Best Lives Poems
The
old house
from my memories
opens to a wide porch
adorned by mom with her
loving touch.Herbs,flowers
swayed to caressing breeze
Lilies in pink, roses in blue
and bougainvilleas that
blushed in lilac hues.
Green tulsi shrubs
tended with care.
Ah! leaves that
flavored
our tea.
They
were
laced
by a
fence
with a
sweet aroma
from tendrils
curling bluebells
intertwined in mesh.
The fragrant jasmine,
she sang to them
and put one in
her wavy hair.
Spring bloomed them to full moon. Monsoons brought a divine petrichor
that made us breathe the heavenly aroma of her love. She taught me
to care for them under the Mahogany tree that enveloped them from
raging heat. She worshipped her nursery like her own kids. Every
evening, dad used to share his stories watching the rosy blush.
On moonlit nights, we stargazed lying on the grassy bed and
listened to old songs on radio. I had built a corner of three
bricks to keep my favorite books to bloom and read them
on lazy noon with cuckoo's songs breathing intermingled
scents. When we left that house, the garden lived for
someone else. My mom had wished they would care
for it like she did. I packed my old books to move on.
Now years later, far from mom, when I miss my garden
of bliss, I unpack those books that still release scents of
roses and jasmine drenched and dancing, releasing soothing
petrichor. For a love so deep shall bless me now in my kitchen
garden, confined to few flowers. That love still blooms with those
books as I inhale the fragrance of those foregone days. Like I carry
my mother's essence in everything I am, the divine garden of that heaven
from my memories and the eternal fragrance of mother gleaming, lives on.
~ To the garden where I wrote my first poem
Seared upon my soul for ever more
That break of dawn upon a summer morn
As I made my way along that rocky shore
Strewn with remnants from a raging storm
When through a rising mist of gray - so forlorn
I saw a badly broken sinking ship
With canvas wings of white so sadly torn
There beneath those majestic purple cliffs
And as that mighty fearless ocean roared
With salty breezy breath so filled with scorn
I saw it rise up from the ocean floor
Wrapped in a velvet coat so frayed and worn
A red, red, rose impaled upon a thorn
Where passion bled like rain from ruby lips
Upon a vivid memory reborn
There beneath those majestic purple cliffs
The wind - it whispered - in my ear - Lenore
As black clouds in the sky began to form
Into a face I’d never seen before
With hollow cheeks that endless tears adorned
That fell in frozen crystal drops so foreign.....
Then from those clouds his face began to slip
And I cried the tears of a woman scorned
There beneath those majestic purple cliffs
Lenore, the love he would forever mourn
That from his pen on page in words did drip
As I read his poetry and love was born
There beneath those majestic purple cliffs.
~~~~
Author: Elaine George of Canada
Written: February 28, 2011
A tribute to: Edger Allen Poe and his Lenore
His poems live deep down in the wood
down in an olde hunting lodge
They are brown as the bears head that
hangs on the wall
brown as the dark leaves that fall
silently hiding the salt lick
from fawns who come in
the twilight to call
His poetry growls and grumbles and purrs
like a cougar alone on the rim
of the canyon above the olde
hunting grounds
where he writes all his lines
like a hymn
His poems stretch out on the furs
by the fire
and tell of the storms and the waves
that tested the strength of the words
that inspire
and sent many songs to their graves
for brave are the sagas
the odes that survive
the trek through the woods to the town
and as we go home we gather them up
scattered like leaves on the ground.
Brown,yellow,red ,a few of them green
His poems are places and things we have seen
but not from the view that the truth hunter gives
deep down in the woods ,where poetry lives
I need more lives for me to live
In this universe of beauty;
I plan more days to find new ways
Of doing freedom's duty.
I need not more joy than this
For I am life's dear lover;
And when I wage to turn the page
I'd never want another.
The glorious pledge of sunny Spring
With sweet June coming after;
Bring autumn sighs and summers cries
Lost in winter's laughter.
With virgin moons and scorching noon’s
And stars of a thousand nights;
I'd need no heaven if love be given
With all its sweet delights.
There are many splendors for the eye
And such music for the ear;
The mind would reel with all to feel
And see to touch and hear.
There's many ways to spend the days
And more to do what's kind;
For bread now cast on waters past
Returns again I find.
There are such gifted souls to know
And many more to learn;
While a promise rests in earth's warm breast
And unknown stars still burn.
In six days God made all the earth
The bible is known to say;
Six lives I need to plant a seed
Of love with one for each dear day.
But sad if love should fly away
Or hide his face from me;
Six lives aren’t much if I had such
But one’s all that need be.
With unhappy May and sorry June
Sad dawns and weary night;
A sorry world through space was hurled
When love had lost her light.
After all these years, we've weathered many a heavy storm
Now my life is empty with no one to keep me warm
Bitter tears I've sadly wept, I begged you not to let me go
You couldn't look me in the eye - you didn't want to know
I thought she was my best friend, we’d been through thick and thin
She wormed her way into our lives – oh boy she took me in
Stole your heart away from me, now its no longer you and me
Today we signed the papers, and finally you are free
How do I explain to our kids that daddy no longer lives here
That you prefer that sneaky cow and your pints of beer
Yes you can say I am bitter, gave you the best years of my life
Seventeen years together, now I’m no longer your wife
My world is shattered and broken, silent tears fall like rain
Maybe in time I’ll move on when my heart's not filled with pain
18th April 2015
As Her Love Lives Forever In This Heaving Breast
Wisdom, its great truths, that treasure, my newest quest.
As her love lives forever in this heaving breast.
As sun was waiting its glorious rise
I woke again, what a shocking surprise
Room was pitch black and clock stared at me
Blinking rapidly I began to see
A thin sliver of light enter the room
Rapidly it ran away the gloom
Thus without fear I ventured to speak
As into house a happy thought did sneak
Could this new day bring my desired goal
Live again, forgetting life's heavy tolls.
Wisdom, its great truths, that treasure, my newest quest.
As her love lives forever in this heaving breast.
As sun illumination seeds the earth
Dare we mortals rise above lowly birth
Bask in the truth that pure love transcends all
There in the future awaits golden halls.
Wisdom, its great truths, that treasure, my newest quest.
As her love lives forever in this heaving breast.
Robert J. Lindley, 7-09-2022
Romanticism
Note: 1
When walking with Mother Nature, waking with new-cast dawns
Pondering mysteries, life and seeing a speckled fawn
A call arrives crying, give thanks for love and its true gifts
And blessings from above, harmony, peace that so uplifts.
Note: 2
"There is strong shadow where there is much light."
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The hutch
like everything else in this house is
crooked. A slanting hardwood floor
and the burnished ends
of an ancient table.
An ever rounding table
"a table with history" she says,
a lineage with the cut
and lineaments
of the eight-score man who built it.
The eerie, beautiful portrait
of some great- great- great-
someone-or-other
hangs so solemnly with Victorian grace
the nail has begun to bend,
but she will never fall.
One cabinet for the silver
and wine glasses
has been painted triple-white
and sunk into the wall like a safe.
Its shelves boiled clean
to hide their ignoble wood
(probably pine).
Not like the Oak left bare-
the smell and musk
of those dark hand-hewn ceiling beams
and the redolence
from somewhere behind the house
of deep-purple lilacs
growing fat like grapes.
Outside, the painted gardens swirl together
in a dizzying carousel of color and light
with short, fat brush strokes
and heavy, bold shadows;
the flowers burn from the healthy soil
replacing sand from ten years ago.
200 bags of fertilizer and now:
A nightgowned woman plays firefighter
every morning with a green hose,
keeping up with the investment.
Two bodies, two hearts and two lives
A midnight moon glistens softly
upon the Mediterranean sea
as we count stars in the heavens,
twinkling like opals on this
warm Maltese evening
Our island, a tiny gemstone
in an aqua expanse cradles us
within its silken sands,
caressing our skin, soothing our senses
as a cool breeze wafts
The melodic rhythm of the waves,
symphonic whispered echoes serenade
this secluded beach we have embraced
as our own, creating a love song
in nature’s perfect key
As we compose the lyrics, sensual verses
of stardust ecstasy in harmony with
two bodies, two hearts and two lives,
forever entwined in the passion
of this tropical paradise
Atlantis Lives
Transformed by time/ yet held in our hearts/
The truth we seek to be revealed by those who
Travelled before our time/ with hope preserved
In tomes unread/the ancient ones did tell of precious
Dreams and values deemed a right for all that passed
this way/shall once more see what poets knew to be
held fast in living truths/the strong shall share with
those most meek/ to build a life we all hold true and
seek the path as told before/pray not repeat the
wayward way that doomed before our planet
slept/fatigued by rules that vaulted greed above
the souls of you and me….
________________________________________________________
Tribute to Carolyn Devonshire’s book “Colonizing Atlantis, The New Earth”
A wonderfully amazing journey through time, which has me believin!
With a stunning introductory poem by our friend, James A. Fraser, The Highlander!
Titled “Atlantis”
Blessed are those
who love God, the
God of love and
mercy
Blessed are those
who follow one God,
who leads with
compassion showing
mercy
Cursed are those
who follow the Prince
of darkness, who fell
from Heaven dragged
down by the weight
Lesser Ego --
He who shows no Mercy
will be shown no Mercy
A Terrorist is the
Son of the Devil
a Harlot of Evil
All Lives Matter
Even the whores
of the press, the whores
of politics, and those
building mansions
profiting from war
let those who hear
with ears yet open
pause and listen to
the tender heart of
wisdom
while those darkened.
Shut off souls, will know
the Fires of Purification
So written
in the annals of
bloody history
UNDEFINED (a true story)
The morning after the total housefire, 52 years ago, when
the journalist asked the elderly man,
“How do you feel after this tragic, sudden death of your wife?”
I’d expected to hear a few sad words
in response to the intrusive question,
But his unforgettable answer changed my life,
As he stated, “I looked up ‘grief’ in the dictionary
and none of the definitions listed fit what I was feeling.”
In the on-screen, hanging silence
Created by his unexpected response,
The interview ended there, holding on to
a side shot of the old man backing away
— with his new weight from the loss
of home and wife…
As he shrugged his shoulders
While letting go a great sigh, and
To define in that last shown moment,
In universal body language,
The Un-knowing
That may wallow within us
Around our resignation to grow past difficult times,
To venture out again to
Places where things may lay as yet undefined
and, therefore, beyond control…
Where tears may for awhile be our sole recourse
To stand for the words of our sorrows
That we share kneeling in prayer for some
Divine guidance to face the further exigencies of life.
——————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 6/ 2024
Hello my friend, good day to you; I see you got my note
It's time we had a face to face about that crazy goat!
He made a mess, broke in my barn; ate up my buds and cans
And when I tried to chase him out, he kicked my bloomin' fan
Now see here Mr. Farmin' Man, I know you from way back
But if you don't restrain that goat - I'll stretch his scrawny neck!
Me and that goat been fightin' long; he thinks he won this time
So I'll show him today for sure that I'm still in my prime
That goat won't get the better of me; I'll trap him with some hay
I'll lay a path straight to the barn and lead him in that way
Oh darn! He's smarter than I thought, he ate up to the door
He stopped and turned then shook his tail like he don't want no more
Aww shucks - there's got to be a way to trap that crazy goat
He's found new ways into my barn - I'll send another note
This time though Mr. Farmin' Man, I will not shout and wail
I'm goin to git the Sheriff now and throw that goat in jail!
It can be an orchard with peach trees against patches of blue
as they swerve downhill and meet the foaming sea,
see him capture an indelible moment after
moment until he's amazed by that wonder
to have captured a breathtaking view...
which will be eternally frozen in his memory.
A photographer lives what he feels,
wouldn't it be a celebrity on high heels,
or the most gorgeous child cuddling a puppy
that she saw shivering when snow fell in February?
Didn't he anxiously climb that remote, sun-sunken mount rising in the East...
to find tiger cubs suckling from their mother as she watched a flock of sheep?
I’m Peter the Plesiosaurus
My clan sings like whales in a chorus
My flippers and gills
Can give children thrills
So open your minds, don’t ignore us
*Japanese fishermen found an alleged plesiosaurus which was thought to have
vanished during the Jurassic period. Others believe the Loch Ness monster is a
plesiosaurus. You can see a picture of them at
http://hariscena.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/plesiosaurus_lebensbild.jpg
As the winter of our lives vicariously arrives,
We think of the reasons why what we are survives;
We contemplate on things that happened long ago,
And I remember exactly all that I know.
It's what happened yesterday or five minutes before,
That deplete my memory and that's hard to ignore;
For people look at me with a questioning look,
When I ask where it was I last placed that book.
I'm loaded with groceries when I leave the store,
But my purse is back there behind the door;
And when I get to the car my keys can't be found,
So I bite my lip and don't make a sound.
I write notes that tell me what I have to do,
And end up putting my right foot in the left shoe;
I'm afraid to turn and look in the mirror,
For what I see shakes me with shock and fear.
I'm older but wiser than I used to be,
Which may be consolation if this has to be me;
But in spite of grey hair there's a twinkle in my eyes,
I'm still a young person; it’s just me in disguise.