Best Missed Poems
Knowing She Sees How Deeply She Is Missed
(Tribute To That Greatest Of Love, A Mother's)
Blue-cold morns rising to light a fire
mother, cooked on wood stove truly ancient.
She out of sweetest of love's truest desire
provided nourishing food so patient.
Not asking praise for her unselfish deeds
washing dirty clothes in an old wash-pan.
By love's examples she planted new seeds
windy-flames of reliance such did fan.
Now time, with its many decades have flown
beloved mom, passed on to her reward.
We, her thriving huge brood, are now all grown,
feel her love and know why she worked so hard.
Knowing she sees how deeply she is missed
we thank her, each beloved face she kissed.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-11-2017
SONNET, (Tribute to our mother and to mothers everywhere, THAT SACRIFICE WITH THE DEEPEST OF UNSELFISH LOVE FOR THEIR CHILDREN)
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I started this poem back in May, 2017. I finished the last two verses this morn.
Hesitant to post because I feel it is not worthy enough but alas (!), I also know with my meager writing talent , I can do no better.
Thus, with my wife's prodding, I post and pray it is deem worthy as a tribute by all that read and love ever so dearly their own wonderful and loving mothers!
Beauty That Rivals The Red Rose
He the gardener she the rose
She was only flower he chose
Days he gave her his very best
Under moonlight glow they both rest.
With great care he keeps her from harm
Always enamored by her charm
Whenever she mentions her thirst
Sate her needs, he is always first.
At dawn's first calling she wakes up
Her petals with his hands he cups
With true love, admiring her grace
This dark world together they face.
His life for her beauty so fair.
Together, love's beauty they share.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-10-2017
Cyhydedd Fer Sonnet,
8 syllable lines
.. a. a. b. b. . . c. c. d. d. . . e. e. f. f. . . g. g
Syllables Per Line: 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8 0 8 8
Total # Syllables: 112
Total # Words: 88
She sits in the old rocking chair
Threads of silver in her golden hair
Alone in the glow of candle light
She rocks so gently in the night
Outside the autumn leaves do fall
As shadows dance upon the wall
Crystal tears in eyes of china blue
Fall for the love she never knew
He came to shore that summer day
His schooner anchored in the bay
And with a glance her knees grew weak
She lost her voice and could not speak
For there he stood so tall and lean
The handsome man in all her dreams
And he broke her heart that summer day
When he said goodbye and sailed away
My bed is lonely
the glow of your naked body
The winter breathes on me
07.11.2013
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
My eyes have not grown too weak or dim
to ignore what they've long been seeing
pretenders who wear a mask of disguise
like a skier who's not proficient at skiing
Everyone who labels him/herself a 'poet'
thinks he's composed brilliant words, versed
but lacks ability, and some of us know it,
and receives high praise; payback reimbursed
Is it because some seek insincere empty words
to gain a like response as a misbegotten debt?
Could it be they want undeserved admiration
for posting things a serious poet would regret?
And what of time consuming contest entries
that tower in skilled verse above most of the rest,
only to see everyone received a first place finish
when theirs is ignored but clearly one of the best.
IT'S A SLAP IN THE FACE!!!
Let's not overlook when the final results are in
those who give nods to each other as number one
It's obvious they don't always deserve the win.
Doesn't that spoil both the challenge and the fun?
Go ahead and point out that I shouldn't complain
because I stopped entering contests months ago
and seldom post on a site where some would reign.
but I discover things that make me say, "WHOA!"
Not so many fake names appear by a cheating judge
and I thank all of those who plowed that farrow
There are times when we all need a bit of a nudge
to make sure the path we walk is straight and narrow
Now I've learned that the advertisement displays
are prohibiting Connie Wong from enjoying her part
in reading and commenting in her loveliest of ways.
Connie is a talented poet, with a pure, loving heart.
My premium membership is up at the end of May
by now you've gathered that I'll not be renewing
but I'll still occasionally post on any given day.
Thank you for reading what has long been brewing
Comments are welcome if you would like to share
your thoughts, agreeable and even if they're not
We all have opinions; a community should care
about problems...unless you just don't give a squat
and if that's the case, I totally understand that, too
Missed Flight
I hated my life
I hated me.
My life was cherished
IT hated me.
IT held no value
IT held no worth.
IT simply decided to leave this Earth.
IT held the knife
IT loved what IT felt.
This wouldn't work
IT got a belt.
High on pills
mixed with booze.
IT could hang Itself
and would not lose.
There IT stood
My belt hooked tight.
IT stepped off the stool
IT began it's flight.
IT jerked and IT struggled
not wanting to die.
The tight belt broke
IT did not fly.
The belt did break and I was set free.
It was a higher Being, it was not me.
Now I am wasted and very scared
Not believing what happened
Just glad MY life was spared.
Truest regards, to you, the one I’ve missed,
beautiful, blinding, mysterious hue
under moon’s tide, pulling, my body lists
towards your voice, god, green, everything moves
besides me. You set me free to be me,
and only my self’s true image, reflects
in your eyes, blue as the moonbeam, lightning
strikes from the heavens, blessing our bond, met
by fantasy. You just stretch me, this way,
regardless of my faults. My greatest friend,
promise me, that you’ll always be true to
yourself. And, I’ll give that promise to you.
I got the most wanted invitation
It’s organized by a bad collaboration
Would be fun by every indication
Now to think of that fabrication
That would get me there with no implication
To that plan, I will give my whole dedication
B:
Halt! What was that insinuation?
Dad even made a buttressing contribution
I will still not give up in this new occupation
It will have to pass through sound evaluation
At all costs I need to get to that destination
By every power possibly even divination
C:
Oh! The sorrow is like constipation
Against all my careful stipulation
I only needed to heed their conversation
Now I can only sit here in retribution
Awaiting news of others inhibition
My own attendance has already reached its conclusion
If you died today,
What would you think?
Where would you go?
Do you think, you would think?
I don’t know.
Look down upon, those you love.
Look down, look down,
From high above.
You see them grieving,
Hurting so much,
They regret your leaving,
They miss your touch.
Why oh why did you have to leave?
Come back come back,
Wipe their tears with your sleeve.
Give them a hug,
Tell them it’s alright.
It’s time to unplug.
The light is so bright.
They feel you here,
They feel you going.
Was a wonderful life,
One worth knowing.
Closer and closer,
To the light you go.
Brighter and brighter,
They will miss you so.
frugal one squeeze roll
toothpaste tube last fate fold love-
your origami
Mark shot his arrow on Saturday
It never returned, just sped away
It took a wrong turn –
turbo afterburn
Maybe it will be back on Friday
When sun sets
And dimmed the light at the edge
Enlighten my window’s desk
You are missed like hell
And
When rain fall across the fence
Night grows dark and dense
And hence;
You are missed my gent.
Then,
The snowflakes near that end
That smog makes me blind
But make you clear in my mind
You are missed more in time
Now,
Its autumn here
And makes me fear
It takes bloom away
And all trees grey
There I say
It might not fade our jolly days
Three Irish angels were sipping their tea
Discussing the sinners that they could see
"That one's a menace
That one drinks Guinness
And that colleen is heaven for three!"
At the glassy gate, I wait for you
adding cherry between breaths
adding robes to your soft name
ushering the syllables through my warm mouth
echoing like the sight of a star
on my heart, your name is woven and sewn
like the stitching in my baby blanket
and the baby hands that find your beating chest
I am bound to you
and you, to my gates
But then,
you see the blood on my posts
and then,
my eyes stern and welled,
fixed like the sun, you spin
as night hunkers over you
like a broad toothy uncle
pulling you aside, arms slung like sandbags
impressing you with fools gold
teaching you to gawk, painting me a circus
causing you not to see me,
hiding my heart beneath my chest
and this smooth skin, my red wine gates…
And no matter how I call, the tracks will lay, the wheels will fall
I would cry but it’s too late… the station’s gone…
You missed me love,
you missed me…
Distill emotion
to one cliché “I love you”
call it poetry
Wrap all your feelings
in colorful box, ribbons,
call it greatest gift
Inflated ego
sworn superiority
call it all I need
I hear no trace of
regret in the voice speaking
of indiscretions
I see no sign of
truth in the dark eyes that claim
to love me only
I feel not the touch
of kindness from hands that give
only when they need
Hit-and-run kisses
when all I need is for you
to linger a while
Beware the high ground
only time until the fall
inevitable
Singular captures
only the essence of one
and that one is you
I lost myself there
sometimes I think you love me
for bending to you
So say it’s untrue
though every verb indicates
quite the contrary
I can not believe
manipulated words when
you’re hiding your eyes
Redeem, for this heart
that fell blissful into you
is reaching out still
Why did you lie to me?
You said you would call
Still I wait here by the phone
This is not how it's meant to be
I feel like I have been a fool
Are you the one who steals my heart?
You say I am the one for you
One who cares would not treat me this way
As I wait I fall too sleep
In the morn I will not care
I will search for my loved one
Do not call I will thrive on my own
Sad is not the way to be
This is how to write a poem with just one.
It is hard to write this way.
For the One to one contest.