Best Hears Poems
Toll-free is the call on this special day
as my gratitude ascends the umbilical cord,
never severed, even in the afterlife.
“I planted begonias in the garden you nurtured.”
My eyes search the bright spring sky,
“Your favorites, just for you on Mother’s Day.”
Decades have passed,
yet that special mother/daughter bond
finds me planting begonias each year.
“I miss you, Mom, though your spirit lingers –
sometimes I still hear your voice;
you always hear mine.
“My confidante you’ll always be.
When I share my innermost thoughts in prayer,
I feel your heart next to mine.
“Giver of life, comforter, source of wisdom,
Mom, you blessed me with so much joy.
I spoke to you in my youth; I speak to you now.
“On angel wings my words are delivered to heaven.
I know you listen;
I just know.”
*Written May 5, 2015, in honor of my mother.
Devotion Poem, Cat Steps
(Written for Jim Eslinger
Carefully I near him. He is curled up...sleek. Eyes
closed, perhaps not asleep. He sees. He will run.
He blends into hallway shadows. The light plays over
his outline. He steps within silence, outside hearing.
His devotion is fully committed to the circle he has
drawn around me: my lap his bed; my heart his
domain, entering whenever with assumption —
which I embrace as true. This dear cat, my leopard
when poised so....Aloof, yet overseeing everything,
including outside, where he travels by looking
through windowpanes. Too, I have caught how he
wears dreams of short escape, his eyes fix on spaces
of voids across the room. He pauses to listen
through doors. He sees around corners. When,
if ever he decides to go off for some while, I hope he
lets me follow. My sight stills on his glowing spots.
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(c) sally Young eslinger 2/2021
At A Crossroads Poet, Hears That True Call,
dedicated, to my friend with appreciation
At a crossroads poet, finds waiting pen
beneath dust that hides wiles of evil men
ink then cast forth on an eager blank page
from heartfelt and pure soul of wizened sage.
At a crossroads truths, one can not deny
nor neglect reigning beauty of night skies
as stars twinkle and moonlight bright parades
through wafting breeze and all Nature hath made.
At a crossroads poet, hears that true call
music that inflames passions in us all
for such inspires deep love and gifted hands
with verse from far above, our earthly lands.
At a crossroads, where sincere life one lives.
Soul rests free within, writes sweet words to give.
Robert J. Lindley,10-04-2019
Sonnet, ( How poetry oft inspires other poets )
(dedicated to Besma Riabi Dziri, inspired by
my reading of Besma's exquisite poem, titled
"At A Crossroads A Poet Is Born" )..........
Would it gladden your heart to know God loved a poem
You wrote; that your thought lends its grace to the music He hears,
Though you doubt He's aware of your joy or your tears!
Would you hide if you could that you're naked as Adam,
As Eve was in Garden of Eden, preceding their Fall?
Do you dream of a day you might once hear His call
When He lives for your heart's drum, taps fingers to waves
Known to penetrate jungle! Magnetical flux lines
Trap curtains of light at your poles He supplies for the warp.
Its threads hang from the sky like the strings of a harp
As our woof barks the colors that dance from loom's sidelines.
Are poets more flavored when God tastes us all in the end?
Do our works or our faith count toward Sainthood, my friend?
Rest in faith, live in certainty! 'Blood of Christ' saves!
Long Tooth
June 19th of 2019
Waking with a smile, eyes bouncing green, dear husband
makes me hold back my scream, desire to pull over sheets.
Later, I find you sitting like Buddha, gazing at the land,
shifting as each birds lifts and soars and tweet tweets.
I watch you in silence, pick up slippers, my piles of papers
find my own breakfast to leave you undisturbed in dream,
you thank me so many ways, your face relaxed, finger tapers
held on belly, sometimes I wonder if you see past the gleam
Of heavenly contentment, lap of pool, sun blazing warm
the face so bruised by clenched jaw now so smooth
I never dare to battle you, drive you against walls or alarm.
Retirement is a silence of weighty falling before well oiled groove.
birds retort
wind whispers riddles untold
patience hears
I look into your eyes and perceive your driving force
Heavy is this Heart as it consumes the essence of your greed
Lost in a spiral. ....The decent begins
With All your years of wisdom. ....wealth is all you seek
I have tried ....to warn you from yourself
Yet...you see me as a Fool
Mercy on Our Souls....isn't part of your agenda
Your thoughts explode into our Home....
I Hear You.......
I See You.....
I Feel You. ....
In The Lord's Light. ...
We Are Hear..... We Are Hear.....
hears the rooks cawing
as he strolls through the grave yard - -
sees her watching him
* for Andrea's (and Nikko's) contest
The Woman in Black is a book and a film - a big buck version is currently being filmed, I've heard
What do you want to hear that makes a mother a Seer
It's what a Mom fears, that makes her a caring soul
Whether it's the Bronx, Eastercraigs, or a Village so
It's what a Mom hears that allows a family to live
She may hear about her daughter, unwanted pregnancy
It's what a Mom hears, that can change for the better
Just imagine her sibling, involved with riots and such
It's what a Mom hears, to leave her child with thought
Said bullying in school, turns a parent into a scene
It's what a Mom hears, that throws their airs away
Such can you imagine, the loss of her child be
It's what a Mom hears, that's throws her heart astray
What do you want to hear that makes a mother a Seer
It's what a Mom hears, that can change our everyday
.
She hears it with her eyes and ears, you see it in her smile;
She hears it in the smell and say...Oh you cook so well.
And when she looks into your room;
She hears how well you use the broom.
Clean refrigerator, stove and sink, she hears,
Janitor no...Technical Cleaning Engineer.
You spell and speak well, she watches your mannerism,
But she hears that you will be in journalism.
The friends you acquire and the company you keep;
She hears that you will be the one to give the inaugural speech.
She watches how you dress and pay close attention to detail,
She hears that you will be a fashion designer or into Retail.
The way you manage money and sparingly likes to spend,
She hears banker, stock broker, not a borrower but one who will lend.
She sees you interact with other family members
She hears social worker, caretaker or counselor.
Her ears hear so many things because of what you do;
She hears it with her eyes and ears, you see it in her smile,
And you know that she approves.
I found me self in a pickle
When I sat on a thistle
The pricks went in
I started to scream
They lied, they said it would tickle
================================
Dancing to music only she hears,
she waits for him against the wall.
He finally shows as midnight nears,
but she's obliged he came at all.
She spends her weekends in his car,
dancing to music only she hears.
A butterfly caught in a jar...
pinned when the vodka disappears.
Her honeymoon is spent in tears,
her husband, drunk, sleeps like a stone.
Dancing to music only she hears
that night, she sips champagne alone.
Yet in her mind, a kinder song
plays on and finds her through the years,
(though he will never sing along)
...dancing to music only she hears.
================================
She sits on the bench
Her life in three plastic bags
Singing to herself
Her mind dancing all about
To music only she hears
One winter morning, cold and cloudy
A bird singing on the backyard tree
Of an old age home paused suddenly
To find a sobbing old man
He put a curious query.
“Why are you crying daddu?
Tell me if I can help you.’”
“Give this letter to Jeetu, my son.
His address or details I know none.”
The letter said “Dear Son, do you remember?”
Along the fields in muddy water
As we were riding on the cycle
Your feet got stuck in the wheel
No one around to stop the blood
Fields were frightened by your squeal.
Many fold increased my heartbeat
Rushed towards the tubewell , washed your feet.
My clothes got wet, my beard got wet
Having a chocolate your mood got set
Son, now these eyes are wet
When – oh – when will you come
To make them set.
Every night when the door bell rang
You woke till 10 to open the door.
Jumping to hug a melody you sang
“papa, kya laaye ho?”… and some more
Son, now this heart is short of hugs
I miss the melody ,I miss the song
They aren’t there for so long
Tearful was the bird’s face
Flew to his mother, reported the case
“Aren’t the parents gift of God ?
How can humans think them load?
Is this the wisdom humans got
To leave their parents alone to
Die of hunger, pain and sufferings
In the last stages of the life road.”
“They talk of heaven, They say it well.
In old age homes their parents dwell.
They have learnt to live, forgot to love.
Empowered with money but lost the jewel.”
They are destined to wither who depart from their source.
If values were preserved, no old age homes of course.
At Horton's first day at the nursing home
figured he had nothing to lose,
working for the elderly,
and the confused,
most of them being deaf
and wearing hearing aids,
Horton still had to repeat himself,
time and time again,
when Horton would speak,
all the elderly would say "Who?"
as if they knew Horton was finished talking,
right on cue,
so Horton started talking real loud,
and speaking real clear and slow,
till finally they started looking,
like they were in the know,
then Horton's voice got raspy
from talking loud each day,
the elderlys hearing once again
diminished in the fray,
so Horton was about to give up,
feeling he was in a communication rut,
till one fateful day,
instead of "who" they all said "what?"