Best Lapses Poems
I walked beyond the ease of youth,
and refused the prosperity
given to an ignorant mind.
Over years you revealed the truth;
every heart morbidly aligned,
leaves nothing seen with clarity,
lapses into vulgarity.
Utter disgust seeps out of me,
spiritually I now see.
Convicted a past void and dead,
carved sand dunes of Indian red.
The one way back, God's call will sing
a new impassioned coloring,
it will always cost everything.
In every season of a loss,
get back up to lean on The Cross.
Written in the books of Heaven,
three hidden measures of leaven.
Belief begins to underwrite
the end of sorrows — have to trust,
to endure and finish the fight,
hanging onto your word, I must.
Your face is not familiar
but please. just be kind.
I know that I should know you
but there's a problem with my mind.
I see the photos you brought me.
pictures of me and you
and so I believe you when you say
you're someone that I knew.
But those are pictures, not memories.
You're still a stranger to me.
I have these memory lapses.
I wish that you could see.
I would love to hug and greet you
like the old friend you must be.
When I see the hope in your eyes,
it really saddens me.
My world gets smaller every day
as less and less remains.
Please don't look so sad.
I didn't mean to cause you pain.
I love the photos that you brought,
I love the stories you tell.
But my memories have all but gone
and I'm in this living hell.
Your face is not familiar
so please, just be kind.
I know that I should know you
but there's a problem with my mind.
An hour before time, they put her through the motions.
Shoving and pulling her strings adding oil and suntan lotion.
Hot and humid still shining in candid spirit she professes
in music, a monotone but in finesse, a tune nonetheless.
Of her welcome song intrinsic in me but to her handlers, in blase
only the mere task of steering and roping in tense power play.
Embarking though marred by obvious signs of abuse and neglect.
Her rolling in elation disguised the slippery entrance and my regret.
Drivers accommodating cramped spaces as directed, gently to fill.
Opting to maitain serenity as they in vain, placate her iron will.
Do I hear her rising blood pulses or lack of joy in welcome thereof?
No, just the sound of tumultuous creaks and human smell
of perfume, tainted sweat and punjent oil leaks let off.
Disgruntled impatience of mere sailors but of her, not a peep.
Standing tall, holding firm a class of her own as she let sweep.
Riding the waves in style directing me to the destiny I must keep.
On and on she rides tantalising the waves as they foam at the peaks.
Such insight when she lapses into a lullaby putting me to sleep.
I return to a friend who knows well to serve, to ferry me ashore.
Another blissful time with her as the sea beckons for us to explore.
She is faithful, a useful companion with its own metallic commodore.
Sailing majestically forever a classy lady, our very own Lady Samoa.
(N.B Lady Samoa is our Inter-Island Ferry)
Across Earthen Sky And Mystical Realms
And where was the light of truth and spirit?
Racing hot, chariots wheels in fires.
The Light sublime, flees when one but nears it
its glowing path vanished as it retires.
Across earthen sky and mystical realms
gold eagle flies into kingdoms not born.
Such breath of awe, rebels and overwhelms
the soul that finds its deep solitude torn.
Did Greek Gods dare warn of man's futile quests
with deceptive hearts, minds loaded with greed
If in a pure giving heart one invests,
comes forth the fruits of a heavenly seed.
Fruits of paradise, grow in thoughts sublime
man's quest should be more than seeking more time.
R. J. Lindley,
Dec 11th, 1977
Note: Excuse me for rarely posting new poems. I find it so hard to write much with my mother in such a serious condition ....
Once I could easily write ten poems a day but now for weeks its a hard struggle to even write one..
Even my one a day poems for my darling wife have suffered lapses.
As has my commenting to all my friends and fellow poets here.
Special apology to my great friends the Duggans as my lapses are
not from laziness but from melancholy, a progressing forgetfulness(ALZ) and blues.
For poetry, I'll need to see
Let the battle of switches begin
From the wall switch to the light
"Which one is it?" never ends!
An aging poet, past my prime
My memory now is not acute
In truth it has been in decline
Ever since I popped the chute!
What's next, will I forget my pants?
So many lapses, cause me to fret
A date, a word,a meal, a hat
Who knows what next, I might..........?
In the spring I was a hungry scholar,
caged ambition chained to life's cold machines,
striving to grow more vigorous, taller,
prepared to succeed by most any means.
On the cusp of summer, I make amends,
forgiving myself for lapses and loss,
pretending the actions my being spends,
are worth something more than transient dross.
I cannot fool you if I can't convince,
myself that fair destiny holds her hand,
aloof, that somehow this game will make sense,
that I can someday take pride in my stand.
O dazzling spring, I could be anything!
O summer, how humble the anthem I sing.
14 August 2016
He sits on the edge of the hill
his abode from a society
that shattered his dreams
he can hear the echo of thunder
in the valley below
see bombs of color burst all around
as he looks for a place to take cover
his mind is cocked
and fully loaded
he knows the constitution well
the second amendment
his right to bear arms
and his hopes of survival
he sees the tallies of bodies
of those that have fallen before him
as he crawls on the ground
like a lioness on the prowl
unaware the war has ended
through dissociation
of past and present
he sees the same scene
over and over in his mind
mines exploding,
soldiers imploding
planes offloading
guns reloading
his thoughts overloading
he lapses back
to the current moment
as the grand finale ends
and silence falls
the only sensual touch he knows
is from his faithful dog
who remains by his side
he pets his head
towers to his feet
as he wipes a tear
from his face
july 6 2019
Another Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
In a dream I saw myself in a bright room, sitting and writing down a poem
The experience was temporary; I soon returned to a normal frame of mind
I felt another presence besides myself, suddenly I was awoken by a loud hum
As I search in my head what was it I said, and wondering what I might find
I was sure about this vision I had, the humming noise? An oscillating dry fan
Feeling outside normal perception of space and time for a cold spell
I was the transient, the other conscious in a dream that seemed had no plan
In a waking state of consciousness still my soul is clouded, and here I dwell
No recollection or recognizing my true nature or of my ignorance
Unaccepting this illusion of life instead of its reality, certain that I must
not condemn me to suffering and deadly defiance,
I attempt to escape the life cycle of the universe, in this I trust
A life of austerity, devote myself to seeking knowledge
Unattach myself to any possession which result in greed
Achieving liberation by spirituality this I pledge
and eventually achieve a liberated state, indeed
I will not incriminate myself but become a good friend, a giver
And not search for another roadway another dead end
Time lapses, searching ends where the narrow road runs into a river
Flowing as one with a body of water, an experience to transcend
And if the microorganisms might be killed in every breath I’ve taken
by the immune system, discipline will be my task
When they call me lunatic when no finds of a scientific explanation
I’ll show that it is wise to keep and wear the surgical mask
The fundamental aim to perfect our soul essential, it took eons to rise above
Speak the truth if it is pleasant or remain silent if the truth is painfully lumen
All has a living soul in them, and all should be treated with respect and love
This can seem like a dream, and in my dreams, I am only human
This urge to exhale without restraint
into the hardness of days heightens;
my own center accepting those lapses
when my frail body readily perishes
amidst dreary seasons :
yes, I am weary;
How mournful the thieving of dear life rips,
as I blame the ticks which pluck hours
from rails of courage, from immense grit...
am I simply existing or prevailing?
Yet, precious moments past relieve time's woe,
that a fullness of seasons once held
me beyond earthly limitations...
now, the purpose of existence
eludes my soul ...where uncertainty
becomes part of tested faith.
the arc of this air rising like smoke
amidst the nival flora of hills
trails against gun-powder skies
with barrels drawn my mind pivots
in the anguish of yesteryear's pain
i cower like this sun beneath clouds
unwilling to lift the veil of eyes
and see the crimson splatter awaken
in the momentary flashes elapsing
through triggered little thoughts
that hold you in the corners of my mind
somewhat confined by my pacific soul
but still able to break free of these chains
sometimes i see you there
pointing more than fingers
and i choke on the weight of hands
pressing against my throat
as i try to swallow down these tears
sometimes i hear your uttered rage
in the shots of darkness that echo
along the halls of lonely walls
where bullets once shattered my heart
i still see the fear in my eyes as reflections stare back
in momentary lapses of this wretched love
that left me live yet die in its hands
January 13, 2020
(aching)
We no longer move in normal ways
and all this because of Covid 19
I no longer watch the news these days
Each day I pray for a simple cure
but as the numbers climb I realize
prayer is the only way to procure
Time lapses and we are losing ground
wish I could see a miracle or two
perhaps it would help me feel sound
Guardian angels are prepping their wings
preparing for their journey on earth
if I cup my ear, I can hear them sing
Hope is the only thing worth a keeping
in this world of uncertain terms
we got each other so lets keep steeping
Soak in the Faith as if it were a straw
we are al so very vulnerable
and none of us are above the law
Life is a gift so we shouldn't assume
never take any one for granted
hold on to each other while in loom
Thank the stars above that our still here
and even if you are afraid
be brave, and never give in to fear.
April 16, 2021
Sponsor: Brother Jacob
Contest Name: Just stating the obvious
At this very moment coolies screamed, ‘train',
We scampered, packing up our bags and bales;
A long-awaited train’s at times a bane,
But this one turned a boon, such were the tales.
An English gentleman hailed our hero
From his carriage, and we parted to go
Our diverse ways—to our cattle-class seats.
There was no chance to know who that man was,
Nor could more light upon his tale be lit;
Indeed, never-ending may prove some pause.
Some truths, some lies of life lie ever so;
Maybe, he took us as credulous fools.
A painful nerve, if anxious, seldom cools,
Some truths and lies forever curious grow.
Perchance the man minted fun at our cost,
And damsels in distress lay buried, lost.
_____________________________________________
Narrative |01.04.2024|
Note: A poetic translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s story in Bengali: Kshudhaarto Paashaana, divided in I to XIV parts, largely in blank verse that lapses into rhymes along with its twists and turns. The story is known to have happened during Tagore’s stay at Shaahibaug palace in Ahmadabad, the nearby river Sabarmati becoming river Suista in the story.
A steady heartbeat thumping in my ears,
Lost in my thoughts, the world around me a blur.
No longer do I feel the pain of living, no more tears.
But, when the music's gone, horrid things start to occur.
With no beat, no voice, no bass, my world collapses.
Cold and trembling, I find it hard to breathe.
Desperate to hear melodies again, wanting to be safe.
Gone is my confidence, struggling to live, happiness lapses.
Gone is my shield to protect me from the comments of seethe;
Their words cold and cutting have me under strafe.
Darkness steals the day’s fading sunlight
as the moon opens his bright eye above.
Stars begin to spray the ebony night
that grips the still earth like a glove.
Streetlight burns through curtained window
casting shadows along my painted wall.
Exhausted eyes commence to grow
but laggard body tends to stall.
Body at last yields to cool sheets
as exhausted mind transcends overhead.
Eventually vigor within depletes
feeling as though I’m living... dead.
Springs beneath start to creek and move
as strong weight engulfs a motionless stiff.
Core sinks deep into mattress groove
as eyes search for something to biff.
Time lapses; frozen body fights to free
resisting an opposing force unknown.
Managed to scream let me be, let me be
before drifting off to sleep on my own.
6/2/13
Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Yesterday's joys come flooding back,
memories that stir the senses
that leave me bereft for their lack.
Yet still their joy punches a whack,
that set a stir in my pulses.
Yesterday's joys come flooding back.
And so I gather up my sack,
full to brim with loving senses
that leave me bereft for their lack.
Joyous feeling my heart do rack
once more loving without lapses.
Yesterday's joys come flooding back.
No longer dressed in dark black,
I, now leave behind all senses
that leave me bereft for their lack.
Stuffed full of joyful glimpses,
my sack holds passionate senses.
Yesterday's joys come flooding back
that leave me bereft for their lack.
written 11/02/2014
contest: pick a title
I chose Yesterday's Joys