Best Hides Poems
Within Mysteries, The Dark and Decay Also Hides
(free verse)
On a stony pebble, feet cried out in pain,
why does, in our way, sharp pebbles forever lay
and the beat goes on
daily turmoil and sadden goodbyes
nightly terrors, old broken toys
vacancies of illuminations
dark echoes that reveal
dismissal of kindness
and the beat goes on
In a dying feast,
why does each bite so bitter taste
broken spoon grinds upon aging teeth
table shakes its rotten legs
hope waves its retreat
tomorrow yearns to die
tomorrow, at own yearning, dies
hope, so foolish, is scorned
legs decay under table fallen
broken teeth curse aged spoon
even bitter can no longer be bitten
feast on death, never aught else
yet the heat is gone
kindness, as it were, no longer
concealed in devious light
where illuminations are filled
with days terrors, child returns
to greet anew the nightmare revived
yet the heat is gone
here, in our way, stones, jagged, perpetual
feet, mortifyingly quiet on jagged stone
A Collaboration, by Robert J. Lindley
and Lawrence Sharp
7-02-2020, free verse
Note: It has again been a blessing and great
pleasure for me to compose with my great friend,
Lawrence Sharp. I am grateful for such a
wonderful gift and the immense poetic talents
of my very kind writing partner. His verses
brought such wonderful depths and a very fine
added dimension to this new collaborative creation.
In the office, he smiles so charmingly.
Saying and doing all the right things,
he puts all his female patients completely at ease.
Even the women hard to please return to him,
for he is famous for his bedside manner.
He surrounds himself with a staff of beautiful nurses
who rush eagerly to his aid when he needs them.
Each of them, whether single or not,
imagines herself with him and how it would be
to be alone with him, aboard his fancy yacht
submerged in the mesmerizing gaze
of his warm hazel eyes.
In the evening he goes home to his wife,
a lovely though docile woman, fragile like a flower.
Immediately on seeing her, he starts in
with his usual barrage of complaints,
belittling her and poking fun at her homemaking skills,
the dinners she has waiting for him, her style of dress,
and every minor physical flaw she might possess.
She accepts it all with her pretty blonde head bowed
like that of a wilted lily,
for she knows that to oppose him
will only result in a more tangible type of abuse,
and he is always careful when he hurts her.
Doctor that he is, he knows well to leave no marks.
She retires quietly to bed,
worried little about any sexual advances toward her.
Although she longs for the touch of a man,
she is grateful to be left alone by her spouse.
Meanwhile, with liquor in hand,
he’s gone into the den, shutting the door behind himself.
Logged on as Mr. Hyde at his favorite website,
he peruses the myriads of Adonises available,
peering salaciously at each nude explicit photo
with wide hungry hazel eyes taking in every little detail
as he plans his next big adventure out of town
and fantasizes trysts on his fancy private yacht
with the sexiest of the men that he can solicit.
posted 2/21/12
Submitted 9/23/22 For One From The Dark Side Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
LXXVIII
Why hides the sun his face as in defeat?
The day is done and this ninth hour had come
As sorrows flood with tears that grace his feet
That faints the eye of such a tempest calm
Then stillness breaks the hanging Victor shouts
Man’s worst is done yet still may perish not
For God his best hath done that leaves no doubt
Unblemished lamb in whom there is no spot
The grievous cross by which he suffered death
He welcomed with his open arms so wide
Forgave our sins, forever to forget
And rent the veil that set a great divide
The finished sacrifice my gap did breach
What glorious grace is this by which I’m reached!
Please tell me where the music hides
Said the boy to the old man
I swear that I will seek it out
I'll find it if I can
Then the old man smiled at him
Slowly he replied
I'll tell you where to find it
Though it doesn’t really hide
There's music in the mountains
There's music in the sea
Music lives in you my boy
Music lives in me
There's music in the gentle wind
Blowing softly in the trees
There's music in the songs of birds
In the buzzing of the bees
There's music in the sweet soft words
Of a mothers lullaby
There's music in a rippling stream
And in a lover's sigh
Music does not hide my boy
It is everywhere
So just stand still and listen
You'll hear it in the air
So the child stood still and listened
Then his face lit up with joy
Now I know where music lives
I'm happy said the boy
Denis Briggs
Embraced by unfortunate solitude consumed within a bitter aftertaste, despair. Eyes seeing through everything with frustrated wonder minus awe.
The ground holds still yet barely, hopeless-a heartbeat whispers hardly loud enough to choose. Gasping for purpose.
Love's dying.
Reason fades.
Eyes close open.
Hope begins to perish.
Grief, loss, shame-so much heavier than every fabric of gravity
which pulls never giving yet always taking. Taking.
Feet want nothing more than just to run.
Afraid of shadow and reflection.
The heart argues as the mind complains, refusing to use their inside voices.
It's declared "crazy" by lips attached to those who laugh in the illusion of secret unable to understand admitting the inability offers less than more.
Love's dying.
Reason fades.
Eyes close open.
Hope begins to perish.
Breathing hurts still, never brought on by the pressure of touch yet by what remains locked behind the smallest door with the largest locks-the "skeletons" knock and scream angrily refusing to be ignored any longer.
100,000,000 feet up and....
Fall.
The gift "up" came without receipt so it cannot be returned or given away.
No one will take it. Yet.
Love dies. CLEAR!
Reason fades. LIGHTS!!
Eyes close open. BREATHE!!!
Hope wants to begin again. RESURRECTION?!!!!
Note: I am very pleased to have collaborated with Robert Lindley on several occasions in the past. Today, I have the pleasure of doing so again.
Robert, as always, thank you no end for the fellowship and inspiration.
Within Mysteries, The Dark and Decay Also Hides
A collaboration with Robert Lindley
On a stony pebble, feet cried out in pain,
why does, in our way, sharp pebbles forever lay
and the beat goes on
daily turmoil and sadden goodbyes
nightly terrors, old broken toys
vacancies of illuminations
dark echoes that reveal
dismissal of kindness
and the beat goes on
In a dying feast,
why does each bite so bitter taste
broken spoon grinds upon aging teeth
table shakes its rotten legs
hope waves its retreat
tomorrow yearns to die
tomorrow, at own yearning, dies
hope, so foolish, is scorned
legs decay under table fallen
broken teeth curse aged spoon
even bitter can no longer be bitten
feast on death, never aught else
yet the heat is gone
kindness, as it were, no longer
concealed in devious light
where illuminations are filled
with days terrors, child returns
to greet anew the nightmare revived
yet the heat is gone
here, in our way, stones, jagged, perpetual
feet, mortifyingly quiet on jagged stone
2nd July 2020
An Autumn rain teases the roses
Splashes within cupped petals
Challenges the lone bumble bee
To pollinate the late bloomers
Chipmunks grapple with wet acorns
Leaf armadas ride the rapids
A lone goose questions its choice
Children know what the puddle’s for
October hides behind next Sunday
Readying its cornstalk mazes
Spicing up its pumpkin-ness
Adding its scents to Fall’s colors
moon hides behind cloud
rare invisibility
secure of notions
Russell Sivey
In a woman such a man hides;
Alike, He rimes better with She.
More sense, She makes with He.
Because she embeds him;
He always consults she,
To produce clear sound;
And engender one great power in unity.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
When I am dead who will read
these little songs I sing
when thick the mould presses down
and darkness hides the spring?
My soul so filled with longing,
finds too short life’s little day
to fulfill a lover’s hunger
for earth’s beauteous bouquet.
I think my voice will shout aloud
although they say I’m dead,
and my mute heart will sing until
the grasses tremble overhead.
Copyright, July 20, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
the people's money
they called it porked
inside a barrel
that can be inserted
on the greediest pockets
tax from sweat and blood
of the working class
that strive
to find conforts in life
to help the poor as they reasoned
long greed had consumed
the country that i call my love
that the money i have worked hard for
where have all gone
long greed hides itself under the shadow of charity
but we are not damned anymore
the wisdom within us
awaken
and we cannot be decieved anymore
09/05/2013, philippines - on the issue of pork barrel
with challenges and never hide
Our struggles may seem endless
but our determination is tireless
we refuse to be helpless
we'll keep pushing, limitless
our hope, unbreakable and priceless
We'll keep marching ahead
with courage, tenacity, and stead
no matter how difficult the thread
we'll move forward, not lose our head
for a better tomorrow we shed
So till then we won't rest
we'll keep putting ourselves to the test
grind, hustle and be our best
till we reach our utmost quest
together, we'll stand and overcome the rest.
People usually laugh
when they hear I am afraid of demons.
Well, if theirs left along with childhood,
or never existed,
good for them.
Mine still follow me
everywhere I go.
I am as scared of those noises
as I were as a little girl.
Can’t you really see the claws on my throat ?
People usually laugh
when they hear I am afraid of demons.
I usually cry no one hears what I am saying.
Fear has big eyes,
so do I…
When life seems an arduous desert trek
When black blizzards sweep past us
When our gullets stick like plastic with no moisture
It is then we look for God- our oasis
We wonder where he is hiding
When darkness invades our surroundings
When we have to travel alone the long lone road
When life seems a dark alley with no ray of light in front
It is then we look for God, our torch bearer
We wonder where he is hiding
When pitch darkness enshrouds us
Making us shudder and grow sick at heart
Go forth into silence and look for Him
Then from within, comes a still voice
Reassuring and clear- “Fear not, I am with you”
God likes to play ‘hide and seek’ like a child
Until you look for Him intently, He will be hiding
If you wish to see Him face to face,
Set out on a vigorous search and once you find Him
Stay with Him. Sure He will give you lasting company
August.26.2022
Where is God Hiding Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Unseeking Seeker
~~~~ He-Who-Hides~~~~
"He-who-hides" just snuck out the damn door
Leaving a list we just can't ignore.
Put the customers on hold
So we can do as we're told.
Oh! the joys of working in this store.
for Carolyn's "Horrible Bosses" contest
* not a current boss
syllable count 9,9,7,7,9