I'll always remember that glint in your eyes,
the warmth in your smile and that sui generis voice.
Especially when parades of birds would chirp at dawn
and when gazing at fireflies flickering under lanterns at dusk.
The veranda is now silent,
but grandma still calls your name.
The aroma from those abundance of petals still lingers,
but your scent does not appear.
Berries still appear from your affluent olive trees,
but they shall never be hydrated by your hands.
Sweet jasmine still climbs up veranda poles,
maybe trying to reach heaven, to be with you.
Your last words will always live with me:
"Come sit with me, even just for a couple of days."
but the next day you were gone...
Dedicated to my grandfather.
1930 - 18 August 2018.
Silent One
26 August 2018
Its whispering gentle
through breeze to leaves
rustling each to a frenzied clamor
Can you hear the heightened sound?
Inaudible then so loud...so Loud!!
So loud you cant hear at all
As the days slip past do you
stop and listen?
Greatness calls!
Aptitude resides in minds...hiding in wait
as a coiled snake rearing to strike
A glimpse...a flash...a window we passed
our sight steering down a narrow hall
life carrying our feet too fast to see...
to left or right in brilliant hues
So vibrant and lively, ideas hiding in wait
Can you see them in the passing panes?
A moment of brilliance lays dormant
awaiting your attentive audience
Greatness calls!!
Outside stimuli grows so rapid
numbing our minds of freedom
processing the intake derails a train of thought
A locomotive whose motive is motivation
Rumbling on tracks reverbing through your soul
Can you feel the power surge in your veins?
raising hairs with the electricity of knowing...
...knowing an idea tingles with possibility?
crawling below the surface of skin
Itching for pores to release it
Greatness calls!!!
Sweetly epiphany drips of honey
cooing with a flavor we seldom devour
To settle for dreaming is to savor bittersweet
repression attacks the tongue so sour
Can you taste the food for thought?
A peach drizzling juicy images with clarity
sating the tongue, these dulcet revelations
Greatness calls!!!!
In realization the scent of lilac spring lingers...
fresh and intoxicating with the nectar of creativity
Wafting through with pleasing achievement
swirls of petals and spice compound a nasal euphoria
Yet in squandering ability lays the stench of rot
Reaking strong of regret this stagnating refuse
overpowers with the odor of inhibition
Can you smell the promise of flowers blooming?
in spite of doubt using rubbish for compost
Emitting a fragrance of intense talent
Greatness calls!!!!!
I would like to spill,
What is harbored in my soul.
I would like to say,
Things that no one really knows.
·
I’d apologize to you,
In a measurement beyond the stars.
For not being there with you,
Has left my soul this scar.
·
I’m reminded of the heartache,
From that dreadful day.
Of an ordinary time,
When God took you away.
·
I would’ve quickly taken,
The fate that you have faced.
Than to see your children suffer,
Savoring sorrows aftertaste.
·
If I had straps on my shoulders,
Attached to an antique plow.
You’d see deep ruts in the earth,
From the weight I carry now.
·
I’m harvesting my burdens,
In my open fields of pain.
In the drought of happiness,
Awaiting a smiling rain.
·
I’ve cultivated memories,
From the 3 years you’ve been gone.
Laying on glistening blades of grass,
That I cried on sorrow’s lawn.
·
I reminisce on the tears,
That only my heart knows.
Waiting for bouquets of smiles,
From the seeds I just now sowed.
·
I’m sorry you faced such madness,
Without me along your side.
And things could have been better,
Perhaps you would have survived.
·
I’m sorry I didn’t call you,
To distract your vivid mind.
But I replay those what if’s,
All the freakin’ time.
·
No one knows my heartache,
Of not biding my goodbye.
These are things I’ve harbored,
Way down, deep inside.
·
It feels like you’d still be here,
If I’d used my earthly power.
I’m sorry for not distracting you,
From your darkest hour.
·
This is a poem I had to write,
To regain my inner control.
And release my encumbers,
To unburden my soul.
·
You will always be my best friend,
A notion I’ll never condone.
You know I’ll await your answer,
When God calls me home.
_________________________
For Christie and Sharon's
"I'm Sorry" Contest
When Sweet And Soft Morn No Longer Calls Out,
Dedicated to my dear friend, Connie Marcum Wong
When heart is broken, ocean is drained
All becomes sad-blue, all life is stained
Dawn brings epic sorrows, no real relief
Ripped and torn, shattered some beliefs
Midnight moon casts down that terrible blue
Everything sad even shining new.
When heart is broken, ocean is drained
All becomes sad-blue, all life is stained
When sweet and soft morn no longer calls out
And life cries for hope, with dark mourning shout
Hours flow forth like whimpering aches of day
All the green blades of grass seem morbid gray
Hurt promises to let other shoe drop
And mind wonders shall this agony stop.
Robert J, Lindley, 9-14-2022
Sonnet
Born from a poet's heart that has seen too much sorrow and loss.
Dedicated to those lost. And to my dear friend Connie Marcum.
I truly think she would have loved this one.
As she saw the merits in sad, dark and truth in life should be represented in poetry.
I strain against the rising tide
But I find no solace there.
My only hope for some success
Is to turn to fervent prayer.
Now you may think it childish
But I care not what others say.
So leave me to my supplication
And hope relief will come my way.
How did I come to this dilemma
That has brought me close to tears?
The fault is mine and mine alone...
I have lived too many years.
Old age is wrapped around me
And Death taunts me with its laugh.
I turn to prayer to exhort dear Heaven
To intercede on my behalf.
My battered body lies is in tatters...
I've added ten inches to my waist.
I've enough ear hair to traumatize a sailor...
I've lost my sense of taste.
Old age should not to be entered into lightly
With its oddities and quirks.
But I've finally reached that stage of life
Where nothing really works.
There were things I took for granted
In the ignorance of my youth.
Those days are just a memory now
As I confront this awful truth.
I am possessed with fear and panic
And in pain I'm forced to stoop.
So sweet Jesus... Lord in Heaven...
Why can't I take a poop?
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle
My heart yearns not for the mountain-way
With its green of grass and tree;
My heart calls out for the ocean spray
And the sound of the surf-roiling free!
Give me a land with its feet in the sea,
Its low-swelling shoulders nearby;
The voice of the waves is like music to me
And the cry of the gulls is my cry.
Cast me not out on your hot desert sand
Where the salt-tanging airs never rest.
Give me space on an ocean-washed strand
With a flicker of foam on its breast.
When the storm clouds build to a thundering groan
And the wind whips the trees on the shore,
With a rip and a roll and a deep wailing moan
The swell charges in with a roar.
Still, even then, with the needle-sharp spray
Dancing its pain 'cross my face
My soul ventures out and is swept far away
On the crest of a fast ocean race.
Thrilled to the core by the need to be free,
Not bound by this weak mortal form,
It pitches and dives and races the sea
And rides on the wings of the storm.
Lighter than down and stronger than steel
With a knowledge as old as the sea,
That this is the way my soul shall feel,
Perched on the brink of eternity!
Entry for Chantelle Anne Cooke's "Devotion To Ocean" Contest
Won 2nd Place in the contest
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)
Yellow tips of comfort
eye a corner of my sky
Should be holding on
soft skin caresses of sun
coming round once again
Dipped toes in quiet waters
drenched afternoon delight
swans sit still watching
stallions running home
Honeydew dreams drifting
arms wrapped all around
wild visions flap in the breeze
Listen calls to the meadow
come to me and fill her need
Aren't many or any finer than Dan me ol mucker & china who now looks out for nightmare cooks or crooks making money off the books with rare meat on dirty hooks in filthy nooks but don't care want to give him a shiner for saying don't be hasty or cheat prepare pukka tasty tucker & succour...safe fayre to eat for every diner...
Owners booming hysteria at inspector criteria
Kitchens so unclean like a war scene in Liberia
Zooming in you find they're grooming Listeria
Rightly fuming that it is blooming like wisteria
Hardly stellar told fella to have old mortadella
Rank covered in dank mould stank in the cellar
Dan who's a fan of Paul Weller is a fortune teller
Scores on doors stop more spores of Salmonella
Suss some are no faff or fuss a them & us schism
Despairing whiners cuss not caring about criticism
Cleanliness next to Godliness just an anachronism
Foolish witticism as diners get ghoulish botulism
Out of date food they buy deny do things on the fly
Just comply no treason and here’s the reason why
If duff stuff you season on the sly to try and get by
The Council’s the fall guy as folks do die from Ecoli
Hunch lunch or brunch scare dodgy ware of tupper
Owners get shirty but it’s so dirty can’t serve supper
Ask my man Dan this is not a masterplan to scupper
A public sector inspector would rather have a cuppa
I see you there, for me waiting,
you hover in endless patience,
now I pass, death me is calling.
Yet I linger on, each breath rasping,
as I am clearing my conscience,
I see you there, for me waiting.
Too soon the curtains are parting,
now at an end is my patience,
now I pass, death me is calling.
Time is slowing, it's so daunting,
draining away is my essence.
I see you there, for me waiting.
Grievances now aside casting,
Letting in instead, some cogence,
now I pass, death me is calling.
Death I have treated with voidance,
giving it little reverence,
I see you there, for me waiting,
now I pass, death me is calling.
Its whispering gentle
through breeze to leaves
rustling each to a frenzied clamor
Can you hear the heightened sound?
Inaudible then so loud...so Loud!!
So loud you cant hear at all
As the days slip past do you
stop and listen?
Greatness calls!
Aptitude resides in minds...hiding in wait
as a coiled snake rearing to strike
A glimpse...a flash...a window we passed
our sight steering down a narrow hall
life carrying our feet too fast to see...
to left or right in brilliant hues
So vibrant and lively, ideas hiding in wait
Can you see them in the passing panes?
A moment of brilliance lays dormant
awaiting your attentive audience
Greatness calls!!
Outside stimuli grows so rapid
numbing our minds of freedom
processing the intake derails a train of thought
A locomotive whose motive is motivation
Rumbling on tracks reverbing through your soul
Can you feel the power surge in your veins?
raising hairs with the electricity of knowing...
...knowing an idea tingles with possibility?
crawling below the surface of skin
Itching for pores to release it
Greatness calls!!!
Sweetly epiphany drips of honey
cooing with a flavor we seldom devour
To settle for dreaming is to savor bittersweet
repression attacks the tongue so sour
Can you taste the food for thought?
A peach drizzling juicy images with clarity
sating the tongue, these dulcet revelations
Greatness calls!!!!
In realization the scent of lilac spring lingers...
fresh and intoxicating with the nectar of creativity
Wafting through with pleasing achievement
swirls of petals and spice compound a nasal euphoria
Yet in squandering ability lays the stench of rot
Reaking strong of regret this stagnating refuse
overpowers with the odor of inhibition
Can you smell the promise of flowers blooming?
in spite of doubt using rubbish for compost
Emitting a fragrance of intense talent
Greatness calls!!!!!
A sanctuary waits for me
Beside a woodland stream;
Creatures chatter, beast and bird,
Dithering among the trees,
Engaged in nature’s repartee.
Fungi, moss, and flower
Gather in this shady, holy space,
Habitat of happy innocence,
Idyllic, secret forest glade.
Just let me linger in the quiet,
Kneel beneath the trees,
Listen to the lessons
Majestic nature speaks to me.
Noble trunks stretch upward,
Outward toward the sky,
Praising arms, uplifted, robed in
Queenly dress of leafy light.
Restorative peacefulness
Sweeps in sweet release,
Time’s tenacious grip relaxing,
Undisturbed, worldly discords cease.
Visitant I am within this wood,
Wistful, earthbound worshipper,
Xenophile, lover of heaven,
Yearning to go home.
Zion calls from where I bow.
May 22, 2022
the sun is mean here
it’s too bright
and i don’t mean smart
it shines in my eyes
i have to wear dark glasses just to drive
yesterday it burned my skin
but today i am ready
i’m wearing lotion
spf one thousand
if that doesn’t work
i’m wearing my long underwear
of course the sun will make me sweat
it is a nasty vengeful sun
i’ll be all wet
i am going to wear it down
that’s the wrong spelling of wear isn’t it?
with all this heat i can’t think
sun stroke maybe
i'm fed up i am going to get rid of it
i'll look mean
scare it down
i'll make it go away
oh my goodness
it’s working finally
the sun is leaving
the sun is gone
hurray
oh no
i can't believe it
look
the sun
it just mooned me.