Best Deadest Poems
The Deadest Hope In The World
The deadest hope in the world to hold
To be truly youthful when one is old
To race about with eager quickened pace
Innocent smile upon a softened face,
Willing hands to love yet again,
The envy of many fellow jealous men
A finer vessel sleek, pure and true
Lady of charm dancing along with you!
Adorned with steadfast heroic words,
Flying free of earth like the birds,
Wandering into majesty of the clouds
Far away from teeming earthbound crowds
A God sailing alone in the night sky,
Enjoying a blessing, not asking why!
Robert J. Lindley, 05-30-2015
A sonnet, simply because I have not written one in a while..
Categories:
deadest, blessing, deep, desire, hope,
Form:
Sonnet
Arm to arm, sinews clutch
One another, makes friend and crutch;
One crimson call, which guidance brought
The feeble, stern: the working lot
To stand much greater, taller, strong
Filled with hope, in lines long,
That stretch from pain, from glum, from slum
To the halls of white where nations clump
In the deadest form of gathered hoards
Of finance and shares, secluded boards
Who array the work, who shackle in loans
Whose empty plots tempt the sleeping droves
In tent and rag, in cough and drag,
From hand to mouth, to work and back.
Yet in contempt that line is struck,
Still the routine is mute, no more this work
That builds the villa, never the mason’s,
Unthanked which blooms the fields all season,
The folks split off by plastic partition
Giving wealth immense, yet maimed cognition
Had kept whom bound to desk and ground
Their eyes have met and their fists now pound
Against steel ribbed doors, but why such fear
Thee lords of land in prim kept highest tiers?
Arisen so, on the claim of wealth,
At the cost of Earth, of hearth and health;
How much more flight, behind guarded holds,
Behind sentries and dictates so cold
Even in scorch of war, where poor kills poor;
So the wealth of nations in tons can pour
Onto odd few hands, to hold all us chained
To the will of profit, for profit’s sake.
But in queues, we’ve come, tools shucked
Your batons brooked, your shots shrugged
By the calloused bossom, by tried spine,
That props all of it up, runs it all in time.
And without us many, your wealth is rust,
Without our trust it’s all a fleeting gust
Of paper slips and accords of force
And we see dawn, from these dues divorced.
And the sun to snatch, the sickle drives,
And the barricades the hammer tries,
While the quill writes, not fearing death,
A push for renewal, for a gasp of breath.
Categories:
deadest, class, work,
Form:
Free verse
They came for the Gypsies,
The time tribe Romana's grand Gypsy trust
To manifest in feasts of fear, horrific best,
The Crucifixtion as a culture test
Is sycophanted phallic prophecies;
Mixing spells where river's dwell
And will reveal third eye infusions
That dillute foregone conclusions!
The starkest of illusion will confer
The dead of deadest property, I'm sure!
Pillaged by proud Nazi's reeling
Who have not a friendly feeling
One God-Fearing German village
Saddles soaked in sorrow
Silently seduced bone marrow
Or from sweeter water billage
With Genetic trace
In hemolytic face;
A truth no German yearns to borrow!
Where fallen angels care
And Gypsyfied the wounds
With age-old Gypsy healing rare;
Where tinker-tapping dusters dance
A dance to Gypsy tunes
On pointed pins appointed special flavor;
As pointed pins do point and prance
Well-pointed pins provide a good and precious savor.
Hemolytics is genetics with inscription
Inscribed inscription's indecision.
If Gypsy wounds could fill the forest
With this Gypsy dance so true
Then everything I thought I liked
I think I still would like in you;
In fact, the things I know I liked
I soon would love.
Genetic indescription must be fact
As power angels grab a power pact
The fallen angels with their power prayers
Heal Gypsy wounds nocturnal during flairs!
Fluoresence fills the forest
Where tinker-tapping dusters dance
As pure and naked dilettantes appointed
Point of every perfect pin's romance.
Categories:
deadest, passiondance, dance, power,
Form:
Free verse
Flames flicker in the deadest part of night
Making shadows on the cabin floor
The time heartfelt dreams take flight
Who knows what the morning has in store
Will a certain path become more clear
Perhaps we'll hear the lonely tiger's roar
Face our tomorrows with no falling tear
Find strength in the last glowing embers
Together we have nothing more to fear
These hours are time for us to remember
Before the light of day appears once more
For soon come the storms of late November
Hold my hand and watch the dying flame
Tomorrow, I will love you just the same
Categories:
deadest, dark, emotions,
Form:
Terza Rima
Cheap bullet holes
Through cheap souls
Make rich ones!
Aimed at them with no college, no future...no funds
Have fun with guns?!
And be all you can be?!
And so, we shall see...
But bloodied clouds will garner
When all is dead and calmer
Bloodied history shall not be missed
But feeble, blood lust men will clench a fist
The invalueable commodities sigh
All lost...at cost from those up high
The mosquito men who fly by
For young to fight and die
Mosquito men sucking dry
With leanest, redest eye
To meet the keenest, deadest guy
Categories:
deadest, warmen, men,
Form:
Withered leafless trees
Clinging to old roots
Sway fearful of the wind,
Murmuring among themselves
With dull nonsense
About the rains.
The doltish deceive themselves
That winter is a prelude to the Spring.
Have they ever learned the truth
Or have they read the timeless lie
And believed it true.
Summer is its own season
Stirring the soul with its light.
The earth fragrant with decay,
Blooming as if blanched with treason.
For the buds are flowering
Now, readying for the blight.
In the beginning the end
Wasn't written, hope survived
And the brief flickering light
Held promises even in its youth
As the dead clay thickened
About the truth.
Yet so many perish,
Lost in the dimming of the light.
Even as they flower they fade,
Eunuchs to the possibilities.
Marching to the tune of
Vacant wisdom from old men
Who know nothing but
The silence of their thoughts
And the stillness of their minds.
Thus as the flames, leaping
Down the seasons and the years collide
Leave fragments that spark even the deadest eyes
I see in each face the hollow minds
And the terror behind those
Glowering facades.
The trees, in the twilight born
Among the wilderness of dead leaves
On rocky soil and outcrops of stone
Grow sickly silent as their futures, shorn
Of promises they can't beget.
And the coming years stored only with regret.
Categories:
deadest, poems,
Form:
Free verse
The turn of the century
It was hard to fathom
But I had the sagacity
Of one side of the chasm
To realize it to be more
Than a promotion of the first number of the year
And knew too well
To have no fear
I felt like a quondam psychic
Evolved into a genius
Myself and those alike, - Stoic
Whilst battling the deadest of brains
We weren’t
Victory was ours
At the turn of the hour
But now I feel like the taste of my words have gone sour
As I now look at the 21 century,
What I initially viewed with a certainty of happiness
Is now perceived with ambiguity
My optimism is fading slowly.
Categories:
deadest, how i feel, life,
Form:
Rhyme
The door doesn't shut
The windows don't open,
But, give it some time
Some wishin' and hopin'
Creaking floorboards
And the coldest drafts,
Occupy these rooms
With echoes of laughs
Only a house rundown
Is what the eye sees,
Yet, the deadest place
Is alive with memories
The lady in the cellar
The man in the attic,
Shrieking and calling
And stomping erratic
Below a leaky roof
My feet still roam,
No, it ain't much ...
But, still it's home.
Categories:
deadest, appreciation, character, home, house,
Form:
Rhyme
the Battle cometh.
All night I could not sleep. For something in my heart haunted me. A world of gray dimmed light. Grew by the darkness of night. While the sun hid her face, and the moon shine not her grace. Hope is careful and faith is strong, and words said out of careless whisper are words spoken in the dark. And all souls stir without ease. And in the middle of all this stood me. For what else in this world souls are said.
For out of the graves rise the dead. Our love one to place us in their graves. For it the final. The children were cast up in the wind, as the parent stood still. And a great cry was heard about. As the mothers screamed and the father shout. The greatest war is at hand to chose the faith of all men. For centuries we rejected Yahweh. Now the father has turned his eye.
And men of war and their war machines could not and would not over come the evil within. For hurtful mothers and fathers, and sisters and bothers and aunt and uncles and distance cousins and this world shall find no dam comfort. Yes dear reader you all do know what this story is about to unfold. As Satan sit upon his throne, and his demons awaits his deadest call. While men sleep in their bed at night.
Knew not of this terror able fight. But those men of true faith have warned them throughout this world time. But now to men time is deny. Oh we should been great father to our children. For the great betrayer hold fast his honor to destroy man within the hours. For Yahweh have given Satan his call to spread his evil upon us all. None shall be saved and woe to us all.
To the greatest war and to men greatest fall. And all races shall suffer this terror able doom. For even now all races can not agree who shall rules. For all they have proving is that they all are fools. Now as I sit here and write man still have the time to set it right. And for those who think they are right. Here a hint for the beginning of the fight. Men shall look for the darkest night. Because from the west and the south his army grows, for in the east and the north the judgment comes. For no souls shall pass the judgment no not even me. That why I was given the chance to write this for you. For there is no more saving us in Yahweh thoughts. Cause chance after chance Yah have giving us.
to be cont.
Categories:
deadest, age, dark, death,
Form:
Sonnet
Dear commissar wherever you are? There's never been times I've felt so far
That this place is like the deadest star, no orbit or purpose apart from travel
Will it go supernova? which way will it unravel.? Perhaps galactic ice will
Overtake? From the lagoon of despair, in massive lake's to then become a sea
Of doom? Reflecting many itinerant moons; just hurtling round the net in a loop
With a never-ending dismal group, of astrologers; to chart it's demise
Through ever more forbidding astral skies, oh commissar; oh commissar'
Can't you change direction? It's not too far.' Just a million light years away'
Where a Sun is shining, where inspiration can blossom near and far.
Yet maybe there is no commissar? No commissar.. Or book of rules.'
Adhered to by..Well by no doubt gilded fools' surely though there must some be?
In consonants prison, just you mark me' adrift on that silly bubbles sea
Why do they venture? Before anyone interupts ) I'm asking me.!
There's the tide the moon runs, and the tide of emotion for someone.)
Bad tidings ever fleet; at any hour, the tidings of joy bestowing power,
A tide of mice, or'tops the land, by two times thrice no harvest stands
There is also a consumer tide, in which we wallow, and take much pride'
We'd changed for deisel, propane gas now electric, 10 billion cars to scrap effective?
Then there will be even more to make, ever to build' always to be take.'
There's much aversion to any red pill, just pop those blues.' Keep them coming
You can be a wireless object with what's a' humming it's going fast if it hits you'll never know'
What mask to wear on the radio, no matter that your face isn't seen its all about the
Image; yet I'm not that keen' and like why are we all so lost in this smog from such dirty Green.'
Categories:
deadest, allegory, allusion, appreciation, confusion,
Form:
Rhyme
Let the purified water fill my soul with his truthful ways,
And the cravings of starvation show me the way to my truth.
That the very breath I take could be my last,
So let me not devour it but to cherish the life I hold in my hands.
In him I find my peace and the will learn to make gone of my miserable anger.
My wrongness in the world will be changed to the knowledge I hold dear.
Knowing I am never alone in the darkest of the deadest hour,
Nor in the pits of the hottest sands where there is no water but empty dryness to
be found.
For when we walk as the blind ones do and as we talk such as those who have
no tongue,
Let us not walk in the evil paths and let us not bower of speeches we do not
believe in.
For when we are stabbed with such a blade of hate do not wound it up and hide it,
But to let the blood flow out and heal if it has no regrets to shed upon.
Have our passion on friendships be passed to our corrupted enemies
For we may see the night of Judgment will be lost and forgotten and all will hate
no more.
Fight not toward the flesh of your own bones
nor the beating of our bleeding pains.
Categories:
deadest, devotion, faith, forgiveness, happiness,
Form:
Dead, dying, deadest
All security is broken.
Warm sand wrapped in seaweed
Your smiling face
Goose bumps in hard, playful waves, washed by
Laughing foam, watched by a
Dancing sun
Drips of ice cream trickled down sandy arms
As flip-flopped feet swerve Shelob
Sleeping in her glittering lair,
Sung to sleep by the lullaby of semi, mosquitoes, traffic, and waves.
Slap, slap, roar.
Slap, slap, roar.
Slap, slap…
ROAR.
Silence.
Categories:
deadest, natural disasters
Form:
Free verse
a storyman
runs out of stories
he's deprived of oxygen
a lusterless butterfly
chained to straight paths
the deadest of ends in sight
a fading dreamer in a burnt out
lullaby
funny thing about a storyman...though...
he always has the belief
that another story is bleating
just over the next bluff
coiled around the next bend
nestled deep in the throat
of a mountain top crag
ready to hatch
so he moves on down the dirt road
(at periwinkle pace)
conversing with dusty birds
begging for neon crumbs
then out of the deepest kind of blue
the puncture wound in his balding tire
turns into an angel on fire-
no longer oxygen deprived
out of chrysalis bondage
following the path of hieroglyphs
chanting
"be grateful-pay attention
this could be your last
story
man".
Categories:
deadest, life,
Form:
Free verse
The Deadest Hope In The World
The deadest hope in the world to hold
To be truly youthful when one is old
To race about with eager quickened pace
Innocent smile upon a softened face,
Willing hands to love yet again,
The envy of many jealous, fellow men
A finer vessel sleek, pure and true
Charming lady dancing along with you!
Adorned with steadfast heroic words,
Flying free of earth like the birds,
Wandering into majesty of the clouds
Far away from teeming earthbound crowds
A God sailing alone in the night sky,
Enjoying a blessing, not asking why!
Robert J. Lindley, 05-30-2015
Categories:
deadest, appreciation, emotions, humanity, imagery,
Form:
Sonnet
Who is the deadest
Now that Israel has published horrific pictures
of slain children this as an explanation of why they
so cruelly bomb Gaza
where about 500 children have been victims
of relentless bombing
one hopes the Palestinians will refrain from publishing pictures of their dead children like it should be a competition
My child is more horrifically dead than yours
Categories:
deadest, allusion, anger, bible, confidence,
Form:
Blank verse