Best Frailties Poems
When stars ascend and illuminate moonlight,
he sits in the midst of childhood confusion,
bricks in ruby quartz, shape pearl-face of twilight,
crafting a castle from artistic vision
where secrets of his heart have unlocked windows;
letters and numbers, no longer mere shadows,
architecting comfort through mini figures
that masquerade ticking truth of lonely hours.
Dyslexic mind moulds an armored foundation,
lego became his true salvation through strife;
reflections of kismet, contrived with passion-
gilded courage framing the frailties of life,
tiny fingers breathe hope through rainbow colors,
whilst imagination carves profound pillars,
stacking the slanted canvas of dreams to rise,
as his strength towers beyond bluest of skies.
I am poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.
I wonder what mortal mirrors reflect...
For me, all races deserve respect.
I often hear the splashing of rain,
and flood rushing down the drain.
I see the petals of the morning bloom
and dawn peeping into my dusky room.
I strive to forget the tales of ages long gone
when dreams died as deeds undone.
I am a poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.
I pretend to be a terrific tree
sapping the tears that betide me.
I feel old scars opening each time
my heart tends to commit new crime.
I touch the heart of the gentle moon
and worry if the Sun will shine at noon.
I cry for the youth and aged in need
and for gluttons in the grave of greed.
I hear the whispers of wealth and wisdom
flowing freely from the field of freedom...
I am a poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.
I understand the chains of our choices;
frailties of our fate; our darn differences.
I say let us not preen on what is not ours,
we will leave them in the six-feat towers.
I crave a world without woes and worries;
the mortal mall of matchless memories
where everyone trades a lasting legacy...
and love is shared on the platter of mercy.
I long to see gray skies turn blue
and my sweetest dreams come true.
I am a poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.
To my daughter who never listens.
Life is not as simple as a cliché.
It's not lullabies and butterflies.
Not all sounds are soothing,
not all flowers are faithful.
It's not as relaxing as a reverie,
rarely as poetic as a poem,
so you can't hide everything behind metaphors.
You have to express your true verses,
you have to serenade in your own melody -
but never forget the chorus to our song.
Life is full of storytellers who will lead you astray,
so never believe everything you hear or see -
create your own biography, make your own history.
Our existence is fragile like petals,
yet your birth created an oasis in my heart.
I remember when they said you would not blossom,
yet you flourished in essences of evergreen elegance.
I was the first to cradle you in my arms,
as I promised to protect you endlessly.
Hoping that you would soar forever,
spread your wings higher and higher.
We never truly realise the sacrifices of our parents.
I wonder if you will ever know,
how sometimes all I had left was my smile -
never would I reveal my frailties.
It was not a simple case of masculinity,
because even the most ferocious lion cries.
I hope you never face a struggle,
as difficult as the trials forsaken upon me
and
I'm sorry if at times you saw no emotions,
apologies for the tears I never let you see,
nor the fears I never allowed you to feel,
but it was the way I was brought up to be,
it's how reality curated my personality.
If the suppression of my feelings made you distant -
remember a father will always be a shepherd for his flock.
Wars from the past have infiltrated mankind,
yet there will be many battles to come -
just don't fall asleep among heartless sleeping souls.
I shiver upon the thought of our closing goodbye,
when my shield can no longer protect you,
as every knight has to eventually lay down his sword.
The world can be a cruel and wild place,
and I remind you there is always a rainy day,
so choose wisely the paths to ponder upon -
learn how to build your own abode.
You'll always be a baby in my eyes.
I'll always be so proud.
Even in silence... I will forever love you.
Dad.
The Deepest Depths Of Epic Pain
The scars of life unveil the weight of lies,
lest it be the torment of moral sin,
wherein the guiltless suffer wounds and cries
of love’s deceit as heartless notions win.
The evil whims of wicked fancy shows
no mercy for those crossed by hands of fate
when magic dreams are cast by darkened clouds
which turns the morbid sorrow into hate.
In rage of fervor, passion's zeal is lost,
oft destroyed by life's dire tribulations,
as sunning rays vacates dawn's gleaming frost
human frailties blind truth's revelations.
Within hope destroyed and life's darkest stain
remains the deepest depths of epic pain.
3-14- 2017
T.J Grén & Robert Lindley
First 8 verses by Teppo Gren, final 6 verses by Robert J. Lindley
Note: Has been an honor and great pleasure for me to co-write this sonnet with my very talented friend, T.J Grén.
Thanks for the invitation my friend.. Your generosity and kindness match your poetic talents..
Knowledge and wisdom are not found
in the chaotic crowd's cacophony of voices
caused by fear and frustration
They gather like swarms of locusts
on emotional wings of hysteria
Their beating sound swallows intellect
creating perpetual hate and anxiety
brought to them by their own failures and frailties
None...which they chose to recognize
or deem worthy of introspection
Crowds easily led by puppetmasters
who have spiraled down to the depths of depravity
as they pull on the strings of discord
tied to patriotic fervor
Exhumed in a kaleidoscope of hollow memories
from history...crowds don't remember
As they turn their anger into a coming apocalypse
where they sell their souls to their masters
as they did once before
When they called out " Give us Barabbas "
Let the Christ die with his last spoken words
" Forgive them... for they know not what they do "
9/25/17
contest 8 word challenge-4
While the guardian of night watches
a looming thunderstorm , the power
of his animus defends earthy home
and a village’s turf with grit… and in
the stillness of a child or wife’s rest,
when twitching snaps of a labor’s chime
rings out, this protector aches for respect
and admiration to forge ahead into
gateways of Olympian struggles;
molded like so by creation’s decree.
Though labeled as a dominant ruler ,
it is his gentle side that comforts
all: lending a compassionate hand,
affirming a woman’s essence, and thirsting
to reveal human frailties without question.
Knowingly ,the peg behind the guardian of nights
is home's queen, fueling a determined will
and affectionate spirit by validating his
man’s untiring role…without question.
7/8/2015
Patriarchy Contest
Sponsor: Thomas Martin
Love in a salted wound
I could wait months, or years for
Finality
For absolute seizure, by your fingers upon my blighted heart
I speak in words like
Devotion
Desire
But its all lost in my disorganization,
Promises I can only hold above my head
Like a great weight
Supporting you and I
As long as you can hold your attention
Without looking away from my frailties
My own erosions- that as they fall,
Pass through you,
Like snow between the bare branches of my heart.
I am forever winter in the lack of
Your presence.
Waiting for the soft sound of your
Footsteps in the lifeless air.
Some sign of your journey here,
That does not echo back to me,
This is only a dream.
I wait
and wait
and wait
and there is only....
Traveling along these celestial corridores
Through the spectrum, called life ~
Brought forth by a birth....
Bourn, for this very purpose in time?
A revelation revealed, by the hands of imperatives, "Faith!"
These reverent realities, of a humbled soul ~
Manifest amid a myriad of moments....
Symbolic twinklings, of love laced stardust
Glitter from above, sprinkled before my eyes
This, amid glories impeccable Kingdom!
A binding cup now poured upon my sight
From within the throne of, "Everlastings Light" ~
Turning such truths towards this vision, I cry
For I am caught betwixt, the flesh and the spirit....
Knowing that everyday, I must face this evil, or so it seems
As Paul the Apostle once did upon the streets of Rome
O' wretched man that he was; bound in this body of frailties....
Do I envite it; this calamity of darkness' dynasty?!
Led by the prince of junapers himself; the fallen angel
Spreading his tear stained wings, upon the face of the earth
The valley of his own, shadow of death!
No, I would rather that these bindings sometimes
Did they ever exist....
But the truth is, they cannot hide; will not hide?
Nor, now neither can I, from their constant lasciviousness
Compelled it so clearly seems...."Chosen!"
While these principalities of pains provincial night
Transduce their tides of disease, amid their final days....
This plague; like a herd of lacerating locust
Devouring the unsuspecting fields of, innocent humanity!? ~ {Cont}
What do I say?
On this cherry day
At my own funeral
Where I execute and burry
The Burdon I once carried
Where I let go
Of the life, I’ve faithfully married
Rest in peace woman of excuses
Who endured others abuses
That never demanded an apology
Or handed a lifeline to rescue me
I put you to rest
Ashes to ashes
I bury the lashes
From the wombs of untruth
Sayonara
Beautiful Liar
Femininity…Of the enemy
I bid you goodbye
Au-revoir
You coward
The regret, guilt, and remorse
Has run its course
Bon voyage
Weakened frailties
That reigned champion in the lifelong fight of
Me VS Me
Grim Reaper
you can keeper
She was a stronghold
I never needed her
The sorrow of my soul
I am let you go
So that I can fly
© 2018
Each year, an evening bright as any star,
in song and verse retells the tale once more,
with homage paid to one man’s repertoire.
Humbling and uplifting, his thoughts restore
our universal oneness, humankind
across the globe, each with each entwined.
Our frailties, joys and sorrows understood,
with love and pathos are his lines imbued.
Hands joined in celebrating brotherhood
and in our hearts enduring gratitude
for what this plain and humble man has shown,
revealing what our souls have always known.
And so, each year, we contemplate anew
this gifted ploughman and his words so wise,
partake of haggis and a dram or two,
yet mindful of the wider world outside.
To gain the peace for which the whole world yearns
feed deep upon the words of Robert Burns.
If you can see with eyes of a child
and allow amazement and wonder to be your guide
without fear or doubt
If you can understand the weakness of those who lie
to cover their own frailties
and not set judgment or fault even if the lies are about you
If you can be truthful without using truth as a sword
yet be passionate in your ways without compromising your soul
to those who feast on such things
keeping your honor in trials of decisions
If you can stand to face unrighteousness
and do so in quiet measured confidence
allowing for a peaceful resolution
and can carry life's burdens without complaint
helping those who struggle to do so
finding reasons to help without being asked
or seek restitution for your help
If you can do all these things
then you will be worthy to be called a friend
10/21/18 contest Response to If
note...second submission, first one disappeared
from PS without notice from my manage poems page
My insecurities, taunting me
With the s i l e n t treatment, enoughs
Stirring up doubt inside, where
I hide all the loose ends, the frailties
Little uncertainties, haunting me
With the assumptions, the assurance
I’m not good enough, never
Good enough – wise enough,
Kind enough – bright enough
Never will be sure enough
Can’t imagine being pure enough
No, I know I’ll never be enough
I know I’m not enough,
But, still I want the joy, the love
That comes from sharing my life
Without someone I love,
Someone who will understand,
The wonder of a friend,
The tenderness of a man,
It must be God’s plan…
Because He gave me someone to love
Someone who is sure, makes me feel secure,
Comforts and encourages, soothes away
My doubts, the darkness, the past –
Lifts me out of the clouds that blot out
My dreams, my faith, my hope
He quiets ever tear, all the fear
With the promise that He is here
Always, throughout it all, through every year…
My knight in shining armor – and, I love him so – love him so much more
The sound of wedding bells, I hear
My daughter’s maiden flight, so near
Festive celebrations, in full gear
And nuptial gaiety, so much in the air
This letter I write to my daughter dear
To consider seriously and not to sneer
She is entering a turning point in life
Getting ready to be a young man’s wife
* * * *
“Oh, Love! Under our sheltering wings
Guarded you were, from tumultuous swings
Now that you are going away
To live under another man’s sway,
Bear in mind this counsel thrown
By a mother who through age has wiser grown
That’ll make your life blissful as you wish
And keep it aglow without blemish
Make a home of the house you go
Give love to all in weal and woe
On your face, a pleasing smile you wear
Cover in cheer, your furrowed brow of care
Give the man all that you can share
And show him that you really do care
Condone him, though frailties abound
And correct him in private, not raising sound
As years glide and glamour fades
As grimy truths emerge from shades
Life may not appear all that fair
As once it seemed to the soulful pair
Yet, believe, your life is clad in glory
Dispel all nagging thoughts that leave you sorry
Know, the stumbling blocks that seem so gory
Will finally lead to brighter paths of glory
Conquer hearts through your innate charisma
Never surrender to anyone but to your anima
Feel proud that you are a woman.
Gifted perhaps more than men with acumen
Do not ever demean yourself or forget your identity
Even in trying situations, never lose your serenity
Hold your head up and never look timid.
And venture into a life with dreams vivid!”
Within these corridors of time
Our works are carved in stone.
We do not view for judgment;
That task is God’s alone.
They serve as a reminder
Of conditions that we share,
The frailties of the human heart,
The longing and despair.
Grievous crimes are scattered here,
How inhuman we can be.
Such murdering and suffering
Throughout our history.
Yet portions of the hallway
By far out shine the rest.
Within we find the evidence
Of mankind at his best.
There are those who search and labor
To ease the pain and strife,
Looking for solutions
To improve our way of life.
And others, always giving
Of their treasures toil and time,
Holding out a helping hand
To everyone they find.
To those of you who hear my voice
Your works put to the test.
Something here you have to leave;
Be sure it is your best.
I just read the most beautifully written,
articulate poem today and envied
Why cant I write a poem like that!
As I travel through mind sheds
Blown out by too much drink.
I can neither contend nor describe
These descents into darkness.
The waking hours when all else sleeps
Unravel half truthes sea deep.
Do you know how many sheep I have counted
Not to be reminded of these frailties
That walk this nightly beat.
I catch glimpses of grandness
Most fleeting at best.
This need to govern a life less traveled, solitude filled
Quiets the psych of a poet, desperately stilled.