Best Elizabeth Poems
Part One of Two
Mary Elizabeth Frye Dedication Poems, Seventh Poet Honored
Part One
(1.)
Graveyard Visit, Seeing Death's Saddest Truth
Walking rows of silent tombstones that litter in my head
I see far more than just faces of buried ancient dead
I see epic battles some lost and long journeys some made
I see long lines trekking through hell's gate as if on parade!
Lo! Great and dooming are the vain vanities of mankind
Blindness, racing ahead not seen they are falling behind
Appetites for darkness and immense greed, they think are needs
They indulge lusts, oft by making innocent humans bleed!
Alas! Dark lust, evil culprit, deeply woven within
Tempting powers grown massively by rewards of past sins
As these ghosts cry out their sorrowful and tragic tales
I hear in not too distant background, hell's loud ringing bells!
As I bid one and all a merry and thoughtful goodbye
Into one great crowd they gathered, all with tearful sad eyes!
Robert J. Lindley, 1-11-2019
Sonnet, ( Man, As The Sad And Fallen Creature)
Dedicated to Mary Elizabeth Frye, poet dedication series.
Mary Elizabeth Frye dedication poem
(2.)
Those Deep Moaning About Life's Many Curses, Its Hardest Hits
Those that beg for Herculean body and Socratic mind
I pray reading these verses you think them not too, too unkind
Nothing bad about imagination and cherished desires
Such is mighty fuel that kindles ambition's hottest fires!
Those caring about not being fleet of foot and stout of heart
Or beautiful in appearance and raving as genius smart
Fear not, for such gifts of flesh are but foolish fantasy gold
Too oft disappearing when your human container grows old!
Those deep moaning about life's many curses, its hardest hits
Wading in its nasty cesspools, and in its blackest of pits
Be of good cheer, if your blind soul can accept these wizened words
Open your eyes, sing about love, stop tramping along in herds.
So you got cherished Herculean body, Socratic mind
Have fun stumbling through miserable life while still stone-cold blind!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-19-2019
Sonnet in Fifteen, ( Truth About Man As A Fallen creature)
dedicated to Mary Elizabeth Fyre, poets dedication series.
Syllables Per Line: 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15
Total # Syllables: 210
Total # # Words: 142
See there! She flies about the moor
Upon her favoured mount.
The waving, flowing grassy shore
bears hoofprints all about.
The waves her steed surmounts.
Her hair is flying here and there;
She hasn't thought of care.
Her little sister, Margaret Rose
Thro' panelled glass observes
As Lilibet, the rider, goes
At breakneck turns and curves.
The joy of youth deserves
A few such wild or reckless ways
Some pleasures in its days.
Her pony soon is waxing faint
(To him we lay no blame!)
She leads him to the arbour gate,
Now finished with her game.
Her sister calls her name.
A liv'ried lad bears horse away;
She runs to hear her sister say:
"Since Uncle had to abdicate,
Now Father rules the land.
Does that not mean it is your fate
As next in line to stand
As queen o'er British sand?"
"Yes, someday that may happen too."
Then Rose said this: "Poor you."
But Lilibet thought not that way,
She strengthened for the task;
Made ready for the coming day
And all that it would ask.
(It sure would be a tax
Becoming an authority,
Yet bound by law's decree.)
From duty's call she would not shrink;
The challenge she'd embrace.
Her high morale she'd not let sink,
But obstacles would face;
And God would give the grace
To yet be brave when dangers be,
And reign with equity.
{Lilibet was Elizabeth's nickname as a child among the Royal Family}
"The Tudor Rose, The Lion and The Sceptre of Light"
God bless
The Queen
Shield of Tudor Rose
and Lion rampant
the 3 of Lionheart,
guardant passant
Unicorn and azure harp
rose and thistle stand
with shamrock, connected
wars and battles
conflicted, a home
not seamless,
stands firm, apart
sanctuary is never easy
when grief is the price
we pay for love
duty bound
for Love,
of Her dominion
and Her people
Lion and Lamb
above all others,
at all cost, to self
constant Her
selfless shield of duty,
brave royal heart
arms never folding
outstretched
open wide apart
dieu et mon droit
"God and my right"
before Life, it starts
God bless
The Queen,
a life long lived
walking towards
Her sovereign,
now in sight
calls to Her
as if She
were a child,
halo crown
sceptre of Light
The Lion passant
her mighty Sovereign,
King and Lord,
now in her sight
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Queen Elizabeth II
(b. 21.4.26 - d. 8.9.22, 96Yrs)
:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>
Cleo and Liz Taylor were known as beauteous queens...
bathed bodies in milk to entice men on-and- off screens
Caesar, Mark and Richard B. fought for these rare roses
… truth is, them dames had pimply chins and pointed noses
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
(( for Catie Lindsey's "You Who...Yo" Contest ))
Dear Elizabeth,
From the deep ocean floor of my soul
I cannot convey
How much appreciation, thanks and gratitude
I feel for you, for being
So decent and kind
As to fill me daily and completely
With thoughts and words from your lovely mind
Concerning the uniqueness and simplicity of my own.
While I am a mere seedling of words to live by,
You are a fully grown Sequoia, complete
With roots, trunk, limbs and leaves filled with
Immeasurable molecules of thought and inspiration.
You are also one of the very few, who
Take the time to read
Above, below and between the lines
And rarely, if ever criticize
Even when criticism is overdue.
Simply put, I think the world of you.
And although we’ve never met
I’m willing to bet
If we ever came eye to eye
I’d see your soul and you’d see mine
From down below and farther still
Into the ever expanding, blue-black sky.
I don’t even know why.
Other than there’s a purity in your heart
That shines like gold
In the early morning sun.
Keep shining.
It’s transforming and uplifting
And gives to myself and others
The light we need
To keep going
And flowing, like rivers to the stars.
And should we meet up there, somewhere, some when
I’ll know you well my friend
And pray you don’t forget me from afar. Ever
So dearly and sincerely,
A grateful, faithful, fellow Poet
A lady who once touched my mind
in ways I could not decorously describe,
because she did so from afar
through her thoughts and words that shined like stars.
She wrote of love and hate and war
of mysterious mermaids and opening doors,
to moonlight magic and midnight rides
and of winter snow and birds that fly.
She wrote of summer sunshine and invigorating rain
and making pleasurable love and living in perpetual pain,
of retribution for things once taken
and sweet solutions for those left shaken.
She wrote of beginnings, endings and belly dancers
the sounds of summer and taking chances,
the way of a river and destiny
a song in a heart, ecstasy and a legacy.
She wrote of life, death and a new born baby’s breath
and how to ponder, pause and rest,
in words of splendor that always rendered
hearts and souls enraptured and surrendered.
To her loving thoughts that entered deep
whether wide awake or fast asleep,
and left me mourning along the way
to hear this angel had passed away.
Leaving this world forever, changed
because her words and rhymes still burn like flames,
through day or night and in between,
Elizabeth will always be
the quintessential poet queen.
My day began with mommy
making beef patties all morning
I helped cutting the veggies for
the curry soup while sipping ginger
beer I remembered the curry for her
special curry goat we were preparing
for her sisters to visit from Trench town
my head spending day dreaming about it
anything other than our family tradition
the Caribbean bakery we were the
descendant no if ands or buts about
granddad made home made gingerbread
cookies while uncles peeled sugarcane
the elders brought raw cocoa from the
Mahogany trees coconut husks hung
sparingly as we drank coconut milk
while the storms brewed over the
shanty town of Kingston the cock
crowed throughout trench town as my
cousins played keyboards and guitars in the
street to the the sweetest sultutry sound of
St Elizabeth infamous Caribbean beat
In loving memory of Dad
Caribbean Bakery 1539 Howard street
Chicago Illinois..
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
Born a year after her crowning, named after the Queen
My sister had no luck, her life short and mean
Academically and behaviorally in trouble at school
A royal rebel was 'Liz;' she broke all the rules
Couldn't hold a job for more than a year
Her 'friends' all smoked dope and drank beer
Yet a good heart had she; give you the shirt off her back
Acted surprised, not upset, if it didn't come back
Contracted HIV from a tainted blood transfusion
Lived seven more years in pain and disillusion
A tragic story, cut down at 36 by AIDS disease
My sister Elizabeth, namesake of royalty
~ This year marks 29 years since Elizabeth's passing ~
Painting: 'Ophelia'
Artist: John Everett Millais
John Millais, today I pose, frozen, just for you -
a blank canvas, your lonely, soul-saddened muse.
Love me with the iridescence of your inspiration.
I am whoever they want me to be -
Beata Beatrix to Dante Rossetti.
But to you I am Ophelia, and we are alone.
Allurement to your compulsion to create and paint,
ever patient, never late, though this ice-shimmery water
slices my nicety, has me tingling hypothermic-faint.
I breathe sleepy, big-bloomed poppies;
purple panicles glitter in my lungs like starburst pinnacles.
Water-mirror reflects back crystalline light, fern-feathered pool.
The flame-copper fronds of my hair
unfurl in your fantasy; my beauty bends like a willow
to softly kiss your canvas, your brush caresses my curves.
I hope your fame remembers my reality
and how my vision camera-caught your creativity.
On glacial, arctic wastes of my wasted mind, blanked by laudanum,
whitened by nauseous opium, colour-clouds burst,
water lilies open starry pink hands in a pool of jewels.
This cold clutch is finally unclenching.
My stillborn child, that crib-cooled one,
light-cradled, thaws the bone-biting chill,
reclaims me from this dream-drowned prismatic pool.
8 July 26
Incomprehensible are the
Petty landmarks that linger in a person's life
It happened so long ago
That I'm surprised I still remember.
In St. Thomas' parochial school
When Sister Elizabeth held a ruler
In her pale white hands
Any signs of mercy
Mysteriously vanished from her blue eyes
Religion was her weapon
Corporal punishment it's end
Fueled by frustration
She held the class
In fear.
Every school day
Was a grey morning
Of my longing to be somewhere else
Standing by the door
In a robe
Of darkest wool
Sister Elizabeth counted us in
One by one
As we walked in silence
Hair combed
Little backs held straight.
From her glance
The message was clear
Grade school was not about deep thoughts
Or clever ideas
Originality was not in vogue
It was about small things
That grown-ups winked at
And often ignored
Issues, important as the color of beige.
One dull morning
I whispered to a classmate
When I shouldn't have
Called to the front by Sister Elizabeth
I was given the ultimate punishment
The ruler and then some
In her capable hands my palms were lacerated
When I cried out
She turned my hands over
Until my knuckles bled
Darkening the cuffs of my white shirt.
That evening my mother cried at my bruises
And my father uttered a string of curses
Long into the night
True
Sister's time was not easy
Teaching mindless brats
Such as myself
Only added to her
Disappointment.
Over the years
Attitudes changed
Commitments weakened
And Sister, childless and alone, realized
Much too late
That her days of sacrifice and Catholicism
Chastity and prayer
Had been a life against nature.
Even now my hands cringe
To a fist
When someone holds a ruler
For the wounds are marked deep
In memory.
Long Live Queen Elizabeth II
Queen of England and realms of the Commonwealth,
she’s a symbol of grace and enduring strength.
God blessed Elizabeth with longevity,
intelligence, poise, and stately serenity.
Through major challenges of the 20th Century,
Her Majesty has been a beacon guiding her subjects dauntlessly.
Never in all her reign has she wavered,
ever with a stiff upper lip and using the gifts God gave her.
Regally well-dressed in her own unique style of attire,
Lilibet’s not only a wife and mother, but also an inspiring leader.
From her dazzling coronation to her Diamond Jubilee,
she remains the jewel in the crown – all hail to The Queen Bee!
Long live Britannia!
Vivat Regina Elizabetha!
05-25-2015
Contest: Long Live the Queen
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Placement: 1st
I wish my granddaughter paper dolls:
"Princess Elizabeth and Margaret Rose,"
circa 1940s. I wish her pick-up sticks
of rainbow colors, or a rubber ball,
Say, and its metallic jacks. I
wish her a Monopoly board, lots
of property---rows of dominoes
as black as the hearts
of those bad boys who ran away. "I wish,
I wish, with all my heart," says E.
with wave of good witch
Glinda's starry wand, while I ask
Bring Elizabeth back
that heartless pack who
would not let her play.
Queen of jeweled crown, she reigns dignified;
Undying loyalty, tall prince at her side.
English lavender blooms, her majesty’s tale
Eclipses tragedy, a monarchy hailed.
Never lost for prim smile, year’s traditions shown;
Elizabeth, with grace, ages on Windsor’s throne.
Elizabeth the first of England
Had many suitors who vied for her hand
She doubted love, or was not keen
And so she died a virgin queen.
29 th May 2015
----------------------------
Contest: Cleri-who?
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
Placed: 6th
The orb and sceptre, ring and crown
each with its cross adorned,
displayed the rule of Christ alone
to mark your fealty sworn.
But stripped to simple linen gown
and hidden from this globe,
for power to serve your earthly throne
the oil of heaven flowed.
You sought to serve Him set apart
not bound by duty on your own,
but strengthened firm and from His heart
to bear your heavy crown.
We shall not see your like again
defender of the faith,
who served your God through every strain
and subjects here beneath.
God helped you keep your solemn vow,
God saved our gracious queen.
God keep you in our hearts as now,
and after you have been.