Best Mortal Poems
For the nonce, living soul,
you will breathe in new lessons through our tender tethering
as your seeking thirst is slaked through your skin;
for life's osmosis seeps mortal knowledge not implanted at conception.
Susan Ashley
September 16, 2019
~ Second Place ~
Contest: Arbitrium Divisa 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Gregory R. Barden
*An excerpt from: Odyssey Of A Soul; written June 8, 2018*
Welcome my dear
what can I do you for?
I offer spells and charms galore
A love philter you say?
I know just the thing
When I am done
to you he’ll cling
When sun takes its bow at the close of day
In a place where ocean waves meet bay
Let curtains close to mortal sight
Behold
desire’s flame ignites
Employing drift wood
in the sand
Inscribe his name
Feel heart expand
Stir 3 times in clockwise motion
Whilst we brew this lover’s potion
A drop of blood
a strand of hair
Will free you soon from your despair
You’ll feel the warmth spread through your
being
You’ll both find this most agreeing
Feel wind’s breath upon thy cheek
Sacred words you now must Speak
Tell the Earth, the wind and fire
Inform the water of your desire
Let Cupid’s compass spin once more
For His benevolence you must implore
East and south
West and north
Spirits of seduction I call thee forth
Hark to the rhythm of the drums that pound
Thrashing out the heart beat
of the one to be spell bound
Whilst the bonfire slowly dies
Images flash before his eyes
Untie him now
He will behave
I have cast a spell
He is enslaved
Hit him now with passion dart
And then my dear you have done your part
All that’s remains is for you both
To gulp it down
Let’s have a toast
Before you do you will pay me now
There are others who need me anyhow
His Affection will grow like weeds
I must away now to do good deeds
Will my enchantment stand the test of time?
I hear you ask, Well they’ll be just fine
Sleep now children in my domain
I promised to free you from your pain
Their lust will last eternally
Till I dump their bodies in the sea
17th October 2019
For love potion poetry contest
Sponsored By Julia Ward
Oft Woe Is Sorrows, Of Mere Mortal Men
Of fine artist brush and true poet's pen
oft woe is sorrows, of mere mortal men.
Tho' great the powers, sun's glow in blue skies
majestic the beauty, in dawns bright rise.
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
What verse can such magnificence reveal
more so than inked truth that searching poets feel.
From revelations of heart's deep desires
to blazing flames of romantic fires.
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
Dare we beg our muse, cast unto us more
of immense depths from which others did score.
Gift hearts, souls and minds creativity
or beauty even in versed brevity?
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
What of importance of the sad and black
do we ignore from courage we may lack.
Nay! Ours is to set truth on its gold throne
tho, on that journey we may trek alone.
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
When begging paper, cries for new black ink
of course from both heart and mind we must think.
And with purpose write to all, as a gift
Life, Love, Inspiration that so uplifts.
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
Under Nature's blue skies that beg our praise
dare we give verse light, to cut world's dark haze.
Endeavor to create what time will note
with blessings, take great pride in what we wrote?
What purpose poetry, if not to give?
What purpose existence, if not to live?
Robert J. Lindley, 6-12-2019
Rhyme, ( A Poet's Heart Must Accept Its Truest Calling )
I Am Mortal Man, Made Of Mere Flesh And Bone
Sad and lost soul walked in his old worn shoes,
dark clouds covered his bowed and forlorn head.
Life had beat him hard, made him pay heavy dues,
cast jagged stones into his every night's bed.
He looking back at all his dear family now gone,
his broken soul cried- God release me please.
I am mortal man, made of mere flesh and bone,
my every path hard, nothing comes with gentle ease
Yet the spirit was strong and his heart held dreams,
hope that another day would great blessings bring.
Each night's prayer he found new flowing streams,
such that morn's new light made his joy sing
As each day brought its bricks and falling stones,
Hope, his greatest shield, prevented any broken bones.
Robert J. Lindley, 4-15-2016
Dedicated to all my friends here that give me hope each day.
Hope that life will give future blessings and my family will
be well and safe when I am gone.
Had a thought a moment ago, just before I broke your aura'd wing,
trapped here, forever, within Audouin's vast crater alone and pining.
Starved for ages, a new gnawing hunger'd vision looked to bring.,
had we met, you and I, before the javelin started skyward climbing?
Though skin is rough and jagged as scoria litter that surrounded,
there beats a heart recognized by all the vanquished ghosts of Mars.
Was this love, don't know..,tho' never felt quite so astounded.
Perhaps startled to realize, it was I..,snared by her eyes in fawning stars.
Pitiful, mortal creatures molded by divine hands such as we,
learn only now, the cosmos proves bearable only through love.
And so I'll starve tonight, and tomorrow, and perhaps forever be.,
though joyous still..,no longer alone, or taunted by constellations above.
At last you take wing again, watch you soar away into the starlit night,
this day found love to save, and let your spirit go in merciful flight.
~~My apologies to Carl Sagan~~
Not long, but clear and strong, came Dad to me.
Gone six months now, grief still filled me empty.
One day he helped me avoid tragedy.
Scared, so scared, I left work for my son's school.
His epilepsy was being cruel -
school said .. hot .. red .. damp head .. remote .. no fuel.
Driving, Dad's voice clearly called out to me ....
he repeated my name with somber voice
until I was a good listener by choice.
Then, once, twice, thrice he spoke four words to me.
(no, no, no this cannot possibly be
I am desperate to be worry free,
to believe it, my sanity has quit.)
Five times more he delivered the four words.
Seemed he would say it 'til I believed it.
Directing my moves using Dad's four words
enabled my son's health to be restored.
Epilepsy left and spirit had scored.
Dad gave me proof that death invites no fear.
Souls ebb and flow, roll like ocean's own tide.
Death must be two doors, one souls pass through,
and one love-sealed to hold humans earth bound.
When flesh life dies, one's spirit life remains
on journeys aptly mapped for souls' growth-gain.
Each soul endures umpteen human lifetimes
'til spirit consciousness shines light divine.
Now mortal senses hold the universe,
when spirit senses would spare us our worst.
In race and gender, many are fast wrapped,
yet death shakes gone both sad, human rigged facts.
Misplaced emphasis could be what ends us.
When spirit sense outweighs human nonsense,
we shall seal heavenly wrapped, peaceful traits.
MORTAL GIVERS
Who are we but mortals?
That we should be so bold,
So presumptuous, so arrogant
As to leave the poor in the cold?
Should we not think of sharing
Especially the ones without,
And always think of giving,
With unquestionable doubt!
Being an only child,
Was encouraged to share,
I was shown to be mild,
And love god and wear,
My love for him on my sleeve,
For the whole world to see,
For I know God, and he sees me.
The needy are desperate
For a loaf of bread,
Their clothes rags, their shoes,
A mere thread, or shred.
Unemployment has gone wild,
A huge percentage is going
To bed hungry
Around the world in every country!
Did we ever think we would,
Live through such an epidemic,
A Covid virus, which became pandemic?
We must give love, dish it out
Lay it on thick,
Don’t even think,
Do it quick,
Don’t be a scrooge, learn to share,
With all, no matter who or where,
Don’t ever be selfishly
Only receivers,
Give, give, all you are able,
Be proudly one of the givers!
Entering: Givers Poetry Contest
Sponsored By: Regina McIntosh
24 /09/2020
"The Mortal Wound of the Civilized World"
Shift upwards
speed fast
the choice, Is
Gears chosen by the
energetic heart
fuel the freedom
The point of attention
the “I Am”
an expression
of the same
consciousness
that you are "Is"
we are living
yet contained economies
numbed and played circadian
pinned and
framed
to our walls
day in
night out
repeat
by remote control
thinking we are free
true ignition evades us
until the game is over
We are caught up
in the mortal wound
of the civilized world
humanity
monopolized
bored we are
we are
the board game
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
You are a bright fallen star from the mesmerizing sight up above,
You make my tender heart pump pure blood of joy with just a minor glance,
If only you would grant me the blissful privilege to call you my love,
To my painful despair your angelic nose is pointed to the sky and you look down upon me,
If only given the honour to acknowledge my existence that craves your mystical romance,
But because of my economic status and laughable looks me, you shall never see,
As more than a dirty petty jester who could never compare to your immense power,
I am foolish to ever have thought I stood a pleading chance,
To you your majesty I will forever bow down and cower,
Until I feel your heart beat back then I shall manoeuvre into my sprinting stance.
June 12, 2018
Rhyme Time 4- 10 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
3rd Place
NOT A MORTAL LOVE
Ours is not a mortal love, one that fades or dies,
For I could spend infinity just looking in your eyes.
Ours is not a mortal love ripped apart by lies.
Forever in your arms, my dear, naked in my disguise.
Ours is not a mortal love like the ones betrayal hides
Committed to the truth, I swear, my honesty abides.
Ours is not a mortal love that anger savagely unties,
Peaceful is my warrior soul, my power to be wise.
Ours is not a mortal love unseen by human eyes,
For every loving moment is written in the skies.
Ours is not a mortal love, my heart belongs to you,
My body, soul and spirit, too, I gladly give to you.
Ours is not a mortal love withered on the vine
If ours is not a mortal love, it must surely be Divine.
Dec 31/16
Minerva’s child addressed Lycaons son;
“we owl and wolf are truly one”,
for air and earth guardians we be.
I come my brother from the trees,
to meet with you upon this hour,
for Gaia says she will empower
us for guarding wood and bower;
we are her chosen ones.
We’ll spread the word across water and land;
there’ll be a day of reckoning for man.
All flora and fauna must be prepared,
to defend themselves against man’s snares;
from the skies to earth, beneath,
of devastation we must bespeak,
and warn all life, watch other’s backs;
for spiritual consciousness, so many lack;
the time for action is now at hand.
Awaken all ye sleeping bands,
of field and forest, river and brook;
there’s no one to be overlooked.
Warn in time for them to hide,
including those within the tides.
Extinction bears a mournful cross;
every lost life is Gaia’s loss
and for her we now make a stand.
The trees agree to hide us all,
within the woods and forests shades;
and amid the caverns and caves.
Warn those who dwell to hide away.
from human vessels hold their sway;
to the deepest caverns beneath the sea,
swim there now...flee...flee!
Without us great Gaia ‘neath man’s hand will fall.
(My Tribute poem, honoring Alfred Noyes....)
Defiance, The Old Gods Fall, And Dark Mortal Reign Begins
Fiery earth, multitude of chasms deep
The gods rose from their long and restless sleep,
Of those few again stirring brave and wise,
Night’s last breath then magnificent sunrise
Invincible new Gods as yet unborn
Quaked the earth, as high heavens are torn.
Again the gods woke from their restless sleep
Pale the colors as Gods learned to weep
Mortal defiance, as it swiftly grows,
O’ Seer, virgin flesh, in time arose
Dying Gods their powers had failed to keep
Earth's realm free, as mankind's destiny seeps.
Solitude, neglect had laid heavy blows
Universe its powers, had set new shows
As retiring Gods fled the future’s flight,
Man’s spirit therein, sought the blessed light
Yet in that vein, darkness again held sway
From fleeing Gods heard, "Mortals too shall pay".
Robert J. Lindley, 8-13-2020
Rhyme, ( Man's Powers Grew As The Old Fleeing Gods Fled )
We are mere mortals with an uncertain destiny
at the mercy of time and of fates that be
but dearest, I will remain forever true to thee
For it's you I will love, I avow this faithfully
I will hold you close unto my soft breast
press my warm lips to yours upon behest
croon thee to slumber when in need of rest
bathe you in the ocean's waves as they crest
Though death may blazon to me in the night
shackled, we shall remain in chains held tight
never will I be enticed away from your sight
nor will a grave ever become our dividing blight
No reaper's scythe shall keep you from me
from this heart of mine, you will never be free
as rooted fast in the Earth's richest soil, a tree
our hearts will be entwined for all eternity
Wretched humanity passing through a space
Chosen to be born Chosen to be mournful
Woven webs with wisps of waste
Here to discover from the arms of a mother
So misplaced
Some mortal soul striving to succeed
Planted firmly willful pouring greed
Purposeful need wrapped up in treasure
Blatant inadvertence of mans frailty lost in forever
So few, so few see beyond their acuity
Not yet achieved fluent ingenuity
So they sail into a distant blankness of commutativity
But Such Is The Savory Flavor Of Mortal Flesh And Pride.
Gray shadows blending into a much darker ominous mist
And with that omen, another bullet added to the list
O'but did not the careless days of an adventurous youth
Lay in memory recalled by this and praying old man!
Hold now, did not courageous heroes of the past inspire
By waging battle with sword and shield even in muck and mire
And dawn each new day not inspire a Herculean effort
O' what hours of vain glory now just as a defeated fort!
Why sure some few were just grand and even a true hero's foray
I watch now as gray seems to conquer All and I bow to pray
Vanity is in deep in the harvest of one's youthful dreams!
But such is the savory flavor of mortal flesh and pride.
Dare I not, waken more of the old jealous gods and not hide!
Robert J. Lindley, sonnet--
""truth in telling, bitter dregs of fleeing dreams""