Best Lanes Poems
Walking alone down the leaf covered lanes,
the ground is still damp from Yesterday's rain.
A cathedral of trees tower overhead,
with colors of Fall that haven't yet shed.
Now in this moment when Winter arrives,
the cold wind blows and the chill is alive.
The very first snowflake floats from the sky,
falls on my face like a tear from my eye.
Winter's lace begins to blanket green pines,
every neighbors' yard and rooftop it finds.
The smoke starts to drift from the chimney stacks,
while snow covers any trace of my tracks.
Resting near a warm fire I'll remain,
dreaming of my day on leaf covered lanes.
12/2/18
Categories:
lanes, autumn, nature, snow, winter,
Form:
Sonnet
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
Categories:
lanes, art, deep, humanity, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
My life flashed before my eyes as I sat in the driver’s seat
I clung to the wheel for dear life
my face was as white as a sheet
Would this brave man named Dale
live to tell the tale?
Had he written out a will
Drafted Out in great detail ?
I was petrified you see
But he had confidence in me
His fantastic sense of humour
Acted as a diffuser
He calmly talked me through it
With the patience of a saint
How he coped I’ll never know
As Michael Schumacher I ain’t!
He had a scientific brain
And as we drove he would explain
Tell me random facts and stories
As we ventured through welsh lanes
Now I really can’t deny
That one manoeuvre made me cry
But with his tolerance and charm
My frustration he did disarm
When I finally passed my test
His relief was well expressed
He turned my life around
Now freedom I have found
Favourite Teacher or Professor contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
20th October 2019
Categories:
lanes, teacher,
Form:
Rhyme
Booze and madness.
I'm feeling it. Again,
nobody believes me but the nonsense, it just makes sense.
It's all about the soul deep down inside
That's me.
I'm in my head and I don't think I'll ever get out.
And then suddenly he knew
it was true,
sometimes.
He did drink alone and he is mentioned in the Abnormal Psychology textbook
under psycho-derelict and possibly addicted to self-pity
pretending not to be. Poor me.
And one more thing, I would always rather be alone with the unknown
where nothing really matters when you get right down to the bottom of it.
And for some people I know the only way to keep sane is to agree with you and always eat spaghetti al dente.
Categories:
lanes, places,
Form:
Free verse
Glad for the country lanes
and the buzzing bees.
Glad for our talk under the trees,
and that he listened.
Cedric loves me,
I am sure of it,
for he squeezed my hand
before he moved away.
Glad for the country lanes,
and for that lane he is in now,
in his house next to his beehive,
and the honey bees.
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The first line is from the hymn, "Glad that I live am I".
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Categories:
lanes, happy, imagery, love,
Form:
Free verse
If our springs are uncertain we enjoy fine sunny days
A feeling for spring, even when bad, is always good
Such is the opening of April, not winter nor summer
It is spring fickle and chilly a spring of dear England
In spite of the cold, green steals along our hedgerows
All along river banks and flourish in the bowery lanes
Little daisies, thinly sprinkled, bow to us in friendship
Make our gardens flame with tints of far away places
Take a walk on bare turf over wind swept meadows
The coltsfoot shows yellow flowers on barren lands
Blue and white violets sit in their established places
A cardamine smiles wide from a moist green ditch
Primroses in their loveliness are punctual as daylight
In spots where they have appeared as long ago as time
Anemonies dance in breezes as they wave sweet waves
A season for love or tortured hearts, of sadness or joy
Categories:
lanes, nature,
Form:
Classicism
Among ancient groves,
One summer night alone.
Secrets on the wind.
And awakening to
Mother natures symphonic
Mystery of life.
When people used to
Find a home in the hearth-light,
Owls haunt the hedgerows.
Each day an event
Every step an adventure,
To new horizons!
Categories:
lanes, aubade, imagery, journey, nature,
Form:
Haiku
Drop the pen and put on your armour,
There’s enough been spilled for one day,
Judgment on your works will follow,
And jealous will sharpen their tongues.
The memories of youth are leaving
A bitter taste in your mouth now,
Knowing that you can’t turn back time,
And that your heart lacks fire.
The naive eyes that watched your childhood
Are gone like so many things you take for granted,
And you will allow your thoughts to slowly wilt,
Until your mind has gone,
And a body is all that is left.
Categories:
lanes, depression, life, sad,
Form:
Blank verse
The roads walk upon within my life fells as if they are crisscrossed and tangled like a gigantic knot.
An enormous ball which has me trapped inside of it.
Will anyone come here to rescue me?
I will rescue myself from any tricky obstacle life throws within my way.
Perhaps I should be self-guided and follow the road I walk upon carefully.
Maybe If I walked a path gentle enough I won't stumble as much in life.
Even I get lost pondering about which path I should take.
Every time I try to change my Idea I feel as If my whole life changes lanes.
A lane which I try to create with perfection
A road so unclear I try to maneuver with such strength.
I almost feel like a Strong woman
Trying to figure out which of am I.
When my life changes lanes. I lose control of my life.
I feel as if I'm back to square one.
Square so unclear not knowing what portion of my life shines with brightness.
A shine of brightness which feels so dull.
A brightness of light which I feel so pure.
Sometimes when I see its brights feels like I'm starring against a light bulb.
Every time I stare towards that light bulb. It feels like a 90 watts LED light bulb.
Not sure if I reach cloud nine every time I stare at it.
If I stand beneath it maybe it will give me an illusion of what I need to see.
finally, I feel as if I have complete control of my life.
No one will keep me side tracked any longer
A lane will no longer change its course
I have complete control and hold my ground firmly.
Categories:
lanes, beautiful,
Form:
Free verse
After the trauma of separation
after the slick delivery, the breaking apart
of fluids that fed and breathed for you
while you were still a suckling life-raft
in your mothers emptying ocean.
While you were that blank slate, loving nothing
but the need to be nursed within a being
you could hardly comprehend,
memory arose as if it were a worn-down penny
in a strangers pocket.
Not until later did memory recall itself,
a snake coiling around the vine of your spine,
even then only a mere pastiche of pictures
drawn by a blind and incomprehensible artist.
until you understood that that blind artist was yourself.
Later still, memories piled up like crashed cars,
the race was so speedy and your recording of it so slow.
The grooves in your mind turning too shallowly
only engraved enough to record no more
than a few starkly etched moments.
Not until you plunged into an age older
than your growing body did you begin to ask yourself
what was before all this world of your memory?
You see vaguely, an end and a beginning.
It seems that you were pushed outward
or inward only to displace an infinite length of string
to find this short rope of a life
that becomes shorter as it measures itself.
What puzzles you is
that you feel that there was an agreement
to die to yourself before you were birthed.
You come to believe this
because you understand that nothing comes
from nothing.
For now though you are this self-made being
with a past only as long as your first breath.
You want to know what came before.
You hope to recall that former self
behind its obscuring veil,
beyond that cryptic tabula rasa
of your continuing self.
Categories:
lanes, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Down many traveled lanes I sauntered sadly,
Up avenues I’ve trampled more than twice.
I've slipped and in prostration cried out badly
for anyone to blare their soft advice.
-
“Reverberate!” I thought in paths I’d fathered.
Illuminate my present gifts of chance,
these shreds of life that I have never gathered,
the times I’ve shunned the elegance of dance.
-
In simple furtherance of all my sorrow,
I gathered all my hunches to my chest,
and borrowed all the blame that I could borrow,
and never tried a virgin to molest,
until the light of millions of tomorrows
could pave my path and put me to my rest.
-------------------------
Categories:
lanes, age, confusion, endurance, sorrow,
Form:
Sonnet
So we’ll go no more a bowling
So late into this night
Though our arms be still as willing
And the lanes be still as bright,
For balls wear out the fingers
And arthritis shows its might,
While the back pains all linger
And knees need rest’s respite.
Though the night is made for bowling
And the lanes close far too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a rolling,
Until the clock strikes noon.
Categories:
lanes, age, humor, night, pain,
Form:
Rhyme
Happy Hour is one drink short
of a buzz,
I try to determine the moment
it all went sour.
I’m looking into the empty glass
wondering where the ‘happy’ went,
did it dissipate on a curling lip
or a sigh?
I find the remote in the back of my mind
where remoteness lives and has its bunker.
It’s been a tough past year, and we’ve barely sipped
this new one, bad joo-joo everywhere.
what with all this apocalyptic crap going on.
Occasionally a camera will capture a look
in a strangers eyes, and I see my thoughts there.
We are all lonely inside our eyes I guess.
The barkeep picks up his tip and nods to my fading presence.
The taxi home gets lost between Reykjavik and Lahore,
we all arrive just in time to watch the day show up
on the 6 o’clock news.
Body counts and empty faces talking through mealy lips -
time for another drink.
Categories:
lanes, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
By-lanes of my mind
When I write, its verbose;
When I don’t, I am short of words;
Write with flair and respect, brevity is a gift;
They remind me as my jargon filled words they dissect.
All this is internalised,
The lips quiver, pen shakes in hands that shiver,
Prove it, prove you’re not redundant,
I don’t care, even though I know,
I announce with a reluctance,
Accusations of plagiarism, lack of character
Clash with inspirations and new ideas
In the by-lanes of my mind.
Be hard-working, be ambitious, be selfish,
Go easy, nice &slow, be selfless & kind,
Drop a ‘why’, before you’re like this,
And watch a dance of doubts take place
On a pile of now rotting, what was once innocent bliss
In all of this, clarity I must find
In the by-lanes of my mind.
Losing to a six-inch screen,
What do you mean?
What they think is an addiction,
Started as an interest or just a connection,
Last I remembered, they assigned a task,
Quickly build something was their ask,
Obscure, DIY, mundane
Genuine stuff that wears no mask
Not efficiency driven factory line production,
Effervescent, slow burning, WIPs, one to one banter
Through my perceived small screen addiction,
I promote everyday connection.
Ideas are trivial,
Your words a bore,
In exchange for truckloads of attention,
That we unloaded upon your door,
You must give more.
You put the cart before the horse;
In delivering this undeserved fame, is what I said;
Now, a talent, an assembly line of heroics I must find;
This is the thought racing through the by-lanes of my mind.
Categories:
lanes, i am, spoken word,
Form:
Free verse
I thank my friends for everything
I cheers to life, to demonstrations
To flights, to chess game plays
To city neon lights at the seaport
To ceviche and mangoes in my youth
To everyday life writing poetry
To sunset viewing and appreciation
To support, to love, and be loved
I'm afraid to delete your phone number
When I really get used to it calling you
But for now I just fly down memory lane.
Categories:
lanes, life, memory, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse