Best Leeway Poems
GHETTO GOSPEL
BY STREET CRIES
ABANDON BUILDINGS HOUSES WITH NO PARENTS ALL CHILDREN
READY AND WILLING TO BE PROGRAMED BY THE TELEVISION
GUNS WITH PRECISE PRECISION
PAIN PILL GOT US COMATOSE LIVING
KIDS MAKING ADULT DECISIONS
TO SURVIVE IS THE MISSION
WITCH EQUALS TO SENSELESS KILLING DRUG DEALING
LIFE IN PRISON
NO RESPECT FOR THE LIFE THAT'S GIVEN
PEOPLE GETTING RICH OF HUMAN TRAFFICKING
SATANIC RITUALS CELEBRITIES PRACTICING
OPEN YOUR EYES AND SEE WHATS HAPPENING
ARE WE A SLAVE TO THE WAY SOCIETY GOT US ACTING TODAY
ARE WE PURPOSELY LEAD ASTRAY
CLONE MEAT APPROVED BY THE F.D.A
VOICES BEING SILENCED THAT HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY
WE SEEM TO BE RUNNING A RACE WITH NO RELAY
STUCK IN A PLACE WITH NO LEEWAY
TRYING TO OVER COME OBSTACLES
THANK YOU FOR READING MY GHETTO GOSPEL
GOODNIGHT
Wow! Please do count yourself
exceedingly blessed!
You need not meet their requisites,
to pass a friendship test.
They allow you a fragrant, flowered
leeway.
It’s not the ice cold, rock hard,
pavement of “their”way!
Respect means giving your sister
or brother, expressive room.
Not sealing them like death, in a “my
ideas only, allowed” tomb.
Friends, we seem to think, are there for
us to hurt?
You will feel their absence terribly, when
the friendship bubble, you burst!
11/18/2022
Lament Of A Former Dark Soul
I was: once darken shadow of a real man
Those I met soon found me so very bad
Like false gold in a rusty, shallow pan
Time eventually revealed me an evil cad
I was: the partaker of my own laments
A demon hellbent on satisfying my lust
Broken down, scarred covered in dents
Charming for sure but not one to trust
I was: a mist that wraps and engages
Smooth talker, master of the love arts
A dark, evil force when in my rages
Ripping many kind, loving hearts apart
I am: now an angel that found the Light
A prayer offered, the blessing found me
Seeking truth and mercy, all thats right
Away from darkness my soul did then flee
I am: a voice that cries to be so kind
Once wretched spirit giving out pain
Light brought truth invading my mind
That darkness, never shall return again
I was: once darken shadow of a real man
Those I met soon found me so very bad
Like false gold in a rusty, shallow pan
Time eventually revealed me an evil cad
Robert J. Lindley, 04-27-2015
Note : A sinner was I. Not as bad as my write portrays(poetic leeway) but
bad enough to see my former self in true light.
Don't blame me, my muse forced this one out of me!
I hope I did not shatter any images of my kind, and generous
self...
Christmas Day
Pa threw all my new toys away
Now my friends won’t want to come and play
Cos I was naughty yesterday
Suddenly
All the gifts disappeared from ‘neath the tree
Now the carpet’s bare for all to see
Pa snapped at me so suddenly
Why I had to drown our old cat
I cannot say
She fell in the loo so I flushed
the cat awayyyyyyyyyyy
Christmas Day
Pa threw all my new toys away
Santa delivered them on his red sleigh
But when Pa is mad, there’s no leeway
Purely Fictional write inspired by hearing Yesterday on the radio
09-11-17
.
We've been there, so we understand
when love-slain pairs
pledge endless, fearless love to which
nothing compares.
And all that brave, romantic
exaggeration
that smacks of the lovers' paranoid
delusion.
Theirs is not a nice lie, only
a misstatement.
They just can't help but gush with
much overstatement.
But they're sincere in their starry-eyed
intention,
while swept away by cloyingly sweet
emotion.
So when we hear them promise
to love each other
beyond eternity, till hell freezes
over,
let's allow them some leeway for such
hyperbole.
Their words, like ours, are touching,
but really silly!
.
Down I go.
On the paths of sheol again.
The rewards of death; my hands regain.
The wheels of the plow of righteousness; i forgot to maintain.
Being led into the desert,
I stagger like one under the influence.
All the while blinded by momentary pleasures.
A walk through the arid land with cold lifeless walls as my compass.
*Surely I have lost it*
These words my mind kept a fix on.
Regurgitating it while the devil's counsel slowly seeped in.
A 'sound advice', like Job's wife, the devil gave.
Urging me to totally quit.
A sweet ballad he played into my ears.
Telling me to embrace hedonism as my new religion.
For I would surely fail in living a perfect life.
He gave me examples.
Yes.
*Your righteousness is as s filthy rag before God*
The accuser of the brethren quoted this scripture for me.
I countered.
Reminding him that self righteousness accounted as sin before God.
Telling him of the uptmost essence of the Jesus's death and grace in salvation.
"No one is perfect"
These words the devil said in retort.
Quoting a popular quip which gave leeway for people to sin.
In despair,
I tried to counter.
For my Christian walk was filled with inconsistent up and down moments.
Like a touchlight with a failing battery,
The light of Christ within me flickered.
HE then came back.
Like a sharp clack amidst deep silence,
I heard His words.
That piercing word of life that erupted joyful tears in me.
For I was a washed out version of my former self.
*My grace is sufficient for you.*
*You have an advocate before the father who pleads your case.*
These words Jesus spoke to me in reply to the devil's condemnation.
*Look unto Jesus the author and finisher of your faith...*
This charge He gave me to cleanse me of all adulteration.
*There is therefore now no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus*
This fact He quoted to free me from all allegations.
*Seek ye first the kingdom of God and its righteousness...*
These words He gave to guide my future aspirations.
Once more I cling to the cross.
An abandonment of my fling with death.
A willing stone in the sling of Christ Jesus.
Ready to earn new trophies to bring to His feet.
Laying them down as He calls me a king too, being a joint heir with Jesus.
#Bashorun
As I rush past the dastardly faces of those in pain,
I begin to ponder if it were possible to die here,
Surrounded by disease and loneliness the decrepit weep under those in control,
There daily dose of detrimental disruption,
The toxins streaming through their inadequate veins,
I slowly emerge from the empty corridor,
Hearing the woeful cries of those who are whining,
I have reached his bedside,
He looks up at me in such a way that cannot be compared,
I place my frigid hand upon his,
And I feel no warmth just the mulled sense of death in the air,
I glace at the tubes running from his weakened limbs,
His ever-growing fear racing through his diminished heart,
“Look after your mother, Noah”
A frail voice is heard,
I seek remorse from the dying man’s eyes,
How could I possible fill the leeway this man has kept between himself and my mother,
He is a constant trustee to my mother,
And a shoulder to bawl upon,
He himself knows he is approaching the inevitable,
His eyes wonder around one last time seeking a sense of fulfilment,
They soon lock on to my youthful eyes,
The diminishing hazel stained irises are slowly weltering away,
Along with my Gramps silver lined soul,
“Can you still have last words even though you are someone that isn’t well known?”
I chuckle with a teardrop flowing down my caressed cheek bone,
His hand lifts to my cherub like cheeks,
A final stroke of my now blessed face,
Only now do I notice the continuous beeps of machines is no more,
Just a flat line of sorrow.
It's not footprints that we should be talking about -
They’re personal – my footprints, bold and giving,
Which shape me, make me me - who I am:
They're not Jesus’s, the king of living.
Your personal history partly determines your life,
Helps you, or makes you want to overcome,
Makes you want to become who you want to be,
Because I'm more than just my history’s sum.
The Jesus that we know is a universality:
Communal, all-knowing and immortal;
But that I evolved and am part of humankind,
Gives me purpose and a rather large portal.
Individual responsibility makes the criminal weep:
His actions are only his, there's no leeway;
It gives the success story her satisfied smile,
At past determination in her disbelieving day.
Existentialism posits we each exist without divinity,
As self-sufficient entities with meaning as your call;
Supernature strokes the ego, fondles the pride,
So just believe in atheism and be relational to all.
In Mary Stevenson’s Footprints poem,
Jesus carries you, with his footprints in yours;
But I think my role-models, physios and teachers,
Along with myself, carried me in theirs!
In time we find light that was not so much a remembrance of character void,
or a psalm of the heterogeneous unlimited focus-
or stance of staving off the news,
in the leeway there is no set mountain,
or even the scuttled movement otherwise that allows the courteous to emote wisely,
topping out of something takes no drawbridge,
sleeping softly is no more calm than a stereo-graph printing interstellar onto a platform,
finally without the fives at nines going awry for our teller to debunk the checks we saw came late,
I hope for the favorite thing to be what doesn't unmake us-
but stays traveling down an endless moon at noon,
delicacy not,
rectitude forward-
yet always in knots,
as we know we speak the language of our derailment of pot.
First thing in the morning give thanks for seeing
another Glorious day. Then smile and be on your
way. Ask for guidance if your skies are gray then
Be a Blessing for someone that's in dismay. Now
bad is sad but if you let it get you down you've been
had.
It's all up to you so if you let bad choose you loose
Now your heart, if you let the Lord steer you will be
filled with cheer, then go do something good like
volunteer, you might even work up a blister but it's
well worth it to help your sister.
It could even be a bit painful, but you could be helping
an Angel who's undercover, posing as your brother
For we all need help as quietly as it's kept. That
will give you leeway to look to the sky and say
Hey, The Making Of A GOOD DAY.
Form:
As sure as the sun will rise each morn,
And the flowers of all hues will bloom,
So will love find you soon,
For there's no escaping love!
You may hide in the toil of the day
And cower behind the veil of the night,
You may try every which way you can
But love will surely find your way,
For there's no escaping love!
Sure as the stars shine in the heavens,
And the moon crowns the nightly sky,
So will love find you on the sly--
Bright eyes agleam in playful glance,
For there's no escaping love!
Sooner or later you'll be smitten,
Beseech or beg you'll be bitten,
And lo! fall head over heels
for a boor or one who heals,
For there's no escaping love!
So take love head on,
Learn her wanton ways,
Her teases and taunts;
Roll with the punches
any which way you can,
Duck and dodge,
There are no loose ends,
No leeway,
She's hard as a rock,
No, she's not soft clay,
Ah, Love! try as you may,
There's simply no escaping love!
For Justin Bordner "Love Justice" contest
You've been there so you understand
when love-slain pairs
pledge endless, fearless love to which
nothing compares,
and all that brave, romantic
exaggeration
that smacks of the lovers' paranoid
delusion.
Theirs is not a nice lie, only
a misstatement;
they just can't help but gush with
much overstatement,
but they're sincere in their excessive
intention
while swept away by cloyingly sweet
emotion.
So, when you hear them promise
to love each other
beyond eternity, till hell
freezes over,
just allow some leeway for such
hyperbole;
their words, like yours, are touching, but
really silly !
Blissfully unaware of the DANGER in the GARDEN
Flowers bloomed, blossomed and burgeoned the big way
But in vicinity of mankind, there is no leeway
Public in Park Picked, Plucked, Pulverizing Plethora of Petals.
18.12.2015
For 4 lines - Poetry Contest by Silent One
Old And Holding Aces
I am old, youth lost does so deeply hurt
no more whiskey drinking brawls,
now slow and tired, feeling older than dirt
I no longer chase the pretty gals at all.
I am old, bad knees and snow on my head
no more , wild nights out dancing,
watch late news, now fall asleep instead
gone forever are my days out prancing.
I am old, can see the doorway awaiting
slow stepping my way over there,
Love-life over, no more sweet mating
I now can only sadly look and stare.
I am old, just damn glad to have now made it!
Do I now, hold onto last two aces or do I trade it?
Robert J. Lindley. 08-21-2015
Note- Sonnet mixture of truth , humor and
a sad realty!
Poetic leeway employed in the line about -
"Love-life over, no more sweet mating"
As trust me, thankfully that is not problem at all.
(Continued from Bill's side 10“)
"Never mind that. I know you well enough to know you know what you’re doing.
Just stick with me and keep me informed especially on this one. I’ll give you as much
leeway as I can. I got a hunch this case is going to be rough in more ways than
one. Get me? I’ve been around a while. I didn’t come with this morning’s milk. The
Captain and I already been discussing this one with the Commissioner. This
vigilante thing is dangerous and already out of control.”
Bill still didn’t know where this was going but at least so far he hadn’t been
demoted to walking a beat. His hope and nerve was picking up. This Griggs guy
was tough and had a rep for no bull. “Yeah, that’s wha ….”
“Just shut up and listen, Sgt. Lipton. The Captain doesn’t want any part of that
vigilante case. He wants a good record for an upcoming political agenda. That’s no
secret. He doesn’t want anything to do with this case because he’s afraid it won’t
get solved and his record will be stained with it.
You just stick to what you’re supposed to be doing and keep your ear to the
ground. From experience I know that vigilante.. if it’s just one,... isn’t going to work
out his issues in just one precinct. Keep in touch with what’s going on while you’re
on and off duty. If you got to check something out off the cuff, you are to ask me
first. Get it? Mums the word to the Captain. If he hears anything about our talk I’ll
deny every bit of it and you’ll be left holding the bag. Do you get my drift here Sgt.?
……… … .. …. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No sir, I just…uh …yes sir I mean ….I get your drift.”
“Good , I enjoyed our conversation…now haven’t you got someplace to go? It’s
knock off time. I believe your up for mounty duty tomorrow.”
“Yes, I believe I am. Is there anything else Lt Griggs?”
“Yes, close the door on your way out.” Bill took his hat up off his knee, stood up and
walked the three steps to the door when Lt Griggs said without looking up from his
paper work on his desk, “Bill…?
“Yes sir?”
“ Glad to have you back“, he said with a more relaxed tone, “Now get outa here.”
And he went back to his case file.
Bill smiled, went to his office, traded his ball cap in for his Stetson and left the
building mulling over what the Lt had and had not told him.
(to be cont on Richard Pickett poetry site)