Best Orisons Poems
" In titanium haze of love,
truth is but a mere lie,
never unlocking gold vaults
of feelings, for,
honesty weeps somewhere
in perfumed odes of
inkless pages,
hidden in our forlorn fate..."
If twilight roses were
reincarnated angels,
they would carve
a zillion destinies
with feathered letters,
flickering beneath
butterfly glitters,
adhering glossy
wings of rosemary,
like a balm to
invisible scars
and encasing
my soul in a
hundred hues
of blood.
But, I never knew,
the secrets of
nebulous-cloaked
vengeance which
infused in
nightingale's
forevermore fortunes,
echoing eerie whispers
in elora moors of
scarlet jasmines,
at the jinx of
midnight's omen;
for thou emerged
as a lover in
ninety-nine novels,
but a guised
killer in the
farewell fantasy.
As I float by,
in the swan lake,
losing myself to thee,
I wish upon
defrosting your eyes,
that got submerged
beneath icebergs
of betraying harbinger
and bleed my soul
in frosted heart's
snow-sealed
milky ways,
as these flaked
clayey leaf
pamphlets of
sakura scents
aren't enough
to erase thy
fingerprints from this
poisoned chalice,
that sung sinful
serenades in
deadly paradise
of Eurydice
and sliced my spirit
to sooty shreds,
in this diamond dungeon
behind sage valleys.
Laced in
ash grey lies,
I'm a corpse
enveloped in
crimson croons
of confetti,
whilst lips
soak acrylic
dewdrops of
melting roses,
that once
blanketed our
eden in the
arms of heaven,
with starlit petals.
So, as Nymph,
in the orisons,
with hemlock
fused heart,
be all my sins
remembered.
For, love is a
smoke raised
with the fume
of sighs, demising
to sacrificed
meadows, where,
this kismet tale
departs in the
very ecstacy
of cradling mist,
and thus,
with disoriented
twilight's kiss, I die.
To be spoken silently
In that unpleasant tumult
Lurking behind the facade
He does not suspect in what wild fear
He'll join with her in a fatal play
Thus he sees his life as
an outrageous fortune
Like thunder shuttering orisons
The demented contempt of a puny mind
Repudiated into self negation
And subjugated himself into an empty shell
Infused into such subjective depositions
That leaves him with no refuge
I recollect the dark nights, worst nights, worst days, Dem nights, black Wednesday,
My happiness that nightfall was the worst and last case I would love not to recollect,
Damn! I couldn’t kip! I couldn’t have those fantasy dreams of Mars either!
That wasn’t what I wanted or wished for neither hoped for,
Damn! I was feeble, moist, and above all, agony,
That’s when! I needed Princess #8ryan’z fingers, to fill the gaps in between mine, I got none,
That’s when! I needed soft words which shouldn’t have broken my bones, I got a few,
That’s when! I needed Orisons, I got many reaching through to the end of my eyes,
With all that, still I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t do a thing on black Wednesday,
But Hey! My life was already surrounded by good wines that gave me wide hope,
And later on, the next nightfall, I flourished in wander land,
Now, that I don’t want to talk about it,
Ama do some changes ‘Cause black Wednesday has been set free as a marked mural.
In Memory of Aunt Auke
© T.m.T.s
Magical glittering tin soldiers joyfully marching across resurrections big sreen ~
Adorned anew within these sweeping sentient hues of silver humanity; tete-a-tete....
Created beyond the faciled imagination of a childs spectacular, swaddled dreams
Sitting inside panoramas pristine theatres, unblemished blockbuster seats!?
Hummingbirds hovering carefree aneath this gnostics laughing willows tree as
Porcelain dolls wearing sunflowers smile amid orisons breath of light ~
Aside, spirited zygote ballerinas pirouetting atop sanctities blue and white
Checkered picnics blanket embellished in all of their, emotive existential delights....
Presentiments adaptive stage being set upon this warm articulating Summers day
While as an acquainting whippoorwill begins their serenities exonerating ballad ~
Rapture; turning slowly this scented wax figurine between softened fingers
Gently to taste its pleasing fragrance; conceiving, scenics genteel globe?!
Tenderly tracing paragons once vagabond lips within, crayolas faithful colours of
A childs everlasting and majestical love, born, upon the throne of "Grace"....
****************************************************************
"Kings and Queens" ~
In Full Flight Her Soul Departed
To free my heart of all that haunted me
Told I, these my tidings.
... On a summer's dawn,
Fresh from our orisons, we wandered forth
To greet the waking of the meadow flowers
And peer into the crystal pearls of dew
That shrine the beauty of the world, when lo!
Beside the cresses of a dark pool bending
Whose voiceless depths of waters brings to light
The dreams of brooding earth, I saw her face
Folded in mystic rapture, set in glory
Even as in the heart of sorrow nestles
The seed of consolation, and beside her
One stood in semblance of those two higher souls
That bear annunciation, and they two
In Heavenly colloquy abode, the while
My spirit marveled, waiting in a region
Where time was not. When suddenly a breeze
Came like a wayward thought, and swiftly ran
Across the shadowy waters, and the vision
Was there no more; and when I turned to her
None stood beside her, but she seemed as one
That waketh from enchantment, and all day
Her words did sound as echoes of old song
From out a happier world, - and that same night
In quiet sleep she died.
Robert J. Lindley, 10-27-2015
Note- Here I present this as was written,
in my old way, long ago abandoned but now attempting
to rekindle that writing flame..
Based upon the death, decades ago, of a dear friend.
(1) orison
Syllabification: or·i·son
Pronunciation: /'ôr?s?n/ /'ôr?z?n/
Definition of orison in English:
noun
archaic
A prayer.
EXAMPLE SENTENCES
Origin
Middle English: from Old French oreison, from Latin oratio(n-) 'speech' (see oration).
(2) annunciation
Definition of annunciation in English:
noun
(usually the Annunciation)
1. The announcement of the Incarnation by the angel Gabriel to Mary (Luke 1:26-38).
EXAMPLE SENTENCES
1.1The church festival commemorating this, held on March 25 (Lady Day).
EXAMPLE SENTENCES
1.2 formal or , archaic The announcement of something:
the annunciation of a set of rules applying to the relationships between states
(3) colloquy
col·lo·quy
'käl??kwe/
noun
1.
formal
a conversation.
"they broke off their colloquy at once"
2.
a gathering for discussion of theological questions.
Shuffling this scope of limited perceptions; their visions..
Crossing her celestial, scintilating skies; deep inside tubular
Chimes lifting amid the breeze to these, tranquil orisons ? Subliminally
Marked emotions rising in state; bay windows dismissing chains; silvertone's rustic tides
Receding, from time's shores before my eyes; portent clarities bearing a Spirits wings
To fly beyound their breakwater whirlpools, vortex designs ? Breathtaking
Inversions encapulating this heart as solipsism flees and the eclipse of but once
Paradoxic's moon, now utters her revelations touchstone moments ? Beckoning myself
Aneath certitudes apex in parallel's reasons; these, realms about love's cloistered heavens
Wherein beauty does, so reside ? Tubular chimes lifting amid the breeze; subliminally marked
Emotions afore bay windows and her silvertones, scintilating skies; bearing, wings to fly....
Beyound His colour splashed canvas of pastels, immortal stardust ? A twenty-first century love song.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shuffling this scope of limited perceptions their visions
Crossing the celestials scintilating skies; deep inside tubular
Chimes lifting in the breeze to these tranquil orisons
Subliminally marked emotions rising in state; bay windows dismissing chains....
Silvertones rustic tides, receding from the shores before my eyes
Portent clarities bearing a Spirits wings to fly ~
Beyond the breakwater whirlpools vortex designs!?
Breathtaking inversions encapulating this heart as solipsism flees
And the eclipse of the once paradoxic moon now utters her
Revelations touchstone moments....
Beckoning myself aneath certitudes apex of parallel reasons these
Realms amid the cloistered heavens wherein, beauty does so reside ~
Tubular chimes lifting in the breeze, subliminally marked emotions afore
Bay windows in silvertones scintilating skies; bearing, wings to fly beyond
The colour splashed canvas of pastels immortal, stardust....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
.."?A 21st Century, 'Love Song!'"..
A Heart's Deep Song
Grant me for sweet remembrance sake
Some golden gift that I may take
With me into that region
Awaiting me when love is gone,
The jewel that held thy fragrant hair
Against the winds of March; a share
Of lavender thy fringed lawn
Nestled among until dawn;
A broken bridge, a tattered string
Of thy deep lute's dismembering;
The many-beaded beryl zone
That thy still orisons hath known;
Or, that my heart may be at ease,
Tell me the bliss thy vision sees;
Sing me the secret of thy faith
That I may find thee beyond death.
R.J. Lindley,
April 17th, 1972
Note-
In youth I sought the winds that sing aloud
bringing in music of each new day
I was bold, hungry and quite proud
yet life's selfish yearnings got in my way
Looking back, great life was there to be had
if only my anger had not held sway
I was so wild, crazy and yes, a bit bad
for which truth and justice made me pay
Ah, but who hasn't regret about youthful misdeeds
about fine treasures so stupidly lost
I that happily sowed far too many dark seeds
sadly now reap, the inevitable high cost
When youth in folly thinks not but then leaps
should it shock, to find, Fate plays for keeps
Started as just a short note--turned into an unfinished poem.
My muse taunts me today... at her sweet pleasure..
At the sound of the national lullaby
My face will I hide, O Kirinyaga
Will sleep not
Your notes laden with saline saliva
hammer and bore my ears,
your thoughts unfathomable
I have lost my breath loving you
because my name stems from you
Yet you chide me with your shadows
that cover my path to you.
O Kirinyaga,
You will no longer see orisons at your crest
Your hump is a forbidding climb
I chide you, Kirinyaga
It pirouettes in the air,
the raison d'être for a black man's inimitability.
Something that keeps a black man bleeding
by a black man's thrust.
As if by some twisted
Divine stratagem,
he was fated to kneel
that hour, on that coast,
with peeling grits grinding
into his patellae,
and limbs begging for shackles.
A piece of mirror for
a thousand shackles.
I see them when
I close my eyes, on nights
damp as the dirge they sing.
I wave like the palms to
the hollow hums that snake along
with the creek.
I see them in Badagry
wearing chains and faces
that tell no tale.
Ghost faces that run rivers,
embracing subtle winces; gifted by
lashing fibres,twisted like
Aduke's traverse.
I swear she never cries,
even when the blows land.
Only she whistles her tale secretly to the water
and chants orisons that mount the skies.
A prayer of good will for kith, and
good fortune for kin.
Foremost, her heart in urge shrouds the son.
May his ship run
ashore somefate void of fetters.
A hundred years later,
the son yet rots in manacles,
sniffing white addiction.
When empty bubbles of stillness brimmed the place
Upon an emerald carpet of meads, she genuflected with gathered grace
Of languished bones and reverence plucked from nunhood hearts.
Mighty potentate dear, the wonted beseeching starts.
Oh! May the taper of thought illuminate the native firmament of youth
With eternal beams of clemency and immaculate truth.
May remnants of vernal days, emulate the unsullied string of murmuring Rhine
Which lofty silvern moon looks through in her decline.
Oh! Bestow sleets of diamond, shower the withering faith abundantly
My genuine night in ancient might and atrous raven majesty
Never admits a lucid ray of Cynthia's placid light
Nor scarce a pristine spark from virgin Lilies white.
In festal exuberant mirth, flowers rich in prime often steep
Banished from fervid fancies, my dreams slither from sepulchres of sleep
Dreary like spectres embroidered in soot-black cloak
Yoked with throat gripping images of woe, clawed than forked foot of hawk.
Oh! Grand down the enormous wing of unyielding throes
Intercepting the sun's beam of daffodil gold to disclose
The jolly throng of seeming friends in vizard faction knit.
Raze with fanged rust, the malignant swarm of antagonizing foes assailing in skits.
Once these cheeks flushed bright than crimson blossoms glow
Alack! Over those, briny springs of melancholy flow
From heights of penitence, from depth of pain suppressed
Creeping like subtle snakes from hollowed cavities of earth's breast.
Since wisdom hoarded in writhled lores and hoary sage
Never fades, stroked by boundless surges of age.
Since the raging cold of thawed snow, is kindly kept in summer's temperate heat
The severe taste of my delayed revenge, is neither lost in circles of time nor deplete.
Oh! Divine celestial quill, in rich characters of light, write…
Before the blind sentence groped to distinct light
Restless billows of black-faced misery, wretched the brass-chain of words away
Her thoughts bitter and sweet mingled without delay.
Through hollowed glades redoubled echoes nimbly fly
Plumed like pinions in boundless circles scan the scaled sky
Bearing the closing effort of sacred orisons, sealed with despairing cry
Imploring the sovereign sublime, perched upon Elysium throne
Oh! “Let go the string, before this withering faith is tempest blown."
To Get Or Not To Get
by Odin Roark
To be
Or
Not to be
May not be the question
For is it not nobler
To suffer slings and arrows
Of outrageous fortune
In order for empowerment
To discover one needn’t
Take up arms against a sea
Of troubles merely to oppose them
But to manage them
Might outrageous fortune’s only reward
Be to die
To sleep
To realize the rub?
For in death by riches
What dreams may come
Atop one’s mortal coil
Having been shuffled off?
Such must give us pause
To get or not to get
Begs solemn discretion
And being prudent
Of what we ask for
May allow our satisfied needs
To serve well our bearing of ills we have
Rather than fly to others
We know not of
Soft you now fair holiday—nymph
In thy orisons
Be all my bafflement remembered
When divine’s grace, stroked hair and kissed forehead
Euphorically immersed in ecstasy
When humming breeze smoothed solitude
Weeping heart filled with orisons
When rays of hope percolated in being
Tears of pleasure coursed down on cheeks
When tied limbs broken twines
Suppressed desires floated on sky
When hymns of bliss reverberated in air
Canyons of mind filled with flowers
When feathers of love patted on back
Distorted being solaced in self
When last moment passed in hurry
Me......the light, drowned in ecstasy
Some are clearly Buddhist,
they sing not much, but drone
and chant, they do not flaunt.
Some are brightly painted egos,
their songs bootie-calls from empty nests
where they preen melodically rampant.
Others strain both throats and tongues
bend a tune to a roundelay
as nimbly as any yogic mystic.
A few are serenely drab
yet their songs are Catholic hymns
that soar saintly and sibilant.
Each species preaches
their own cyclical creed,
then propels melodramatic arias
to shake the air
or tweet, tremolo, warble, and twitter
their own sacred canticles.
Some tree cloistered avian
sing just as sweetly as any Sufi poem.
A noted wrecking-crew rabble-rouse
and mob, they declaim their rowdy rhythms
from a thumping zealot's craw and caw.
It is the musicality of their soul-songs
that we recognize,
all the feathered mantra's,
psalms and psalters
that are pumped from natures solar plexus
as chorales and airy orisons.
Then of course
there are the faithless calls
of blue jays, parrots, mockingbirds
and the honey easting Miner Birds
atheist all
yet they bring a rib-digging
jollity to the church of the sky.
All raise-up their voices.
A flocked congregation
chirping soft and loud
with a common lyricism
of body, spirit, and the votive holiness
of passing clouds.
Giving Godly Grace
Giving Godly grace calls us to walk
In God’s sweet embracing footsteps of mercy’s tears,
Vital in vivacity grace births the soul of eternal vitality,
Infused gratuity – no small tokens but tips of profound charity –
Gracious orisons from the Master’s overflowing favor.
Grace glimpses Genesis’ handwriting spoken - it is good -
Oblation in offertory pushing aside offense askance -
Dawning grace glazes gates locked by incense taken
Lifting us up, like a Samaritan lifts the wounded from shared dust
Yielding pride’s stubbed toes of smug rightness to yesterday.
Grace - gift of perfection intoned in pure harmony –
Raised relief, benediction’s signature written
An apple of God’s eye handed to us in ribbons of forgiveness,
Consecrated on two wooden beams at the edge of oblivion,
Endowed with eternal favor – gift for us to exchange again and yet again.
5-18-21
Contest: Giving Godly Grace Acrostic
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh