Best Lusts Poems
American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf
Thirsty for red moon, its sacred beams and eternal pull
howling-out to speak to this dark and blind world, without fear;
Your echoes enter, soulful bones of insightful red man
birthing growing urges to return and run truly free,
falling upon ancient trails, foraging for lean red meat
race with red-heart's deepest desires into widest abyss,
embrace our mother earth, unified into one body.
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
Standing proud, atop very high and lonesome mountain crag
winds caressing one of Nature's most beautiful creatures;
Notes calling loud, that give night's resplendent moon pregnant pause
in that silent and golden moment, where man so trembles,
for it is then knowledge comes, therein sings of true freedom
having no need for dreams of blind men or dark worldly lusts,
speaking to pack below, mirroring its deep felt tones.
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
Alas! Fate and Fury- rage combine and oft delivers
soul-crushing, black-handed cuts from darkened realms far below;
Wherein has justice overcame Fate's most savage attacks
when hatred and greed both conspired to not be defeated,
in infliction of war's sorrows and deadly destruction
while parading under banner of Light and compassion,
tales of malevolent beasts, benevolently destroyed!
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
R. J. Lindley,
Feb 2nd, 1973
Poetry-- Subject Nature, Wolf, Amerian Indian And Injustice...
Old note: My mother's father was Native American. I gained
great insight into the life of Native Americans from words
he spoke to me. Since his death, I have read many books that
gave even more historical knowledge on the subject. Finding
the ones that did not deliberately cover up the savage acts
carried out by "whites" against Native Americans.
Pained piano keys compose
a chorus-less composition.
Melancholic moods crave
to sway back and forth
like bluebells and lilies dancing,
when kissed by the morning breeze.
Forlorn flute flirts with sympathetic tunes,
echoing vivid vibrations,
piercing layers of a forgotten heart.
Somber undertones seduce the soul,
as it struggles to swim,
silently immersing in sorrowful symphonies.
Yet the orchestra is mute - slumbering
in the ruins of unfinished musings.
Ignorant to the heartbroken harp
that lusts to strum romantic melodies,
but stands in sincere elegance,
decaying as dust suppresses its emotions.
Lyrics float by, searching for a home,
but remain unheard in the absence of the viola.
Its loss has become an enemy
to violin strings, crippled from cries
yearning for their cello comrades.
Alone their music does not co-exist
and falls upon deaf ears.
Music has no providence,
yet the mind is lost in its province.
Searching for soothing serenades
that softly sail ships towards
shores strumming sweet strings.
Sometimes harmonies struggle to enlighten in solitude,
but when composed together, their lyrics live forever.
There is a sacred place, beyond the deep blue skies
while living, we cannot go, and where birds cannot fly
a vast, mysterious realm, not meant for human eyes
where strong forces gather, waging war from on high.
A war for the hearts and the minds of our souls
by the enemy of God, that dark serpent of old
who lusts for men's lives, even though he well knows
that Christ's work is done and He sits on His Throne.
The prince of this world does not want us to see
that the power of God can transform you and me
living Word, that can change us within, Spirit breathed
like those birds soaring high, lifting hearts when we read.
There is a place far away, where birds cannot go
yet someday, the saints who believe Him will know
that great haven of heaven from Christ will be shown
a bright new tomorrow, where the river of life flows.
Written 2015
lately, i have been in this female mood
for some kind of abandon, that
which exhales the tigress fire
out of my lungs digging the veins
from a week's' routine movements
pruned to the barest of a payroll’s droll…
antiseptic cubicles dictate the rags of
chlorine-infected lunch where rooms
i strut around have nothing except
robotic people, same rye snacks, basins
of expired coffee and files of schizoid
folio..
just outside, the sky coughs
of gas masks rendering a paper bag
of humanity to suffocate on clanking bones
along claustrophobic subways: such a
hemorrhaging day waiting for 5pm
to hiss, halt ,and heave…
i need to dance with the arms of a
jazzy moon fondling my back and
whistling the tunes of recklesness
when all but the spirit lusts for is just a slice
of raw breaths spiraling into tangy
punches of rockstar blues... spare me the cranky
claws of a friday so sore; i alight like
a feline dressed in black lace with cabaret wings,
feathers splattered on glitzy cobblestones...
voluptuous legs hot and wild sniffing sultry
lavender scent of friday night’s parade;
and the band notes howl, free like me.
Carol Eastman's Your Favorite Poem
by nette onclaud
Abandon Dead Trails And Thy Sybarite Lust
If Nature's earthen-fires thy bosom holds
and thy heart's countenance mind's eye thus sees;
life serves best those adventurously bold,
walking worn paths, resting under its trees.
Seek in truth the great beauty God has made
the opulence of colors in blue skies;
let not dark, thy human empathy degrade
to sorrows that in turn, love's joys deny.
Instead, denude kings of their purple cloaks
and the golden castles they have stolen;
take time to visit regale forest oaks,
ride the rapids of rivers swift and swollen.
Abandon dead trails, thy Sybarite lusts
in Nature's awe, seeking heart there adjusts.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-18-2018
Sonnet, ( Nature's Great Gifts And Its Awesome Healing Powers)
Upon the twinkling of silent twilight,
tranquil thoughts set adrift,
infatuated in elysian reflection.
The mind wanders,
observing and listening - roaming;
avoiding confusing crossroads
leading into chimerical phantasms.
Overwhelmed by the darkness,
fervent fingers tremble,
yearning to bleed streams of serenity.
Suppressed soul whispers,
exposing sacred secrets,
releasing the mind from its chains.
Ink flows translating the meraki;
revealing a passionate poetic soul.
Empathetic emotions drain,
yet the soul desires to venture further.
Thirsting to dance forever in euphoric eunoia.
Meraki eruptions have no fear that
each drop may exhaust the pen.
For invictus ink is a valiant virtuoso,
calmly conquering consciousness
to drift towards selcouth land.
Every muse lusts to manifest in meraki,
yet it is no miracle - it's a natural phenomena.
The Silent One
27 November 2017
Meraki: The soul, creativity, or love put into something; the essence of yourself that is put into your work. This Greek word doesn't have an English counterpart.
Chimerical: Created by unchecked inspiration; fantastically visionary or highly improbable.
Elysian: Creative or beautiful; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect.
Eunoia: Beautiful thinking. Shortest English word that contains all five vowels.
Selcouth: Unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvellous. An Old English word and can be found in Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe from 1814.
Invictus is Latin for “unconquered.
I am immeasurably honoured to have been invited to collaborate with as fine a poet as Robert Lindley. Our first collaborative process has been very quick, very instinctive and very natural. Thank you, Robert, for a very rewarding joint venture.
As I Plot Just One More Day
A collaboration with Robert Lindley
11th October 2018
Desperate as the waking at blackest dawn
I seek only moments within eternity,
for the day upon me is long
and I do not ponder its end.
Forever the blackened door beckoned
in tones of promising delights
who can know what lies in its beyond
perhaps a cure for the world's pains
I walk halls leading to its hurts
echoes that resounded as if playing
with no malice, future screams at my hesitation
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day.
Decadent as the lust of gloomiest noon
I am immersed in the consummation
and overpowered in the contest, yet hopeful
that still I may embrace eternity's devious charm.
Never ending cycles eat into a wanton soul
they are all too familiar
and their boredom becomes a chain
a rasp in my dying breath
I hear its rhythm and each echo speaks
O' that parade of desires hides deep within
as the dark expands its borders
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day.
Dire as the languishing at darkening dusk
I seek an eternity of moments
to sate my lust and to quell my rage,
to forgive and to be forgiven.
As I Plot Just One More Day
Desperate as the waking at blackest dawn
I seek only moments within eternity,
for the day upon me is long
and I do not ponder its end
Forever that blackened door beckoned
in tones of promising delights
who can know what lies in its beyond
perhaps a cure for the world's pains
I walk halls leading to its hurts
echoes that resounded as if playing
with no malice, future screams at my hesitation
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day
Decadent as the lust of gloomiest noon
I am immersed in the consummation
and overpowered in the contest, yet hopeful
that still I may embrace eternity's devious charm
Never ending cycles eat into a wanton soul
they are all too familiar
and their boredom becomes a chain
a rasp in my dying breath
I hear its rhythm and each echo speaks
O' that parade of desires hides deep within
as the dark expands its borders
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day
Dire as the languishing at darkening dusk
I seek an eternity of moments
to sate my lust and quell my rage,
to forgive and to be forgiven
A Robert Lindley and Lawrence Sharp collaboration
10-11-2018
Poetry Note-
I am very pleased to have found a new and fantastic writing partner
that presents fantastic free verse poetry in its top form. This our first collaboration was a true pleasure and great joy to create. We both found ourselves in tune, as we worked to present this dark free verse poetry, that depicts the darker side of this world, past wayward youthful experiences and a look at what even today our youth face in this unforgiving and to oft deceptive, corrupt and tempting world that rewards darkness, and giving in to wanton desires.
The magnificent verses my writing partner contributed to the creation of this piece sincerely awe me- as I am learning of the depths, beauty, great and high artistic value in creating and reading free verse poetry, Both my thanks and my appreciation come from a sincere and very appreciative heart.
IF
If you can help others fulfill their dreams
And your heart ever seeks far greater Light
If you hold true, evade life tempting schemes
And with honor, you sleep in peace at night;
If better Life and true Love are your goals
And every day you give your very best
If you reject dark lusts, their heavy tolls
And try to give others their needed rest:
If your family, its love is your rock
Your spirit will dance with dearest of hope
If you do not wither from life's hard knocks
And you endeavor to expand mind's scope;
If kindness, is steady shield you embrace
And in its warmth, your soul chooses to bask
If you find courage's truth, is no disgrace
And ever seek to learn more when you ask:
If you embrace Nature, its awesome gifts
Seek sanctuary in its sweet abode
If gentleness is your key that uplifts
And you reject evil you have been sold;
If in this life, you hold your head up high
And wake each new morn with thankful delight
If heart's sincere love you do not deny
You will find its blessings forever right!
If in times of sorrow you dare not fold
And with brave heart face darkest of sorrows
If years flow, you find you are very old
And you can face shortness of tomorrows;
If your past brings with it a certain pride
And your memories hold that Life was sweet
If from Light's shining truths you do not hide
Heaven's gate, your loved ones you will greet!
10-23- 2018
SilentOne's, 'In response to IF....' contest
First place awarded....
Love Was Sent, Treasure That Healed Two Crushed Hearts,
A Collaboration with Susan Ashley
Life shattered, soul crushed, another one has perished
once gone from this world was all she ever cherished
No amazing and joyful tales to tell the kids
just naked silence, from raging of black rapids
From heavens above, truest of gifts handed down
romance sent, from He that wears faith's eternal crown.
In that gloom and doom came our Spring's resplendent morn
Love, joyful sound of Living, thus we were reborn
Love, its Lights flamed, happiness needs no explaining
summer warmth came from darkness rapidly waning
O' what glory, shall your heart forever hold mine
our sweet blessing, came from angelic hands divine
Within nights, kisses that sated our hot desires
came oaths of eternal love that never expires.
In that gloom and doom came our Spring's resplendent morn
Love, joyful sound of Living, thus we were reborn
Our soaring passions’ pure as nightingale’s song
enrapturing seduction righted what was wrong
upon our heartstrings’ twilight music we did fly
as supernova lusts did unfurl ‘cross the sky -
scintillating stardust showered us with magic
our souls’ kissed in sparkling bliss since events tragic.
In that gloom and doom came our Spring's resplendent morn
Love, joyful sound of Living, thus we were reborn
Dreamy nectar - ripened wine, whetted revival
as I sipped upon your essence for survival
rousing the wild-honey luscious look in your eyes
behind ambrosial mist passionate beauty lies
on thirsty tongues of fire we burned ‘till morning’s light
melting past the pain in moonflower swirls of night
In that gloom and doom came our Spring's resplendent morn
Love, joyful sound of Living, thus we were reborn
Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration), April 24, 2019
Poet’s note: My dear friend, it always a great honor for me to be able to collaborate with you and truly enjoy your inspirational verses! Such a blessing is to me a very precious gift you give me and my appreciation is sincere and honest in this my admiration for both your great friendship and your magnificent poetry talents!
It jumps not to the thought of riches or the prospect of gold
For common treasures are not what it seeks
But rather it responds to that probable possibility
That it may have touched the depths of someone else's soul
It hearkens not to sparkling gems or lusts after a lifetime of wealth
For inside jewels lies the hearts of thieves
But rather it stirs at giving a word someone needs
For inspiration to even the smallest person is a diamond in itself
It doesn't ache for dollar bills or lurch at the sight of green
For nowadays money comes in many different forms
But rather it longs to patch up another heart that may have been torn
And once again to give that person's life meaning
It is a place where the world dare not or otherwise cannot go
A safe haven for valuables other than currency
A hidden trail where treasure means finding creativity
A path that only the hearts of poets know
I mourn for the death of my former youth,
a time of innocence and naive bliss
which hid from me life's dark, unpleasant truth,
but now holds all the pleasures that I miss;
a time of handsome beauty, brawn, and thews,
as of Greek gods in their Olympian prime,
like Hercules of fabled strength, sinews,
and might of past renown from mythic time.
But, O Cupid!...how I do most pine for
your renewing of my dead, barren life,
which now lusts for the nubiles of folklore,
whose maidenheads can quench my burning strife!
Because of my decline's ever-growing years,
I've lost both youth and love as old age nears.
In those primitive times of long, long ago
when behemoths wandered the land
when mankind was wicked and ruthless and raw
and battles were ever at hand.
An unruly unrest reigned on the earth
and rebellion was wild and free
for God turned His back on the people he made
and regretted what they came to be.
On the blackest of nights, on the darkest of days
fallen angels were cast from the skies
then entering into the daughter's of men
a new race began from on high.
So the Nephilim roamed, those aliens of old
a people of lusts and desires
warriors all, great giants so tall
reigning with blood lust and fire.
A ruthless tribe, with dark hearts inside
in chaos, they spread misery and hate
but in due time, God's patience was tried
hence, the Great Flood would seal their fate.
In a humbler man, a new chapter began
for in Noah, God renewed all mankind
with a rainbow so bright, and a heavenly light
filled with hope and new promises to find.
Written on 1/10/2018
Since God already wrote my name in the Book of life permanently
I'm now granted precious inheritance absolutely
Receiving His blessings of great bounty
I must worship Him in spirit and truth's certainty.
With His love sealing my spirit in His ownership
I'm well-protected by His caring guardianship.
Because He is my Teacher-mentor thru biblical preachings
I must discern amidst erroneous teachings.
Having His favor in my ministry participation
I'm blessed in my faithful stewardship's function.
Along His offered relationship so sweet
I enjoy our vibrant fellowship every time we meet.
By His miracle, my body is made as His Spirit’s temple
I'm verily secured against lusts that trample!
While His holiness is molding my heart
I must not defy Him; from Him I should never depart.
Thru His wondrous love story
I'm assured of eternal victory.
Grateful to Christ for His marvelous love
I ought to live for Him, with faith looking* above.
*Hebrews 12:2 Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.
March 7, 2019
Part One of Two
Mary Elizabeth Frye Dedication Poems, Seventh Poet Honored
Part One
(1.)
Graveyard Visit, Seeing Death's Saddest Truth
Walking rows of silent tombstones that litter in my head
I see far more than just faces of buried ancient dead
I see epic battles some lost and long journeys some made
I see long lines trekking through hell's gate as if on parade!
Lo! Great and dooming are the vain vanities of mankind
Blindness, racing ahead not seen they are falling behind
Appetites for darkness and immense greed, they think are needs
They indulge lusts, oft by making innocent humans bleed!
Alas! Dark lust, evil culprit, deeply woven within
Tempting powers grown massively by rewards of past sins
As these ghosts cry out their sorrowful and tragic tales
I hear in not too distant background, hell's loud ringing bells!
As I bid one and all a merry and thoughtful goodbye
Into one great crowd they gathered, all with tearful sad eyes!
Robert J. Lindley, 1-11-2019
Sonnet, ( Man, As The Sad And Fallen Creature)
Dedicated to Mary Elizabeth Frye, poet dedication series.
Mary Elizabeth Frye dedication poem
(2.)
Those Deep Moaning About Life's Many Curses, Its Hardest Hits
Those that beg for Herculean body and Socratic mind
I pray reading these verses you think them not too, too unkind
Nothing bad about imagination and cherished desires
Such is mighty fuel that kindles ambition's hottest fires!
Those caring about not being fleet of foot and stout of heart
Or beautiful in appearance and raving as genius smart
Fear not, for such gifts of flesh are but foolish fantasy gold
Too oft disappearing when your human container grows old!
Those deep moaning about life's many curses, its hardest hits
Wading in its nasty cesspools, and in its blackest of pits
Be of good cheer, if your blind soul can accept these wizened words
Open your eyes, sing about love, stop tramping along in herds.
So you got cherished Herculean body, Socratic mind
Have fun stumbling through miserable life while still stone-cold blind!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-19-2019
Sonnet in Fifteen, ( Truth About Man As A Fallen creature)
dedicated to Mary Elizabeth Fyre, poets dedication series.
Syllables Per Line: 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15
Total # Syllables: 210
Total # # Words: 142