Best In(A) Poems
The wind billows out from the seat of his britches
With determined blue eyes, skinned knuckles and knees
he climbs up the rails nailed from old cedar pieces
to the uppermost yoke of an old pecan tree
He is Captain on board, in pretend salty breezes
From his perch in the bird's nest, the world's in his view
A small town boy, who has never seen oceans
sails a fantasy vessel, where his wishes come true
The tall cornstalks stand duty, in the weedy-field waters
He breaks off a branch and a sword fight ensues..
He says "Tally Ho...Land Ahoy!!" to his crew
Dogs are barking below. He must shout out a warning
"There are sharks all around, so his shipmates must heed!"
He is Master Commander, the ruler of nations
He dreams of adventure from his loft in the tree
As he watches the clouds sail across a blue sea
Till his mother calls him in, for his suppertime leave
~
Well, little boys grow, and a childhood will fade
The leaf of the pecan, no longer holds shade
Now a stump of the tree, is all that is left
Yet the memory still thrives, so deep in his breast
When the weight of the world comes tumbling down
He visits this place with the stump in the ground
The rings wrap around him, to take him aboard
To a ship from his childhood, a place he adored
Tonight he will sleep in a bed of contentment
From his bunk he will dream he is sailing the seas
Tomorrow he'll climb up the steps to his vessel
Tomorrow he'll be where the eagles fly free....
...........................................................................................................
In A Sad Blindness, One May Yet Find Hope
(The Solemn Prayer)
Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.
On this day, life should see past these looming black-storms
Find solace in love, hope and my loving wife's arms
Yet that stone wall, yields to nothing but great power
Far more than this broken soul can muster this hour
When thus lost, can one ever find again that Light
Healer of dagger stabbed wounds, found on a dark night
I pray, gift wisdom to walk that one true-lit path
Release this sad soul from, this evil, wicked wrath.
Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.
Robert J. Lindley, 2-07-2017
Syllables Per Line:
12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12
Total # Syllables: 288
Total # Words: 225
Note- I decided to write this poem, this morn. About half had already been composed in my head yesterday afternoon and I finally sat down now to put pen to paper.
Believe me, in that it was not an easy task to finish this and be satisfied with the results.
Maybe I am just tired and stopped because of that.
I don't know. Maybe on another day, I could have and would have thought this lacking and rewritten it..
But today, I have only enough to say, this is as it is(and thus it may stay), hope you may find it agreeable and not fault me too much .......
The waves calm me down as I sit and wonder
For my love is lost in the stormy scurrilous sea
And I know my hapless heart to be torn asunder
As I wait for my true love to wash back to me
~~~
The clouds move in to hide the paralytic pain
And the thunder muffles the beat of my heart
Within entangled emotions that silently drain
Toward the wounded waters that keep us apart
~~~
Perhaps in the deep distance, there may be hope
For the shore surrenders its secrets of the mist
I’m sinking in the sand of eternity trying to cope
Digging upon dreams of the last time I was kissed
~~~
Thus now the Earth begins to shake and wobble
For it brings forth to me, my message in a bottle.
Nov.01.2018
Tell Me A Story 2
Sponsored by: Brenda Chiri
Placed 2 [4'th of 4]
A cryptic note:
“Meet me in the middle of Nowhere,
Tonight when the moon is full.”
What is my wife playing at? Is this her idea of a honeymoon?
Below is a picture of a garden,
With a large maze in it.
Nothing to do but obey.
The moon has barely risen.
I see a sign: The Opening to Nowhere
Why do I tremble?
I go in and soon get lost
In the sinuous paths.
It is a worse puzzle in the night.
Twisting, turning back
Only to find a wall of thick foliage.
I am trapped but will not give up.
Suddenly I notice
A small opening in the foliage.
So I cheat and find myself in the middle of the circuit.
In the middle is a sun dial,
A torch and a note:
“What are you waiting for?
I’m in bed waiting.”
The problem is how to get out.
Too complicated.
The moon shines on me
By the time I find my way out
I’ll be dead tired,
Sleeping in my bed.
. *
*
*
I
am
the
star
that
shone
brightly
in the East
that night
so long ago
A heavenly light
that guided wise men
to the place where He lie
In a manger on a blanket of hay
****Christ -Immanuel - a radiant child - a gift from God****
His only son who died on a cross
for teaching us to love and
help one another
for this is
the only
way
there
Will
ever
be
peace
on
Earth
*
*
*
In a world where I do not exist
in invisible air my soul roams.
The sun would still blaze in amber light,
the moon and stars sparkle over ebony.
Rainbows and butterflies,
an epitome of silent elegance
would flutter in an abundance of colours.
Rain and snow, pain and sorrow, storms and hurricanes,
winds would weave between ancient trees,
dahlias and roses would still blossom,
but not with my hands,
robins would arrive and then leave,
humming birds still hum their hymns.
There would still be poetry,
just no words of mine,
left behind - would you become a poet?
There would not be no
misunderstood metaphors
nor concern about belonging.
There would be no recollections,
no echoes of my voice,
no memories, no angst, no scars
and that, which died, would not need to survive.
Maybe you would be happier - smile more.
No regret and no remorse.
Do debate about what is worthy and what is not.
No broken hearts - no forgotten promises.
No rage, no victims nor villains -
no turning the page.
No one would need to mourn for me
nor would there be a goodbye.
The music would still play,
but you would sing a different tune,
But in those moments of De Ja Vu -
that make you wonder - maybe that would be me
and would you still wish
to have met me?
In a world where I do not exist
I'm happy not to be born.
"Marionette of Flesh in a Borrowed Dress"
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
The hourglass,
a skeletal jester
mocks in the tomb's chill
Each falling grain an emaciated sigh,
"Soon you'll cease to be."
The mirror's cold reflection,
a Gorgon's ghastly guise
A marionette of flesh with vacant...
hollow...
colorless eyes.
The worms, like pallid mourners
watch me shrink
A marionette of organs,
cold and pale, pink.
This flesh, a borrowed dress
once sprightly
Now stained and thin
Holds tight the secrets only
death can win.
This borrowed dress,
a shroud where my story's writ
In laughter's faded stitch
and tear's accusing slit.
A map of life etched deep
with scars that mar the grain.
A raven of fleeting triumphs
a pendulum of ceaseless pain.
In the shadowed hollows
where sorrow resides
I languish.
marionettes of fate's cruel designs!
Each scratch and cut a lament.
each tear a bitter sea!
Bound by the chains of my...
limited mortality.
In this borrowed dress,
I mourn what could have been...
Lost in the convulsion of my own... sin.
I am transformed
but not redeemed.
I am drifting into the void
My spirits are shattered
and my dreams destroyed.
So in the silence of eternity
I find my rest
Lost in this body of my own...
detest.
And though this shell
a chrysalis
soon withers
and decays
I cast aside the shroud
no longer bound or worn.
Accept the endless night,
where a new self-forlorn is bourne.
Transformed
a residual relic
through the void
I fly
Suture with stardust catgut,
a worn scroll in the sky.
That last day leaving summer camp,
didn't know she would be there too.
My protector, my ghost..
I expect each of us as kids dreamed,
yet scared to define the two.
Watched as she drove away, life lost a little of its taste
so far out of my league, yet always wondered,
what another life could've replaced.
Don't invest in secrets of yesterday,
and certainly not tomorrow.
Put all your coin on this today..
that which all old men
seek to borrow.
Carry your heart for all to respect,
live long all precious days.
Don't trust your soul to intellect,
for it'll abandon you..
just when you trusted it
to stay.
There's genius in a child's clutch,
and love in life's brocade.
Without it most don't hold to much,
and see all wither that they made.
Don't know if the past matters much,
to me remains ever just the same.
When two lives shared all in touch,
and one just a picture in a frame.
“We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we lie in fields of gold.” - from Sting’s Fields of Gold
One day in a museum, my mind on an old flame,
I found myself mysteriously being led
to a field of gold depicted within a gilded frame.
In the picture, pretty flowers beckoned, a brilliant red.
In front of it I stopped, thinking of my love and things we’d left unsaid.
I blinked, and in an instant, I felt sunlight
upon my face; then there escaped from me
a cry of surprise and sheer delight!
Finding myself engulfed by grassy sea,
with myriad poppies, I thought how could this be?
I twirled around. Yes, beneath my feet
was solid earth! Above was azure sky.
Spring was in the air, with fragrance sweet.
I was in the painting. I did not question why!
Oh, there was such beauty to make a poet sigh.
I thought about a song from days of old -
a song I used to hear on my car radio
about a man, who with his sweetheart, walked in fields of gold,
and I felt my bliss dissipating even though
I could still feel on my cheek the sun’s warm glow.
In the lovely flowered landscape, my time was nearly done.
It would not matter even if this were reality!
In fields of gold, I would lie with no one,
and no jealousy would blue sky have for me,
for even in my dreams, alone I’d be. . .
Written May 7, 2016 and inspired by
the "Within a Gilded Frame" Poetry Contest of Broken Wings
Recorded with voice in June 2016 for CT's Audio Poems (Spoken Words)
Love Notes in a Bottle
It came as a last meandering thought
How could I know?
Maybe a thousand years from now
On a far away shore
Would exist a lady of mystical lore
Reciting sonnets of medieval tales
In magic forests, dreaming of love
As I love
Who could feel a bond so delicate as a doves feathers
A pain so strong, like a tiger wronged
That to part would mean emotional low tides to come
That she could feel the loneliness of night
The scent of the morning dew
The feeling of rain upon ones breast
The smell of the rose
The view of the meadows
The Laughter as the children danced
The plea of one whose heart bleeds
The desires to capture love and yet remain free
Her eyes would show her ageless beauty
Her smile would hide her thoughts
Wrapped deep
Inside of old love letters
She would sigh
As I recited old prose
We would hand in hand repose
Knowing growing old is how it goes
Alas she is but an image in my mind
A thousand years till birth
Or even more
A fantasy, that lets me die in peace
That someone could love as I loved thee
You were my past, and my eternity
Lovers who never took flight
Broken wings, and broken borders
Boundaries never crossed
Kisses though we never lost
On every wind swept shore
I wander with the birds scouting overhead
As wave upon wave of desolation slaps my head
A woman is over there by the sea
She but a stranger in the mist
So not at all is she thee
A thousand years from now
On wind swept shore
Will she be forlorn?
Weeping for the likes of me
Whispering inside, he was here but a thousand years ago
Love letters telling loves desires
Inside a bottle and buried in sand
Alas is the ocean not made of ancient tears
A Perfect World Begins With You
In a perfect world
I would get to spend every moment with you
In a perfect world
I would languish in a decadent love that's true
In a perfect world
there would have been no need for tears
In that perfect world
we wouldn't have gone through trials or fears
In a perfect world
We would be gifted endless happy years
Or perhaps in a perfect world
Someone else would be more perfect for you
and you would think he was amazing too
For me that perfect world would be truly blue
What would this broken heart ever do?
I don't care about perfection, if I can't spend my life with you.
In this imperfect world
We've had our share of trouble
We haven't lived life in a perfect bubble
Sometimes we trip and stumble
Yet we are blessed many times more than double.
What we have gone through has made us who we are
Fortunately we have both ventured here from afar
You are my life's light, hope and guiding star
So what if life's not perfect, that's much better than okay
I don't wish for it to be any other way
Things happen as they should day by day
We let life unfold as it may
For all things happened to bring you here to me
I'm at the right place where I'm glad to be
For I know being with you has always been my destiny
Therefore I'm beyond sure
this is my excellent world
Because around perfection
these arms are curled!
Written: February 9, 2016
WRITING IN A BLACK PERSPECTIVE
Why is it that someone's pain is felt pleasure to another?
I arrived with fears. I cared to find a friend, anywhere
But I wasn't taught to be my own; no school helped me to look within
I heard of God of deep blackness; with words, inciting light
One voice, one eye in our universe
My voice to converse felt crippled.
My family pools held many colors; warm as Caribbean sea breeze
Each person was of significance. Two were like gazelles, alluring
One was as dark as night, the other was near blinding white
Those in between were earth tones.
I looked out beyond decked windows. Multicolored Christmas lights blinked
Nonchalantly in dark of morning; snow was falling, and had covered bare
limbs of a cherry blossom tree- such picturesque view, i decided:
'On this most snowing, all white reigns supremely pure, as the black of night.'
The irises of my eyes were dark brown pools, merging with black pupils...
I was cinnamon; yet found solace in my shade of dark, no harsh light
Soft was my dark. No more depression lurked within. Mine eyes, my ears craved
Transparency; then came clarity. I understood triggers triggering depression
Revelations were as treasured as exercise. Fresh air, rain, sun, I was in awe of
My Higher Power's helpful hands- simplicity and clarity were blessings
I needed no Prozac.
At the start of a new day, I'd submerge in warmth, and baptize myself
I would bring soothing light to mesh with quiet dark
I would lounge, meditate, and pray. Sometimes I'd sing or hum a tune
I'd go fearlessly in the dark, knowing when not to rush
I'd go fearlessly near blinding lights, knowing where to focus.
Who am I? i am as soft as the sinews of you; yet steadfast
A dessert flower with dew of faith- even in winter
I am a flower, thriving like evergreen...
Amid histories fiercest touch to my roots
I know of grace, granted by the Source
Transcending me to live as never before understood.
I need not cry out my fears, in ways that let others fear
I must cry out injustices, so that others, too, may sing
I go fearlessly to face my fears, knowing scars are lessons learned
And good visualizations are as friends, not foes.
*
Sitting on the window sill with the wind in my hair
I gaze up into the stars, pondering the great unknown.
Thinking back of that night, when I heard your first cry
tears of joy filled my heart as we carried you home.
Nervous and excited, a mother I had just become,
you were my angel, my being, my son.
You were all that I dreamt of, from my lungs, pure breath.
In the cradle I rocked you, before going to bed.
With gurgles and babbles you have filled up our lives.
With first footsteps, first mouthfuls, with sweet little rhymes
With first schooldays, first friendships, first free little moves,
Like doing your homework, and tying your own shoes
We followed your shadow from a distance not far,
giving you your wings, yet knowing where you are
The time has passed by, in a blink of an eye,
Soon you'll be leaving, making this mother cry.
Co-written by Charmaine Chircop & Tim Smith
October 18, 2014
A black cloud dangles
Effortlessly forms
A haunting image
Showers travel east
Daisy hides her face.
A Robin sings
A melody
The sun appears
Once more she smiles.
Grass uncoils
Raindrops dry
Web retracts.
Sunset
Moon beam.
Stars.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
POTD 6 Mar 2020
Oh, where are those waves
of bygone days
that caressed and rocked
on hearing you cry?
‘Sleep little ship’ I'd murmur low
while ocean crooned her soft lullaby
Turbulent change wrought by tempestuous winds
Fresh cravings to taste the salted breeze
In foam and spray twixt the now lashing waves
Illusions waft to tempt and tease
Resounding thunder heralds a storm
Streaks of lightning split the skies
Your torch burning bright to take the helm
for selfish reasons my love denies
Indecisions vacillate crucial visions
cavernous chasms far withdrawn
The deeper I think the lower I sink
The wind howls forth a cry forlorn
No delusion with love ~ high the price
In this icy realm my resistance will take
a solicitous change of a Mother’s heart
Look not the shattered glass in your wake
The impulses of the over protective mother and keeping her child sheltered in a bubble away from the real world is just not feasible anymore. The ‘Breaking Point’ is, when she must weigh up her own feelings - either relinquishing her relationship with her offspring by forcing it to stay, or breaking her heart if she lets it go.
Ultimately, as in the ‘Story of Life’…. Love conquers all.
~Happy International Women's Day to those celebrating on Sunday 8th ~
POTD 6 Mar 2020