Best Heeds Poems
Finding love is our unsure heart’s goal as edged on by our confident souls.
Some journey through life with love as their primary dream, only to give up
after giving all to failures’ torturous theme. They may wish their constant
dream to unfold, but cannot befriend the lonely, dark hole that mocks the
intentions of their soul. For many, ‘tis when heart hopes completely dim that
fate itself delivers the right her or him.
When true love is meant to be, it shall appear and reward every lonely, fallen tear.
When true love wraps you in its infinite folds,
there is nowhere else you will need or wish to go.
When you truly love someone, you hold their dreams inside your prayers
and lay steppingstones to assist them there.
Grateful for the long-awaited task, you let love toss every mask you ever faked
for romance’s sake. Each past pretense may now relax, disappear and never
come back, for true love loves your truth and would never wish to see you
subdued. Real love wraps around the you that your life really grew.
Love grants the finest gift, a present of loving arms embracing all of you,
not despite, but because their heart knows all of you. Freely and without
hesitation, you give your body, heart, spirit, secrets and possessions, confident
none will ever be used as emotional weapons.
No matter any day’s design, love soothes all away when at night you lay
entwined. True love is two who mutually fulfill emotional needs, heeds fears
to see them eased and nurses hurts that may otherwise bleed.
Even in silence, love’s communication and awareness are at its finest. When
alone, at home, such love is happily content for together time never ceases
being time joyously spent.
When one is weak, one stays strong, for two in love alter leaning and being
leaned on.
Each the other seeks to please for your love’s smile gives back pleasurable
degrees. When in love, such smiles become your heart’s feed.
After time spent apart, love seeks and finds its prize in the other’s loving eyes.
When love is of truth’s seed,
two breaths become a single heartbeat,
pulsing as one, dual, soul-deep feed.
as light
meets night
moon wanes
ink reigns
dusk bleeds
earth heeds
sizzling
fizzling
rose tears
blue spheres
waking
aching
sky streams
quartz dreams
fate's thrusts
heart trusts
soul's fire
sapphire ~
i g n o r a n c e~
is a rhyme without soul
an art of f a d i n g into oblivion...
like crestfallen tulips
twirling through tethered rays
in the midst of seething sighs...
and I am more than the
blazing thorn
of a phoenix rose moon,
infused in scarlet elixirs
of a sorcerous twilight,
weaving l o v e
in golden glows
amidst double-flamed scales
burning my velvety h e a r t...
pondering, would you
be the galactic gardener
that waters
my weathered spirit
when I am but
a mere memento~
tangled in
vindictive vines of vanity,
for I have a voice
I sing in garnet grace...
if tomorrow
you feel my heartbeat
between vintage verses
of a scentless sonnet
long forgotten, and e r a s e d
remember,
I am the silk and sage
and the untamable
silhouette
of a balmy blossom
that refuses to breathe
in the ossuary
of perished petals,
and wrinkled dreams,
ostracized by
chauvinistic thistles
and unpolished ink
pricking the soft stems
facing cyclones of greed
c i r c l i n g
in sheer arrogance....
tonight I trace the hyacinth heat
of unwavering zest,
drawing sanguine
smoke of love
with winged gossamer
tied to the redolent roots
of unblemished skylines
while crocheting
petrichor promises
unto the backbone of
a nocturnal garden,
where handmade
wreaths of hope and faith
feel softer than lunar light~
as this heart resembles
a maternal bouquet
of burgundy b l i s s ...
a woman who heeds not
misogynistic mantras ...
You speak into your child's life in whispers
With the strength of the four winds
No need for yelling
For your child has expectant ears
Wisdom
A fathered gift
Born out of pained understanding
Mistakes not needed to be repeated
Your love an inoculation to failure
Resilience will permeate a new generation
You smile with furrowed brow
For time passes much to quickly
There is fear there is some lesson you have forgotten
Not what you want for your begotten
Still you see this precious ones progression
He possess strength laughter and compassion
Humored moments and strong funny bones
Will insure this child will never be alone
A tender heart and a will like a stone
One day
You will have to let go
Time progresses it never slows
Deep inside your heart grows because you know
You have given your all
This child will rise up tall
Won't be afraid to fall
He heeds your Father's call
For he has learned at your loving feet
Wisdom has been his bountiful feast
Some day he'll be a father too
He'll bring blessings back to you
For you have been faithful
and a father true
Inspired by Funom's poem, "Words of Wisdom to My Child".
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass had never learned to cope;
once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope.
She fled the curse of worlds perverse by shooting shots of dope,
and stalked discreet’ Asylum Street her daily horoscope.
The stray was struck by passing truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire
(born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire)
for no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
though faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
with child, unwed, her soul stained red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
(the twisted grin seemed dark and thin behind the robed façade).
“She’ll burn in hell with sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
On a harbor of restless shore
she scans across the deepened waves,
to end pain’s grim just like before...
as necklace breaks, in chilled farewell.
By edge of evening, time races
with hope to drown in circling tides.
Not a chance to hold stars’ graces,
a wish tangled in poverty.
Big dipper heeds her whimper, faint
as dazzling light soaks in blue sea.
Until her child harks ,” Mom, have faith;
I'm here with you, through love’s glory.”
By questioning the bleak of life
her truth alights, now out of strife.
Suicide Prevention Month Contest
Sponsor: Laura Loo Rhyme-- Sonnet Form
Re-submitted 9/16/2017
Double Chained Sonnets, Nature's Beauty, Our Vanity So Shames
(1.)
Nature's Beauty, Our Vanity So Shames
Nature, deepest hues set to color life
life its temptations, bringing moral strife
strife, its agony he can not ignore
ignores, so doing denies, all the more.
More as he himself, huge treasure demands
demands as if Heaven, heeds such commands
commands that show his darkest of dark lust
lust he reasons as reward that is just.
Just as he thinks his life is to control
control using, to his honor extol
extol false virtue, truth rightly denies
denies as into great fits, he then flies!
Nature's beauty, our vanity so shames
Shames man's, so shamelessly set, wicked games!
Robert J. Lindley,
Chained sonnet, ten syllable rhyming verse
perfect 100 words..
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables:: 140
Total # Words:::::: 100
(2.)
Music, Could We Live Sweet Life Without It
Music, its gifts serenades, so rewards
rewards we, wanting to be famous bards
bards that struggle for magnificent words
words to all mankind, singing as songbirds.
Songbirds singing their music truly sweet
sweet to, in Life stir, man's tender heartbeats
heartbeats racing strong as soft glow showers
showers, as if from heaven's high bowers!
Bowers above, that set angels to sing
sing to mortal man, to greater joy bring
bring in deep beauty of music's treasures,
treasures, as one of Art's greatest pleasures!
Music, could we live sweet life without it?
It that oft sends, darkness back to dark pits.
Robert J. Lindley,
Chained sonnet, ten syllable rhyming verse
perfect 100 words..
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables:::140
Total # Words:::::::100
They appear in utter sadness,
or if there is something in our eye
they stream our sudden feelings,
but it's okay, we all do cry
We hold them close,
or set them free
when times are good,
or misery
To float, to fly, to wonder high
in Paris by the Louvre
in arms, in eyes, in painted pose
where pain was once removed
Shan't be streams leave Autumn's door
the silver shines alone
a touch, too sweet for memory
in dreams you are at home
Discretion sits still satin falls
a whisper gently heeds her call
I am your inked inamorata,
enamored and heaven-drunk,
sipping courtly creed
from the chrysalis chalice
of what love could unleash ~
as the heart heeds what’s unsaid
when stellar heat waves
thunder in sync with lightning,
still musing with
the monotony of muted music…
It was never the radiant rhythm
of romanticized rhymes
that pulled me,
but the arcane gaze
of your trip-uh-licious alchemy,
the ice-flame blues of
a draconian dreamer,
still intriguing this
intuitive incandescence
like a dangerous desperado
sailing me to an ocean of devotion.
O primal paramour,
purify this pained pulse,
heal the hurting nocturnal Helios
amidst your eyes that roam,
reaching for the rhinestone flickers,
blind to this burn.
While your hallowed hands
unknot the sky, wedded
to the thrilling threads
of my mourning moon,
calm your vagabond psyche
and listen to the evocative voice
of my unwavering verses ~
veiled in vermilion,
within the purged pages
enveloped in sand-soaked silk.
There you will hear
the black-cat moan
footprints of faithful fervency,
the lifelines of loyal luminescence,
clawed to compassion
generously giving,
serving the aromatic air
that carries your mystical musk ~
So let the ghost awake,
let the forgotten rise again.
Watch the wickedness unweave
the faults of an untamable warrior.
Are you satisfied being
vehemently investigated
by an emotionally intense telescope,
holding you viciously
to the lethal lens of feral ferocity?
Here comes the grace-giver.
I am born to dominantly bestow…
A lonesome coyote howled deep in the wood
And a MOST unwise owl somehow misunderstood
Oh, alas and alack!
She rashly hooted back
(And she hooted as hard as she possibly could)
"Who the heck heeds my howl, for god's merciful sake?
Could this perhaps be my potential life mate?"
..."Give a hoot who you hoot at
if you don't know just who 'dat
You hoot at!" screeched the owl a wee bit too late
The gossip that followed defied explanation!
Squirrels scolded scathing and righteous damnation
The eagle screamed from his peak
"Don't even show us your beak!"
(An owl with a tarred and feathered reputation)
The coyote's good name turned muddy and mucky
Rumor spread like the plague so he never got lucky
"Your character is fowl"
Hitting up on an owl?"
(Last I heard he migrated to Kentucky)
Nobody strives to be a gentleman
Nobody will help teach the youth
Nobody likes virtue and chastity
Nobody cares for the truth
Nobody takes responsibility
Nobody heeds fatherly advice
Nobody refrains from profanity
Nobody refrains from vice
Nobody will stand for the underdog
Nobody will for his brother fight
Nobody believes in God any more
Nobody will die for what’s right
Allow me to introduce myself
Be my dress fine or shoddy
If you haven’t guessed by now
I must be Nobody
"Spring drew on...and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps." —Charlotte Brontë
Spring heeds His voice,
Prepared to rejoice…
Spring showers wash away each fear,
Singing light across the new year…
Spring invites souls to the blessing,
As sun sings hope so impressing…
Spring whispers of His amazing,
Silencing the past, always praising…
Spring knows the time has come,
The dark of winter will succumb…
Spring risks the disgrace, the shame,
As the wind begins to play its game…
Spring, mostly alive with pleasure,
Restores the spirit’s joy, a treasure…
Spring erases all the tired,
Bringing new, it is inspired…
Spring’s smile, it is assured,
Brings peace that has endured…
Spring listens to His command,
Spreading glory, so great and grand…
Spring is God’s grace poured out,
On the heart who refuses to doubt!
I PRAY FOR A SIGN
Lost in the world I see no vision
Amidst my fellow men I see subdivision
Death is but a necessity and not a decision
The world is doomed, God heeds to no admission
Tears tainted on the faces of the unborn
Our world is doomed as our mothers still mourn
Crying day and night we hope for a new dawn
A better tomorrow is as good as a light at the end
of the tunnel unknown
Mother deliberately drowns her new born in hot boiling water
While a father rapes his one and only five year old daughter
The world is at end as we are bound for the slaughter
Be warned of the last days because we are
still in the last quarter
Voices of sorrow echo inside my head
My heart bleeds more, each time children are
pronounced dead
The wars we started never to end
Is this the life that of which we shall die?
Like we never cared…
Email: [email protected]
Pride wiil not share or ever hide
We drink it young in mother's milk
And eats within and lives a lie,
'Neath a stubborn mask of iron will;
It admits no wrong or mistake,
Heeds no advice an with ill grace
Pretends excuse with sacrifice;
This fragile skin,false covering
Insecurity's low self worth,
Dies its death,orphaned and alone.
Shining, shimmering
Laughing across the heavens
Reflecting all the wonder
Found inside the breathless
Whisper of a caress, a kiss
Pleasure that is beyond compare
Joy that lives in the heart who heeds
The song of the stars, rhythmic
Pounding out a tempo, graceful
Beautiful ballad of hope, inspiration
Embracing the night, gentle lights
Singing in waves of pulsing praise
Music so alive it excites, invites
Angels to dance a waltz, reflecting
Stirring, throbbing, twinkling
Lights surviving the echoes, resonating
Melodies flowing, glowing, dazzling
Panting, fatigued by the endless
Striking that survives the tests of time
Pouring out lyrics that abide inside
Where the promise of love cries
Tears sliding past the fears, alive
Dewy wonders brushing away doubts
Gifting the heart with stardust
Sparkles warming even the night
With their halos of gentle light
Enduring radiance, blending graceful
Dreams with enchanting peace
Belief, praise, prayers of faith
Breaking through the song of stars…on a quest, eternally yours!
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 10 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
July 27, 2022