Best Halls Poems
To Those That Have Walked Dark Halls Of Deepest Grief
Truth of deep grief and its healing powers;
Are not in the anguish pains that invade,
With the blackest of black in midnight hours
Dancing dark corridors in Hell's parade.
It rests in the sweet blessings of gloom's end
That relief, when one sees beyond deep dark-
Finding that Hope brings Light, as a true friend
Slaying loss, once felt so savage and stark,
Grief cuts down long sad shadows if allowed
For mourning births seeds, of Life thus renewed
By tilling hopeful ground with new love plowed
Thus finding gifts that kindness has accrued.
Such one may embrace, path to better Life:
Where happiness ends pain and bitter strife.
Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet, ( The Healing Power Of Grief Survived )
Note-
Death is darkest of painful tragedies
Its sting, births misery like no other
It is a black curse without remedies
Epic sorrows when it strikes one's mother...
.
Oh the many souls who stagger
through
the empty halls of blank
some in frantic panic
whom see the flames
and often sink
Yet some stagger with saunter
yes they mosey
as across the promenade
addressing queries of that early
bird's chant
and of farm girls
whose hearts have beat
Through the empty halls of
blank
bringing dreams and visions
and pictures
and songs
with pen and slip
the poet smiles
drawn with lisp
Christmas lights are blinkin',
Glowin' and a'twinklin',
Hang the Yuletide Holly...
It's hard to sleep tonight!
Christmas cards we're writin',
Oh, it's so excitin',
Hang up all the Stockings...
It's hard to sleep tonight!
Christmas bells are ringin',
Carolers are singin',
Wait for Christmas morning...
It's hard to sleep tonight!
Little eyes are peekin',
For the things they're seekin',
Santa is a coming...
It's hard to sleep tonight!
Leave some cookie treasure,
For the Old Elf's pleasure,
A glass of milk for Santa...
It's hard to sleep tonight!
Reindeer are a prancin',
On the roof they're dancin',
Listen for the Sleigh Bells...
It's hard to sleep tonight!
Christmas moon is showin',
On the snow it's glowin',
Soon he'll be a'comin'...
It's hard to sleep tonight!
Tomorrow is Christmas ... the Day we Celebray.
Tomorrow is Christmas ... with Presents 'neath the tree.
Tomorrow is Christmas ... Tomorrow is Christmas,
Tomorrow is Christmas ... The Day we long to see!
Deck the Yuletide Halls
Winter’s bounty of floral beauty ever blooms through snowy nights
Even when nature wears a mantle bold stitched of frosty weather
By warming fires and in the apparel of amber scented candlelight.
Wreaths of Holly and of ivy grace the halls - a visitor’s delight
Red poinsettias – white or pink – surely memory’s treasures
Winter’s bounty of floral beauty ever blooms through snowy nights
A Snowdrop Tree, Jerusalem Cherry sugarplum visions of Snowberry White
Garlands twined of fir or pine in seasonal decorations endeavors
Even when nature wears a mantle bold stitched of frosty weather.
Evergreens wear twinkling lights against the winter’s withering might -
Frankincense perfumes the boughs and laughs in merry measure –
Winter’s bounty of floral beauty ever blooms through snowy nights.
Christmas Cactus in neon blooms for a wond’rous sight
Cyclamen deck the halls along with colorful Yuletide heathers
Even when nature wears a mantle bold stitched of frosty weather.
All nature bows before the Word who spoke their nascent birth in light
Strike the harp, join the Christmas chorus – joy, goodwill and peace invite
Winter’s bounty of floral beauty ever blooms through snowy nights
By warming fires and in the apparel of amber scented candlelight.
12-8-20
Contest: Deck the Halls
Sponsor: Joseph May
Once
these corridors
echoed with life
a citadel for restoration
of body and mind
a bastion of promise
for the tormented
to the outside world
it had many names
Forest Lawn Sanitarium
was its Nome de plume
I--- simply called it--- home
In its day
it was of grand design
cathedral ceilings
hung with crystal chandeliers
finest draperies form fitted
to spacious Windows
walls brightly painted
absorbing sun lights warmth
reflected off marble floors
yes--- it was exquisite--- so beautiful
Soon after my arrival --- I realized
that beauty often commits--- the grossest treasons
For beneath
these hallowed halls
there lay a world of darkness
a wilderness of living sorrow
doctors most vile
It was here--- that I came of age.
a place
where the rooms
festered in the putrid scent
of decaying dust
where the floors
where like walking
on shattered
brittle-- shards of glass
the broken sills
of cemented widndows
entomb the fragments
of yesterdays tormented souls
if only
the towers
could reverberate
the echoing wails
which pierce the silence
so thick
not to chase away
no--- but to call
the slithering shadows of doom
a place where torture
became science--- and science
a medical break through
but to me--- it was still home
Where despair
screams of stone cold fear
of ghastly ghosts
imprisoned with clattering chains
of morbid madness
lurking in secret skeletons
where charcoal coffins
resurrect in the curtain
of lethal skies
bloodletting and chilling memories
Blasted shrapnel of
crimson smeared sins
of hollow skeletons
buried beneath
the godforsaken guillotine
where harrowing horrors
howl mournful cries
and demented demons
putrify on crosses
Persecuted in the bars
of their endless eternal torture
Hope you like my home--- cause
no one gets out alive
This is a collaboration which was written with the poetess Midnight petals on another poetry site. This piece was written about a year ago...
I can hear your voice
It still echo's deep in my mind.
I walk alone
As my soul searches through this endless time.
Now that I have finally found you,
I thought happiness would never be mine,
How could I have possibly known?
Our love would stand the test of time.
Now your gone, and my heart is left so empty,
Until our souls meet once again,
I will love you for all eternity,
My tears cant seem to find an end.
Longing for you to return to me,
I'll be waiting here for you.
Hear in the halls of souls left empty,
With a love only known by you.
The shuffling of feet scattered in the hallways,
Wooden and metal desk and yellow pencil shavings,
The bell sounds when each class ends
I hear laughter,
I see unfamiliar faces all around me
The smell of paper fills the hallways
Thinking,
Learning,
Focusing
Piles of paper work lie upon the teachers desk.
Have some empathy,
Use a bit of humor,
Stir in the patience,
And look forward to your day.
Teaching may start out like a little girl playing school with stuffed animals. Her students are
birds learning to fly high to the clouds.
He speaks an uncomplex language,
a simpler time and all the more better
for he to not contemplate the ways of the Sun -
revolving around in his mind,
burning synapsis, conjoining
an onyx ringed Saturn unmasked
(they say the devil, Medusa dwells there),
now view the Sun ray-banned,
traversing his time
around the skirts of it all,
they say earthquakes follow -
that one split his world in half,
the ancient adage this too shall pass -
ignored for all time,
inverting into that black void
unlike the minute Venus,
now birthing Andromeda, more mysterious,
her barred galaxy calls forth the warriors
like a siren’s bewitching hum,
on arrival, the immensities become
ominously shadowed, waiting and silent -
for the courageous Perseus, unexplored -
like a hall of mirrors he now walks fearlessly forth,
he walks the crystalline corridors of time
pursuing the reflecting Meiosis’ mind
one could get lost
in the eyes of a gorgon storm
the heart turned to stone
somewhere he hears the litotes
I shan’t be sorry for I shall be glad
that wasn’t half bad
then, like an ex-wife,
the Nemesis calls
Candide Diderot. ‘24
two suns.
Medusa's path.
Deep in the darkest halls of hell
The air is thick and black as night
The ravens crow is only heard
To mark a death or a dying right
A bleeding hound devours prey
A flaming witch her heart ablaze
A molten brand of steel and fire
Crosses burn while sinners gaze
Make haste the wolf its lashing tongue
A wild abomination
Make waste the jackal lies in wait
A joyous indignation
Tower of brimstone pillar of smoke
No star or moon or sky about
Only darkness ever rising
Ever reaching cloud of doubt
Plunging depths of flowing lava
Rivers streaming all a scatter
Deeper caverns never carved
Hope or faith could never matter
Welcome boss man, Stephan Duncan
For all of your atrocities
For all your crimes against the slaven
For hundreds of eternities
Welcome, the thugs of old New York
Mass murder in the street
The dons of Philly and Saint Louis
The tommy guns defeat
Despair and pain without relief
All who thrive there know it well
Damned for all eternity
In the deepest darkest halls of hell
Copyright © Mike Martin 2015
I catch a fleeting glimpse of her room from the hall,
my back slams lightly against the wall,
slumping listlessly, my anger out of control.
As she lies in her hospital bed, tubes patrol
in and out of every conceivable opening,
with new vital bodily fluids dripping
monotonously, in time released droplets of life
through the needle pierced veins of my wife.
Abruptly, I feel the cold uncomforting
frigidness of this smooth wall unyielding,
pressing firm against my back, in this hospital hall.
Reality becomes my depression shawl,
covering and smothering all of my senses.
Angrily my muscles push and body tenses
rejecting the insensitivity of these unfriendly walls,
and began repetitious canticle paces
through the drab, inculpable, uncommitting hospital halls.
Tears rush to my eyes flowing furiously,
focused anger colors my face visibly
revealing the naked fury of my livid crimson brain.
My heart beats with the resounding of pouring rain.
Pounding with my self incrimination, as I seek others to blame.
Doctors, Surgeons, God, others must drown in this shame.
Anger rolls through my entire being, allowing no one to console.
This anger is pervasive, it permeates into my soul.
Our oneness is evident, she stirs and I know.
In another universe, I sense a furrow in her brow.
I turn swiftly, my pace quickening to a full stride
at her door and move quickly to her side.
A moan, a gasp, a sigh, a groan, a cough,
but, the medicated trauma flowing through
her inlet tubes, force her back into a heavenly sleep.
I breath a sigh of relief for her and weep.
I dreamed I dwelt in marble halls,
With servants and helps and slaves and all.
Silver cutlery, mahogany furniture and cedar floors,
I dreamed that man and beast both great and small
Knelt before me, swearing allegiance while a kissin’
My fingers so. That I would wake to the sound
Of harps and flutes and lyres too. That work
And pain were as alien to me as a red sun.
I dreamed that Ulysses’ flower grew on red
Tapestries hanging from the crystal roof.
That ariels and sprites and mermaids and hobbits
Attended to me and served me meals as a habit.
I drank from crystal ponds and swam in
Waters with all kinds of fish. Oh what pretty fins!
But then I saw him! Standing guard at
The gate. Paying me no mind like I were a dusty old hat!
What insolence. Why doesn’t he look at me?
Who does he think he is? Thinks he that he
And his lowly assignments mean more to the land
Than the princess of the marble halls and her hand
Littered with jewels from the treasures of Blackbeard himself?!
I could have him killed for no reason!
Could send him to Davy Jones’ locker any season!
Oh but I won’t. Oh but I can’t. My heart beats
At the sight of him; what shoulders ever graced man
Since Hercules, or chests like drums to beat!
A face like one of the statues of Perseus himself.
Oh that face, it graces my eyes daily and yet
I am powerless to do a thing. Oh Gibbet,
Even in my dreams you torment me still.
A tap and a shove, I think I dream still,
But here stands Gibbet in suit and tie;
At last it’s the aisle our nuptial knots to tie.
He stretches his awesome arms, and opens his lovely mouth
And says;
“I pay you not to sit and stare
Now pick your broom and this filth clear!”
I scramble and dash for my broom and cloth
Oh I did it again; sleeping on duty!
In this sweet little pig pen
Walls that once were friends
And bold shields
For lounge room warriors
Now barricade
Detain indefinitely, denying
Beyond them imaginings
For ravenous captives
With restless longing and fears
Choose now the door
Indulgence to ruin, or
Patience to pride
An unforgiving master waits
With bitter destinies to navigate
Seize propitious offerings
Fleeing these halls
To uncertain fate
Courage now, groomed in isolation
Seclusion of rooms
No longer resting places.
The Christmas Spirit is in the air.
Santa’s workshop is very busy tonight.
Elves will handle the gifts with care.
To bring cheer to children everywhere,
Getting each toy delivered is Santa’s plight,
The Christmas Spirit is in the air.
No Douglas fir in the world would be left bare.
Kids from all over will feel sunny and bright.
Elves will handle the gifts with care.
Santa and his head elf are quite the pair.
Rudolph is ready for an amazing flight.
The Christmas spirit is in the air.
Spreading Christmas cheer is a joint affair.
Santa and his helpers are a beacon of light.
Elves will handle the gifts with care.
It will be such a magical time to share
because of its splendor this night.
The Christmas spirit is in the air.
Elves will handle gifts with care.
Contest: Deck The Halls
Sponsor: Joseph May
12/01/2020
Deck the halls with photos of me
I know you miss me
I miss you too
But I am always there
Always watching you from above
We have memories of our life together
The time we had was exceptional
I was taken away too soon
We didn’t get the chance to say goodbye
This time of year used to be so special
I hear you speak to me
Telling me about your day
I see you crying into your pillow
It breaks my heart
I know you are thinking of me
We loved each other for a million years
And will for a million more
Never able to hold each other again
I will always be with you
And you will always be with me
So deck the halls with photos of me
I will be there in spirit with you
Raise a glass to my memory
Smile again
I want you to
Calls for resignation in cities
When press powers overlay budget of objective
Journalism
Speaking for others illustrates division wrong
Pilot project cost the city $287 per ride given
City Councilman Bill Miranda speaks to the driver of the city's trolley before boarding Monday. Perry Smith/The Signal
The employment obstruction of causeway
Is debilitating to finance language
In America
These root answers create pause in print
To retract office and improve democracy growth
Term limits aren't viable excerpts
No age allows frequency in representation
Open market Economics allows applications
Trickle Down Tips
Mathematically stated,
Budget given from total gdp
Allotted and zeroed burden
Shortfall stated mathematically,
Citizen and journalism benefit of?
Concert opinion
In no boycott
All are conveniegned
The arrogant treasure is slushed
In life styling the outgoing fund phrases
Those whom capitalize
remove civil liberties
This is lobby, page, reception, speculation
Book of retraction for new
Journalist objective argument
In dissection of
Insolvent democracy per acre or
Hectare
The statement of cost
Is evidence over budget allowance
This is corruption
Term slush
Fund not empty
Being spent in spiral
Loss of life as replaced in numerical
Press campaign powers
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This Concludes Lesson 1
Plagiarism and Capitalism
Verse As Boycott