Best Could Poems
You had me oblivious to your antics,
as you hushed me tenderly by the creek
into your hide and seekable
soul-surrendering secret relief.
There, you cottled me into softness
with a simple chin caress,
which continued to smooth
the entire twisting course
of my delicate remorse.
My garments shifted
from their skin,
slipped into the witnessing wind.
You convinced me to sin
so remarkably, so recklessly,
for one worshipped glide
of feigned intimacy.
I bemoan my mixed senses
behind the curtain of uncertainty.
Oh, Romeo, if only I'd known you.
If only I knew that
your prestigious people-pleasing smile
was practice for the play.
That those granny pleasing manners
and Band-Aid banter
would soothe my soul to sleep.
That those jovial jokes
and caramel coated coaxing
would lead me quietly to the creek
where your meaty man hands would span
each inch of my innocence and beyond.
That your chivalrous, chiseled chest
and incandescent camper's scent
would be compressed
against my gentleness.
By this indulgence
I had relinquished your respect
and you had tossed my trust.
So dissolved the blending of lust,
and with it the end of us.
Your camouflaged fibs
of forever love
would continue deep
through the space in my ribs,
into the closing scene.
Romeo, so applause-worthy were you
on your secret stage that
Shakespeare could have cast you
just as you had cast me.
Tonight is not like other nights
Tonight I could paint a moonlight
with the smudged ink of my tears
No its not the inexperienced arms of death
which are longing to embrace my breath
that fill this soul with pain and fear
Nor is it the breeze of thousand needles
'neath the soft glow of my skin ,
What scares me most is...
Not being here in a twenty years or so
to tread love's kiss upon my daughter's cheek
Feel my fingers running through her hair
Listen to the sweet sound of her laughter
Make a wish under the unnoticed starry stars
and watch her dance beneath a repetitive boring sky.
What scares me most is...
Not being here in a twenty years or so
To let the crimson of my lips
bleed its rose close to your pillow
and its fragrance 'pon your bed
Its not being here to hold your blemished hands
and say to you all words still left unsaid
What scares me most is...
That in a twenty years or so
You will be here , still hating candles,all alone,
Its missing the chance, to share those words that don't make sense
yet mean that I have loved you all along.
In a twenty years or so ...In a twenty years or so
Will the ones I hold so dear
still find a way to know ?
Imagine I could fly
Spread wings and soar the sky
Up where the air is rare
Over storms and mountains high
Imagine I believed
The little voice inside of me
Had the faith of Heaven
And could shape my destiny
Imagine I could reach
Stars that twinkle in my eyes
Realize dreams I've wanted
Peacefully satisfied
Well imagine how happy
How happy it would be for us
To remove the obstacles
And place in GOD our trust
I imagine we would try
Spread our wings..... and soar the sky
We could Fly...
If I could play the violin
I'd write a melody
euphonious to draw you in
and play my rhapsody
to bring a smile to your dear face
and calm the storm within
if I could play the violin
If I could play the saxophone
with timbre silvery
I'd paint a poem of pure tone
to laud your alchemy
for you turn iron into gold
and granite to gemstone
if I could play the saxophone
If I could coax an oboe's tone
a dulcet sound divine
to craft a raft for you to own -
a musical lifeline
when waves have knocked you off your course
when winter winds have blown
I'd play a soothing oboe tone
If I could sing a heaven-sent
anthem or hymn profound
I wouldn't need an instrument
when you feel nearly drowned
I'd whisper arias of hope
my mouthpiece, bow, and strings
are prayers for God to heal your wings
and soar beside as heaven sings.
With Divining Heart I Could Have Foreseen
With true divining heart I could have seen
little ripples of thy deep discontent.
My heart a meadow, once lush and bright green
now aching from lost days so sadly spent.
If thy heart sought the truth instead of lies
thee would have held, fast and firm loving vows.
These tears would not splash down from dark skies
as I seek anew, fertile fields to plow.
Blame I, ignorance of deception's wiles
trusting in our dear love and happy bliss.
Pray I, for miracle that reconciles
this distance, preventing thy soft-lips kiss.
With divining heart I could have foreseen
how thy lost heart would fail us, sweet Colleen.
R.J. Lindley
4-23 -1977
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 108
Note: My ignorance of a friend and his lies once cost me ever so dearly.
Lesson learned in youth, sad but one I suspect a great many others may have learned as well.
Who am I?
I'm an American who ordered my head to remain buried in the sand
but due to the lunatic holding office, it refused to obey my command.
Finding no reasonable sensibility in the mind of that mad creature,
I shake my risen head, watching the horror of this double feature.
Each day is shadowed in darkness by yet another ruthless crime,
of the catalyst, sans morals. The unacceptable excuse for a paradigm.
The narcissist president who should be a mime like a circus clown,
the wanna be king of the world who brought our country down.
The predator of women, and of countries he thinks he can own...
A blowhard mentality, a bully who would sit on every nation's throne.
He's made us the enemy of Canada, Mexico, and now for gosh sake,
Denmark's Greenland, lusting for whatever he thinks he can take.
He wanted the Nobel Prize for Peace, but his demand was spurned.
With grubby hands he took it from its owner... an honor not earned.
Claims he doesn't want China or Russia to be America's neighbor.
He doesn't know how to read a map! Verbal abuse he likes to belabor.
He put his name on The Kennedy Memorial Center for Performing Arts
but it would make a better target on a game board for playing darts.
Sick is what he's made many U.S. Citizens with his presidential farce,
hoping remorse is felt by followers who should ask him for a divorce.
Who am I?
I'm a poet who'd rather not be an ostrich, not hearing the blathering,
but spending time writing of other things, daydreaming, woolgathering,
but it's become impossible not to hear, read, and be able to ignore
the catastrophic problems caused by the one Duke Beaufort calls 'Igor.'
Strumming my heartstrings
Drawing me in with each note
Playing the most beautiful song
Hearing the words you wrote
Filling in all the gaps
The melody is for me
Beating loud and clear
Setting my heart free
Only distance keeping us at bay
You still have me in your trance
Two hearts apart, beating as one
How I wish we could dance
A soft kiss upon your delicate hand
Holding you close, holding you tight
Slow dancing under the moonlit skies
The perfect girl, the perfect night
Apple blossoms flutter in the breeze. Awakening,
Barefoot to the brook we go, brightly scampering,
Counting caterpillars discovered on our way -
Daffodil and daisy picking this delightful day.
Enjoying the earth’s rebirth, revitalized are we!
Free, like foals we frolic through the fields with energy.
Green surrounds us; onto grass gratefully we fall.
Happy to have found this heaven, on a hill we sprawl.
Invigorated by our rest, in a little while,
Joyously we jump right up; we only have a mile. . .
Knowing we are getting close, faster now we run,
Leaping over lilies lying lush beneath the sun.
Myriads of other meadow flowers now appear.
Nature’s hidden splendor is getting very near.
Over by an old oak tree, it’s coming into view!
Picture perfect, it presents a pure and pleasant hue.
Quickly we approach it, without a single qualm.
Refreshingly it beckons us; our romp disturbs its calm.
Suddenly we’re splashing , and later we will seek
Tadpoles that are teeming in this, our secret creek.
Until the sun has disappeared in the April sky,
Vibrant crimson will have spilled through clouds. We say goodbye
With great reluctance to our brook, which has been for us
Xanadu! But now the warmth of home awaits us. Thus. . .
Youthful frolicking is finished. We have left the stream.
Zesty I could be again but only in a dream!
Submitted Dec. 4, 2021 on Word: Zesty
For the '''Z'' Contest, New or Old -' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
If hearts had eyes perhaps then yours might see
the person standing right in front of you
with open arms and love, that longs to be
the one with whom a lifetime to pursue.
if hearts had ears perhaps then yours might hear
the tender whispers drifting through the air
amongst the trees, that softly call you near
and wrap around your soul with loving care.
if hearts had hands perhaps then yours might feel
emotions ever longing to caress
your tender feelings with a love so real
that only loving hearts can e’er express.
And still I hold great hope that there’s a way
your heart will someday see love’s sweet display.
November 24, 2020
Poem of the Week - November 29, 2020
If I could,
...I'd stroll with you in a lovely Autumn wood
and gather every golden leaf to save them in a book
on each one we'd write our dreams and all our special thoughts
to read throughout our lifetime of the joys that we've partook.
If I could,
...I'd climb the highest mountain I can find
and reach into the heavens, to take down every star
I'd put them in a velvet box and keep them by my side
to light your darkest midnight in your search for who you are.
If I could,
...I'd find a stream, a gentle babbling brook,
and squirrel away each precious stone, each memory we've made,
each pebble strewn across your life to keep you warm and safe,
and gentle thoughts of you and I, will make you unafraid.
If I could,
...I'd ride a wave from Auckland to Peru
and capture every pearl I can, with love I will imbrue,
I'd weave them with a thread of gold and keep them in a bag
and write upon a golden tag, "This wisdom's just for you."
If I could,
...when time draws nigh and life is near its end,
and when your final tear drop begins to fill your eye
I'll lie myself beside you and hold you in my arms,
with tender touch, my soft warm lips will kiss your tear drop dry.
and...
If I could,
...lying there with bag and box and book
hand and hand in whispered hush, I promise that I'll try
to speak of simple pleasures, and moments that we've shared
of dreams of us together as eternity goes by.
08/14/16
if i maurice yvonne could cry
i’d spread my tears
eternal over your
( say it, dare to be bold)
naked body
(then she could taste your pain)
but i can’t shed tears anymore
(tell her why)
(you need her to know)
(no i can't she'll leave me)
(get out of my head)
my mind beats differently now
i have seen the doctor
i'm not well...kind of
(you're blowing it)
(can't you see her face)
(quiet i'm trying to think)
it's not like a normal doctor
if i could feel
(you use to. you did)
i would touch you with
the hands of a silk maker
gentle and caring and with purpose.
the doctor.
my physiatrist.
i was diagnosed as bipolar
(there you got it out)
(was that so hard?)
leave me alone will you
no i'm sorry not you
they gave me drugs
i don't feel like i use to
not the mountain not the waterfall
(give it a break just speak plain)
(ok yes i will)
i can't cry any more
i have no sex drive
it's the pills
if i...
oh my God
if i...
i would and more
i’d run beyond to hold you
i would
the pills
they make me docile
you'll laugh when you hear this
because you are always with me
(don't get all mushy with her)
i miss you
(ok bud you did it)
(let's just move on)
i have no answers, but
i know
what you're feeling
you want us to be romantic
way back
(i can't listen to this)
(i am out of here)
before being medicated
i was passionate
so very passionate
not anymore
i'll tell you though
something’s got to give
my god
something’s got to give.
Maurice Yvonne
September 11 2014
I tried to paint a picture, Dear, of you,
But there was no right color that would do.
There is no blue that ever could display
The tranquilness with which you face each day.
I think no shade of red I’ll ever find
To match the utter passion of your mind.
Among sweet sunny yellow’s many hues,
I cannot find a one that I might use.
No color in this world can paint you whole.
And certainly I could not paint your soul.
The soul of you, so beautiful to me,
I know that it will shine eternally.
From inside out, my darling, how you glow.
Such happiness I’d never thought to know.
But never could I paint that brilliant light.
Nor can I paint your beauty in my sight.
If I could be Van Gogh, I think I might
Create a picture of a starry night.
And I would put inside it me and you
Enraptured ever in that sky’s dark blue.
Written April 1, 2014
Transitions towards a worldwide truce
Highlight our hearts, hopes, hymns and
Inspire us to embrace peace as a truth
Spread globally strong from love’s roots.
All prayers need seek universal peace,
Love-filled hearts breathing ease and
Living life with freedom guarantees.
Corrupt power holders need be
Outnumbered by justice seekers,
United in faith to crumble cruel
Leaders and their false rule, to then
Determine all lives harmony soothed.
Blessings of equality could be as they should be,
Enjoyed by all brothers and sisters of humanity.
I wish you were an echo
of the voice within my heart
Repeating drumming love-notes
Calling me softly from afar.
I wish you were my shadow
Playing Hide and Seek
Shaping my every curve
in the heated night of sleep.
Chasing me till sunrise
by little candle-lights
Gently leaning closer
Always by my side.
I wish you were the sky-dusk
to wrap within your stars
Those blinking crystal flowers
will show me where you are.
I wish you were my hair
Unpinned and falling loose
Shawling my bare shoulders
Warming my dusty blues.
I wish you were my perfume
to wear you against my skin
to feel your dripping dew
of a rose melting within.
I'd smell your fragrant scent
Of Spring first blooming buds
I curl beneath my sheets
Making their whiteness blush.
I wish you were my eyes
to ask you what you see
You'll read the ache of absence
written all over me.
And then maybe you' d come back
Will you return to be ?
I will be waiting for you
Your presence sets me free.
If only you could find me
Hold me tight sweet tenderly.
Place your arms around my waist
A display of affection,fervent intimacy.
I wish l could bottle kindness and cuddles
In little coloured bottles happy and bright
To produce and share in abundance
This would be my plight
I would give to the lost and lonely
To the addicted, sad, afraid
To the sick, vulnerable, uncertain
Spread it world wide ….my crusade
I would give it to the selfish, cruel and mean
So they could experience being kind
Feel the joy and see the difference it can make
Perhaps, and “only perhaps” it could help sway their minds
Most importantly l would give to the kind ones
The unselfish who care and constantly give
Kindness being innate to them
Worthy , deserving…. as kindness they live
Humans need and gain from acts of kindness
Whether big , small or seemingly not much
Along with a caring heartfelt cuddle
The closeness and comfort from human touch
I know bottles of kindness and cuddles
Will not bring major change or world peace
Though step by step and little by little
Positive changes will increase