Best Namely Poems
Oh
hermit,
we have heard
that you have seen,
that which is unseen,
namely the face of God
and that too in broad daylight,
so with folded hands, we request
you to please teach us all the practice,
following which, we too may see the light.
Dear soul, the path to follow is pathless,
appearing on its own when we seek
with a pure heart, in childlike trust,
making mindful every touch,
seeing God’s light in all
for that is the truth,
so recognised
in the cave
of our
heart.
Since joining just yesterday,
I have not had much to say,
As I sit here idle,
Waiting for a title,
I watch as you pass my way,
I am honored to be here,
While a select few may jeer,
Mostly I can see hope,
From the end of my rope,
Bringing about a joyous tear,
For all poets who have been called,
Disenchanted or enthralled,
Our mission always true,
We inform and move you,
To make you act or make you halt,
To rise above and expound the truth,
Or to lose ourselves in a groove,
Whether blatent or far out,
We live to learn - live to shout,
About love, laughter or the blues,
For although I may be new,
To this small poetic group,
I see what you've built,
With talent and skill,
Namely this Poetry Soup,
That Summer Day At That Resplendent, Ancient Weeping Tree
Around that tall, wide spread ancient weeping tree
Where singing meadows and smiling sky looking down
Upon a wandering searching child, namely me
Far, very far away from our small farming town
Gazing up to see where hides the Olympic gods
Seeking life's approval by their wizened nods!
Yet the gods had vanished leaving bright blue sky
Its deep beauty, vestige of all that was to be
I stood transfixed, bravely questioning the why
Could not life and happiness be given for free
Puzzled by the cold hard-set silence falling down
At last seeing, fled were the gods with their false crowns!
As such thoughts invaded a newly minted mind
A child decided best to further knowledge seek
For how ever was a soul to life's great truths find
And verify, blessings come to those humbly meek
Thus acknowledge power of words my father spoke
And prove too, life was love, light- God's masterful stroke!
That summer day at that resplendent, ancient weeping tree.
I found truth- God put an innocent, loving soul in me.
Robert J. Lindley, 2-16-2021
Romanticism-
( A poetic narrative, Wherein One Great Truth Was Found )
Blog poem.
Not allow politics to pollute the populace
With issues like regionalism and language
Permit free movement of men and goods
Connect the country with tree-lined roads.
Deal ruthlessly with anti-national elements
Issue stern warning to all political animals
Mischief by them may attract prison cells
Or deport them to far off Siberian jungles.
Corruption eating away the vitals of nation
Shall be dealt with the deterrent castigation
Persuade the people to stay honest and just
Remain steadfast to the ideals from the start.
Would certainly encourage sports and games
Without discrimination between the sports
Not allow them to do things other than play
Push them to perform for the nation anyway.
Two areas namely agriculture and defense
Are important, I believe for fast furtherance
Linking science & technology for advance
And lead the state to grandiose deliverance.
Maintain cordiality with every other nation
Always upholding the dignity of my nation
Neither yielding nor bothering is my dictum
With pledge absolute to protect the sanctum.
Thus is my agenda for action instantaneous
To free the motherland from evils infectious
To hoist her on the pedestal vividly glorious
If by chance, I become the dictator gracious.
‘Water’ seems a fitting title
of this rhyme on something vital
for the beings we take care of
and the others we’re aware of.
Life on Earth depends on water,
whether human or sea otter,
fish or fowl, whatever creatures
having some subsistence features.
Water may have been existent
in archaic ages distant
long before we tend to think—
even water that we drink.
Yet when in our galactic history
it was formed has been a mystery…
The researchers have debated
as to if it could be stated
that this liquid can be dated
back to when it’s been related
there was a disk of gas and dust
and molecules that were a must
for water that originated
when our ‘system’ was created
(namely, ‘solar’, where we’re fated)…
Or might it be more antiquated?!
Could we trace to outer space
the genesis that took place
of the water in our glass?
If indeed this came to pass,
it would open up new queries,
not to mention E.T. theories…
But that’s within the jurisdiction
of those who compose science fiction.
Many scientists have avowed
that from the Sun’s parental cloud
of interstellar dust and gas,
from which our star derived its mass,
water, well, to be precise,
water in the form of ice
was inherited there and then,
in that olden where and when…
Some astronomers theorize
that what we may not realize
is up to half the H2O
within the oceans that we know
right here on Planet Earth could be,
yes, older than the Sun we see
illuminating from on high,
in daylight’s path across the sky,
our frets and frolics down below,
where heedlessly we come and go…
Water and life go hand in hand,
from briny deep to wooded land.
In the mariner’s rhyming tale,
all the winds at sea did fail,
and the sailors lives were lost—
the idle ship was merely tossed
as if on a painted ocean,
painted ship, devoid of motion.
There was water ‘every where’,
Coleridge says, except that there
was none to quench their parching thirst;
so the voyage seemed doubly cursed.
Water is such precious stuff!
Do we value it enough?
Oh, may there never come a time
(as in that famous rhyming rime)
when as to water here on Earth—
where mortals meet their death and birth—
we too will ever need to think
that there is not a drop to drink!
~ Harley White
This outlier locked up (snug as a bug in a rug) within the keystone state
extremely remote from ground zero of Biblical deluge, he humbly didst rate
the pride and prejudice (questionable sense and sensibility)
of indiscriminate resultant landfall upon this oblate
spheroid i.e. namely planet unfit ness Earth, where global affect
sans billions of people answered call of the wild
viz zit ting suitable companion mate
which collective souls (entrapped within their own asylum) of late
contributed to tipping point, where category 5 hurricanes
frequently nada so great
for folks chose to live along the path of this
and subsequent Gaia's doomsday fate
an object lesson scientists equate with
considerable proof over population fall out,
now yielding liquid Frankenstein golem –
an atrocious, ferocious, malicious date
thus now powerless at the figurative hands of
nefarious, odious, pernicious, rapacious beastie boy we
(meaning persons, who supposedly advanced progress of civilization)
MUST confront global warming resultant
what generations of *****Sapiens didst create
asper this thesis, I DO NOT berate others who disagree – cuz,
whom iz this bard butta varmint, for whom the tolling bell doth await.
Is Justice blind?
Or
Has the color of a Browned skinned people been so frequently splashed,
that it spills into her eyes as it blood soaks her sash?
Does Browned skin
blind Justice?
Is Justice really blind?
Or
Is this just the ranting of a Black Anti- Police movement
playing tricks on my mind
Does Justice remember the Injustice of a kind?
Has Justice forgotten black slavery?
Men women and children from youngest to oldest
in shackles balls and chains
A whip for the back,
a noose for the neck, a bridle for the big black horse
to plow my fields as I tug forcefully on the reins
A Fugitive Slave-Clause, given effect by, The Fugitive Slave Act of 1793
Namely in part
U.S. Constitution (Article 4, Section 2, Clause 3)
Which proves Sections of the U.S. Constitution were created to keep Blacks from ever being free
By eliminating Cities, States, and countries blacks could run
to Just be
And
Creating a police to serve White Justice
For
the capture of we slaves in case we rise up or flee
Is Justice really blind
or
Can Justice really see
Does Justice know?
The renowned Hangmen
at the ready, backed by genocidal government laws and decree’s
judging scores of black ink structured as names turned to numbers
on dockets at the bottom of the Hangman’s Tree
and
hastefully pulling triggers of deaths trap doors to quickly silence sounds of innocent cries
of not guilty plea’s
eliminating chances of being imprisoned in libraries where chapters in Black Law
Hold freedoms key
shrouding the eyes of Justice with a blood-soaked sash
With this question left to be asked
If I were a Police Officer, a judge, a Prosecuting Attorney, or any Law Enforcement Official of any Law Enforcement Agency,
sworn to protect and serve the people, uphold the laws and their sanctity
would I want to be held responsible for the answering of this question if it were asked of me,
whether alone or publicly?
Is Justice really blind or is she refusing to see
that
death before proven guilty, Sentence to be served immediately
is the judgment being passed on a people
with the same skin as me?
A man sinks his breath deep into a saxophone
He fills a smoky room with its tenor tone
All the clichés are here
From the femme fatale to the trodden tramp
The atmosphere borders on camp
Be you from a Manhattan high rise or a Brooklyn broken home
At the Café Noir the blue don’t drink alone
So take a seat in a booth or at the bar
By the depressed comedian or the fallen star
Everyone here is friends with the bartender
From the poorest soul to the biggest spender
He can be a wise old sage or a shoulder to cry on
He’s been known to spot a drink or two for those out of money for buyin
The band here does not set the mood
They simply play off the harmony of the room
Loaded .45's wise guy’s and private eyes
The words spoken here are cynical or lies
But can they really help their lugubrious prose?
After all the world is a mad house
When people come here
It’s not a bar they walk in
But a world they walk out
There are many treatments for those shell shocked by that outside loony bin
Namely whisky, scotch, bourbon or gin
The Café Noir can’t save you from your blues
But it can give you a glass to fall into when you lose
So come out of your home, blood soaked gutter or office
The band is on point and you can numb yourself to life’s problems; so pompous
At the Café Noir you will never drink alone
Here the blue will always have a home
We cannot separate Mother Mary and Saint Joseph
They’re having so much connection
With the mystery of Incarnation of Eternal God
St. Joseph, being guardian of the Virgin’s spotless honor
Foster-father of the Divine Babe
Mother Mary’s family thought be made known
She might not be stoned by the Jews as an adulteress
Thirdly, that in her flight; have the comfort of a husband
St. Ignatius add yet a fourth reason namely that is birth might hid from the devil
Looking for Him to be born of a wife and not of a Virgin
Gracious God, I pray for my parents
For all family members who have positively influenced my life
For the happiness of good memories
For the forgiveness of those who have wronged me
And for peace of heart with those to whom I did not or could not say “I’m sorry”
For all the deceased members of my family
Your great mercy Lord
You may forgive their sins
And welcome them into eternal life
Written 6222018
Poetry Form: Terzanelle (19 lines poem)
www.facebook.com/akerev1
My precious was nearly destroyed by an heart breaker
but it was romantically rescued by an heart maker
my strength to trust was nearly gone
lovingly, i have it restored by a miss namely bimbo
Escape from the den of a lioness,
a beautiful kangaroo welcome me into her palace
when i thought that my love life is dead
and that no woman can again equate the balance
money is sweet and marriage is distasteful
those were the vain words of my mouth
cuz i have see too many ladies that are lustful
which weakens my tissues and gives me a bone
i lost a copper but look at the beauty of the silver i have
God have given a great, loving distance companion to my life
to teach me that there are still few that will reject the mark
those whose family not be tear apart
listen to her and be natural about it
you will see how her beauty glows
her inner beauty is far precious than onyx
her gesture like the flock of mount-Gilead's goat
her is a fountain of honey and milk
no other honeycomb is like my beloved words of her lips
i believe GOD is sending her to me
change my regretful believe
Ever since i met you
i wish to end up with someone like you
i am very to have naked the true
but i wish to have a picture you
In memoriam: Queen Elizabeth II died on 8 September 2022. May she Rest in Peace.
Gracious and a constant all my life,
not bending to public opinion o’ strife,
your sharp wit could cut like a Bowie knife.
With statesmen you did meet—had an excellent seat.
Paddington Bear, so sweet—your compassion, not beat.
You’re honoured as a national treasure,
never resorting to artful pressure:
Deus ex machine per Measure for Measure.
You danced with those freed—gifted a French Guard stead.
You have lived by a creed—example to us indeed.
Remembered as beloved mother and wife,
seventy years on the throne: quite a feat.
There’s no more need of any embrasure.
For your esteemed family, hearts now bleed.
Poetic form: Suzette sonnet.
The title of the poem refers to Paddington Bear saying ' Thank you Ma'am ... for everything...' when he 'took tea' with HRH in celebration of the Planinum Jubelee in June 2022.
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© SUZETTE SONNET—SUZNET for short (9 April 2021)
A 14-line sonnet of alternating triplets and couplets, concluding with a quatrain.
Rhyme scheme: aaa (b1–b2)(b3–b4) ccc (d1–d2)(d3–d4) abcd
The triplets are iambic pentameter [*/|*/|*/|*/|*/].
The rhyming couplets are iambic hexameter and include an internal rhyme, namely [*/|*/|*/—*/|*/|*/] (alexandrines).
Concluding with a quatrain in iambic pentameter that summarises the poem in a rhyme scheme set by the triplets and couplets.
The volta is at L9. OR the couplets may define pivots within the poem, ie a tilting or shifting in the mainline of thought. When the latter is employed, it needs to be uniform throughout the poem.
Michael Latido has quite a history.
He is considered a medical mystery.
The razor blades, nuts and bolts.
Eaten by him and other dolts.
Are nothing, compared to namely,
His eating a grocer cart, bicycle
and claim to fame, doing away inanely...
With a complete Cessna airplane
© Apr 09 2010
In awe, I welcome Thor with utmost glee.
The powerful celestial force set free
amongst the hills and over the coarse scree.
The winds that whip and slink — the hailstones loudly clink.
Flashes segue to link — I quell the urge to blink.
My pulse quickens at the rank petrichor.
I ignore being drenched, making my soul soar,
I turn my face to the rain to taste more.
The storm will not abate — it’ll make me very late
for meeting that’ll seal fate — my destiny won't wait.
Our tempers complimenting to a T,
and search for impressive clichés in sync.
Remembering that which had gone before,
I’m quite blasé about the hot debate.
This poem was included in the 11-poem anthology dealing with hailstones, in the online publication Pick Me Up Poetry, March 2022:
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© SUZETTE SONNET—SUZNET for short (9 April 2021)
A 14-line sonnet of alternating triplets and couplets, concluding with a quatrain.
1. Rhyme scheme: aaa (b1–b2)(b3–b4) ccc (d1–d2)(d3–d4) abcd
2. The triplets are iambic pentameter [*/|*/|*/|*/|*/].
3. The rhyming couplets are iambic hexameter and include an internal rhyme, namely [*/|*/|*/—*/|*/|*/] (alexandrines).
4. Concluding with a quatrain in iambic pentameter that summarises the poem in a rhyme scheme set by the triplets and couplets.
5. The volta is at L9. OR the couplets may define pivots within the poem, ie a tilting or shifting in the mainline of thought. When the latter is employed, it needs to be uniform throughout the poem.
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LEXICON
ceraunophilia: (n) A fondness (loving) for thunder and lightning and finding them intensely beautiful.
The term is derived from the Greek ‘keraunós’, meaning lightning or thunderbolt. On the flip side, ceraunophobia may be defined as a fear of thunder and lightning.
scree: (n) a mass of small stones that form a slope on a mountain.
segue: (v) 1. (in music and film) move without interruption from one piece of music or scene to another. 2. Move or shift from one state or condition to another.
petrichor: (adj) it describes how rain makes the hot ground smell at the first rains.
I was reading Lakoff's story
of what he learned at Berkeley
about international relations,
when I found my RightBrain offering further nuance;
not to deny what is here,
but to add what is also here,
but not explicitly stated,
about regenerative ecopolitical health and safety.
"The 'rational' approach to foreign policy was governed by a set of conceptual metaphors,
taken as simple common sense,
as metaphors [of and for regenerative v degenerative systemic processes] often are.
As a special case of An Institution
is a[n Organic-Holistic-Interdependent] Person,
there was A Nation is a[n Organic-Multiculturing] Person."
"In addition,
a common metaphor for rationality is used,
namely,
Rationality is the Maximization of Self [as organic subsystemic part of MultiReGenerative Other]-Interest (or 'utility' [as health-wealth fertility]),
which entails that it is 'irrational' [and unhealthy] to act against one's self-[intergenerational WinWin multicultural]interest[s].
These two metaphors are then combined to yield:
A [Healthy, Happy, Secure] Nation is a Rational [Organic TransReGenerational Polypathic] Actor[ess]."
"...we get as an entailment
the central thesis of the [organic] rational [trans-regenerational evolutionary] actor model
in international [interfamilial, intertribal, interspecies] relations:
Every [healthy] nation
acts [bicameral] rationally
to maximize its [health-wealth] military [Yang] strength [prosperity],
economic[-ecological hybrid] health [and happiness, with long-term defense of safety],
and political [cooperative polypathic] influence."
"Rationality,
on this conception,
is taken as
[discontinuous, deductive-only, reified, either-or] universal
and occurring at the [technology, tool, framing, modeling] level
of the
[organic, living,
matriarch nurturing,
ego/eco-loving,
bicamerally mature-evolving] state."
I feel so eviscerated.
Get over it.
Both-and;
not either-or.
You still got all your parts,
just more integratively co-aligned.
Yes, ma'am!
Who got out of bed on the wrong side today?
Don't even try it.
I'm going back to my "Political Mind" without you.
Doubtful.
And, if possible, dangerous.
You really aren't going to let me have the last word today are you?
I thought I was your last word,
your everything.
Navigating the immense void of night
The right ascension to a winter’s sky;
Coincides with the height from which I stood
Stars, interlinking crescendo’s so freely,
Imitate the centuries, as I presumed as much.
At least with one tuned in, to so many stars
The magnitude existence found, far large;
Appearing close to one another as a variable
Heralded each, a legend the Greeks had made.
(The Constellations)
Snoozing with the intention of inanimate usage
The head long bolster pillow, namely, ‘Hydra’,
Chose an encounter with Hercules as foe
Prolong impetuous, to each gradual hemisphere,
As one could sideways look, exclaim its’ breath
Pursuing each as on-lookers, chose that group!
Individually did it taper each ceaseless path.
Warily, with twisting motion, a scathing attack
Searching menageries from whence it came;
To the labyrinths where pulsars engage sense
Trails to adjoining torsos, and ten thousand heads,
Though be them stars or for the sheer hell of it
Combine as one, each with a will of its own;
As per chance, with the combined effort, sway
Euripides, a watercourse, with banks on each.
There, Centaurus takes grip of its south west tip
Uninspiring Sextans, via Alphard’s luminary
The heart to all there is, and everlasting life,
Immortality may be a reality or mere illusion.
Secondments trail to endearments out of view,
To Southern scopes from omnipotent fathers;
Godly endeavours that imaginations flame
Find these dreams for us, the Hydra dead,
To remain in searing portals to then regroup
Bestowed as thoughts to future centuries.
This modern social scene has overhung-
Encompassed by a twirl, one single snake
That twisted and turned where each was caught
By something that as groups could never see,
We as the stars ourselves imposing on each
Imposing one another, avoiding calm.
This meandering replacement deals with hope,
Extremely drawn out as the Hydra is;
To engulf every membrane of tale told so far,
Where mass of spatial existence seems blood
From which taking blame its life’s loss came,
And every impending story told so far,
Was simply a daydream to a night time sky.