Best Merely Poems
Some of us are secretive at first. We hide our poetry’s soul self,
gently letting her peep out; sometimes regretting it immediately.
Fearful of critiques from people who do not understand that poetry
is something we are compelled and born to do with our feelings.
Your diary entries may form themselves into goodness or badness
before you realize your calling as a poet.
Truths shockingly ooze out, surprising you.
Feelings creep out onto a page, in loud angry letters,
or romantic feelings daintily brush onto a crisp lined page
in the form of sweetness and light.
You are a word player, because you cannot
stop this obsession, but it does not define you.
This poetry gig is but a glimmer of a glimpse of yourself.
You might be a caregiver, or a wonderful friend.
People who count on your smile every day may not realize
you have a love affair with words, and an obsession to write them.
We are each a unique jewel, mined from God’s mind.
Poetry may initiate a whisper of a tiny facet of ourselves,
but our secrets are safe. We not merely poets. We are lovers
of life, and words. Most importantly, we remain gloriously hidden
and unknown to most.
Written 12-20-18 Contest: You Are Not Defined by Poetry
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Billowing, foamy currents
Lofty, turquoise drifts
Undulate as waves
Rage through the calm of heaven
As the golden stalks
Bend in fields below
Like hungry fire consuming
All life in its path
Seemingly engulfed
The cypresses are the same;
Ensnared in the grip
Of restless fury
By the skyward, emerald flame
Would Vincent approve
Of his brilliant work
Being perceived violently?
I am oft' amazed
How a piece of art
Takes on a life of its own
Interpretation
Lives within the heart
And soul of the beholder
Not merely the eye
Vincent Van Gogh's painting, "Yellow Wheat and Cypresses" was my inspiration.
For submission in Abe Lopez' contest, "Van Gogh's Van Goghs".
Merely just a fool
Destined to this lonely beach
in search of some lost hope
My footprints stagger in the sand,
these moments hard to cope
Neath palm tree shadows sorrowed dance
a’ swaying in the sun
I linger back to better days
as if this one were done
Despair among the waves does bring
an ocean brisk and cold
Now of this soul, a wanderer,
a solitude foretold
For on that day you kissed me soft
and said forever true
You took this man along the way
to fall in love with you
My smile reborn a thousand times,
so happy I would be
To think, an angel such as you
would come and walk with me
Till on that night, the moon so full,
I gazed horizons deep
Between the trails of fallen tears
my worried eyes did weep
I watched you holding hands with him,
as twinkling stars did shine
Never looking back at me,
no longer were you mine
You fooled me once, that was enough
my dreams now torn apart
As I am merely just a fool,
who wears a broken heart
8/29/18
Written for the Fool me once Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brenda Chiri
`
Maple leaf wishes fall,
scattered about a silent lawn
framing pathways hidden beneath
blankets of decaying sorrow
I wander with eyes closed
for to see means to cry among these
shadows creeping in deep tones
as my thoughts once again fade into you
Northern borders point fingers
with emptiness as their focus for
where I sit, I sit alone wondering
does the thought of us still exist
And as the moon rises, it is no
longer a poem waiting to be written
but just a blurred reminder
of something once shared
Broken branches are now my bed,
though sleep is useless
for all I see is you and me
before waking to the reality that
happiness is for others,
dreams are merely fiction and
sometimes love is not enough
and never will be again
9/9/19
Written for the : Sometimes love is not enough Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
Hushed by the stares
The moves, the everything
For in your eyes
Feeble and frail
Are synonyms
Of female
This silence is everywhere
In relationships, busy streets
Corporate realms and cowering in the dark
If only they knew the epicness
Deep within her heart
Humility preserved always
Glides clandestinely thru the noise
Lest they glance her shadow
And mistake it for her voice
Anxiety bubbles, bemoaning, bottled
A certain subtle potential overwhelming kapow!
But hushed by the stares
The daily humans who say no
Are her heart and mind worth naught?
In this bullying world
Too busy shouting and staring
To even recognize her
Much more listen to her thoughts?
Must she continue pacing this life?
God forbid she should rise
Be hushed and muted
Unsung to this realm
Fragile and frail
Lest we forget
She is merely female.
Form:
Merely a taste…
Why, when the world sleeps
do the young starlings fly,
black wings on a moonless night
challenging winds of southern flow
fighting urges forced by
internal compass points
to land where it is low
and voices creep from behind
misted shuttered windows,
murmuring moans and tethered breaths,
fingered flesh in candle flame,
longing scraps to fill their bellies
for hunger persists
even in the throes of love,
and they wait on silent branches,
crooked beams of support
wanting merely a taste…just one taste
Merely Enigmatic
When I read that insanity
My heart stopped,
And I had no fill.
Fleck, fleck, fleck
Fleck and bones.
Ooze, ooze the wound.
The marrow corrupts,
And the headstrong winds
Blow me southward.
It makes no difference
Whether you like it or not--
My life is not for you
to flail on.
And the days,
The days are growing longer.
Yet I sleep not,
Only grumble in my wakefulness.
She said,
I thought you would reveal
Some dashing nakedness
Of your soul.
But no, you persist
In being merely enigmatic.
Merely Choices
Millions of hugs and millions of kisses are missing
So too those glorious days for reminiscing
Too many balls and too many dolls never played with
Sixty million laughing voices, silenced as merely choices
We now ride with young Willie McBride
But you will never sit at our graveside
For us there are no white crosses, no names upon a wall
No one’s even heard our voices, we are gone as merely choices
No glory, no honor, no eternal flame
No laughing, no crying, no chance at a game
Our demise rationalized as a right
Since we had not a voice, we were extinguished as merely a choice
But we are a living heavenly chorus
Singing out that you might not ignore us
We were butchered on an alter deemed progress
Sixty million silent voices, sacrificed as merely choices
i cant write poetry mumble some nonsense
i cant write poetry random words seem to fit
i cant write poetry writers block blocks writing
i cant write poetry i actually cant
Sun Rose Merely To Reflect Her Glow
As her hair flew about, so did my heart,
unknown to me but a vision then loved.
So very strange, way our time got its start,
how she later became my beloved.
Glittering sparkles in her bright blue eyes,
as sun rose merely to reflect her glow
She that merely touched to fill my skies
always smiling as if time she could slow.
Her memory, shall I ever forget,
grace in her walking, sweetness in her voice
I first spoke to her on a friendly bet
now she would be my only loving choice.
Such glowing warmth in her big, bright blue eyes
Her being gone, left me asking the whys?
R.J. Lindley
May 25th 1974
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 111
It started a merely word
Some poems, humor, teasing, & heavy jokes
No more nor less
Oh! of
The end.
Dah the house
Of words is made
Vary very clear
Ends miss.
Merely words
I agree, yet
Some of them
The truth not
All of them
Keen keeps in touché to ken
Each other.
Look out my window, I'm always going somewhere
Denver Colorado, San Antone, got a lot of friends there
This old cowboy heart, she called me Lucky Seven
I've journeyed so far but it's a long long way from Earth to Heaven
It's all a rodeo, a dog and pony show
I play it cool you know, when I am clueless
On my high horse my friend, headlong into the wind
A fool I've never been, just merely foolish
Wasted years, crazy dreams when I was younger
Hollow cheers so it seems chasing down the thunder
It's all a rodeo, a dog and pony show
I play it cool you know, when I am clueless
On my high horse my friend, headlong into the wind
A fool I've never been, just merely foolish
Regret is a hurt that lingers now I'm older
Sorry is a word, I wish I would have told her
It's all a rodeo, a dog and pony show
I play it cool you know, when I am clueless
On my high horse my friend, headlong into the wind
A fool I've never been, just merely foolish
Just a big parade from cradle to the grave
Put on your smile and bravely wave hello
Life's a long hard ride and at the finish line
Love is the only prize rarer than gold
It's all a rodeo, a dog and pony show
I play it cool you know, when I am clueless
On my high horse my friend, headlong into the wind
A fool I've never been, just merely foolish
Copyright 2017. All Rights Reserved.
-for Roger-
My friend, why have you spun out of joint?
Or am I now cross-eyed?
Is one of us running out of rhythm?
Or both spinning in circles?
Why is everything I say just a question?
Can I speak or write a statement?
Would you play Beethoven,
or shall I put on Mozart?
Is this not something I ask you?
So why should this be so?
I will change.
Gosh, I've just made a statement, not asked a question!
Was this not a great conversion?
(May 2022)
She distributes the wands and the cups.
Her client taps a card, choosing it.
The death card comes up.
The client gasps.
She takes her hand and begins to explain.
She has Bambi brown eyes, and a kind soul.
The client settles down, wanting to believe
in her explanation, in the cards, in a happily ever after.
She is not merely a soothsayer and a card reader,
She is a psychologist, a mother, a grandmother, and a crone.
She understands the value of being optimistic
of bringing hope into each tarot reading.
Her clients are loyal, coming back to see her again and again.
She uplifts them, inspiring hope, promising joy.
It is what they get, for it is what they now expect.
What good do we do?
in this world we are in
especially with our tongues
giving our sounds an airing
We humans have a voice
given to us to air a sound
to which we should use well
or else it'll be buried underground
So often this voice is so human
for it fades away into the air
just in a moment, it goes away
never to sound the same indeed so rare
At times we wish we were not so
to be like animals not to talk
what troubles we would escape
just to be like that big rock
It would be good to ponder
on this fact of a human voice
be wise on how we use it
for we humans do have a choice
(Quote:
The Human Voice Is Merely A Sound That Fades Into The Air - Anon.)