Best Pondering Poems
Pondering The Sad And Fateful Decision
there he sat
his brain peddling along
heart fluttering in space
and that bright summer sky kissing his face
mind recalling trouble
her face appears
she that ripped his flesh and smashed his world
there is no reprieve
certainly is no hope
he ponders the unthinkable
a sharp knife in his right hand
birds fly and settle in the sycamore tree...
such vibrating colors and splendid tunes
his heart started growing lighter
music soothes the wounded beast
yes, today he would walk
back into this dark world
fight the dreaded beast
to rise in morn and smile
eat a fine breakfast
maybe find a new job
why not he mused
is my life ready for joy
yes it tis
brain fired up and
heart grown lighter
then suddenly he saw
her face and darkness return
he sits and sharpens that knife
after all he thought
what the hell is life.....
after all
what the hell is living
but a black curse
a lonely death
he remembers
his knife
sharpens its
long blade
and muses death
would it be
so bad
pain would stop
sleep would fall
and
his heart
stop crying....
again his brain
thought
what is living
but a curse
a curse he endures
as she went away
and now so will he...
Robert J. Lindley, free verse
9-15-2023
Note:
This poem is dedicated to my very good friend who
in the summer of 1976 took his own life....
As I ponder my weak bladder, you see.
I travel around the corner from thee.
Be careful if around the corner you go.
Please for your sake, watch for yellow snow.
The dark is not so dark without a light
If you let your eyes adjust
Then you can really hear the crickets sing
Pondering the cosmos, I thought I’d look around
until I heard a tiny voice, speaking from the ground
It questioned why I bothered, to gaze so far away
when right beneath my own two feet, a vibrant world’s at play
Hmm, I mused. He’s got a point, I may have overlooked
So, I bent down and what I saw forever had me hooked
The drama of an anthill forming, the undulations of a worm
A cosmos that I’d never known ~ a new world from which to learn
To walk along a high mountain rock road
Gaze down on a patchwork of green and gold
With ribbons like glue on a mosaic vase,
A misty fall rain upon your wan face.
I know it’s a herald of change of seasons,
And I ponder and wonder the reasons,
While your eyes on the future enrapt you,
One more season, one more, let me love you.
We’ve lived and loved and grown old together,
Have withstood all of life's stormy weathers,
Still conscious are we of the mystery,
Of God's love everlasting gift to be.
Through one more season, let your dear smile glow.
My heart willing it - will make it be so.
I do not wish to be pompous nor to define,
Whose quill is more divine!
Each poem is soul fruit from a unique experience.
That dances and whirls on the toes of time.
Someone's heart is in each poem.
Don't, I plea, let it stand alone!
It's light rays may brighten even the darkest soul.
So lift and elevate others, truly a most loving goal!
11-10-2020
Ponded and becalmed after the downpour, lying in shining stillness, I reflect an earthly existence; above me newly leafed limbs, and beyond, the wild beauty of motley skies in the afternoon’s brightening quietude. On the side of a country back road, I daydream. As leftover clouds drift in light and dark moods across my mirrored face, I ponder the possibilities of ‘what ifs’. What if life had taken me elsewhere - to a different time and place, filling another space, in another form and shape? What if I had fallen soft as a summer drizzle instead, dressing spider webs in misty strings of mini crystal beads.. or had filled a rusty-relic watering can, left behind ages ago beside an ivy-smothered stump.. or maybe had been wind-whipped with a vengeance into a swollen river rough and ready to ride the rapids.. What if, I had fallen as snow eons ago and now was found deep in an ice core in Antarctica.. how exotic! Straying cumulus find themselves captured in my imagination as well as in my liquid looking-glass oval, and my thoughts stray back to the soothing smoothness of my present reality. I know my time here, though sweet, is short-lived; and so I set my pondering aside and decide to seize upon the moment with contentment in my tranquil state of repose.
placid puddle mulls
lost in reflections of clouds -
spring rains laid to rest
Susan Ashley
May 1, 2019
~Third Place~
Contest: Happy Haibun
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Pondering Castle Ruins At Dusk
I came upon you near to dusk
watching on the final hill
as modern sculpture, graced stone
calm, slumbering, still.
I wandered through the ghostly rooms
sparely traced by tumbled walls
seeking echoes from soft souls
who coloured life into your walls.
I touched your stone with tender hand
seeking signs of yesterday
a remnant of another time
rains had washed your tales away
Yet something of those times remain
within the spaces of your keep
the wind it sped a reedy tune
and voices murmured slow and deep.
taken for granted
attributes of existence
purpose in-between
The freeze-thaw, freeze-thaw
of Newfoundland winters
plays havoc with the pavement.
Cracks become divots.
Divots become potholes.
Potholes become trenches.
Trenches become craters.
Exaggeration? No, not really!
And what lies buried beneath?
A treasure trove of history and mystery
rarely, if ever, to be uncovered.
The past in the past in the past...
in the present.
We stand on the shoulders
of all those who came before
until, one day,
we become a part of before.
Pause for thought.
I’m at the age where
I’ve grown really long hair
And I don’t denim care
That the trend is to cut it
No longer wearing high heels
Just for a flex or a thrill
More about how my feet feel
And they don’t love it
I don’t have many pink plans
Flying by seat of peach pants
Keeping my praying hands
I am blessed with contentment
Becoming a red recluse
Enjoying sandy solitude
Embracing my various moods
Without any raspberry resentment
I wonder of me what they say
Am I now an old onyx maid
Because there’s no wedding day
It tickles me pink to think
That my out of wedlock birth
Gave my life priceless worth
Despite sermon of online church
I entertain purple pondering
Every day I see a pondering clown
He rests his arms on a stone platform
No one knows what he is thinking
His eyes stare down -there is no smile
both hands to his face, looking so sad
The eyes look like he will cry tears
He carries the worries of the world
Wonders what will happen next
This pondering clown is part of my collection
Sitting on my shelf, I see him every day
if owls were as wise
as our wyandotte indians
how would we approach
A pondering thought I'm trying hard to conceal.
Thoughts roll around the rim of my mind's roulette wheel.
Do I gamble on love or risk losing it all?
Is it red? Is it black? I'm unsure what to call?
The stakes they feel high in this game that we play.
Thoughts rolled like a dice. Do I let it all slip away?
But the wheel it keeps spinning, thoughts chasing the light.
Caught between courage and fear, Am I wrong to be right?
What if the wheel spins wildly and it lands on my heart?
Could joy bloom from surrender or just tear us apart?
As I stand at this junction at a crossroads of choice,
I look for words to inspire from love's whispering voice.
If I wager on love and give all that, I own.
Will fortune favour the brave, or just leave me alone?
Should I live for a moment? I can't put into words?
As I ponder this question, with thoughts kept in reserve.
So, I ponder these thoughts as I take one more spin,
As love is a mystery that we seek from within.
If you stumble in life, make it part of your dance.
It's just a pondering thought. Let's give love a chance.
I felt the chaos like a capsule, small
It tumbled down my throat, dispersed throughout
To numb alert my body, I’d no doubt
Newborn idle entropy at sunfall
Senses are but half-blind court reporters
And memory’s known to give in to its whims
So man may doubt the gospels and the hymns
All the “truths” he’ll know will have no borders
For “meaning” needs more than a just-because
A cosmolog’cal constant, man requires
But now the tree of knowledge rots ‘mid fires
That char the good and all their obeyed laws
I felt like chaos in a bottle, capped
A message in a bottle’s still left wrapped