Best Entails Poems
A mother’s ears - fine tuned
will pick up on her infant whimpering
in the middle of the night.
Whether the baby’s cries are soft
or even if the mother herself is deep in restful sleep,
her child’s distress will prick her ears
rousing her from even her sweetest dreams.
A mother’s arms will cradle her small son,
wrapping him in a loving warmth
that will abide with him to his dying day.
Her cooing voice will ease his unnamed fears;
her gentle eyes will instill in his developing mind
an image of devotion, which reinforced through time,
will compel him to seek a mate
who will look at him one day
in that same adoring way
A mother’s ears will hear at last
her child breathing deeply.
Then the mother’s heart will swell with quiet delight
knowing she has comforted her son.
For Richard Lamoureux's Applicable Not Applicable Contests Poetry Contest
Why I think this poem deserves to be read: When I first wrote this one, I could feel it unfolding very naturally in a style I do not often use. I can't recall if the contest asked specifically for free verse, but I felt that I had done a nice job with that form. That is why I was surprised when I got an N/A. More surprising to me is that I got two other N/A's when I entered it into other contests based on mothers (using old or new poems). I had hoped for this one to get more attention because it's one of my better tributes to mothers and entails my strong feelings on how important a mother is in the development of her children, particularly in the emotional development of her son(s). Sorry it is not a humorous story. I know I have a good funny one somewhere that got an N/A, but I can't remember its title any more or how to find it! Also, I have N/A poems better than this, but I do not feel comfortable using a poem that has N/A in one contest but a win in another, so that is another reason why I decided on this one. To my knowledge it has all N/A's.
Surrounded by various profession
Business, medicine, soldiership and education
It's heaven-sent and planned for Him to labour
To work manually with strength and effort
True hardships; entails a great man of honor
He picked up woods and tools to craft
From small drawers and tables to houses that will last
An impression of humility and expression of equality
Though He is reverence; a Saviour from heaven
Joseph was the adoptive father
Where His skill of carpentry originated
He worked night and day; perspired with pain
He asked of no demand and with no complain
The name is Jesus born in Betlehem
The only begotten son of our Father in heaven
He could have worked in another occupation
But chose to make a living from down-below
Carpenters make
Carpenters create
They take the common and make it something to consider
Equipped with right materials they bind things altogether
The reason-being, for us to know He's a builder
Don't you know that we're under construction?
Whenever our hearts broken and the world is all we know
When we pray and call, Jesus is at work
To fix us and forgive; improving mind and soul
No work is greater if hardwork is shared
Truly, Jesus had proven that a carpenter's noble
To help us build our dreams and make the world stronger
"In Him, all things hold together"'.
"Only a good guy with a gun can stop a bad guy with a gun."
So says the gun lobby—the bad guy with a gun!
School, shop, and street wax wet with blood,
But the hum of the gun works drowns out their cry.
Their tears, still, run deep in our ears
Sweeping away old lies about guns
That gun shop bums so glibly put forth.
By caskets in a ditch, they make their pitch
To conjure gun sales out of every shooting.
"Strap a mop to a gun butt to blot the blood," they'll say
Knowing that in our fright they can fly us like a kite
And lead us by a string to gun shops and the like.
Soon, though, we see not more sales alone
But in their red wake more hells too.
By right we arm but by love disarm.
Now is the nation called to love:
By gun control we challenge not your rights
But your heart to sacrifice that love entails.
So give me not a reading of the law
But tales of love's deeds in hearts and homes—
How racks have shed arms like autumn leaves
And turned the land from red to gold.
I am so inclined to read for I wish to know.
Although first it seems I have to understand the question which I seek to answer.
Unfortunately I do not yet have this question.
I would ask as many before me of love,
But as they have asked before and given the way the world still is,
To no success,
I fear that the question of love is not to be answered by humanity.
So then I just read.
I am torn from left to right, up and down,
About the existence of God from Voltaire
And the definition of the beautiful and sublime by Kant and Nietsche.
Contradictive the former is to the later.
So where then will I find some sort of universal truth, if such a thing exists?
I read more and I feel sick with a sense of digression from my first position.
I read of war
By writers who have experienced and had the knowledge to express it
With structure and form,
Writers that have passed times test and are regarded as the greatest,
Only to be contradicted by another who is held to an even higher standard.
I feel that I am watching this world pass by in third person,
But I believe myself to be waiting for truth that I can utilize
As a tool to make the best of my world.
Although I do not look to define love nor even read specifically about it,
I know it to be fact that answers lie somewhere in that single syllable,
Four letter word.
I believe this to be similar with my studies of literature
And all that the study entails,
To the way a scientist knows answers lie in the relation of gravity to magnetism.
But like them, I know not of a question,
I merely know that there is an answer.
In all of this said, I believe I have said nothing.
My previous sentence should define my life if I continue to look.
And so I turn to love once again,
Not to be defined but simply to act.
J’aime, and that should conclude my thoughts on the subject.
One thing after another;
guess they forget about love,
consumed by greed of money,
whilst God watches from above.
Did not anyone ever teach them-
what is wrong and what is right,
deep breathing til it’s over;
upon my tongue i bite.
Series of challenges;
that wickedness entails,
Am so brave from love you gave;
enlightened by your trails.
God help me to get through this;
hence leave this in your hands.
I cannot bare the burdens;
what evilness commands.
One thing after another;
that devil stirred the pot,
Now I’m with my maker;
evilness cannot.
Imagine if you will,
a world of books where all the words
lead to the same place
no matter the beginning (no matter the middle)
A world where trees are never planted, never grow,
but always retain the same shape,
same number of branches, never varying
(not even a little)
Some don't have to imagine,
some want to make it true
Some want to mold us
into identical shapes and hues
(even if it's me,
even if it's you)
Some don't like the chaos that entails
in a society that is free,
but instead would prefer
micromanagement from above...
...to put it frankly, love,
they wanna flatten the sea
They don't like the mess that is You
The mess that is Me
They want to make an equal society...
...but how drab would that be?
To see a mirror-still pond
instead of a crashing sea.
To see a sky full of clouds,
all perfectly round
with none too small and none too big
They want to make things all the same
so let's involve the government!
Make every child a giant,
and every giant a child
Let politicians and bureaucrats
hold the measuring stick
(Family and Friends? Churches and Charity?
How ludicrous!)
They are the ones
with exclusive rights to the reins
You are just the pieces
of their sadistic game
...but they come dressed as an angel of light
with words so sweet it would make you cry
We want to make an equal society
Ha! I wonder why!
So as to challenge the pigs
of Orwell's Animal Farm?
"Some animals
don't deserve to be as equal as I."
We just want to make things fair,
a little here and a little there
Don't be so close-minded,
just give it a try!
But not everyone low
wants to be raised high
Not all who strive for height
wants to be chopped down
We are humans
We like to conquer mountains
by the sweat of our brow,
by the glint of our eyes...
...come whatever may,
we are persistent!
We are humans
We like the free ride,
to claim the spoils without ever needing to try
To be showered with everything
we could ever need
like manna from the sky
We are humans...
(no one ever said we were consistent)
I cradle and rock him,
He's so fragile a thing in my arms,
So perfect, so innocent,
So unlike his mother.
His mother was broken and wicked,
A being rotten from within,
But I had loved her still.
It was foolish, I know,
But is that not what love entails,
Accepting someone for who they are?
She likened herself to a grey petaled rose once,
Sere and dying.
He'd likened her to a little candle,
Hidden beneath a bushel.
She called her life a colorless canvassed painting,
With him only as red.
When she saw only lifeless skies and muted chaos,
And her sanity danced away;
To some silent unheard rock music,
He fastened to her hand and danced with her,
Till the music turned gentle,
And it's tempo slow.
I had known she wouldn't stay for me,
Believing otherwise would be naive.
I had thought she would stay for him;
Our little boy,
Thought she could lock away those parts of herself,
That part of her mind that played terrible scenes;
Of still bloody rivers,
And terrific demons,
And scattered husks of men;
All in haunting recaps,
That compelled her to recreate such destruction.
She did not think she was worthy,
To look upon a thing so perfect and innocent,
And call her own.
She was broken and wicked,
And she was rotten from within,
But she knew in her black shriveled beating-box,
That he would take care of him,
Like he had done for her,
As her healer and her friend,
Though he was not his own.
So she'll close her eyes for just a little while,
For she believed all will be well,
And she hoped to go where there was silence,
Flawless emptiness.
It would be beautiful to her if death were like that.
She'll love them both still,
In that world of total blankness,
And isn't that what love is about,
Letting someone go when you know you're not right for them?
Remembering Dad’s animated Cowboy tales
Along lyrics, bearing words, “My pony and me”
I would imagine his youth's toilsome farm travails
while making the best of life midst struggles and glee.
In our place where Cowboy lifestyle means “hard, yet free”
we’re trained to be tough when difficulty assails
overcoming shyness against arrogance spree
staying honest upon what truthfulness entails.
Such is Cowboy perspective that my father hails
leaving us his legacy, trusting God* we should be
celebrating past triumphs though memory fails
sharing down-to-earth experiences, with learning as key.
*Psalm 112:7 He shall not be afraid of evil tidings: his heart is fixed, trusting in the LORD.
January 30, 2021
4th place, "Cowboy Poetry" Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier; judged on 2/3/2021.
Within my moon lit courtyard.
When night, is late and dark.
The raven comes to sit with me.
And tempts me to embark.
Upon a journey that entails.
The mind and hand and heart.
To walk a road, once tread before.
That can leave a dreadful mark.
But deep inside I hear the song.
And know that gentle spark.
That caresses all that lives in me.
And touches mind and heart.
So if the winds of wisdom.
Blow softly in the dark.
Then walk this road again, I might.
For the longings of a heart.
The bathroom lacks your spare change scattered,
and my bank account is no longer flattered.
Your socks are no longer sprawled on the floor,
but everyday entails a greater chore.
There's certainly far fewer dishes to scrub,
but there's no companion to enjoy my grub.
I'm no longer someone's personal maid,
but the lack of your traffic makes me afraid.
The covers are tucked on your side of the bed,
but fluffing the comforter is a simple dread.
The satin sheets no longer unfold you,
and this beating breast has no chest to mold to.
A cabinet drawer hangs, and my bouquet is bent.
As I weep, the dripping sink seems to lament.
If you're with the Holiest, and only know bliss,
I wonder if you're oblivious, or you witness this.
If the latter, is your perspective so much greater,
knowing I'm a blink away from the Creator?
By the grace of the Savior, I wait for your return,
when these eerie ashes will leap from your urn.
Walking the seashore of slumber
Passivity’s humid breath
A moment of sweet need
In serenity of my minds eye
Where I am truly safe
It is only those azure eyes
The scent of Auburn hair
That crashes my momentary…
One breath entails my need
It all slowly falls away
Entering that undiscovered country
Resembling dream
A solemn place where words
Spoken without consequence
Float into turquoise skies
Without meaning…
Shall I Twice Pluck Thy Soft, Sweet Fruit
Should I court thee as moth to flame
sky to its wondrous blue?
Some say, love is but a fool's game
Aye, we both know untrue.
Shall I twice pluck thy soft, sweet fruit
be it with soft touch?
In such, will our love take firm root
or presume I too much?
In thy heart's beating my heart trails
begging once more thy hand.
We seek love and all it entails
life's dance, its greatest band.
Shall we find vermilion sunsets?
Hold Love's all and all it begets?
Robert J. Lindley,
Nov. 17th, 2002
Sonnet (86) (100)
Words (88)
Syllables Per Line: 8 6 8 6 0 8 6 8 6 0 8 6 8 6 0 8 8
Total # Syllables: 100
Total # Words: 88
It's been too long since i tasted your forbidden fruit, but it's hidden so well, the world would never see its truth and, whenever you're not near me, I feel it down to my roots and, d*mn I can't wait to see you,...
Tell them all i can't stand it, they can't never do you justice, it's filled to the brim & everything it entails is real substance, and I've tried many times to stop the force of the eruptions but...d*mn I can't wait to touch you,...
When you walked into my life, it's never, felt so enchanting, it's the hands of time of my heart, and the, fingers keep dancing, and sound of the beat turns my thoughts into Atlantis, and d*mn I can't wait to feel you,...
I wanna spend forever with you, forever & a day, in a room with loud words but they ain't got much to say, Cuz the premise is your smile, I'll always fight for your time, put together in a rhyme, broken down by the lines, I wanna be in your soul, next to your satin sheets, in your feet so when you walk, your steps remind you of me, never retreat, always keep your head up to the sky,...like my face between your thighs,...with your eyes closed wide,...
Time of the essence, so my pen found inception, I detected a strong desire to keep your future manifested, so I'll add to your pain, but alleviate your rain, cuz when the suns come up, we gonna do it all again,...
I got a fever,...
I got a fever,...
I got a fever,...For you,...
Never what it seems like, it's more what we feel, found a path to your heart, down a road named surreal, streetcar named desire, it's our motion picture, what some would call your name, I just call it scripture,...
I got a fever,...
I got a fever,...
I got a fever,...For you,...
Although other news Covid’s somehow upstaged,
My friend called to tell me her son got engaged.
It felt like a beacon of light in a storm
For news that is good is no longer the norm.
The newly betrothed also let their friends know
They adopted a rescue dog; photographs show
Happy grins on their faces and maybe the snout
Of their puppy, although there is room for some doubt.
I picture a wedding and all it entails,
The planning reminding us hope yet prevails.
The future is hazy and up in the air
But love conquers everything, even despair.
I felt home
In its presence I felt warm & home
With no contact, I feel touched by just staring
Distance meant nothing for if I could see I could feel
Its light made our nights as we lay calm watching the moon's revolves
While mama tells a story of its uniqueness till we fall asleep
*TheWriter'sWriting*
My Haven
Ransacking the celestial bodies
None could be a match
The geoid shaped always have my attention
Its an art entailing artist
It was awe inspiring
@AmazingPen
I felt home
Patience & commitment is a needed mama advice
You can't see what it entails clearly without paying attention
So, we would lay quietly listening to mama stories as it leaves us in amusement
For what we saw was far more than our imaginations; it was a gift
Sometimes it was a woman carrying her child while cooking, other times it was children playing
*TheWriter'sWriting*
My Haven
Beautiful sunlight
The breeze of clapping seas
Dancing around in wavy form
Swaying of trees in unison
Never did I know of the sadness its bringing to my feet
@AmazingPen
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