Best Dictates Poems
When looking for a quack with spiked rates
Some try the Windowed Office of Bill Gates
Coz right on the spot
He’ll give you a shot
But be prepared to accept his dictates
His business, Microshot, you may know
Needled itself ahead of every foe
With billions of bucks
To create deluxe
Vaccine versions 2, 3, and 4.0
Yet there are many who’ve come to razz him
And treat him with deserved sarcasm
Like those who’ve found
Themselves wheelchair bound
Though Gates claims it’s just a back spasm
Now Gates wants to vaccinate the planet
With help in tow this is how they’ll plan it
By changing genes
With secret means
Which to me sounds more or less satanic
Yet there are those who want to be first in line
To get their shot with a chaser of wine
Well here’s to their health
Or rather Gates’s wealth
Which must be baked in his evil design
But when at Bill’s door you hear the death knell
That is your vaccination alarm bell
For more than malware
Coz once in his lair
You’ll know why they call his shop ‘Gates of Hell’
Love is an authority.
It dictates choice and consequence
and joins together all the wayward lamenters
who grieve at their loss of purity.
Love is an actuality.
It breathes new life into masochists
who wished to die a thousand times over
and prey upon the weak and fragile.
When you let love in at first, it may seem out of place,
like a foreign object lodged in your chest, a parasite
feeding on the brains of its host, thriving in darkness,
blood-letting leeches drain this swollen heart...
But love does not enforce kindness; only offers a gentle reminder
for anyone who's forgotten how great it feels
to give for the sake of giving
and not be afraid of his own shadow.
O' Shadow, This Soul Dares To Ask Of Thee
O'
shadow,
pray tell more
before midnight clock scores
and in its echoes lays to waste
souls yearning for life's sweeter taste
hearts pining to youth and romance's deep appeal
not those never ending sorrows from which this dark world steals.
O'
shadow,
do not delay
truth I thee pray
of dark clouds spinning now
about life, love and black ship's prow
shorelines weeping loud and in hot red-spit flames
pleadings from ravenous and ghastly pits, savage accursed games.
O'
shadow,
do not deny
terror and the why
your master in secret demands
death and pains grow upon bloody hands
as it tempts we of earth and sad mortal breath
through our desires even until our woeful and weeping sad deaths.
O'
shadow,
do these pains explain
waves of loss, life's stains
storms born from Hade's deep dark abyss
ravaging through our world as truth we dismiss
I beg do not laugh at crying heart and turn to flee
nor attempt to utterly destroy, small light flickering within me.
O'
shadow,
fear not its wrath
nor losing way in its dark paths
speak to me, let truth thy lost heart save
as wisdom dictates, hope rewards heroes truly brave
listen as grieving heart asks for this needed reprieve
and sets about sweetest of divine mercies, saving both you and me.
Robert J. Lindley, 7-14-2019
Rhyme, ( What The Shadow May Know But Never Dare To Tell )
Blissfully ignorant and supine,
Lost in the economy line,
voters don’t have a clue
that liberty is through.
Apathy dictates all else is fine.
People keep telling me how foolish I am,
but frankly I don’t give a dam.
I’m going to tell you what I see.
You don’t have to agree with me.
In hatred’s name Moslems prayed at the mosque,
boarded planes and three thousand we lost,
Soon we elected a Moslem president,
his books words and actions self evident.
To prove he was islam’s extremist hero,
He allowed a triumphant mosque at ground zero,
Freedom of religion is what they subtly called it,
by a government that continues to overhaul it.
The American people look on as if still numb,
singing his praises as if deaf and dumb,
while a pseudo democratic uncle Sam,
in a forced health care plan,
continues to turn out liberty’s lights
by destroying other religion’s rights.
Thus the American people’s democracy,
is morphed into a dictatorial hypocrisy.
While blindsided by a frantic economy,
we apathetically lose our autonomy.
Allowed by deaf and blind voters in a loud voice,
Fooled by not freedom but license they call choice,
sly appointment of people who fulfill the plan,
A long range one by the “new” Uncle Sam.
a champion of abortion, killing future contenders
him and Herod; another of the great pretenders.
“Enlightened Americans have one point two children per family,
because of abortion, birth control and contraception
Moslems have seven; which is the anomaly?
We Americans treat babies as an infection.
Laugh if you wish; I’m just exposing the path,
You “enlightened” Americans: you do the math.
I decided to turn around this morning,
stop spooning away the day
Forget about mother nature,
look much deeper into the grey
I could see late night approaching,
and planet Earth speeding away
When the unimaginable happened,
God spoke! this is what he says
Your journey through life is now on pause,
over there’s the final shore
Take a moment to absorb these words,
which we both know you’ll ignore
The path chosen can be known,
I walked it a trillion times before
For in eternity all gates are open,
yet you find abstract doors
Order dictates I should pull the plug,
but I’m enjoying your cryptic show
Every so often an aberration pops up,
and I like to watch them grow
The universe wastes so much time,
creating infinities I already know
You my friend are merely an anomaly,
who goes places others won’t go
Take another look at the shoreline,
I should really hold your hand
We’re nearly there already child,
I can’t tell, if it’s a promised land
The footprints are still quite fuzzy
most of your life reflects quicksand
Best go back to sleep for a while,
maybe tomorrow we will understand
I awoke later on that night,
my bed seemed the other way around
The stars were somehow brighter,
as my head stopped hearing sounds
This vision had made no sense at all,
other than being quiet profound
And when I put my shoes back on,
sand poured forth upon the ground —
By
David Kavanagh
MY ROBOT BENNY
I have a robot at home, his name is Benny,
Who is also, extremely office friendly.
He wakes me up every morning,
As a new day is dawning,
And taps my hand, ever so gently.
I wanted him dressed in a vibrant colour,
So he was delivered to me in red suited armour,
With extremities of a shiny silvery pallor!
He felt at home from the moment he came,
And loves us all, one and the same.
He is an excellent PA, none equal his talent,
And never sprouts arrant,
Nonsense, is always polite, cute and gallant
Keeps rigidly to a daily agenda,
And has been programmed to shed a tear
When he is feeling loving and tender!
His memory is incredibly large, Benny holds a
Phenomenal amount of data,
And has a robot girlfriend called Zeta!
He loves to impress and is rather vain,
Nobody would ever deign,
To outwit him, for he has a certain pout,
Again programmed, and beyond any doubt,
Has a capacity of many bytes
To flirt with the ladies in our office space,
As he twirls and spins, showing a
Blushing face!
What a special robot my Benny is, we have
Reached an era, a future phase
That dictates,
We will all soon adopt a Benny,
Who I have programmed to say
I love you Jenny!
The Twelve Angels of Beirut
They huddle together in the heavens
Muttering amongst themselves
Confused as any human down below
We bestow upon them the ancient teachings
Not once, not twice, variations to please all walks of life
Yes thrice
They may choose the ancient books they follow
They may keep the traditions yet must adapt to modern intellect
Such literate men who seem not to read
Who can cast his eyes at his child?
Feeling nothing but love and endearment?
Who pray tell us is displeased to arrive at his home at dusk?
Angels we twelve have nourished
We have showed you both love, morality and compassion
Yet ye who divides faith, chooses battle
You so easily prefer to drink blood
Rather than bestow a red rose upon breast
Olive trees so ripe have no meaning at all for you
Like a tree that reaches the sky
All things change, as evolution’s duty dictates
Yet you fight to keep perceptions frozen in time
You cover a woman’s face
When its you who should hide in shame
Modesty is how we bestow good deeds to strangers
It is how we look at our hearts in the mirror
A woman’s beauty should shine to the heavens
Competing only with a mans debonair style of chivalry
Honor you mother and father
Honor your tribe
Not with traditions and rented cloth
Honor with your whole heart
Feed the poor and kiss your enemy on both cheeks
The skies will become your friend
We sit here waiting in torment and anguish
Crying to the heavens that surround us
We gave you hearts and minds
You return us blood and bombs
We are ashamed of our duties
For we have obviously failed you
Forgive us, you tribes of the three branches
We are the twelve angels of Beirut
Whose tears give you your sea
A vision through the haze of time and rhyme
a mirrored beauty, Helen sits and waits.
I see her through the window for it's late,
at dawn, I'll bring her death, for she's not mine.
As yet, the key's not turned in lock sublime,
and I will stand and wait as fear dictates.
The Master's carriage leaves at half past eight
then I approach the shrouded outer gate.
Through the door and to Helen's room, I run,
and grasp her tightly to my beating chest.
I tear the cloth from her and she's undone.
Helen prays for her Paris dispossessed,
as on the satin sheets my stanchion drums
out of fight and breath, she acquiesced.
You whine and whistle, ghostlike, when you round
the corner of my cottage in the cove.
You sweetly soothe or taunt and terrify.
No one on Earth dictates where you will rove.
A menacing marauder or a mild,
melodious, mysterious delight,
you play your part in nature to the hilt--
just heard and felt, not subject to man's sight.
June 23, 2017, placed first in Brian Strand's Mid-Summer Premiere Contest
Date: August 19, 2017
Contest Name: Blowing in the Wind
Sponsor: Nicola Byrne
January 26, 2019, entered on Mark Toney's Poetry Marathon, Mile 13
February 18, 2020, entered in the Strand Select T contest
I am of soft, delicate skinned casing,
Housing an iron, logical facing.
I grant my femininity free reign
To follow dictates of my manlike brain.
My seductive charms can attract a man,
But he may run far once I show my hand.
My quick, mental wit delivered deadpan
Cannot be handled by males with no span.
Only those of equal mental process
Will see my smile and know any access.
Feelings don’t phase my skill to analyze,
Even when I flash my come-hither eyes.
I don’t have masculine strength or muscle,
But in games deductive, I can tussle.
Call me feminine, demure or girly,
Such true adjectives won’t find me surly.
Color my world with sheer lace all pearly,
Just remember my sharp brain is burly.
My Gallery
In upper part of my body
A cognitive bell rings
From a dial-up connection
of live wires
The modem is working just
To repeatedly provide
the facsimile of
Barren and bald paths
Inner lumbering of daily freight
Coiling, clutching upward
There is no vivacity
The vital force has parasited
How I inhale life?
My days and nights are bolted
Inside a brain cell,
My voice has held back
It lays a plan to brawl my soul
Residing in my own skull
Dictates notes imitating my tone
I couldn’t disintegrate my recall
As my shadow has left me
There remains Just I, me and myself,
Why is my brain a black hole?
Could it not be a universe?
Of a constellation of migraine, tablets
Syringe, backache and insomnia
Dream has become a dead pattern
As worn out as fossil led glow
Everything has become identical
Except the weight of consequence
That has variations of endurance
As I go through perdition
My imbalance will be rectified
Hang my art on the wall
As after allotted time
My gallery will end
Barbed wire seems a 'thorny' subject on which to opine,
But there arose a need for such for people and beasts to confine!
Cowpokes cussed as they worked with it mutilating their hands.
Sheepherders fussed with cattlemen as it spread across their lands!
'Tis said back in 1874 Joseph Glidden, who 'bristled' with the idea,
Was awarded a patent for barbed wire to provide a cure-all panacea!
Split-rail fencing to outline boundaries was rapidly becoming passe',
To keep neighbors' straying goats, horses and other critters at bay!
Sheriffs found barbed wire handy to enforce a judge's firm dictates,
To confine hoss thieves, cattle rustlers and other such reprobates!
Inmates trying to scamper through the wire were apt to rip their pants,
Or worse, might end up in 'boot hill', caught trying to scale the fence!
Alas, sinister uses for barbed wire were found beyond bucolic meadowlands.
'Twas used to enslave thousands of innocent souls behind its menacing strands.
Thousands of men, women and children were consigned to death at Dachau,
Triblinka, Buchenwald, Ravensbruck and Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Among its many other diverse uses it has even marched off to wars,
To protect gallant American soldiers on far too many alien shores.
Mister Joseph Glidden was doing mankind a great favor, he thought.
Were he alive today he might say, "My gawd, what hath I wrought!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
thorns are helpless - premature petals wither in scents of petrichor
greed dictates logic - nature suffers in silence - climate confusion
Silent One
28 December 2019
This is an example for my new contest called ku duet
In reality it is two monokus'. both with 17 syllables.
However, the second one is more like a haiku. With 5/7/5 syllable count, but displayed on one line like a monoku.
I have used 'haiku' as a form, but monoku is ok too. In regards to posting the poem.
Blow me a kiss from across the great way
Desire for that kiss to reach soft lips that wait
Let your masculine hands lovingly stay
Cling to your tender lips, blow a parfait
Knowing that only herein the heart dictates
Blow me a kiss from across the great way
Landing upon lips filled with desire today
Contemplate the mood of our hearts, fixate
Let your masculine hands lovingly stay
Let it rest upon sensuous lips fillet
Moist, tender expressions do not abate
Blow me a kiss from across the great way
Catching it with an anxious heart that prays
Now upon this hour, to my soul mate
Let your masculine hand lovingly stay
Linger gently on those sweet lips always
At any time ready for our love to convey
Blow me a kiss from across the great way
Let your masculine hand lovingly stay
Written: February 06, 2016
Inspired by: Valentine Villanelle Challenge
As in a fantasy,
my wildest dream came true.
For the instant we kissed,
I fell in love with you.
When hope morphed into love,
you knew just how to please.
And with uncanny skill
captured my heart with ease.
Held within your embrace,
a boy became a man.
For we shared emotions,
that only lovers can.
With anxieties quelled,
we felt as light as air.
And danced in the moonlight,
like we didn't have a care.
On life's merry-go-round;
time dictates how you feel.
For today's everything,
tomorrow isn't real.