Best Maintains Poems
Days pass into the weak, loveless nights. The moon blinks.
The stars swirl beneath Van Gogh’s brush, as he links.
Comet light passes twisting cypresses, a schizophrenic’s concussion.
On and on, the wind twirls the trees, and does not complain,
nor, does the cosmos cringe awaiting reciprocation.
Lightning bugs mimic the stars. Atoms sneer.
Those who spout love and friendship abandon him, sneering.
Their images dance beneath his lids, when he blinks.
Though denied a compass, his soul does not reciprocate.
Through pain, physical and mental, he still connects, links
with the life which absorbs and excludes him, not complaining.
Nights pass without his mistress, Sien. His mind is concussive.
His face trembles torn in the brass sounds of the storm’s concussions.
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker, all of them, sneer.
How unmerciful, this cycle, this God to whom he does not complain.
If lack of mercy is just, may he not know why? Time blinks.
Thinking causes pain. Only painting connects him, he links.
He accepts art and the pain, as gifts, choosing not to reciprocate.
Voices, the paint, the moon, the voices say, reciprocate.
He chases mice. The cheese plate falls with a loud concussion.
He rubs his gnarled hands across his lids. He maintains the link.
How? Why? But, the mice eating his cheese only sneer.
The sunflowers shimmer and wiggle in their vase, as he blinks.
Stumbling, he falls attempting to sit, the chair does not complain.
He had thought God clear as sunlight; yet, the paint complained.
He was not God; he could not capture the light. He must reciprocate.
After all, who was he, but a mere man, ashes to dust; life blinks.
Ah death, le grand mal, no minor concussion,
He must escape, join the celestial spin, and avoid their sneers.
Sick, yes, sick to death of not being understood, not linking.
The brushes call. He prostitutes himself. Oil spills, connecting, linking.
Theo, brother, never would he forgive. Many others would complain.
Ah, Gauguin, His dear friend, he would understand and not sneer.
If God was truly a loving God, surely, he thought; God will not reciprocate.
The mockers who did not live in Dante’s nine levels of hellish concussion,
they will call his actions cowardly. Merciless, they did not live between the blinks.
Categories:
maintains, god, life,
Form:
Sestina
WALLPAPER
---------------------
Paper Thin
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
---------------------
Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT!
Emotional poster boards of doubt
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced
Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch
Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms
Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!
Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.
by;PD
Categories:
maintains, change, creation, friend, identity,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
LONELINESS
The lonely person walks unnoticed
with unfocused eye and unsteady step,
failing to keep pace with the crowd.
An approach of reliance to everything,
like a crutch under the arm of the wounded,
maintains balance amidst turbulence.
You saw and did not recognize or notice,
as if that person was as normal as you,
but beneath the shrouded cloak of emptiness
hides a soul weeping dry tears.
Loneliness feeds on isolation,
depression its friend, little noticed,
but there are signals.
Loneliness has a signature;
a tell-tale sign for all to see,
like an amateur gambler's tell.
It might live with you unknown
or work by your side eight hours a day,
where its influence grinds,
as if it were a metal file.
Loneliness is looking for new hosts.
Has it found you?
Categories:
maintains, loneliness, lonely,
Form:
Free verse
When Poetry Soup becomes infested with partisan rubbish,
It will be difficult for liberal, creative poets, like me to flourish
Who seek a safe place away from the maddening ignorance
Of those people who continually despise political difference
For those who are angry and want to say the nastiest things
Do you have any idea what hurt your insatiable blather brings?
For some who don’t consider me a red-blooded American patriot,
I fought for the U.S. of A. in uniform when you were still just a tot!
I would rather die on the altar of honor than continually be castigated
By followers of a “wannabe” dictator who every day prevaricated
And sought to drag our country down into the muck and mire
Continues, to this day, stoking his sycophants’ hatred with fire.
Selecting a political putdown of President Joseph Biden for Poem of the Day
Was surely inappropriate if Poetry Soup administrators wish to say
The site maintains neutrality when it comes to political discourse
It encouraged poets, in their remarks, to choose up sides, of course
Anger and vitriol hurled toward us who are of more left-leaning mind
Will likely now become commonplace for those who are not so inclined.
Frankly, I despise clicking on a poem I think will be worth reading
Only to find, instead, an anti-American tirade of invective leading
To put-downs against our president, the vice-president, and first lady
Half-truths and conspiracy theories that, for the most part, are shady
If you are unhappy with the free and fair election that turned out your man
Then, every chance you get, go vote and change the system, if you can!
Our country is not, I think we’d all agree, a perfect democracy
We have lots of problems and crises – that's plain to see, but,
We now have a leader who cares about doing what is right
A man, who in short-order, is ready, committed, and willing to fight.
I have travelled the world over, north and south, east and west
Freedom to flourish in America is head and shoulders above the rest!
Written: April 4, 2021 (edited)
Awarded Poem of the Day on Poetry Soup
April 5, 2021
#38 on Best New Poems on Poetry Soup
April 6, 2021
Categories:
maintains, perspective, political,
Form:
Political Verse
Days pass into the weak, loveless nights. The moon blinks.
The stars swirl beneath Van Gogh’s brush, as he links.
Comet light passes twisting cypresses, a schizophrenic’s concussion.
On and on, the wind twirls the trees, and does not complain,
nor, does the cosmos cringe awaiting reciprocation.
Lightning bugs mimic the stars. Atoms sneer.
Those who spout love and friendship abandon him, sneering.
Their images dance beneath his lids, when he blinks.
Though denied a compass, his soul does not reciprocate.
Through pain, physical and mental, he still connects, links
with the life which absorbs and excludes him, not complaining.
Nights pass without his mistress, Sien. His mind is concussive.
His face trembles torn in the brass sounds of the storm’s concussions.
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker, all of them, sneer.
How unmerciful, this cycle, this God to whom he does not complain.
If lack of mercy is just, may he not know why? Time blinks.
Thinking causes pain. Only painting connects him, he links.
He accepts art and the pain, as gifts, choosing not to reciprocate.
Voices, the paint, the moon, the voices say, reciprocate.
He chases mice. The cheese plate falls with a loud concussion.
He rubs his gnarled hands across his lids. He maintains the link.
How? Why? But, the mice eating his cheese only sneer.
The sunflowers shimmer and wiggle in their vase, as he blinks.
Stumbling, he falls attempting to sit, the chair does not complain.
He had thought God clear as sunlight; yet, the paint complained.
He was not God; he could not capture the light. He must reciprocate.
After all, who was he, but a mere man, ashes to dust; life blinks.
Ah death, le grand mal, no minor concussion,
He must escape, join the celestial spin, and avoid their sneers.
Sick, yes, sick to death of not being understood, not linking.
The brushes call. He prostitutes himself. Oil spills, connecting, linking.
Theo, brother, never would he forgive. Many others would complain.
Ah, Gauguin, His dear friend, he would understand and not sneer.
If God was truly a loving God, surely, he thought; God will not reciprocate.
The mockers who did not live in Dante’s nine levels of hellish concussion,
they will call his actions cowardly. Merciless, they did not live between the blinks.
Categories:
maintains, anxiety, art, depression, suicide,
Form:
Sestina
Love,
our most
precious gift,
helps our world turn
with stronger heartbeats.
Reach out to help dear friends;
stretch arms to embrace loved ones.
Greet strangers with that happy smile;
branch out to spend time with the lonesome.
Our love...the strength that turns the world around.
Our love...the strength that turns the world around.
But earth's heart and soul need our love too.
Planet earth maintains nature's rules:
must spend her gifts cautiously,
safeguard her atmosphere,
save cherished water.
She requires care
to move on.
Grant her
Love.
Categories:
maintains, love, world,
Form:
Etheree
She questions her life..
She questions her mortality..
She questions her immortality..
Curiously seeking for answers ..
Of the unknown..
Who am I..
Why do we rise and fall..
Why is there pain..
Why is there suffering..
Imbalances exist in a perfectly balanced world..
Earth is beautifully balanced..
As she spins gracefully..
She is in perfect harmony..
Her pure essence is of love..
Her pure essence is of nurture..
As she nurtures us all with the splendor of nature..
Overwhelmed she is at times..
As our nuturing Mother Earth continuously..
Balances our inbalances..
Of which there are disturbances to her harmonic flow..
She maintains her glory..
As nature shall always remain perfect..
Who am I..
Mortality is only the body..
Immortality is all and one..
An immortal soul strives in magnificence..
No birth as it always exited..
Rebirth as it seeks to remember..
To experience..
An immortal soul glides passionately through..
Different chapters of life..
Lives and dimensions of what is..
One cannot rise..
Unless one falls..
Of which there lies pain and suffering..
We only fall..
Just to rise again..
Again and again..
As she questions her mortality..
Her immortality..
Her answers are found within..
Categories:
maintains, earth, life, metaphor, spiritual,
Form:
Personification
Clouds hang low, muffling the maple-covered mountainside.
Fog rises from a saturated earth, weakly wetting a soft breeze.
Mist maintains the connection 'tween earth and eternity.
Within the gloom, where barren treetops scrap the sky, twigs green.
Hope springs with random bits of color to the opened mortal eye.
Soon, soon, a brighter pallet will appear, light will live.
A gray day lies upon the wane and weary eye of morn.
Soon, wind-born blossoms wipe the cinders from the pale eye of sol,
melting the chill of fog and mist, warming the home of man.
First Published by Mused: BellaOnLine Literary Review 2015
Categories:
maintains, hope,
Form:
Prose Poetry
On the rim of the glass, there is salt all around.
This makes the drink different from a “greyhound”.
Take either gin or vodka mixed with grapefruit juice.
These ingredients can be put to good use.
It was named for any sailor experienced with the sea.
The drink maintains great popularity.
Has anybody replaced the gin or vodka with tequila?
In that way, we could call this drink a “grapefruit margarita”.
Categories:
maintains, drink,
Form:
Rhyme
spiritual mother,
forever maintains balance,
reflecting our path.
Categories:
maintains, nature
Form:
Haiku
A pale, ghostly moon rises
at night when the day is done.
And orange and tangerine
get bled from a crimson sun.
Space is draped in black velvet,
pinned with galaxies of light.
And swirls of gold filigree
confetti the dark of night.
Twirling pulsars and quasars
provide rhythm, spinning in place.
And in this cosmic ballet,
gravity maintains the pace.
Mars ascends in shades of red;
evoking passion and praise.
Securing Her rightful place;
Venus appears through the haze.
And shooting stars fizzle out
within the blink of an eye.
For the kingdom of magic
is as near as the night sky.
Categories:
maintains, beauty, nature, night, stars,
Form:
Quatrain
Time is reality
A deck of cards
with a joker
Coincidences
does make a difference
Draw the ace
don't be picky
Steady steps
mechanically driven
Time, a macabre prank
sinks deep
The night train maintains its route
Categories:
maintains, time,
Form:
Verse
When Sun Burns Too Hotly And Blue Sky Melts
Our secret pond laughing and wading there
our hearts joined in Nature's beauty divine.
That we might lose our joy, gave us a scare.
thought of loss, destroyed future -hers and mine.
Summer came, we forgot about that fright
for bliss was to be had with each soft kiss.
Dancing our days, romancing through each night
darling, that and so much more I so miss.
With no saving miracle, our joy lost
we in our great love soared too long, too high.
We dared too deep and paid the heavy cost
now our hearts find only sad, empty sky.
Such memories although old and faded
reveal Fate's hand can not be evaded.
Robert J. Lindley
Sonnet
(Number 5 of 5 in Hope's great treasures series)
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 114
Note: Great care must be taken to hold such a deep and precious treasure...
For omission brings such tragic costs.
Yet destiny may later bring greater reward if one but maintains Hope, and faith in walking a clear and just path.
For Hope and future are open to change if one reverses course from a dark path and willingly embarks upon a journey to find Light and Truth....
This sonnet the fifth of the five written on the Treasures of Hope tells of Hope lost because Hope was never grasped and held tight.
I deliberately did not use the word hope in the title or in any verse because the narrative presents its ABSENCE(!) AND THE DIRE CONSEQUENCES OF DANCING EVEN IN MOMENTS OF BLISSFUL DARKNESS.
The six sonnet(unwritten) on Hope, is the one I am now living with my wonderful family that I treasure far, far above anything in this life..
As it is --Hope-- , truly realized and held ever so firm..
Categories:
maintains, art, destiny, hope, loss,
Form:
Sonnet
In hues of sepia she maintains
her web of life, Mother Nature;
from smallest seed to greatest
creature her umbilical sustains.
The fate of all life resides
in her consciousness and flow;
like a machine each part depends
on the other parts smooth glide.
Pollinators nurture flora,
food is recycled and regenerates;
feeding others of her children,
from trees to abundant Passiflora.
Through our big blue marbled macrocosm
she weaves her web of life;
from Terra-firma are many birthed
abundant arising microcosms.
With light and pigmentation's work
amazing color floods her realm;
from greens, golds, reds and browns
she paints such serene patchwork.
Wondrous miracles she has birthed
within her spirits sylvan seas;
a universal soul, our Mother,
captured by the poets in verse.
The finest artist of her kind,
with unlimited imagination;
her womb is quite a fertile one,
life’s threads are fragilely intertwined.
6-27-2021
ALL YOURS (Jun 27) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Categories:
maintains, earth, environment, life, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Decades of a formula that only he knew about it and drew,
Cascades of his artwork came to a head in his last years,
Glissades of a swan in a lake that only a handful had seen,
Tirades made its mark on him, distant from fellow peers.
~~[Van Gogh]~~
Impressed of his art garnered some interest in his style,
Oppressed, a constant companion only he can befriend,
Obsessed by what he drew insanely violent he withdrew,
Distressed he found salvation in asylums to not descend.
~~[Wheatfield With Crows]~~
Crows, black gawking, feed in a meadow ache for harvest,
Know that art needs to be made, scheme food for thought,
Those sinister birds, a murder of crows festering the grain,
Throes a fit mocking 'em, flys, pained him more than aught.
~~[Starry Night]~~
Bleak sky of blues, stars gave rise to a miracle been made,
Streak of a sprawl unfurls his heavens tethered madness,
Speak not lest he loses his concentration, maintains focus,
Meek town his groundwork, lofty jewel amidst the sadness.
~~[Bedroom At Arles]~~
Red, that laid on a bed, table, chairs, paintings on the wall,
Said was where he severed his ear, water bowl mirror hung,
Head bandaged where he bled, he does a self-portrait of it,
Deadman walking, Gauguin part ways, no song to be sung.
~~[Self-Portrait Bandage Ear And Pipe]~~
Drew closer, when they were both young, be such friends,
Few friends Van Gogh had, Gauguin was at that moment,
Grew apart after Vince shaving Paul, Vince wanted to hurt,
Knew time together was getting just a bit grave and potent.
~~[House At Auvers]~~
Return to Arles made Van Gogh happy for good times there,
Upturn spirits was a rarity, too few and far in the middle,
Discern with him was questionable because he's unstable,
Concern for his good, art kept him busy, else is second fiddle.
~~[Doctor Gachet]~~
Fields back of the house, a pistol, he plans to shoot himself,
Wields his pistol, shoots, nobody hears, years gun lays hidden,
Yields his brother Theo to his side as doctor aides him little,
Shields truth futile, his art was world-renown, dies bedridden.
Categories:
maintains, art, character, mental illness,
Form:
Lento