Best Herculean Poems
FEELINGS
Feelings,
Masters of my destiny
Lords of my life
Strength of my dreams
Instigators of my actions
Burning fire you are
Consuming my whole
Being:
My heart
My mind
My soul
My spirit,
As you relentlessly
Demand:
To be conceived
To be formulated
To be understood
To be expressed!
A Herculean task it is,
I swear,
Such an enterprise,
For how one could ever
Constrain, you, the unconstrained
And mold you into:
Phonemes
Syllables
Words
Phrases
Sentences
And still, retain
Your explosive
Dynamism?
No language exists,
So vast
So deep
So accurate
So supple
As to pay justice,
To your intensity
To your desire
To your beauty
To your love!
Thus, having no
Alternative,
I turn to the only language
There is,
The one that the
Cosmos speaks,
And
The universe alone
Comprehends:
The language of
Harmony,
That we humans
POETRY name
BUT
Even then
To describe you
I AM UNABLE!
©Demetrios Trifiatis
28 January 2013
Part One of Two
Mary Elizabeth Frye Dedication Poems, Seventh Poet Honored
Part One
(1.)
Graveyard Visit, Seeing Death's Saddest Truth
Walking rows of silent tombstones that litter in my head
I see far more than just faces of buried ancient dead
I see epic battles some lost and long journeys some made
I see long lines trekking through hell's gate as if on parade!
Lo! Great and dooming are the vain vanities of mankind
Blindness, racing ahead not seen they are falling behind
Appetites for darkness and immense greed, they think are needs
They indulge lusts, oft by making innocent humans bleed!
Alas! Dark lust, evil culprit, deeply woven within
Tempting powers grown massively by rewards of past sins
As these ghosts cry out their sorrowful and tragic tales
I hear in not too distant background, hell's loud ringing bells!
As I bid one and all a merry and thoughtful goodbye
Into one great crowd they gathered, all with tearful sad eyes!
Robert J. Lindley, 1-11-2019
Sonnet, ( Man, As The Sad And Fallen Creature)
Dedicated to Mary Elizabeth Frye, poet dedication series.
Mary Elizabeth Frye dedication poem
(2.)
Those Deep Moaning About Life's Many Curses, Its Hardest Hits
Those that beg for Herculean body and Socratic mind
I pray reading these verses you think them not too, too unkind
Nothing bad about imagination and cherished desires
Such is mighty fuel that kindles ambition's hottest fires!
Those caring about not being fleet of foot and stout of heart
Or beautiful in appearance and raving as genius smart
Fear not, for such gifts of flesh are but foolish fantasy gold
Too oft disappearing when your human container grows old!
Those deep moaning about life's many curses, its hardest hits
Wading in its nasty cesspools, and in its blackest of pits
Be of good cheer, if your blind soul can accept these wizened words
Open your eyes, sing about love, stop tramping along in herds.
So you got cherished Herculean body, Socratic mind
Have fun stumbling through miserable life while still stone-cold blind!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-19-2019
Sonnet in Fifteen, ( Truth About Man As A Fallen creature)
dedicated to Mary Elizabeth Fyre, poets dedication series.
Syllables Per Line: 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15
Total # Syllables: 210
Total # # Words: 142
You swallow billions in cash, yet your assault strengthens,
everything with life now stands on one side against you
but your unpredictability is what gives you this audacity.
Your sarcasm and indifference to mankind
may seem to amputate medical science
but even on wheel-chairs,
we will hold hands together, never giving up.
You now pass through numerous gates
to the fat, slim, male and female;
to the adults, kids, rich and poor;
to drunkards, smokers, abstained or perverse;
to the omnivore, vegan, sexually active or not;
to the religious, spiritual, free thinker or non-thinking.
You shoot them all in an unfair rampage
making the task so herculean for you to be controlled.
Your spread plays the gruesome music of death
inviting the straws of extinction to sap life out in slow sips.
The more your covered distance, the more your torment.
Towards the end of the road, your merciless afflictions
are an indication, nature can acquire a bad side.
You come with a red card held by a fatal hand
then go with a white one with the inscription of a soul.
All humanity fight, but our blows seem not to reach you.
For long, we’ve taken your jabs
and being on the receiving end is becoming so protracted.
But we’ll hold steadfast, never giving in to a knock-out;
staying strong, united and hopeful,
that someday, victory will be hope's fashion
for the new dawn to be here permanently.
Steadfastly tethered
To an anchor of fortitude. My...
Resolve and faith often tested
Endlessly assailed, yet unbreakable
Never will I surrender to adversity, for...
God helps me thrive and persevere
Through a cavalcade of sinewy trials
Herculean, my strength
CONTEST 575 ,ANY FORM OR NONE,ANY THEME,UP TO A MAX OF 8 (E I G H T)LINES
Sponsored by Brian Strand (Winner: 2nd Place)
Date and written: 03/09/2019
Writing Challenge, March 2019 - Inspirational Acrostic - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart (Winner: 5th Place)
Theme # 5
Date and written: 03/09/2019
Winds of a Frozen Wasteland
Winds blowing down the mountain silver capped so cold,
Howling fiercely with a herculean ferocity rarely ever seen.
A cold snap cuts straight and deep now to one’s very bones,
As one’s body trembles tremulously teetering toward a fall.
Beloved baby black crows roost inside their snug warm nest,
As a hail-driven breath spits its hardened bullets piercing now.
On this frozen wasteland of one’s soul—a lone rooster crows,
Seeing, feeling soft sunlight rays stroking his proud chest pure.
He’s puffed up now breathing boldly the brisk cold morning air;
Singing with wondrous conviction true of daylight’s awakening.
This lone rooster knows the gifts of nature’s frozen wasteland,
As the warm sun’s ebullient eyes flash bright inside dark jewels.
A crystal fountain baptized with Heaven’s own purest light,
Appears as the sun warms a land frozen nightly by the winds.
Dewdrops cometh forth as those teardrops of life growing anew,
With brightest beginnings for God’s hallowed frozen wasteland!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – May 1, 2016
(Unrhymed Couplet)
Winds blowing down the mountain silver capped so cold,
Howling fiercely with a herculean ferocity rarely ever seen.
A cold snap cuts straight and deep now to one’s very bones,
As one’s body trembles tremulously teetering toward a fall.
Beloved baby black crows roost inside their snug warm nest,
As a hail-driven breath spits its hardened bullets piercing now.
On this frozen wasteland of one’s soul—a lone rooster crows,
Seeing, feeling soft sunlight rays stroking his proud chest pure.
He’s puffed up now breathing boldly the brisk cold morning air;
Singing with wondrous conviction true of daylight’s awakening.
This lone rooster knows the gifts of nature’s frozen wasteland,
As the warm sun’s ebullient eyes flash bright inside dark jewels.
A crystal fountain baptized with Heaven’s own purest light,
Appears as the sun warms a land frozen nightly by the winds.
Dewdrops cometh forth as those teardrops of life growing anew,
With brightest beginnings for God’s hallowed frozen wasteland!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – May 1, 2016
(Unrhymed Couplet)
When Neptune's
nostalgic sighs,
weave ruffled rosaries
of brocade ink,
bleeding from
blackberry wrinkles
in torrential time,
I wonder if
herculean eyes
of my earthen heart,
are afraid of being
abandoned by the
electric rhapsody
of life's alienated
aroma.
Swinging on the
translucent
parabola of a
frozen rainbow,
my fate is
skewed as a
cantaloupe
silhouette, of
helix-shaped
maple pamphlets,
where, bluebirds
feast on decaying
seeds of love
and sing
hemlock-croons
in those magnolia
gardens.
But,
what if stars
were edible and
I devoured their
ivory scintilla,
submerging
cosmic potions
in my arteries,
iridescent with
clusters of
quasar's quivering
rays and pulsar's
pistachio glitter?
So now,
I collect
volcanic ash
from rust-orange
ruins of dahlia's
dreamscape
and embalm
them with
paradise-pink hues
of distilled empathy,
for my swan-white
halo of faithful
silence, is still
glowing with
sombre yet
glossy shine
of the linen sun
and I inhale
the fragrance of
my marshmallow moon.
The sky turned stygian grey, violent winds blew.
From above, tears of liquid grief poured down.
Flood waters rose, pressure got built under the soil.
The earth erupted with rocks and buildings,
Coming down with a deadening sound, not once
But thrice in the wee hours of the night.
After the day’s hard toil, those who lay down to sleep,
Were swept away without a moment’s notice.
Two populous villages with hundreds of houses,
And public buildings vanished out of sight in seconds!
A landslide of horrendous magnitude came,
Shrieking like a fiendish banshee....
Sweeping away habitations and the belongings.
In the place of lush green vegetation and towering trees,
Nothing remains but a heap of rocks, stones and debris.
Their voices are forever stilled, their dreams, shattered,
Those who survived the tragedy face the greatest trauma.
With sobbing hearts and a vacant stare, they search,
For the dear ones missing, a grief hard to bear.
The sight of pet dogs sniffing for their masters
Under the slush and debris is so heartrending!
***** ***** ***** ****** *****
After two days, the pouring rain stopped, the sky became clear
Now the earth lies in dreadful silence like a graveyard.
The rubble lies heaped where homes and buildings once stood
Help is pouring in from all quarters of the country.
The initial shock has begun to wear away as reality has set in.
The dreadful numbness gives way as grief takes hold
People sober up from the initial shock and get ready
To have a foothold, knowing well that long nights are ahead.
Reeling minds with no balance, now regain some equilibrium.
With cautious steps through the ruins, they plod with resilience.
The affected people and volunteers work in unity,
To regain what has been lost, though it is a herculean task,
To darn and repair the torn land to make it fit for living.
Man has an ability to sober up and emerge like phoenix,
From the pit of ashes, healing, mending and finding his way.
But Such Is The Savory Flavor Of Mortal Flesh And Pride.
Gray shadows blending into a much darker ominous mist
And with that omen, another bullet added to the list
O'but did not the careless days of an adventurous youth
Lay in memory recalled by this and praying old man!
Hold now, did not courageous heroes of the past inspire
By waging battle with sword and shield even in muck and mire
And dawn each new day not inspire a Herculean effort
O' what hours of vain glory now just as a defeated fort!
Why sure some few were just grand and even a true hero's foray
I watch now as gray seems to conquer All and I bow to pray
Vanity is in deep in the harvest of one's youthful dreams!
But such is the savory flavor of mortal flesh and pride.
Dare I not, waken more of the old jealous gods and not hide!
Robert J. Lindley, sonnet--
""truth in telling, bitter dregs of fleeing dreams""
When I see my day in chunks of fifteen minutes
It’s impossible to feel overwhelmed
I feel blessed with newfound freedom
Take a bath
Read a few pages
Walk to the corner of the street
Take in a few sunrays
Stop and listen to a bird chant
Take a photo or two of an awesome bloom
Appreciate the cloud up in the sky
Marvel at the ant’s herculean feat at my feet
Give a quick call to my mom
Take a few deep breaths outdoors
Sketch the graceful lines of an orchid
Count the raindrops as they hit my window
Dance to a favorite song
Call a friend
Hug my lover
When I see my day in chunks of fifteen minutes
It’s impossible to feel overwhelmed
And I feel blessed
AP: 3rd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022
Upon Battlefields Fallen True, Their Bloody Dead
Part I.
For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead
Thus many, from Greek mothers loving hearts were torn
Raised to be Greek heroes from day they were born.
Those giants brave and true as Homer did so write
Marching, fighting both by weary day and dark night
Shields held firm, plunging deep-red sharp sword and long spears
As fighting machines bereft of concerns and fears!
Achilles and Ajax mighty killers born to be
Destined as heroes, of valiant Greek tree
Godlike power in limbs of Herculean might
As was told by Homer's tale of Troy's last great fight!
For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead!
Part II.
Fallen, courageous souls fleeing blood soaked soils
Battles no longer fought, long dark veil coming down.
Cessation of Life its pleasures, its daily toils
Small tis the reward of fame and hero's renown.
Yet such better than oblivion's return to dust
As life's ending, oft the payment for warring deeds.
Sacrifices for others power, greed and lusts
War torn ground soaked from brave warriors that bleed.
What of Greek pride or mighty heroic defense
Were not some deeds worthy, justified?
Are we more than just raging savages with no sense
Was heroic sacrifice true of those that died?
Were not some deeds worthy, justified
Was heroic sacrifice true of those that died?
Robert J. Lindley, 6-04-2020
Sonnets, ( What my muse just demanded of me )
Presented from my new blog./ 6-04-2020.
Double sonnets...
As the Third Part of my ongoing Greek Mythology Series
I don’t dare to dream beyond what I can do
It is foolish, craving to capture everything within view.
The world around is wondrously wide, a canvas vast
The more we try to grab, the more into agitation we’re cast.
Keep away from herculean schemes for tomorrow
Instead give today your best for a brighter morrow.
Focus on feasible things, let go, what’s beyond.
Take every step with caution, to simple needs respond.
"Alienation"
Burning through the atmosphere
a diamond hugs herculean, demanding, meteoric,
fast like a sharp spear aimed at Zion in the
obsidian night sky deep, so vast, dotted here
and there with other anaemic diamantés
twinkling, then dimming, as if in despair,
they don’t shine as bright
nor so fair,
this immolator is without peer
Lion of Judah, presence felt near.
A shooting star into the stratosphere?
Leaving a blistering debris trail in its wake.
A Sonic Boom breaks through the veil
sends out sound waves, touching, feeling,
slightly off-rail
sends out a Revelation heralding
resounding eardrum shattering tear -
KA-BOOM!
just like some glamour chick’s walked into the room
in 6 inch killer stilettos,
curve hugging deep velvet
the sub-level indigo blues,
shaking everything in the place
slams the door, her audience now captive
is frozen in place, tittering amongst themselves,
“Here’s something new”;
the world awakes to
crushed violets, heliotropes, shell pinks, eggshell pale blues;
she rises above him
he lifts his face.
Arrival in this
AlienNation
no Ocean, a barren place
Holding pattern and station.
Her vessel lands with a thud,
breaks the bedrock, dirt
she steps through the portal
away from it all, she’s escaping
this asylum,
it’s not evolving, it’s not birth
a re-entry of sorts,
a vacuum sucking back down to
Deadly Earth.
(Lovejoy-Burton/ Dec 2017)
(1)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MEfqTlKPqfI
I am corruption
A citizen of all Nations
The UN calls me complex social, cultural and economic phenomenon
Nevertheless, I do not mind
Countries of the world detest me publicly
However, they romance me secretly
So I relocated to Africa
To become a citizen of many African countries
Where I thrive with impunity
I am embezzlement of public fund
I am the looting of public treasury
I am economic crimes
I am bribery and receipt of illegal proceeds
Some call me theft and privatization of public resources
While others shamelessly refer to me as extortion, clientelism and patronage
However, I do not care about that
I manifest myself boldly as illegal appropriation or forgery and falsification
I am also blessed with quadruplets: abuse of state funds, waste, nepotism and favoritism
To maintain my citizenship I employ abuse of power(intimidation) and election falsification
I steal the continent’s wealth and fritter it to foreign countries
I live in slums of Africa
I live in cities of Africa
I am as ubiquitous as I am powerful
I have caused so much pain to Africa
I am the most powerful agent of African impoverishment
As you fight against me
I fight back with venom
Most African leaders love me so much
They cannot do without me
All religions worship me
The military is powerless before me
I hold the Executive to ransom
The Judiciary is my familiar abode
I am the permanent occupant of the Legislature
In me, there is no separation of power
I corrupt independently and collectively
I am a citizen in whom most African leaders are well pleased
As you can see I am well entrenched in my adopted continent
To eliminate me requires efforts
To diminish me is herculean
To tolerate me is dangerous
However I must die so that Africa can live!
January twelfth two thousand and ten
witnessed near annihilation and destruction
of the Haitian nation
whereby countless/ nameless individuals
e’en the strongest Herculean type men
crushed by humungous slabs of building facades
practically demolishing every creation
since this island settled, which indigenous tribes
sought safety in any geologic den
seeking solace and salvation from wrath of nature
by paying obeisance via oblation
perhaps giving credence to clear water
in tandem with rooster and hen
that laid a golden egg,
especially as encroaching savages affected violation
particularly when Europeans foisted
forfeiture of land with primitive implement like pen
no matter that travesty, trickery, mockery,
et cetera wrought humiliation
pleading invaders to forsake such actions
that rent asunder culture beseeched god when
these brutish, nasty and (shortish) simians to cease desecration
yet the peoples of this dominion rose
from the ashes like the phoenix like bird
no mattered genetic pool
underwent white washing from scouring influx
from western thumping proselytizers,
which alien beliefs hard to swallow like curd
and basically bribery (with lustrous trinkets)
and those coveted legal tender bucks
foisted/ forced the unpleasant alternative
(wanton slaughter) to be clearly heard
yet within the very fiber of tropical man grove persons
patiently lined up their ducks
and declared as the first African American peoples
INDEPENDENCE to be the word
whence adulation, elation, inspiration akin to the sound winged fowl clucks
until the advent of the major earthquake
composed by this aging hippy type nerd
whereat remote control san voodoo affect every bloody word!