Best Insured Poems
As We Stroll Along Lanes Of Truth, Lies Or Convenient Illusions
But if truth and light grace your soul
And a wisdom shields heart and mind,
You may in life hope for the best
As we stroll along lanes of truth, lies or convenient illusions
And either we come to know or not know
That to this dark world- we are less than nothing.
O truth! Does life and love gift all we need
As that gaze from stars crying while looking down
We then, that are not born of eternal seeds
Wade through this ever changing realm
Mired in the darkness which patiently lies, waiting within!
In love we think we are flowers blooming forever
In gardens devoid of decay
Yet invisible beyond that veil
Are powers that seethe in anger
Things that seek to destroy, and eat us alive.
Such foreboding exists, as does ground beneath bare and roaming feet
Although in blindness we see only with limited sight we have
Prone to seek peace, love and beauty,
We conjure up fantasies and dreams
Illusions that quell our deep and internal fears!
Ah, gone are days of the magical gods
They which could be insured to take the blame
Those that set us into perils, into savage wars
In our ignorance we saw- the gods played and wreaked havoc
As we, heaped upon this world mysterious gifts of darkness
And paraded forth as if living was a mere game
A thing which we mastered, a monster we truly controlled.
And in that deception we saw imagined gods that we had conquered
And we imagined the Gods that we had become-through our magnificent being!
Robert J. Lindley, May 20th 1989
Verse
Note: Deleted
My lifetime friend, I feel so odd.
I'm not insured for acts of God.
Everything, it seems, is lost or gone.
I can't feel the ground I stand upon.
Today, we oldsters sat down to look
inside your yellow paged scrapbook.
I saw a picture and letter there.
I was frozen and could only stare.
You, I'm sure, didn't want me to see
the familiar face that gazed at me.
Of course, it was my only wife,
the only true love of my life.
Love's sad lesson learned in one day,
I'll see myself to the door, okay?
I thought stories had two sides, you see,
but triangles all have three.
A fulfilled life is verily possible with God
the marvelous perfect Planner
designing it by His magnificent grace
to radiate in us divine awesome wonders...
Thanking the Creator ceaselessly makes life meaningful
especially treasuring with praise His gift of eternal deliverance
bringing security from sin-penalty's condemnation
toward triumphant soul-nurture and spiritual revival...
Being blessed by the Saviour is sure delight
since His presence is insured, even His ready guidance
with His wisdom for a victorious walk by faith that pleases Him
enabling the doing of what's right, exalting His name...
By being peacemakers, a worthy life we can optimize
as believers of the Lord, blissfully forgiven
while showing care midst woes' affliction
indeed sharing, overcoming selfishness...
Midst crises, a peace-filled life can abound
as we trust the great Provider Who satisfies our needs
He keeps His promises; every lack He supplies
along contentment that He alone can suffice...
Aware of fulfillment revolving around Christ's faithfulness
our best response is willing, obedient stewardship
to reach out to others with earnest compassion
following His example of humble servanthood...
Privileged to enjoy a fulfilled life is victory seal
marking our earnest ministry for the Master
whom He has bestowed with His Gospel story
to spread His love that someone may also have fullness* in Him!
*Ephesians 3:19 And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God.
April 9, 2018
Edited on February 3, 2020
3rd place, "STRAND SELECT C" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 2/4/2020.
I stared into the mirror today.
I saw you -
a needled zealot
hovering around my left shoulder;
Adolph Hitler dressed in
opium-perfumed swatches.
You smelled like her.
You acted like him.
You looked like me.
Swastika tall and evenly abhorrent.
Syringe-insured yet,
never sharp enough to
successfully stab
outside the 50-point cork.
You slithered like a quadroplegic,
into my stratum.
Pointing and probing
a crooked finger -
never healing
the martyr's wound.
A broken grimace leaves me
ugly flesh to ponder.
Your tentacles:
toothless cleavers eclipse
black-dilated pupils,
servicing our
boomeranged arms
with dingoed malice -
peppermint leaves and peroxide boil
as the living corpse cackles.
Mussolini removed
thirteen quieted quills
from his heart
shortly before the noose was tied.
Into square knots.
Into napkin pleats.
Into a poet's silence - where
our self-induced stupor
was dragged upon
spiked cobblestones -
and for that,
my dear Stalin beauty;
I sew my spit into
vile words -
dribbling purposely
upon this diseased
cotton-swabbed
canvas
for you
and I
to clean.
When Silence And Indifference Hold Sway
When they came for the snake to take away
I gaily approved, had nothing to say.
Next the frog, croaking after bright sun sets
Again my cold-silence hedged all my bets.
Turtle taken hiding in his hard shell
Again I foolishly thought, what the hell!
Then they grabbed the mouse hiding in the wall
Still afraid, I heeded not courage's call.
Early morn, they broke in, took my old cat
Again, I voiced no words, silently sat.
That night they came took my beloved dog
Now one ray of light broke through that dense fog!
They came yet again, chopped down every tree
I knew the score, knew next it would be me.
In horror, I found it was too damn late
My cold silence had insured my sad Fate.
I should have spoken when they took the snake
I would pay, my honor I did forsake!
Sun rose and I found all had been a dream
Dark nightmare, about how evil men scheme.
Still shaking as it had been all too real
Terror found, when no way found to appeal.
Message came, hold true to honor and love
Stand not idle when evil starts to shove!
Wisdom said beware, dark comes, not a dream
Man's black-heart souls work together in teams.
Best to know with courage, one may prevail
Even against demons from pits of Hell.
So gird thy loins and sharpen thy long spears
Far better than dying in shame and tears!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-09-2017
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 300
Total # Words: 244
Note- I decided to actually write a poem today and not be lazy about it..
Took me ten times longer than usual but this came forth..
Hope you may enjoy and know its message is truth....
SUBJECT, (When fear begets cold silence, a great and evil calamity is insured)
When the lights turn off,
what do you see?
Do you see your future? Your past? Your here and now?
What do you hear?
Do you hear the loved? The hated? The lost and forgotten?
What do you feel?
The contempt for your torturer? The love for your mistress? The regret of the moments that ceased to exist before you could eternalize them?
Why when we’re in the dark are we afraid?
shouldn’t we feel safe, saved from the pain, and the very temporary pleasure,
Serenaded by our most inner thoughts,
Blanketed in the knowledge that the dark only controls the moments of the night when the moon and stars are too shrouded by objects to be seen,
the knowledge of the forthcoming light saving us from cliff diving into the jagged wake of insanity,
Shouldn’t we embrace the dark
knowing its power over the soul, its ability to cleanse us no matter how dirty we are,
like a distant magnet, slowly but definitely pulling our dark away,
for it only to be brought back in small dosages to teach us of our past, to prepare us for our future.
I cling to the night
I take pleasure in the possibility of slipping into the wake,
I feel comfort in knowing the night might ultimately consume me so that I never see day again,
After all when your mind is so clouded that you never truly see the light the only insured thing is the dark.
Because at the end of it: all we know there to be is dark,
an infinite tide of shadows only seen by those who had been immersed in the shade,
by those whose vision had been adjusted to see through the light and the dark,
so that they saw the reality of it all, that none of it was forever,
that no matter how bright it may seem there’s a shadow somewhere,
and no matter how many times you flip the switch not to be awoken by light but to be greeted by more dark there was one that worked somewhere.
One that works to scare the terrors of children away, to act as a father’s scythe,
to be on and then to leave us pondering
When will the lights turn off?
Asphyxiated and found dead
Raped and found dead
Unsure what happened, and found dead
Nepali women found dead
Snake bitten and found dead
Eaten by tigers and found dead
Left in a small dark menstrual hut
And found dead
Nepali women found dead
Shunned and labelled unclean
Ostracized for the wonderful way
God has insured they can have babies
Asphyxiated, raped, snaked, and frozen
And found dead. Someone is not right in the head.
These huts should be torn up and spit out.
Please, people, permanently get these women out!
Gentle Wise Woman put on her embroidered priestess robes.
It was the evening of the Ulc Cycle Moon.
She carefully laid out her table in the most mystical way she could remember.
Like her grandmother and her grandmother’s grandmother.
Being the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter
Insured even if she did it wrong, she would be right.
She carefully selected the items for her table.
A bowl of spring water, a sprig of violet leaf, amethyst and agate.
A beautiful green luna moth fluttered past, his eyes winking at her.
She felt loved by the forest, more than ever.
Thank you Mother Moon, she said.
The forest was dark, but there was no fear.
She felt joy.
The last item selected was her rune pouch.
She shook three runes out, and studied them.
Her young daughter who had been watching asked “What do they say?”
Her voice was a whisper. She was in awe of her amazingly mystical mother.
“That you will have the best life ever,” her mother assured her.
Laurel was young and innocent at six.
She was not about to give her this kind of prophecy.
She would find out soon enough.
Sadness could begin tomorrow.
This was a night for joy, a night to
Commune with spirit.
She felt her grandmother coming for her.
They would dance under the willows until morning.
Biodiversity
Wisdom insured life
Man wreaked havoc on nature.
Spitting in God’s face.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
February 14, 2010
Poetic form: Haiku
As
it
was
that
in
my
pain
I
felt
the
agony.
Building
up
inside
me
like
a
Jericho
wall
that
refused
to
fall
was
my
misery.
I
forgot
the
names
of
those
who
shot
the
same
people
in
the
struggle
with
me.
It
was
never
discussed
how
we
can
get
focused
through
the
strain
of
the
chain.
The
Abels
of
the
Dutch
people
were
the
evil
spirits
that
murdered
a
Cain.
In
unsettled
homesteads
in
the
wilderness
of
pity
hanging
filthy
attire
on
trees.
Our
women
danced
for
their
men
and
their
women
cooled
our
faces
like
a
morning
breeze.
Through
your
many
outcast
brothers,you
created
a
vessel
that
spread
your
disease.
They
structured
gay
constitution
and
made
prostitution
businesses
out
our
sisters.
Established
churches
to
tutor
slaves
on
the
slave
trade
and
rapist
ministers.
For
long
have
we
endured
the
pain
not
insured
under
the
reign
of
terror.
Blood
has
been
spilled
and
my
fathers
raped
and
killed
trying
to
settle
the
error.
We
are
one
but
not
long
have
I
begun
seeing
black
in
this
bloody
mirror.
Color
is
just
a
craving
of
the
whitewashed
masses.
When
was
it
that
you
forced
Dutch
vocabulary
upon
the
dark
skinned
classes?
And
when
we
rallied
in
the
streets
against
it
you
chose
to
shoot
us.
Now
your
christian
institutions
are
trying
to
brain-
constitute
us.
If
war
was
never
the
motive
we
would've
saved
more
lives.
Now
you've
created
democracy
and
raped
our
wives.
He carried the oxygen from one room to another but the smallest effort cost.
The air was fresh but the breath wouldn't catch and coughing.
He wondered how his plan was left unfulfilled.
He had used every human he had ever come in contact with.
And now after living with his sister and her husband for thirty years he was finished.
This was his life and the cough.
He sat stirring his coffee and ate a pastry with his tooth.
That was what he had one tooth and his famous cough.
He was a professional and his lung had quit.
No one had told him that the lung would do this but it had.
Most wouldn't believe he professionally coughed but the cough did.
And that is what mattered and smoking.
Smoking and waiting to die was all he had.
Lying in the hospital bed and staring at the tv screen.
The doctor said the cancer had moved into the lung.
He said that he wanted to run the test but medicare wouldn't pay for it.
Should have got that insured by Geico and wanting a cigarette.
This is a true story about my Uncle Charles who is alone but for my Mothrer ,Father and Me
How can one say HAPPY Veterans Day.
A day reminiscent of all they who returned
from the horrors of war suffering with PTSS as well as all of the medically in firmed.
How can one say HAPPY Veterans Day.
when so many brothers and sisters lost their lives
leaving behind loving friends and family, children, husbands and wives.
How can one say HAPPY Veterans Day.
It just seems so disrespectfully inappropriate to me.
If I were to say anything to honor that day this is what it would be,
"Have A Great Veterans Day, In Honor Of All They
Who've Insured We All Live Our Lives Safely and Free."
THE PHARAOHS
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
It wasn’t the Pharaohs that ruled the Nile
It was the priests that sanctioned their style
As long as the Pharaoh kept playing ball
The priests insured that he’d never fall
To make him acceptable to poor and unshod
They elevated his position to a living god
Scams have existed for thousands of years
They prey on ones greed and mortal fears
People have been duped by the glib tongue
Like Lenin, Amin, Castro and Mao-Tse-Tung
Cultures are swayed by the gifted speaker
Obscuring the facts from the reality seeker
Elections are stolen with factual distortions
Twisting the truth into diametric contortions
Demagogues and tyrants have little to fear
They just say what the masses want to hear
Independent thought can be a risky proposition
A word in the wrong setting can send you to prison
That kind of oppression can’t happen here
We’re a democracy with nothing to fear
They follow the polls ,the trends are clear
Our leaders will say what we want to hear
mankind is assured of many things until the very end
we will live, we will die and yes we will commit sin
but true Christians are also assured of many things as well
the love of Christ, eternal life and that they ain't going to hell
but all of that assurance was by Jesus' blood guaranteed
when on the cross He gave His life as a sacrifice for you and me
the sins of mankind that eternal debt of which we've incurred
when Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden didn't obey God's word
we've been on a course of reconciliation to get right with God
but unfortunately a disobedient nature has remained within our hearts
and the only way for us to ever pay back this debt
is to become disciples of Jesus the Christ who is our spiritual rep
Jesus the Christ is our Messiah, our Advocate and our Savior
He lived with us to ascertain the cause of our disobedient behavior
He dwelt among us to teach and to preach to us the gospel truth
His task to instruct us with parables of what God desires we do
blessed assurance our guarantee by Jesus the Christ
blessed assurance as we live this Christian life
living by the word of God to worship Him in truth and light
meditating on the word of God to walk by faith and not by sight
blessed assurance for the debt which Jesus paid
blessed assurance for the living water in which we now wade
Jesus removed all of our fears when from the dead He did arise
it was a display of God's power for us to revere and surmise
that God is all mighty, He's all powerful and God is all good
and we should praise and honor Him as obedient children should
blessed assurance when to Him we draw more nearly
blessed assurance as we follow His word more clearly
for you're in better hands with God than you would ever be with ALLSTATE
for you are assured, you are insured, you're guaranteed just keep the faith
SOME GAVE ALL
Some gave eyes, arms and legs,
all predestined by their fate.
Some gave up dreams, their youth,
and women who wouldn’t wait.
Some lost it all, some held on tight,
And some gave in to hate.
And some gave up their very lives.
Yet, all gave some.
No heroes welcome home
met their weary eyes.
No ticker tape parades,
No paper floating from the skies.
No bands playing the anthem
To welcome back these guys.
Forgotten; their heroic deeds,
By media’s own device.
Forgotten were the POW/MIA
We forgot their sacrifice.
All forgotten heroes,
These Men who’d paid the price.
And some gave up their very lives.
Yet, all gave some.
You’re not welcome here,
You can’t come in this place.
Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?
You’re such a huge disgrace.
We’re not proud of your patriotism
How dare you show your face?
Shunned by Veteran of Foreign Wars,
Their loyalty suppressed.
Criticized by family and friends,
And slandered by the press,
Abandoned by their countrymen,
True, sadly, we confess.
They stuffed away their valiant deeds;
The things that they did best.
They stuffed away their medals and uniforms
In old forgotten chests.
They stuffed away their memories and dreams,
All hidden like the rest.
Rejected, some took their own lives.
Yet, all gave some.
Years pass, decades fly
How quickly time goes by.
Young men grow old, sometimes alone
As young dreams die.
The effects of the war wear on them
And many said goodbye.
An idea conceived,
A careful, thoughtful plan,
By youthful high school students
And mentors doing all they can.
Yet, this simple act of kindness
Brought pride back to the man.
And some gave up their very lives.
Yet, all gave some.
A new day dawns
A smile is on their face.
No longer humiliation and shame,
No longer their disgrace.
Your simple act of kindness
Has insured their rightful place.
And some gave up their very lives.
Yet, all gave some.
And somewhere in death’s battlefield;
Where heroic deeds are measured.
Where sacrifice, duty and honor
their values fully treasured.
Sleep goodly men! You gave it all!
Redeemed and surely pleasured.