Best Final Poems
Brick by brick I built my walls,
despite fires raging,
I preserved paths that connected
bridges between our breathless existence.
Now that my heartbeats
have reached a dead end street,
let me rest my jaded head
upon your chest -
for fate has foretold it as my abode to forever sleep.
I was the melatonin to your insomnia,
you the immunity to internal inflictions.
If only I could have drank your infatuation,
as a remedy for my antagonising agony.
Poetry was only a provisional potion,
yet it distracted from all negative notions.
We weaved a blanket of words,
where you adored the moon in nocturnal notoriety,
whilst I portrayed the beauty of sunrise in your eyes.
I guess nothing illuminates forever.
If this was my last love poem,
would you forgive my silence?
Would you still bless me in your verses,
or let my memories wither
like the petals your promised
to bloom in our poetic garden?
Would I be your last metaphor,
in your final spill of tears?
Or would you reveal to the world,
the greatest unfinished love story.
In manipulation of manifestation,
I was your willing wordsmith,
protecting you with my shield of sanity -
in the hope I slayed every demon who desired you.
If it was a crime to love you,
then I was content as a criminal,
awaiting my destiny on death row.
I read my obituary
Accolades run afoul to lighten the souls of the living
Trite clichés, forgotten kin, melodic tributes
Boring and meaningless
Upon a granite stone etched for an eternity
I was but a ‘A faithful husband,’
‘A good father,’
And ‘Never Forgotten’
They have it all wrong
If they had read my sonnets
Mystical offspring scribbled on napkins
Consuming stale coffee in late night diners lit by neon lights
They would have known
Had they paid heed to my limericks
Nonsensical rhymes of fairytale fantasies
And polka-dotted panties created to amuse only me
They would have known
Had they inhaled my free verse
Painstaking hours spent
Creating worlds of exquisite harmony
Carrying the reader on endless voyages
Guided by the inspired lyricist through emerald forests
Royal seas, white-capped mountains
And never-ending dreams
They would have known
Had they met my only mistress
One called Haiku
A quiet damsel
Her beauty lies in brevity and endless seasons
They would have known
More than a husband
More than a father
More than forgotten
I am a poet
I read my obituary
I should have known
Death, the final frontier?
A nest is round.
Our nest the Earth is round like all the stars and planets.
All things are orbital, even time and space.
Let us analyse life and death like night and day or water and vapour!
But, this time see death as the day and life as the night.
So in our day, we see all things clearly,
and in our night we are blindly stumbling, or lost in a dream.
The water we can see as life this time,
running always downhill subject to the gravitational pull.
The vapour is our spirit free of all Earthly bonds.
But, this too is a cycle continually reverting back and forth.
As the vapour raises towards the sky it is collected by the clouds.
Thus returning to Earth again as rainwater.
One major point to always remember in "life" also is that
you cannot create or destroy energy!
It only transforms.
W afting wonder world-wide
A stonishing, astounding artistry
R apier-like Rennaisance rhymes
R enascent, radiant resonance
I ndigo inkwells of incense
O mniscient, omnipotent originality
R evered, redoubtable Romantic
Fly to Heaven on poetic wings
My friend, Our friend
Winged Warrior
Kirk: ‘Lt. Uhura, come to my quarters at 1800 hours’
Uhura: ‘Yes captain, might I ask what’s up?’
Kirk: ‘Nothing now but something WILL be at 1800 hours’
Bones: ‘Jim, is this a medical issue?’
Kirk: ‘You bet your ***** it is, Bones’
Sulu: ‘Captain, a Klingon ship is approaching’
Kirk: ‘Blast that sucker to smithereens, I got a date’
Chekov: ‘Captain, you’ll need protection on this mission’
Kirk: No problem Ensign, got a few here in my wallet’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘May the force be with you’
Kirk:’ Thanks Obi, but you’re in the wrong contest’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘This isn’t PD’s contest?’
Kirk: ‘HELL no, now SKAT will probably disqualify us’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘Well, may the force be with you anyway’
Kirk: ‘Look Kenobi, nobody’s forcing ANYBODY here’
Spock: ‘Captain, I’m receiving a message from SKATfleet Command’
Kirk: ‘What Mr. Spock? And why do you always talk like that?’
Spock: ‘To qualify for the contest, the writer has to command the ship’
Kirk: ‘Damn it all! What the…FRONT AND CENTER WRITER!’
Writer: ‘Um…All hands on deck?...Anchors away?’
Uhura: ‘Ohh Captain KIRRK, it’s 1800 hours’…
Kirk: ‘Not now Uhura, I’m not in the mood!’
Uhura: Ohh Captain WRITERRR, it’s 1800 hours’…
Writer: ‘Kirk, you have the helm. I’ll be in my quarters’
Spock: ‘Fascinating’
Kirk: ‘Shut-up Spock’…
Tim Ryerson
Theme: Sexual harassment in the workplace
For SKAT’s contest
He had waited for her, all his life.
All she desired was to stay in his arms,
to awaken each day in embrace.
All she needed was the love he bled,
to last every minute of her lifetime -
but tomorrow he would be gone.
His goodbye, cut her like a knife – deeply.
He was trembling inside, but remained calm.
This was his final night with his beloved,
last time they would enjoy each other.
Carnal desires flamed – the final seduction,
like two caged beasts set free.
In pure silence, he could hear her tears falling,
as he touched her, she moved away in sorrow.
He held her hand – delicately kissing her tears,
his mouth a soothing oasis for her waterfalls.
As his subtle tongue soothed her heartbreak,
a flame kindled in her eyes, igniting his soul.
Her tender tongue, opened the door to ecstasy
as tongues danced with lips locked in passion.
He was the curator to her flower garden
and he knew this was his final masterpiece.
His last chance to show his lover – the love he held,
for all he yearned, was her unconditional love.
He removed her clothes, without pausing for breath,
seductively he explored her bronzed olive skin.
Worshipping his Goddess with attentive devotion.
Lost in nirvanic utopia, she opened to him,
as he lost himself, inside her flowergarden.
The night was filled with lovers dancing in paradise.
Breathless moments, hearts rapidly beating.
Two bodies illuminated in sizzling hot intense excitement.
But, when she opened her jaded brown eyes,
he was gone, leaving a note -
promising to love her till the end of time.
The Silent One
Originally written 17 January 2016
Reposted 7 February 2018
Parched and dry, this barren field stretches,
I wander, head hung low,
staring at the emptiness eclipsing my thoughts
Brittle blades of grass disappear beneath
my worn out sneakers,
black and white crushing beige
in slow fashioned footprints of blistered dust
“My sanity for some cool water”
When upon my shoulders, reddened by solar intensity,
wet from exerted energy, comes a breeze
as if Autumn has come to claim her colors,
to gather her brown and sepia landscape,
pull the lifeless trees, with little leaf
from the chalk textured ground taking it
where it would suit another, for this is my luck
"Take my shade I beg not, for it is merely a branch”
Like fingers of a silken web’s reach,
a soft caress of skin is not understood, though very pleasant
Nature finds me a shiver, a small comfort in this arid place
once crawling with snakes of assorted length, now
green as if lush has just been defined
with sweet air and pomegranate skies featuring a glow,
pristine shades of which I’ve never seen, heavenly
“To whom might I thank for such a gift?”
When before me stands, my eyes saturated and lost
slowly focus on beauty, winged loveliness now smiling within my own
personal oasis, which quickly forms in my heart
An angel, a goddess, extends a hand to me?
My cracked and weathered palm touches, smooth, gentle
her hand as she lifts me, I am weightless, floating
to her, my breath leaves me as I wonder, is this my end?
“If this beauty shall be my final curtain, let it be dropped slowly”
A voice of velvet speaks, as I fade in and out of reality,
now steadied by her touch and the sweet scent of lavender and lime
“I have come to you as a verse, for poetry is thy keeper,
thy words have been heard,” lyrical this voice sings
melodic and harmonious, a rhythm to the beat of my heart,
the race of my pulse, the love of my life, my muse, my all
“Eternal to you I shall write, for your beauty fuels my pen”
*I feel this poem speaks of poetry, the reason we are all here. To find and share our muse, to be inspired and grow together in poetry. It also was a step out of my comfort zone for me as this was an early write of mine where I tried a few new ideas.
As our world spins into this blatant madness
Family units like dead leaves, fading fast!
Our children lost, good values tossed
Idols abound, keeps us in a choke!
Excesses, extreme shape our lives
The Golden Rule, now a corny joke!
A simple guide to can heal our earth-disregarded
Yet, in spite of all these,
God will have the final say
When wars and storms sweep across our earth
Leaders ignore the hour at hand
Perhaps, the last to stand as men
To right the wrongs of history past
And re enact laws to seal the cracks!
Potent winds arising, already on track
Remember, love for man and nature will heal this earth
Yes, I believe, in spite of all these,
My God will have the final say
So let the politicians, argue, fight and scheme
Let the liars, deceivers, play their games!”
Let death merchants chant their evil anthem
“It’s not a child, but a piece of flesh”!
While the years like pages torn from a book
All blowing away like dust in the wind
Gone forever beyond eternity's veil!
'Too simplistic', some claim, that love's the remedy
Yet, in spite of all these, I will fear no end, for
My God will have the final say!
~*~
The Dream, The Judgement And The Final Plea
If my beating heart were to be graded,
Through clear prism of hidden things not oft seen;
Let it be judged by memories faded,
Tho' once pretty as verdant grass is green.
There with blindness removed, pray thee not err
For muddied waters defy truest intent;
As all my life and love, was given her,
Such was not wrong, thus no need I repent.
From her soft heart's beating, she gave her all
Nights in loving splendor, we did embrace;
With her sweet smile greeting my every call,
Her great gift was found to be Heaven's grace.
Thou parted, death can not our love destroy,
Destiny once charted, tho' now no more;
Judge not harsh, follies of young girl and boy,
Should my path, be to a different shore.
Forgive mistakes made, youthful confusion.
We both being too young and filled with pride.
I pray thee jump to no wrong conclusion;
All my great sins I dare not try to hide!
Know this, I loved and wanted to keep her,
And in both pounding hearts, love was sublime;
True now, I am truly lost without her,
Perhaps best judge me as bad, end my time.
Ask I thee, please grant this one more favor,
Allow this wretch to give her one last kiss;
See her smile, touch her lips, taste her flavor,
Die remembering all that I will miss.
Robert J. Lindley, 5-21-2018
Rhyme, ( Plea and Judgement )
The moon had held a wickedness
So unlike many of night I've seen
Embraced in an eerie listessness
While projecting an ominous scene
This night a warriors life was lost
One who unselfishly fought for all
She'd pay no matter what the cost
Her battles she picked, was her call
See it wasn't by beast's razor claw
She was too wise for them you see
Warriors hold at least one fatal flaw
One taking her life setting her free
It was much like an evil deception
One thing she was unprepared for
Like every rule held an exception
This one cut deep to her very core
The downfall of so many it seems
Struck down by the blade of a love
Laying there her blood did stream
Had to rise was all she thought of
High above that love raised his sword
With a swoop drove it deep in her heart
Her eyes stared at the one she adored
He broke her soul, that's the worst part
Her story will live on for the good done
How what a brave soul she held so true
Yet she knew for all the battles she won
Brought her even closer to her final due
SPACE BLOG
”Captains Log”
""20/12.1""
”Closing Cruise”
Space… the final… frontier
Milky Way
Classified
Spiral look
~Violent place*** found in the space*** center of the UNIVERSE
Elliptical
Galaxies,
Egg shape ship
~Billions of *** light years from*** face of Earth
Millions to,
Trillions stars,
Can’t touch the fantasy of this
~Old red stars *** very low *** gas and dust
Collisions
Have destroyed
The structure, when in flight
~We see in*** our own epic*** galaxy.
The Voyage has begun- come join me
And, journey to all undiscovered countries-
Boldly going where no man or no one has gone before-
High on my spaceship:)
PD
I know I’ve made a thousand journeys,
withstood the tests of time and foe
shed the dust and shouldered worries
struggled onward against the flow.
Unconforming, seldom bending
straight the path I ever took.
Challenge was my unending passion
contradiction I forsook.
I’ve battled tempests ‘fore and ‘hind me,
I’ve seen the devil at my heels.
Seldom knowing what lay before me
never knowing how respite feels.
I’ve seen the Valkyries and Forty Furies
their mazy circles in the sky,
taunting, haunting, ever daunting
beckoning from their aeries high.
I’ve crossed the searing sands of Gobi
and scaled Himalaya’s rocky tors,
badlands, wastelands all behind me,
walked upon the Seven shores.
I’ve gazed upon the Northern Lights
and seen the Southern Cross at sea.
I’ve traveled east and journeyed west,
no home or kindred claiming me.
No ebb of tide did succor bring me,
no place of solace ever found
but grappled fiercely all that challenged,
gaining purchase on the ground.
I rose against what life beset me
with courage the gruel for my soul,
hampered, harassed, never emptied,
firm and resolute toward my goal.
But it’s finished now, I’ve done my part
and I’ve left nothing uncompleted.
No looking back, no ruing thoughts
all my convictions undefeated.
And now I’m on that final journey
through all meridians of time and space,
with hope to meet the God that gave me
aeonian fortitude to run the race.
© August, 2015
And I witness
Your deplorable “glory”
Hunching over my tattered spine,
So we can have something in common
You walk with glorified shell-shock,
Another sentient tongue,
Straddling on the Eros of vindication
Your sandpaper hands
Reach for an assaulted tenderness
Embracing lambasted lyric
Another tenor’s proclamation
That their oxidized octaves
Are legitimately sound
…
Nobody is listening.
…
So, you try to rectify your ill-erect
Compass
Only heading south
Bound
By meandering prophecies,
Unwritten
Undeclared
Just another pre-historic fool
Believing the Jamaican grass is greener on
The other side
Puff your corrupted beliefs
Toward laundered Benjamins
While I soak in the bloodied joy,
That I remain priceless
…
Approach me
While you suffer tiny warden syndrome
In High Definition
Be the insignificant syllable that
Becomes, you, a fragmented figment
Of your re-imagination
Call in your slobbering pinchers and
Convince them why dethroning my smile
Will be that change you conspire,
Because I stood taller than the arrogant
Umbilical c(h)ord that breastfeeds your high horse
For I am you
I am you
Every kick, every punch, every verbal attack
Every overcompensating, born-again glare
You blasphemously portray
But, it is not me you scar.
IT IS NOT ME THAT YOU SCAR!
…
Your one-night stand with perception
Succumbs your third-eye
Keep drinking from your bloodied, rustic w(h)ine glass,
As you drown in your declarations of dependence
Screaming to be louder than love
Louder than your ordained intentions
To become a speck of importance
To be worth something,
Something more,
Than the lunging foot you believe
Will keep me down
©D.J.E.
I look up from the valley and I see the mountaintop.
Up where the air is clearer and gentle breezes never stop.
Where the eagle’s nest can be seen in a mighty cypress tree
God’s awesome splendor is waiting there for all the world to see.
In an effort to get closer to the one who made it all
I will climb the lofty mountain and listen for His call.
And when His call is heard and His orders are made clear
I will join His mighty army as the final battle nears.
The evil one will also gather all his minions here
And the battle that will follow will make nations disappear.
For all the blood that’s shed will, like a river, flow
And the valley will not be the same as the valley that we know.
The righteousness of God will certainly prevail
And Satan’s wicked army shall ultimately fail.
So if you want to be there to see how it comes out
Let destiny lead you and there will be no doubt.
Written By John Posey
01/11/13
If I were a prisoner on death row
just hours away from execution
I would NOT order a meal of calamari with ratatouille,
filet mignon with truffles and Strawberry Sherbet.
I would reject a plate of Duck Liver Terrine with Confit Quail
garnished by Baby Leeks and Porcini mushrooms.
I would sneer at Saskatoon berries and Niagara peaches
dripping in lavender honey and maple syrup.
Peking duck, Scottish kippers, caviar, abalone
Siberian meat dumplings and escargot
washed down with a fruity chardonnay and a supple merlot
would not be of interest to me.
I’d insist on a baked Russet potato
freshly picked from an Idaho organic farm
topped off with Schuler bar cheese and sour cream
and washed down with Martinelli’s sparkling cider.
In my final moments I’d reflect on how Luther Burbank
began with the seeds of an Early Rose potato plant
and worked for years to breed the awesome tuber
that has come to be called the Idaho Baker.
And I’d feel sad as I meditated on how
the brilliant but impoverished Burbank
had to sell his tater masterpiece to a tycoon
named J H Gregory for $150!
For forty years the world’s potato scientists
(and yes, there are such people)
have worked to improve the Idaho Russet
and have failed to find a serious contender.
When I’m finally executed for my crimes of inanity
and ascend to the ‘Heaven for the Misunderstood’
I’ll dine on the manna from planet Earth,
the humble but delectable Burbank Russet potato.