Best Knocks Poems
(Double sonnets- Part Two)
Death First Knocks, Fear Then Enters, Plea Given
Double sonnets, Part Two
Death thy bladed hand, I gladly let pierce
That my end be grand, and my faith be fierce
Hollow words you spoke, what good few days more
For tho' life is brief, beyond lies joy's shore.
Thy guile cunning dark, thy cleverness deep
In life made my mark, thy price far too steep
My faith my haven, thy path a dark room
Raven was feared, that was Poe's great doom.
I bid you welcome, Fate has wrote that hour
Fear not sad outcome, death holds no power
Please set thy fangs deep, man's end but a sleep
Faith's vows I will keep, dying- no tears weep.
~ May blessings gift leaving in sweetest dreams. ~
~ Gone the vagaries and sad human schemes. ~
Death may be - black darkness, seas a-churnin'
Amidst soil rot and high flames a-burnin'
Or other realms, welcoming our returning
Or fantasy of more, our deep yearning.
Shall my loss, grieve greatly those I cherish
As this mortal coil is doomed to perish
I pray, this Fate, that of human demise
Is but change to our soul thereby revise.
A slow sink in seas of imagination
A sad parting from our close relations
Or perhaps, just a step into the Light
Needed sleep away from dread, dark of night.
~ May blessings gift leaving in sweetest dreams. ~
~ Gone the vagaries and sad human schemes. ~
Robert J. Lindley, 12-02-2018
Sonnet(s)- Part Two
Note: Tale of Life, Fate And Death , written in four sonnets
Part Two, Double sonnets- Will faith hold power or temptation of having longer life rule. Continued from Part One, previously presented here(double sonnets).
A total of four connecting sonnets..
Second Note- I have decided to not change my usual way of presenting my poetry. I will continue as I have from the start adding notes and dates and presenting as I think best. Sharing more information to the readers, seems to me to be a net positive and in no way a negative.
That so many great poets here expressed that wisdom, in my blog convinced me .
And reveals how many great and truly dedicated poets/artists we have at this fine poetry site.
Surrender to rhythmic initiations,
Moan and groan with accusations,
In foreplay rushes see passion release;
Intoned rumble in her fermented pleas.
Fulcrum strokes in the crazy display,
Freaked-out embedded techniques?
Rapture tunes these percussion beats,
Anticipation bolts in delight of thrill meets.
Love squeals in her ecstasy shrieks,
Quivers torment the resonating geeks,
Smitten desire bitten and tweaked,
Brimming lust probes petals sweet.
"G" flows on high in the heated pitch,
Pulse and quakes in the drum stick glitch,
Bewitching thump and the hard kicks
Drum-rolls tenderness to my tricks:
When opportunity knocks don’t hesitate
Open the door and celebrate
It may be what you are looking for
How would you know, if you don’t open the door
When opportunity knocks let it in
It may bring you a bashful grin
But if only on one side of the door you abide
How would you know what is on the other side
When opportunity knocks, go in a hurry
Leave your doubt, fear and worry
Be sure and let opportunity in
Because opportunity may never knock again
We all went to school in the past-
Remember what we learned when asked.
Yet, Einstein's reply
Kiss knowledge goodbye
We're smarter with skills we've amassed!
Uncrowned
kings and queens of madness walk
through halls burning with self confidence.
Nervous incandescent eyes peer down from rafters
unsure how their flesh and bone hosts
will survive visibility.
What do they see
these eyes of ghosts?
In reference frames
made so close
to images of what they know
behind shields of darkness and of doubt.
Drop into the heat
with the kings and queens of madness;
feel the flames sear your skin
as color once more fills your eyes.
Enjoy your walk in the fire
below the rafters.
For cold dark dead
with no shine but smell
will paint itself,
perfectly
over you in time.
Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson are gone
Major League Baseball locked the door with them
now with PEDs ban should be withdrawn
today’s drug use has darken baseball’s gem
in the early days baseball was strong and pure
except for being only for white men
maybe Ty Cobb was a bit immature
that was the way the game was played back then
baseball is a product of the USA
and Major league baseball is politics
it was a great game to watch and to play
and those stadiums were truly classics
Wade Boggs is the owner of Field of Dreams
baseball won’t flow away in any streams
Some people are of the belief, that teacher come from one place
From a school or university, with degrees all over the wall
Know great big fancy words, recites Shakespeare
With IQ's a mile high, that would put most to a disgrace
When in reality, have no common sense at all
Have read all the books and can pass any test that might appear
Which is all fine and good, but there is a limit to everything
Like a preacher needs to practice what he preaches after a sermon
Like a teacher, should be able to use what he teaches in the field
If they cannot, all that knowledge doesn't mean a thing
Or he did not learn from his lesson
Therefore not much in his overall yield
I have been to a university and have a degree
It is just a piece of paper, not sure where the diploma is at
Vietnam War was going on and seemed like a good thing at the time
It was BS and so was the degree
Their version of ranching did not fit under my cowboy hat
But were ever so happy to take every nickel and dime
My best teacher have been old hobos and old cowboys
The ones that rode the rails and have been on a bronc or two
Knowing quitting time is when the job is done, not punching time clocks
Not saying a word for days at a time of making Saturday night noise
Working with what they had and doing what they had to do
THE REAL PROFFESSORS OF THE SCHOOL OR HARD KNOCKS
Knocks of the Spring
harbingers of spring
effulgent daffodils rise
swallows fly afloat
Haiku - 5/7/5
Written July 1st, 2015
For contest "Traditional haiku#2" by Shadow Hamilton
Checking the heart beat now and then
It did not ranged since so very long
Ah! My best friend my smart phone
How it u lost the way to tele signals
Cell block since past two big days
Looks as if the date is of earth end
Checked clock all fine with world
Just my smart life came to bad pause
Cell block as if life is boring of all
Buttons all dying screen screaming
No messages or calls or even alert
Cell block makes it go so dull chap
Yeah can listen songs but how long
Want to chat with friends like silly
Cell block please come back to life.
Once again unrelenting sadness knocks at my door,
Like the inveterate seeker of my generous charity
Calls on others like me and always demanding more.
Could it be that I am a lone favored mark to score?
And I am deigned to entertain gloom incessantly
Once again, unrelenting sadness knocks at my door.
Would that I could be like others who in autumn soar
And, seeing in falling leaves, they hope abundantly,
Calls on others like me and always demanding more.
I find at autumn’s advent a bitter chilling to the core
Rising to the level of self-uncontrolled ascendancy,
Once again, unrelenting sadness knocks at my door
Every year I have vowed I’ll not suffer again, I swore,
But this annual sadness I cannot explain from infancy
Calls on others like me and always demanding more.
Worse still, I have become a nauseous, weary boor,
Complaining and whining that this SAD has primacy.
Once again, unrelenting sadness knocks at my door
Calls on others like me and always demanding more.
written October 30, 2021
WHEN WAR KNOCKS AT YOUR NEIGHBOR’S DOOR
(Dedicated to the victims of the chemical weapons!)
When war knocks at your neighbor’s door
Do not play deaf and do not turn to the other side
Cause you might not hear the whistling bombs
Coming straight your home to find!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
03 SEPTEMBER 2013
*Abominable and contemptible the chemical warfare is but conventional war is not a game either!
I keep writing on the subject because the danger is still out there. May God guide those in power to do the right thing!
When you live on the streets, you
attend the school of hard knocks.
And think you've hit bottom
until you feel the sharp rocks.
You wake to a throbbing pain
pounding away in your head.
And you're filled with dread, Oh God,
you kind of wish you were dead.
This can't be a hangover,
for you haven't been drinking.
But, your head is exploding,
and it hurts to be thinking.
You figure out where you are,
just as the doctor walks in.
And like a silly young fool,
you slap on a happy grin.
You survived a bad beating,
slipping death's grip, yet once more.
And quickly gaining your wits,
you shrewdly head out the door.
The lost children of the street
are more than eager to play.
But, for every lesson taught,
someone always has to pay.
(Quatrain)
3/29/2017
"WHEN OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS"
there are
only a
few selected
times by
the gods
that wake
you up.
as it
happens these
moments are
the pauses
on your
timeline that
teach you
something worthy.
if you’re
foolish you’ll
miss it,
if you’re
alive you’ll
catch it.
I can
say that
my moment
came when
I made
the mistake
to love
a whore.
although this
is noteworthy,
I can’t
say that
it compares
to the
moment I
loved a
woman.
the
gods gave
me an
option to
grab and
I devoured
it.
By: Chicano Eddie
5252017
(Double sonnets- Part One)
Death First Knocks, Fear Then Enters, Plea Given
(Double sonnets- Part One)
Cold hand of death, thy touch arrives too soon
Weakens my breath, sorrows my tragic tune
Thy blow that hits hard, thy strike will deny
More years to this bard, yet gift saddest skies
Alas! Will not thy deed, be a great waste
Thy kiss, I have no need, its bitter taste
Deep bite of thy fangs, this heart fails to awe
Bittersweet death pangs, where true love recalls
Life was oft honey-sweet, days pure and true
Pray dawn we meet, rather than I curse you
Stay thy hand one hour, tis but a small plea
Let me greet faith's power, then finish me
Now friend, your silence speaks, I shed no tears
Moment I was weak, faith now allays fears
~ Death comes with a hiss, to give its reply ~
~ Where came such bliss, that soul ceases to cry~
Fear me the more, I hold thy mortal coil
Life has no soft shore, man sprang from earth's soil
Thy spirit rebels, this fate thy wrongs bring
Death offers its hells, dare thee to now sing
Thy request I grant, gifting thee a week
If vows thee recant, and curse as you speak
Bow to my power, I death ruleth all
I gift thee more hours, walk in my dark halls
One week I return, more time thee may earn
My deadly flame burns, thy love I so spurn
Then you must submit, curse thy day of birth
I have thus seen fit, to measure thy worth
Giveth me your praise, bow to my great strength
Life is a maze, thine I can give more length.
~ Away Death has flown, human spirit asks ~
~ Have I been shown, glimpse behind death's black-mask ~
Robert J. Lindley, 11-21-2018
Sonnet(s)- Part One
Note: Tale of Life, Fate And Death , written in four sonnets
Part One- Double Sonnets
Part Two, Double sonnets- Will faith hold power or temptation of having longer life rule. To be written, in due time...
LASHES TO ASHES IN SLOW MOTION
Might I please present myself as a prologue to death
Because unless I am terribly wrong…….
I can’t have too terribly long
And I’ve been lazy too long
But I don’t have too long to act crazy
Incredibly and indisputably inane
And drive other people institutionally insane
My days dry up like clay caskets caught in the Cancun sun
Leading to nights that usually end by me ending up with whiskey whisking away yet another weary evening
Witnessed and coerced by two dead soldiers made of glass
Who kicked my ass the night before
When fright came before a blackout
And darkness led to a morning of foul tasting coffee and a donut of doubt
What secret could the night before grasp tightly in its clutch?
Will people say my performance was a bit too much?
Is there a lady somewhere that I wouldn’t recognize if her eyes were made of fire with whom I let desire declare two bodies bare?
And precisely what did she and I share?
Was it something controlled by a lack of control?
Did we meld in mind, body and soul?
Did seduction succeed in its mission to maraud our minds and give making love the meaning it was meant to have?
Is there a lady out there who borrowed a snippet from my life and may have been complicit in the death of a dream?
Did we watch the world fly in fast forward together?
And sometimes in slow motion in order that our time together would be extended by the exclusion of the relativity of time
And a second could sing for as long as it takes a wedding bell’s voice to fade into the hollowness of night
And a minute might meander down the middle of a mercurial moment and remain there until you sigh deeply and chase the stars away for the morning’s sake
And oh to the music of mysticism your countenance is wont to make
Sung by a choir of questions and a chorus of conclusions
While a flute would fleetingly fade into forgotten confusion
Alas, my days decline by death’s design and do more than demoralize me
My only request is that you disregard my genius and charming manner and please don’t memorialize me
Nor commemorate me in any way
Simply cremate me and toss me away!
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