Best Classicism Poems
The widow among roses,
though a scent so sweet
she smells to near smile,
how red the vibrance of life
and soft the petals caress
her lonely cheek,
she remembers her love lost
(her left eye a tombstone glass)
and seizes not to yearn it back ---
The Blacklady among crimson;
her desert rains evermore night and day,
and still the dunes of her heart soak not with love,
the arrid wind still shoots the sand
through her wasteland unbetrothed,
where the sun never rises,
nor never beautifully it sets
through her tombstone eye
She walks the night dressed in white,
her wedding gown a sight for ghosts
and phantoms do fright;
they cannot haunt ---
this foot-in-the-grave-soul,
glowing white-red howling at the moon
To true midnite her feet carries her so,
where the river rushes reflecting
forever moon glow
Where the nymph and sylph and dryad never go,
whispering and wondering ---
gazing to this lady alone,
this poor begotten thing ---
this shadow unto death,
who filled with eternal tears
(seated in some unknown place)
her nose in roses, and her mind always in the past
(grieving life)
and mourning some faceless man
*** Inspired from a friend's mother, who at the age
of 40 --- all but gave up on life at the death of her
husband, which deeply saddened me ***
Upon my tiptoes, I gaze through a window, the window of my mind.
I pull back the curtain, peer from a partially drawn blind.
Before me lay this youthful beauty, perfection in every line,
And standing there beside her was the old keeper of all time.
He swiftly knelt beside her, and stroked her heaving chest,
Carefully caressed every curve, and sagged her gentle breast.
He cast his spell upon her, aging her as if fine wine.
Left some thoughtful wrinkles, added character in each and every line.
Bestowed upon her all that wisdom, more than she had ever known before.
Brought her many pleasures, also heartaches, several score.
Held her tightly about the waist, now broader at the beam.
Added some weight here and there, not as much as it might seem.
He gradually drooped her shoulders; shiny hair now turns to gray.
Faded memories of life's passing parade now help to pass her day.
Her youthful pace is throttle now, her feet shuffle slowly across the floor.
Though still a thing of beauty, that beauty is different than before.
Time for her is now slipping away, slowly heading for life’s stage door.
The journey has left her exhausted, no longer willing to fight the fight, but unwilling to beg for more.
Time had been an exciting lover, but she will not love another day.
She lies prone upon the sheet as Time exits the stage. I watch with amazement as the scene just fades away.
When my world collapses
And I'm feeling blue
When the chips are down
Can I count on you
Will you stand by me
And help ease my pain
Will you walk with me
Through fire and rain
Will you stay with me
When the world turns away
And hold my hand
Help me find my way
When the dark clouds come
And the sun don't shine
When the rain starts falling
Will you still be mine
If I lose it all
That I can no longer cope
Will you smile at me
And bring me hope
If I find my dreams
Have all turned out wrong
So that I must leave
Will you come along
When the tide arrives
As I stand in harm's way
Will you be my support
That I do not sway
We will walk through this world
With our heads held high
While our hearts reach out
And touch the sky
We will stand as one
With a love sublime
We will love forever
Until the end of time.
***Dedicated to a wise old man
I once knew***
-----" There is no such thing
as death..."
------ an old friend
'O desolate wasteland,
filled not with flowery rushes,
threshing green fields silted,
earthy and ether months;
there can be no solstice,
no progress ----
where the tides are naught
The barrows long for life,
the painter's easel and stroke;
yet not even rainbow shadow
could colors so evoke,
life into thy nostrils -----
English barrow grave;
the dead are not there.....
Saxon King no more.....
Though they are not gone,
for very long;
our hearts be all we have,
among memories,
tides, and song
So do they hearken
Our Midnight The Unseen Within
( Collaboration )
Silent unto our sense, yet musical
With eternal harmony, they move
About our darkened vision, the beautiful ones,
Angels of destiny.
Pale with the dawn, sun-golden with the noontide,
They mingle with our moments;
There is no sadness that they do not share,
No night they are not near.
Even as flowers that scent the roving winds
With fragrant incantations, - flowers unseen,
That loose the largess of their beauteous dreams,
Even so are they.
Bequeathing endlessly for our delight
The gifts we spurn, the secret revelations
Would make us in our needless misery
True kindred of the Soul,-
A holy kiss to marry us with light,
These sheens where cherubins loose their waxxen wings;
Shear the shadows where fear is oft found,
And quell doubt like a startled imposter
A righteous device to lead us home.....
A wanton wind to soothe the wayward ails;
A flame-cold but bright to illume every wan,
We sleep unbeguiled, where angels tread
What secret shadows skulk to maim?
Strip our bones to sudden death?
Move they winnowed and tarried -----
Helpless to the winged, swift eye
A keepsake (say many) beat of feather;
Hope gives us peace in those hallowed hills,
Where the angels sing like larks and cry a tear of love:
(Our midnight)
Robert J. Lindley and Keith O.J. Hunt,
2-21-2016
Note:
First 16 verses written by Robert Lindley
Remaining 16 verses 16 written by Keith O.J. Hunt
Grace had floated royal
among the sweet summered months,
and not a moment had passed
without the nectar of love;
Three feathered lords so fledgling
white-black,
sleeping white at noon,
'neath arbors brawn....
where the nestles are soft with love,
and dream to host all the world watching;
from horizon's scarlet painting pink
the billowed white hues ---
and black-purple from the Lord's smile
What crimson disguise five plumed hearts
beating as one,
return again o'er Swan Lake,
or with eternal love thy cherubin ponds;
with fountains swooning infinite grace
then they are gone.....
to privy their existence made,
sleeping black at night
('neath the gaze of tomorrow's moon)
the future brim with wind....
elder wings at dawn,
unto valor in evening's song,
fain to life again....
(flight of thy Royal Swan)
***Dedicated to the black swan and Queen's royal
swans of Ottawa***
Upon Misty Morning's Fast Fading Glow
Upon misty morning's fast fading glow,
dance fairies on glittering silver wings.
Flying with fantasies flowing in tow
And sweetest joy such dancing often brings.
Above their heads the rising sun awaits,
its morning sun's time for shining anew.
If fairies are seen, man then contemplates,
dreaming depths of that rare mystical clue.
As dancing wings fast flutter to depart,
one ponders glistened myriads of fate.
Sadness beating in dreams of every heart,
with embellished scenes of day's opened gates.
Upon that vanishing flash time cries out,
woe to he that simply waits upon me!
Free living is what life is all about.
Life taking dire chances is living free-
In those windless breezes summer moon shines,
In the deep dark no more secrets to dread,
The grave beginnings we have all kept live ----
Weeping misery and ancient-kept death
The mountains moan, the mountains moan! ---- as babes!
Those creepy-crawly mists fade to fortune;
Wondrous winds in a panting night do tame ----
The fevered child once wan with vacant love
A horn Gabriel shall blow through pink clouds ----
And sleeping stars bring life with bright-night-light
A world to shine and illume all year round;
Broods of good company and simple delights
The morn shall pass and with it mad darkness,
The heavens death cannot roam freely so;
Old Lucifer, huffing and puffing red!
Upon misty morning's fast fading glow.
3-04-2016
First 16 lines written by Robert Lindley
Last 16 lines written by Keith O.J. Hunt
Dark Earth Folds In The Heart's Red Bloom
You and I and all we do
Know not, til our hearts are through
The press of life, what things we be
Root or leaves or shade of tree.
You and I and all we seem
May be but as a drift of dream
In the eyes of One who gave
Self to love and love to save,-
Yea, all the deeds that men have wrought
Mere flower of dream, flame of thought,
Break of waves on a drear shore,
Scent of the wild rose on the moor.
Yet we have seen, and hold it sure,
That out of shame come forth the pure;
Dark earth folds in the heart's red bloom;
In vain, we build the soul a tomb.
R.J. Lindley
1976 or 77 ?
These seasons which sing in silent symphonies,
like the hush of a new age,
like portals to pretence,
actualized to change itself;
The winter wind ---
he who loses his cool to birth of Spring,
and July in its hot, hazy adventures,
to Autumn and Indian Summer
are born many a poet,
with its myriad of romantic ink,
and misted-arbor parks;
When Apollo walks his most precious muse
and whispers for those who watch....
'Thy art, for you my gift'
the eolian sings unheard,
but for Wordsworth in his wood,
where we oft follow,
and Coleridge bellowing of its ministries...
All we have is that which seasons sing,
as a nightingale from Keat's tree,
and how Tennyson even became lost in its moss,
covered in dark, rain, snow...
where Maria waited the Lonely Wood....
but from a many colored pallet
we see where beauty lies,
how it bats her eyes in thy soul,
and a feeling of love follows,
for the snowcapped mountains,
and June-green forest,
waking with a galaxy of life,
Bursting upon the rocks....
the breakers in Dover hath held agape ---
the Saxon word-smiths of old,
and from many a pen we have answered,
living in our calendars,
and endless months,
(these seasons which sing in silent symphonies...)
There is a little sprinkling of love down deep,
a wee twinkling (light) ---
without which we couldn't exist;
like light upon the sleeping cove,
faint in the thick night,
afar yet it (glows),
the bloom from the rose has kissed the momentous
(moment)
Its (body) stem could only pretend to tear into life;
its little vision once as a puddle for a pond,
now the She-Earth has poured her life breath ---
and wept into wild rivers seeking the edges of the world,
the rain forests welcome her flow of lovely;
rainbow waves, and bubbles to bounce
where children play,
whence the nestled nightingale sings his plea
All of life bound beyond the eye, tethered at last to feel,
to see....
what is in front of thee;
the mountain moans, the mountain groans!
the felt whispered winds all Earth within,
the body weens into mind, emotion, things unseen...
What of worlds, and wolds of vast cosmos,
a quasar billions of might of Earth's sun,
yet a soul singular,
more mighty than thy many quasar flight?
The mother defys death to save her babe ---
in it all the world is saved,
one world enough, upon the galaxies bereaved;
one flower to make a universe,
and set it upon its course of so much more....
One from which flows the waterfall,
the tumbling tender truth;
from kind thought ---
your life to have all anew,
a fresh poured cure, to mold
endure....
what God would have of you;
a mighty wave upon the ramparts,
a new love upon the land,
a bloom forthwith,
sing ye, all Kings and Queens of Earth!
***Written in 2015***
I write not for fame or riches, but, hopefully, for those whose lives it enriches!
***This was perhaps my saddest write after seeing images of homeless and starving children in Romania on the tele; I truly believe that no matter what we may boast to accomplishments as a species --- should even one person be starving on the Earth --- we can boast of nothing. ***
----- This is a poem of faith and the miracle nature of God Almighty though it may seem He has done "nothing'; since when does a deity not do anything well within their power ---- is such a God worth mentioning? '---- there is either belief or disbelief; like in reality there is or isn't a God, but always righteous faith has its own reward -----
Somewhere another child weeps,
her mouth dry and thirsty ----
Her stomach throbs from the greed of the world;
she'd go to the local church
but her strength won't let her ----
let her brave the cold
and the chill of dawn
Her torn torn red dress, sags like lost love,
and her shoes
shell-shocked with holes, and travel
from place to icy place;
Where faces are long and uncaring
Where there is evil and greed and sin
In a rose garden she found herself,
and herself alone,
with the delightful flowers
and a wing and a prayer;
She knelt on her dirty knees to smell
the clean red petals
And prayed for an early warm day ----
and praying still,
the sun had risen before the dawn
Tribute To The Memory Of John Keats
Child of the storm-swift Hermes, lithe and strong
To Trojan tumult, had the gods thus willed,
They gave thee one short year of riper song
And more melodious than ever filled
The heart of youth; they gave thee power to build
A noble altar for thy offering
Amid the heedlessness that had long chilled
True poesy, true souls that fain would sing.
And thou, from depths of silent agony,
Hast left unto the world such rich bequest
Of love's own loveliness that thy last rest
Becometh as the soul's own sanctuary
To all that long have learnt of thee to wear
Sun-raiment in the shadowy House of Care.
R.J. Lindley
Sept. 9th 1975
All my friends have..... gone
Underground ....... they rest at my bare feet
Leaves blowing sequestered on this barren earth
Grey skies melodies of wistful sad notes
Lovers too... have died on me
.....underground they lie
The heart is a terrible cavern of loss
Alone, I amble to and fro
Knowing full well
I too have died
Infinite is
Death
My judgment soon to arrive ............underground
Lonely nights come and take me
Raise me up but don't break me
Lovely wind I can feel your coldness
Touch my skin, play my hair until I become your oldest
Let the time pass so fast...carry me in your arms and make me forget my past ...
Can I continue ? Can I move on ?
And where is my place if he had gone ?
I can see the flowers but I can't smell it ...lovely wind takes my soul before I kill it
Can the heart live alone? Can he be cold like a stone?
I can tell you that his whispers gets through my bones
Oh my lovely wind ! Can he feel my loneliness ?
Can he freeze the time and beat you? Or your going to freeze me but when you feel my heart , my love will heat you ?
Are you going to be warm and soft like a feather or you're going to be cold and cruel like the leather?
I can feel you when you touch me when you kill my skin ... is he going to love me or my destiny is going to end ?
Am I going to dream with him before I die ? Are you going to say yes you will ? Are you going to lie ?
Gentile wind you are my source of truth you're my friend...
Before I fly away make sure that my message will be sent...
Let him feel my love , let him hear my heart beat...
Take my heart and put it in his hands so he can feel my heat ...
Lovely wind thank you but it's time to say goodbye...
Smile for me but on me don't cry...