Best Lane Poems
In Dreams, Her Spirit Sallied Forth: with Lin Lane
Through frigid months, she waited for Spring rains
to give relief and ease heartbroken pains,
Nature will award that which Life commands
placing her true love, in its gentle hands.
O'sweet promise of passion's fine delights,
candlelight dinners and intimate nights.
With eager dreams her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, in the far North.
Countless, were the eventides spent in dread
Praying he'd stay safe 'fore lying abed
She wished on stars in darkened Winter skies
as tears pooled in her melancholy eyes
Arctic winds blustered; through tall pines they'd blow,
layers of oceans, in white waves of snow
In Wintry dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, of the far North.
Pictures sent from her beau, her Southern man
whose dashing looks, deep blue eyes and bronzed tan,
had her heart remembering their first kiss
Without regret, love said, "Hold onto this!"
To wake with dawn's sweet warmth, upon her face
would ease her sorrow and heartache erase.
In ardent dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Beyond the frosty chill of the far North.
She brushed her hair, raven tresses fell
Her firelight shadow evidenced the swell
Softly, she hummed, cradling her unborn child
A motherly instinct that brought forth a smile
Having a babe, they had both long revered
That he'd be back in time, she deeply feared.
With anxious dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Further from winter's chill of the far North.
She was haunted by his voice in a dream
and awoke with the sound of her own scream
Rain, her companion, on an April morn
Pains let her know their child would soon be born
Alone, she prayed that she'd know what to do
In the door strode a man; eyes of deep blue.
No longer a dream, her man had come forth
To deliver their child in the far North.
11-01- 2018
Thank you for writing with me yet again after such a long break my friend. Your invitation to do another collaboration was a great gift and a blessing given to me. I sincerely appreciate such great kindness as well as your great advice given on poetry/editing. As such shows great talent and true poetic heart. You magnificent verses makes this a truly golden poem.
God bless always..
Feeling nostalgic, I went back home
To a house on Memory Lane
A sentimental trip, through the years that have flown
To a three bedroom, small white, wood frame
Where memories were built on a GI loan
And little boys were forged into young men
Where the little boy in me, is still running free
Through cotton fields up to his chin
The old house was still standing in some disrepair
The gravel roads had all been paved
'neath the cottonwood tree, my daydreams were still there
With the initials my puppy love engraved
There was no father or mother, no sister or brother
No neighbors I used to call friend
No games to be played, no gold to discover
Only memories of way back when
But the love we shared, I saw everywhere
In the garden, in the flowers and the trees
And the life lessons I learned from the spills and the dares
Gave me warmth in the cool winter breeze`
Then sitting in the swing where I first learned to fly
I heard the whistle of the afternoon train
So I packed up my thoughts, said my final goodbye
To the house on Memory Lane.
by Daniel Turner
Mind-boggled and confused, I am- no doubt
A trolley-bad soul has left their mark
There is something I heard and learned about
My sunny-bright morn, has turned a bit dark
I learnt this morn, that a dear friend has left
A beautiful poet, with talent- best
Gone- 'cause of remarks or poetry theft
So, all my fine poets, may I suggest...
Not be a follow, to those who cause harm
These people mean nothing, their loser's- first
By chance, you know one...please, sound the alarm
To all the fine poets...and rid- the worst
Look what they've done, they have saddened our friend
If I find who you are...well, that's- the end
*Dedicated to Lin Lane
The mean old housecat has bulgy eyes
when she looks at us in our fish bowl
Oh, how much we've come to despise
that big mouth of hers, the black hole
Poised to pounce with sharpened claws
She's taking jabs with hatred brimming
that ugly feline beast with drooling jaws
for us little fishes, innocently swimming
Our little bowl is cosy, room for only two
bad kitty on the outside, always looking in
If her paw ever grabs us, what are we to do
we’d be much safer in a smelly sardine tin!
If she ever catches us, we’ve got big troubles
perhaps in her dreams she sees us as fat trout
In fear we produced a stream of gassy bubbles
If only our owner would give bad kitty a clout!
All the chaos made us soil ourselves with poop
so we let that mean old cat feast on a tasty treat
When her nasty tongue slurped intestinal goop
the beast screeched in horror! Revenge is sweet!
Our owner came home and cleaned out the bowl
Soon we returned to our safe sweet smelling home
Kitty got banned but can see us through the keyhole
Now we don’t suffer from irritable bowl syndrome!
Day
Passed by,
Reliving.
Parked in a lane,
Hid from watchers as we lovingly kissed,
Losing count of love as emotions thrilled.
Until sunset
Meant time up,
We left
Sad.
On my walk around the green meadow
in the sun splattered mesmeric mornings,
I used to see an old lady of the neighborhood,
sitting straight like a lone statue of cold stone
on the road-side bench I always crossed.
The golden stream of surging sunbeam
cascaded down the engraved web of rills
on her septuagenarian fragile face.
She would raise her thin ivory hands
from the recess of reclined lap unmoved,
flail in frail gesture in the scented air,
murmuring ‘good morning’ perhaps,
I could hardly hear in the rustle of leaves,
but my long day waited to begin
with the shining dawn of her smile,
drenching me in the silent shower of joy.
I still walk as the senile sun rises everyday,
but its searching rays saddened like me,
don’t find the lady on the bench,
but she walks smiling with me,
down the memory lane.
Written : March 22, 2020
July 23, 2022
Contest : 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9
Sponsored by : Mark Toney
Sentimental rain creates puddles upon a lane of lost memories.
Gone are those malachite meadows, where we once ran free.
Clouds now reflect against intimidating soaring glass towers.
The scent of Silent fresh air, replaced by raucous toxic bustling cars.
In my childhood playground, rusty swings no longer blow in the wind,
as a medley of broken dreams and forgotten promises, haunt my mind.
I hardly recognise these taciturn faces running around like ants.
Every strangers face I see, reminds me this place was never meant for me.
As suppressed spirits slowly guide me to your final resting place,
I am finally content, knowing, you are in the company of angels.
Silent One
25 September 2018
Example for the 'lines of ten that remind you what it was like back then' contest.
Lucky me for having Lin in my life for nearly a decade
I've had her friendship, loyalty and unwavering support
Never has there been an inkling of cross words between us
Lin is an amazing poet and her paintings are beautiful
Always ready to offer her time and assistance to others
Nothing is too troublesome for her when someone is in need
Editor of both my books; for her patience, I'm ever grateful.
in the first crevice of light
as dawn flushed its skies
her frail fingers struggled
to pluck weeds from spring buds
that laid like a colorful quilt
on her once rolling green lawn
you could hear the creaks on wood
as she rocked on the weathered porch
watching for the children to walk by
as the school days finally ended
she'd speak to anyone that listened
her story was hapless but known by all
her loneliness was seen in the depth of her hazel eyes
no one ever turned down the jaunty invite
inside her antiquated home
where her fingers danced nimbly
across the piano as she sang them songs
she hid her loneliness and darkness of life
reserved her tears behind closed blinds at night
when the blinds remained unopened the children knew
and they flooded the funeral homes to say their goodbyes
march 20, 2020
my sisters and I
plucking grapes along the lane. . .
the chatter of birds
my sisters and I
plucking grapes along the lane. . .
the sun sets purple
my sisters and I
plucking grapes along the lane. . .
mom’s call to supper
I'm so tired of hearing that old cliche' ~
"It's water under the bridge," let it go.
Those words are never the right thing to say
when I'm already feeling kinda low
What if water under the bridge dries up
and can't carry my mistakes out to sea?
To forgiveness should I raise a full cup?
What cliche will I hear to comfort me?
"To err is human, to forgive, Divine"
Yet another cliche' in stark contrast
Self forgiveness often takes much more time
Only changing the future, not the past
Burning bridges is like playing with fire
All too often it leads to getting burned
Wisdom is the greatest pacifier
Cliche's are the lessons others have learned
Daniel Turner and Jenna Logan
graffiti stares
and retro drips
beneath the
shoreditch sky
like those who watch
- between their sips
the world and
us go by.
In deep slumber madness, she comforts me
Appearing, unencumbered, from the mist
Subconscious suspension our nightly tryst
Erasing my mind of bad memories
She mends and warms my soul so tenderly
Imbibing my thoughts and heart with her kiss
Lovingly fulfills a long ago wish
Thankfully restoring my sanity
Regularly she visits in silence
Enlightening my dreams with wholesomeness
Wiping my tears of angered betrayal
Exchanging her love for malevolence
I awaken with renewed happiness
Refreshed from the angelic portrayal
**********
Rest easy, dear one. Night Angel is here
To ease the worry from your furrowed brow
Kiss to the cheek, I lay upon you now
In your sweetest dream you will feel me near
Memories of your past no longer live
No need for tears to fall from pain or stress
Tender love I offer in my caress
Gift of my thoughts to you this night I give
Wake on the morrow, glad to greet the sun
Knowing night has me coming through the mist
To comfort once more when your cheek is kissed
As Night Angel hovers o're her loved one
Though I must wait till night sends its moonbeams
I shall never leave you lost in your dreams
**********
Undeserving am I, for such mercy
A sinner and tormented vagabond
Cavorting with strumpets in Babylon
Rendering my soul hungry and thirsty
Yet nightly, through the mist you come tersely
Descending with your kindness from beyond
Blessed with your kiss my memories abscond
Overfilling my heart with love firstly
Night Angel, I have prayed for forgiveness
From the midst of my dreams, am again whole
By the magnificence of your meekness
My conscience is now bending from stiffness
The morning sun brings new light to my soul
Now no longer will ever go sleepless
Original Sonnets by Lin Lane and Daniel Turner "poemdog"
The moon was peeking through the naked trees
The breeze that blew that day had gone to bed
A lonely nightingale perched overhead
Harassed the silence with his sad reprise
The creaking porch swing's old familiar tune
No fitting lyrics could I ever write
To my sweet love on this warm firefly night
The melancholic song I'd never croon
Ten trillion stars, a shimmering chemise
Which cloaked the sky in sparkles green and red
Connected by the rays of golden thread
How could one tire, admiring nights like these?
Upon magnolia trees, blossoms were strewn
The nightingale heard his call and took flight
I might sit here until the morning light
Like days of old, these nights would make us swoon
I love living in the Arctic
The cold I find so cathartic
But you must beware
I'm bi-polar bear
If crossed I can be anarchic
I'm really a huge white bi-polar bear
You can take my photograph, laugh and stare
But if you come too near
You'll have reason to fear
If I'm in Hyde's mood you'd better take care!
I'm usually very docile and quite nice
Relaxing on the shelves of polar ice
For food I am howling
My tummy is growling
I need to catch some tasty fish to slice
I possess great big furry white paws
But at times I can show my sharp claws
So don’t mess with me
Cos I can be nasty
My emotions have no get out clause
I don't really like eating seal blubber
It's tasteless as a tire made of rubber
And I don't like to swim
Unless I have the whim
I should have been born as a land lubber
My smile can turn into a frown
One minute I’m up, next I’m down
I can lash out at you
So whatever you do
Don’t call me a stupid bear clown
When I'm feeling like good Doctor Jekyll
I don't care if you tease me or heckle
I'll toss you my poop
Big scoop after scoop
Til I've covered all your little freckles
On a good day I’ll smile so nice
Enjoying white fish which I’ll dice
See me bask in the sun
Then I’ll go for a run
And play with my friends on the ice
I feel a weird change, a rumbling inside
An avalanche of emotions, a landslide
My claws are extended
Your visit has ended
Red mist all around ~ turning into Hyde!
The truth, it cannot be denied
I’m a bit like Jekyll and Hyde
You'd better leave town
When red mist comes down
Or run to take cover and hide!
Written by Lin Lane and Jan Allison
05~18~17