Best Idylls Poems
Solar Plexus ( Sun of The Soul )
Tiphereth
Centre she holds the light
Connection to description
Concentration of all the names
Of beauty
Filtered from out pouring skies
Entrusted to perception
Before these provoking eyes
Solar Plexus
Third state consciousness
Her Aeon vibration
Calling
Proposition to ignite
The sleeping Chakra heart
Sol sustaining
The augury of hope
She proliferates
Never and forever
Changing
The coloured combination's
Of living
Goddess of all she is
And without
No acuity to perceive
The idylls
Of these convoluted explanations
Of existence
Of awareness
Face of creation
She is
All life’s attractions
To her radiance and adamantine warmth
Exists
Beacon she is
Living cell of solar system
Embodies Galactic entity
And what unknown umbilical
Resounds to this magnitude
Of the ever eternal point
Centered
Touches this Galaxy of stars
Space Universal
Extends
Extends a phantom finger
Through the vast and the void veils
Extends a phantom finger
And somehow
Writes
And reads
These
Words
Inspired by Christie Moses “ Soul of The Sun “
Angel, No Romantic Heart Could Forget
( Collaboration R. Lindley & K. Hunt )
Desiring to feel again, thy warmest touch,
Dreams that have faded into distant past,
Love burning hot in our hearts was too much,
Its glow and ardor faded too fast,
Thou wouldst have had eternal sweet dreams,
In castles created to hold our true love,
Alas! This dark world destroyed with wicked schemes
All that was heaven sent from above.
We in our youth, tasted of love's purity divine,
Gentle hands, held wealth of all precious to me,
Thy image and power, did my romantic soul refine
Gifting passionate fruits of thy bountiful tree;
Now my soul, cries out for thy blessed return,
This miracle I pray shall one day be,
As flower meadows, rich in glory, one never spurns,
Let love send us again, sailing on its heavenly sea.
For all the ages revealed our great love eternal,
From silver spires did the world seem so small and otherworldly
We crept into our lofty paradise, teeming our little secret furled;
Two great eagles soaring soft to eternity
A thousand kisses too holy and sweet thy lush peck
A million lovely seasons thine eyes sparkle as honeyed stars
To Venus (shooting!) and thine vast heart our thee wed
But without thee, life is empty and its affections as death's cold charms
So sweet, death whispers your name.....
To tempt my fate to follow thy fleeting footsteps;
How damp this love, wouldst now seem in vain
No flask too deep to numb this bitter-made bed
But I shan't despair no more to mourn ----
For too holy my angel, lest I forget her plea;
The beauties of her idylls (alone) as lovelies shown:
Let love send us again, sailing on its heavenly sea
First half written by Robert Lindley
Second by Keith O.J. Hunt
We went to sleep for but a little while
I met you in my dreams.
You delivered to me
all your stories
all throughout the little while
all throughout the years.
The Dilettante Diaries: “The Dream”
You watched me as I breathed
I placed your little hand onto my heart
as you closed your eyes you breathed
I watched you fall asleep
Remember what I whispered,
“My darling, I will never leave”
“Sometimes the ones we love the most
stay, they walk with us in our dreams”
(d.18.9.71)
(b.18.9.99)
Lovejoy-Burton/18.9.18
for G, Happy birthday darling daughter. x
for K, M. x
for my beloved Mother, Lynette.
Miracles do happen and dreams do come true. x
1. In Anglo-Saxon the meaning of the name Lynette is: Bird.
2. In Arthurian legend Lynette accompanied Sir Gareth on a knightly quest.
3. "Gareth and Lynette", Alfred Lord Tennyson (Author/Poet)
(from: Idylls of the King [1859-1885] )
http://d.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/text/tennyson-gareth-and-lynette
4. For G. ~Miss Peregrine`s Home for Peculiar Children~
https://www3.fmovies.ac/watch-miss-peregrines-home-for-peculiar-children-2016-fmovies.html
Tiphereth
Centre, She, who holds the light
Connection abundant placed to description
Concentration, He, in all the names
Of beauty
Filtered from the through put out pouring skies
Entrusted to perception
Before these provoking eyes
Solar Plexus
Third state consciousness and invocation
Her Aeon vibration
Calling
These propositions to ignite
The sleeping mirror within the Chakra heart
Sol sustaining
The augury of hope ever renewed
She proliferates
Never and forever
Changing
The coloured combination's
Of living
Goddess and God of all she is
And without
There is no acuity to perceive
No idylls, idea’s, no breaths to breathe
No thoughts of these convoluted explanations
Of existence
No human birthed to conscious awareness
Face of creation
She is
All life’s attractions
He makes
To their radiance and adamantine warmth
All know Earthly existence, flocks
Beacon He is
Light She is
The living cell of solar system
Embodies this the Galactic entity
And what unknown umbilical chord
Resounds to this magnitude
Of the ever eternal point
Centred
Touches this finite moment of stars
As spatial Universal
Extends
Extends their phantom finger She and He
And bright upon the next octave
Of spiritual reality
Through the vast and the void veils
Extends their phantom finger
And somehow
Through all the atoms and molecules
Through the dancing language
Wrote in within these plains of light
Writes
And reads
These
Words
The mornings create renewed hope
As lovers make plans to elope
And friends discover how to cope
Which contours a kaleidoscope
Of vibrantly affected dreams
Delightful colored potentials
From wondrous heavenly angels
Removing cruel, harsh troubles
Reassuring lost self-esteem
The afternoons bring enriched faith
The kind that makes you feel so safe
The sort that fills your heart with praise
As conviction teaches and conveys
Beliefs that assure fearful souls
Inspiring comfort which fulfills
With good knowledge in sweet idylls
Reminding hearts that dream instills
And moving souls to reach their goals
The twilights arouse revived love
The type that makes you reach above
The feeling that’s calm like a dove
Shows two fit as one like a glove
True love is without conditions
And gifts the spirit with vision
Prepares the mind for decision
These feelings craft true precision
Consoling sore inhibitions
August 19, 2014
Contest: The Lady of Shalott
Sponsored by: Isaiah Zerbst
Desiring to feel again, thy warmest touch,
Dreams that have faded into distant past,
Love burning hot in our hearts was too much,
Its glow and ardor faded too fast,
Thou wouldst have had eternal sweet dreams,
In castles created to hold our true love,
Alas! This dark world destroyed with wicked schemes
All that was heaven sent from above.
We in our youth, tasted of love's purity divine,
Gentle hands, held wealth of all precious to me,
Thy image and power, did my romantic soul refine
Gifting passionate fruits of thy bountiful tree;
Now my soul, cries out for thy blessed return,
This miracle I pray shall one day be,
As flower meadows, rich in glory, one never spurns,
Let love send us again, sailing on its heavenly sea.
For all the ages revealed our great love eternal,
From silver spires did the world seem so small and otherworldly
We crept into our lofty paradise, teeming our little secret furled;
Two great eagles soaring soft to eternity
A thousand kisses too holy and sweet thy lush peck
A million lovely seasons thine eyes sparkle as honeyed stars
To Venus (shooting!) and thine vast heart our thee wed
But without thee, life is empty and its affections as death's cold charms
So sweet, death whispers your name.....
To tempt my fate to follow thy fleeting footsteps;
How damp this love, wouldst now seem in vain
No flask too deep to numb this bitter-made bed
But I shan't despair no more to mourn ----
For too holy my angel, lest I forget her plea;
The beauties of her idylls (alone) as lovelies shown:
Let love send us again, sailing on its heavenly sea
First half written by Robert Lindley
Second by Keith O.J. Hunt
I wanted to cure myself
of you
killing my past,
easily washing my hands
of the blood that flows
from the wounds
filled with idylls.
I burned the past
and threw its ashes
in the wind,
as your complex words.
I wanted to cure myself of you
walking upon time,
and any expectation
I still have—
my hands are grubby.
In youth, I wrote many poems of rhyme,
quatrains flowing freely on the lines.
Here and there a couplet would unwind
and on occasion quintains undefined.
As time progressed, I tried my hand
at Japanese Haiku and tanka you
but mine were plain and bland.
Soon enough came some monologues,
they are always in my head,
brandishing wild, love lustful poetry
with blank verse and ballad narratives unsaid.
Nowadays though, I think I may have settled in
with a grandiose display of my version of free verse.
But as age and loss requires and incurs
elegies and eulogies and epitaphs, the worse.
Still on occasion, a line plays out to idylls,
some kyrielles and odes.
Few limericks survive, as learned outside of school
but writing feelings, love, emotion
often lets me play both the lover and the fool.
A pastoral or deep poetic prose may still find
and shape in sonnets may reveal a deeper mind.
Hidden somewhere is a multitude of Vaasokhts
but not a single verse of love revealed
leaving many on the sidelines unknown
awaiting other compilation remaining to be shown.
In the swaying middle of a dangerous voyage
To climes of far sunnier look and ripening age,
I often fight the doubts of a death-daring wreck;
Questioning the exact wisdom of my lonely trek.
Not that I midway could my courses amend,
Nor make room for ruings and ebbing hopes;
Or dreading harsher shores first wishes trim,
To cry in sync with sad martyrs' effete tropes.
Verily there’s a shadow where clear roads stood,
And tripping blocks where defter legs easily trod;
There slashing ogres their charging scrolls shout,
To put to rout the wearied walker's untiring mode.
Yes dispiriting detriment picked routes obscures,
With every unthinkable wall and slowing mounds;
Forcing fatigued legs into impromptuous detours,
Which bite with blighting pain and chilling sounds.
The labouring voyager shall move on in truth,
To the dream-born Idylls of his unshorn youth.
We, in the heart of midnight, connected,
Charged by electronic parables spun
Through cables and channels of fragile fibre,
Close-knit and ambitious to be as one.
The amethyst drape of coffee shadows,
Heliotrope hands of praying faith
Gathered me in and held me close,
An avid, emotional, passionate wraith.
Devoted, bedazzled I anticipated
Words that hypnotically burn and entrance,
Wings of a dove in the lavender sky,
Soft falling rain from clouds of romance.
I, in the heart of midnight, concluded
Placid in peaceful superlative schemes,
My love is the saviour of hope and salvation,
Guardian of idylls, the keeper of dreams.
Artistic lay as print
Idylls printed
Epic printing
Such be English
Of thee 1816
Century purpose
Specifically applied
Matters relief fro
Japan ,Europe
To China
Inspiration
Inked wood
Combination
Formed
Artistic all
Artistically subtle
Fickle sunbeams tickle fluttering daydreams...…
Lyrical lapping lullaby encores...
Gingerly stroke sandy shell shattered shores..
Starlings spy…sky high murmurations...
Skimming stones....slicing silky sheens..
Voluptuously verdant riddles…islands within idylls...
Scattered daffy darlings..dilly dally...
Sunshine splattered chlorophyll candles...
Animosity as an ersatz monstrosity shines…
Saluting highfalutin pomposity..devouring skylines..
Notes of cut grass gloats floats from..
Middle class mowed manicured marvels..
Criss cross collaborations… surf the tailored turf....
Billiards baize ablaze with petrichor whiffs
Festooned with afternoon nana nap snores..
The radio's heavenly hum of cricket scores...
A duvet of familiar riffs...murmurs of what if's..
An inkling..whispers of summer's sprinkling serendipity twinkling..
From a gem-encrusted window’s moonlit sash,
I peer vacantly on monetesque impressions,
as they wander every ink shade hue pathway.
bag lady street hail loner,
water colour lachrymose plight,
across the spillway nights-cape,
cul-de-sac of shadow flitting,
sprites begging to be daubed,
on some genie artist’s easel.
surreal urban pulse rate ,
spooky ghost form atom charge,
of tomb laden solemness,
sodden eerie platform where,
my silver bob tail auntie,
booked her tickets to southern rustic idylls.
she sang of autumn sunset blight,
its wan perusal o’er moisture ashen realm.
her final year on earth evoked dichotomy,
defying dissertation on that grey stone bridge,
between a luminous parade of diamond,
glitter and mirrorball municipal,
sandwich filler to that lamb,
of many bleats amid lush pastures,.
blossom facial hyacinth relation,
who once did eyelash blink,
those natural world Edens flowing,
thru her lyric laden pysche.
Alas that end of term eviction,
lifespan tenure landlord surreptitious,
in their reach cast a mural,
strain upon this tower block,
mythic folklore woman
Girls pass provocatively
dancing tattoos on hips
my eyes dream idylls
The light is golden,
The water spills and gushes over the ruined brick wall,
Its onetime captor.
The air is warm, yet not burning,
The warmth of the hearth.
The air is alive with the idylls of the birds,
Spiced with the aroma of sage,
As the sun makes its lazy way West,
Beyond the high, rocky hills.
Onward goes the river,
As it slows to enjoy the idle afternoon,
Between sandy banks lined with old, gnarled oaks,
Scowling at the river's apathy as it goes along its sleepy way.
All too soon, the sun closes its great eye,
A chill descends upon the old brick wall,
The night wraps the land in its cold embrace, this day never to return again,
As surely as the hands which laid the bricks,
In ages past.