Best Primarily Poems
Courage of Youth, Battle of Ypres, Flanders Field
(A Tribute)
Tough as nails young man with a red right hand
red-fire and whiskey ran in his blood.
Courageous seed of vast and cold hard land
quick temper, power of a surging flood.
Seeker of life, its promised mysteries
rash gambler with all he would ever own.
Born on ship in high wind swept, roaring seas
toughest warrior his town had ever grown.
Met his fate by volley of red-hot lead
buried on ground scared and battle blasted.
Aye boys, fodder that machine guns were fed
fools marching to death, long as it lasted.
Now flowers cover up and Time denies
scenes of battle torn soil and blood-red skies.
R.J. Lindley
April 23rd, 1975
SONNET-(DEATH AND WAR'S FUTILITY)
Tribute to Courage of Youth-- Second Battle of Ypres, April 22nd 1915 .
Note- added - 8-26-2017
Wiki-
The name Flanders Fields is particularly associated with battles that took place in the Ypres Salient, including the Second Battle of Ypres and the Battle of Passchendaele. For most of the war, the front line ran continuously from south of Zeebrugge on the Belgian coast, across Flanders Fields into the centre of Northern France before moving eastwards — and it was known as the Western Front.
The phrase originates from a poem titled In Flanders Fields by Canadian Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, inspired by his service during the Second Battle of Ypres. The fields were not maintained for years before they were made into a memorial. Today Flanders Fields is home to thousands of poppies.
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Found this while rummaging through some of my old poems. Decided not to edit it. Leave it as it was composed over 42 years ago..
Added the note for those not familiar with that battle and its horrific carnage, primarily from the insanity of large bodies of troops marching into direct machine gun fire.
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Note:
This poem was selected and requested for teaching purposes at Cambridge University. Permission was granted for educational use.... RJL
Woman in Chains
(What Man Would Abide It?)
Women throughout centuries – the softer sex.
I picture them subservient since what feels like time primordial!
What man would abide
being sold as if mere chattle and being called another’s property?
What man, with a love of learning or of writing,
would acquiesce and be denied
the education and the opportunities he so desired?
What man would dare take second place -
hiding in the background or covering his face
because society or church said things were meant to be that way?
What man would abide having cut off from his body
that part of him from which carnal pleasure is derived?
What man would let his feet be broken as a child,
bound up to resemble hooves to keep him in his place?
What man would abide being burned alive
if the dowry of his spouse were deemed unsuitable?
What man would abide (if not so inclined)
enduring the agonies of giving birth again and again
because his spouse preferred he stay at home?
What man would abide being raped or even killed
as punishment for even being raped?
What man would endure constant beatings for “his own good”
and feel good that his church or state approved this?
What man, if he were able to get pregnant,
would take on all the stress of unwed motherhood
when the one who got him pregnant bailed on him?
What man would abide the stigma and the soiled reputation?
What man would prostitute himself to feed his babies
because a job for one like him would not be given?
What man would abide living enslaved by an abuser,
afraid to run away or be found and killed by his abuser?
Atrocities like these through centuries have too long been endured.
No man would for so long a time endure them.
For reasons of pure biology, the role of the abused
was hoisted primarily on women.
Thank God for those strong women a mere century ago
who stood up, bravely fighting for women’s rights.
Thank God for lonely sister souls in faraway places
who even now stand fighting against inequities -
simply for the fact that they were born the softer sex.
Aug. 31, 2020 for John Hamilton's Woman in Chains Contest
Pele, Goddess of Fire
First fire surges from the inner Earth.
Island waters greet the fire goddess
Risen from Earth's fiery core, her birth,
Endows with lava, land from her first kiss.
Exploding from a volcanic shower
Earth spews fire as Pele emerges...
Her hair glows golden in the twilight hour,
Streaming slowly as her passion surges.
Gracefully she moves and quietly creeps
On her burning path toward silver sea.
Wanting all things that she covers, she keeps.
Pele's steamy kisses saved for the sea.
Sorrow's shadowed Pele for timeless years.
Sadness is seen in her ebony tears.
April 30, 2016
ELEMENTS Part 4: Fire - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Brian Davey
*Pele's hair is a form of lava. It is named after Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes. It can be defined as volcanic glass fibers or thin strands of volcanic glass (Shimozuru, 1994). The strands are formed through the stretching of molten basaltic glass from lava, usually from lava fountains, lava cascades, and vigorous lava flows.
*Pele's tears
Pele’s tears is a geological term for small pieces of solidified lava drops formed when airborne particles of molten material fuse into tearlike drops of volcanic glass. Pele’s tears are jet black in color and are often found on one end of a strand of Pele's hair. Pele's tears is primarily a scientific term used by volcanologists.
IF YOU CAN SPARE JUST A COUPLE MINUTES COPY AND PASTE. THIS LINK INTO YOUR BROWSER. I IS JUST AWESOME:
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=fire+goddess+pele%27s+beginning&&view=detail&mid=046A3A192A412F3A5E2D046A3A192A412F3A5E2D&FORM=VRDGAR
http://www.coffeetimes.com/pele.htm (Story of Goddess Pele)
Because I love you, ensemble,
we could embezzle our happiness
A moment at a time.
Because I love you, we could grant
ourselves, experience the fullness
of love, by giving and receiving
In our everyday life.
Because I love you, ensemble,
let's feel connected to something
greater, than our own ego.
Caress our bodies, Ensemble,
We could sleep head to head,
light the flame without any shame.
Meant to be we would let go of what
wasn't meant to be, have faith
in what will be.
We could primarily dictate our now,
blow the snow steal the wind,
To ride away.
Scream.
Because I love you together,
We could dream and scream,
Light up the darkness of our world,
When resting on our bed.
Since we desire each other together,
we could ride the tide on a boat,
as husband and bride, while sleeping,
Side by side.
Because we yearn for one another,
Lets become from the very few,
To lift our souls towards a beginning,
embrace our love, as we only knew,
How our adoration grew.
Let's hold hands just stand,
entangle our bodies
Then dance to the band,
Till the music ends.
Seduce me.
November 17 2013
Therese Bacha
The moon is full and white, and chill, this night,
it cascades past my open window sill,
and all the color fades to dark from light,
a monochrome of gray which can't be stilled.
The armoire's shadow strays across the floor.
I watch it from within my canopy bed.
as a nightmare gallops through my open door,
a Pooka* black as coal with eyes which bled.
Its jaw agape red gore froths from his maw,
and it slowly paws the cover from my bed,
a scream freezes in my throat to bird-like caw,
it dips for me to mount, as I am led.
Upon a demon spawn, I scour the moor
'til dawn descends to end this foul glamour.
6/7/13
*The pooka is a primarily a creature of Irish folklore. Considered to be both bringers of good and bad fortune. The creatures were said to be shape changers which could take the appearance of black horses.
Examine your surroundings,
most importantly their hue,
for I recall a day when setting sun
hung in the fire of a neon sky
and blazed an orange red.
What imperceptible thread held it
there above our heads like a paradigm of passion
suspended for all time!
Even now, years later,
I draw that moment out and bask in it again. . .
and over again. Also I remember how
that serpent came from nowhere
and slithered terra cotta in the sand around our feet.
I believe he was exponential (in a Biblical sense)
of what we soon would lose - our innocence -
as afternoon slipped into an iridescent dusk.
The colors of that dusk
bursting and sizzling like our steamy summer love,
primarily in nuances of lust,
flowed scarlet over us in the color of a crimson
which was cardinal as sin.
Then to the screams of gulls and to the crash of waves,
I writhed beneath a surge of heat
and his face. . . that glowed with desire.
Only at the beach was I ever to know
such splendor. . . there with my first love
and there with the sun, where it burned out.
Prince of this world,
you've meddled in the affairs of mankind
since the beginning
From the time of the Egyptian pharaohs,
whose gigantic pyramidal tombs
had been built primarily by slave labor
A living testament to man's ingenuity and cruelty
Then you were behind the Assyrian reign,
carnage was the calling card hallmark
these fierce kings signed whenever they came
But the Babylonian kingdom you really liked a lot,
ancient free market traders and slavers
Their god was commerce;
they bought and sold any and everything,
they trafficked in any and every whatnot
Then came those warring factions of Persians and Medes,
pure lovers of aristocratic indulgences of greed
They would fight you to the death,
until the Greeks came along
and became the gold standard, the best
They loved to preach democracy,
they loved to practice idolatry
For every god you said you had,
those Greeks said they had three
The Greeks fell to the next kingdom,
not so much by war, more through debauchery
But the prince of this world
came out of the shadows,
and was moved to want to rule when the Romans came
They had them lying cats named Caesar,
and crucifixion was their favorite capital punishment game
The Romans learned a lot from their fellow Greeks;
give the conquered their councils,
give them a voice with a vote
Then let them exercise it wickedly,
declaring the innocent Jesus Christ guilty
Oh, the prince of this world
was as ecstatic as a mad despot can be
The Romans were the best kind of servants ---
they were cruel, they were hard
They killed you dead with no regard
But alas, even their mighty kingdom came to an end
Since then, all of his wicked servants
and their feudal kingdoms have served him well
But alas, it was the Roman kingdom
he brooded over the most when it came to an end
And it's been a long time, since the prince of this world
had a Caesar he could call friend
Love should only ever kindle the present and the future. Not the past…
Primarily, I am second.
For I have placed others on similar platforms
Made of charred cedar and revamped memories
Unintentionally
It is not intent that we embrace, but the end result.
Good, brief.
Bad, seared.
Branded
I hang my smile on half-mast remembrance,
The elaborate touch of yesterday’s smile
Forgotten
And days go by
Where cryptic anger holds me dear
Because my identity becomes nothing more
Than a discarded 140 characters
Yet, this handsome error
Will still smile through the equally equivocal flaws
Of others
We are a marathon running on seismographic parallels.
Faults, unbecoming
Faults, embedded
One-sided
Expiration, denied
The pricelessness of my heart, cost overridden
Perhaps it has become the only option
To keep love’s punishment, subdued
While songs of psychic animosities,
Lay judgment on unawareness’ smile
It is not easy to reach wanton goals,
While attempts to (mind) read incoming ruptures
Incorporate 50% success rate
We stumbled when we ran yesterday.
We will stumble when we walk today.
We shall stumble upon the sunrise & sunset of tomorrow.
Why couldn’t you just hold my hand when we fall?
…
I am, Error.
One day, I will become a candle in the wind
Extinguished
Will the winds upon angel’s wing
Be guided by those same smiles
Tossed into amnesia’s similar gust
©D.J.E.
Villanelle : If you haven't had that, what have you had*
If you haven't had your life, what have you had
In fear of what lies beyond the locked safe-door
Live you now the moment, not for what's ahead
Fear of what others may think, nothing's more sad
Yet if you abandoned all care, who'll forbear
If you haven't had your life, what have you had
Since James*, Mottram*, Barrau* live not a day dead
Yet don't they live safe as Confucian State's heir
Live you now the moment, not for what's ahead
Or do they live safe to be thought Reason-bred
The best of all the Worlds where Time's a mere snare
If you haven't had your life, what have you had
Walk Eternity back to Big-Bang zero-bed
What has no Beginning cannot End-fruit bear
Live you now the moment, not for what's ahead
No Future's secret the Yi Jing* has not read
Don't ephemeral hordes breed the Jün Tzu* to bear
If you haven't had your life, what have you had
Live you now the moment, not for what's ahead
Resources/Notes
" Quotation from Henry James' Ambassadors : " If you haven't had that (your life), what have you had "
" Henry James (American novelist), Eric Mottram (British poet, professor, critic), Aurélien Barrau (French astro-physicist, philosopher, poet)
" Yi Jing : the ancient Chinese Classic of Change
" Jün Tzu : the Noble or Superior Man, the advice given in the Yi Jing is meant primarily to distinguish the Superior Being, all the rest are mutatis mutandi " ephemeral beings " which makes one wonder if Life on Earth is not a mere breeding-ground experiment to produce the " Superior Being ", the rest - if you believe in " samsara " or reincarnation - condemned to be born again and again until they make the grade.
© T. Wignesan - Paris, May 14, 2019
Atmospheric perspective such a common ruse
You know way off in the distance a mirage of blue
Nitrogen and oxygen meet wavelengths above
A sky gathering that becomes a type of scattering
Creating the effect of a canvas mistakenly blue
A visual type of sorcery for the colour isn't true
Kind of like the occurrence within our blue eyes
A different sort of scattering makes a colour disguise
Not one person's eyes carry any cyan pigment
However we all do see this color eye so different
Vincent Van Gogh loved ultramarine and cobalt too
And Augustus Renoir used it primarily to set moods
From the mines in Afghanistan came lapis luzuli jewel
This adorned every Egyptian Crown to be sparkling blue
During the Renaissance marine was most commonly used
These are some facts of our favorite colour blue
01/04/19
For Contest "Blue"
Our views and sorrows are mirrored in life.
Each jagged shard epitomizes some strife.
Our wounds, sufferings, and personality,
It will include one's beliefs and morality.
Are we netting insight or primarily existing?
Veins would shiver with shattered feelings.
The sharp edges puncture into the intact body.
A wrecked heart squall for plenty and vitality.
Inside the proper limits of a selfish quiddity.
Contemplations from one's own perspective.
Moving good faith grips to a broke history.
Surprising yet rather fiery and lively festive.
In fear of what I can view, I won't stare in the mirror.
My fierce peek and jagged shards scold a sinner.
Written: May 04, 2022
1st place contest winner
In the Mirror of Life Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
"We can choose either to remain heartbroken all the time or with resilience, come back to cheer, as true happiness primarily stems from inside and not through external factors alone. Our happiness is mostly dependent on our way of thinking and how we see life"..... By Poet
She heard the sound of pigeons overhead.
Looking up she saw them whirling
forming emerging patterns in the sky.
They soared on and on until they
became fading black dots in the blue
Such sights would have sent her to raptures
sometime back, but now when she sees them,
she can only think of the years
speeding by and the chances missed
and her whole life- a fading black dot!
Under a virus of melancholy,
she walks with lacerations in her soul.
Pain consumes her without visible flame.
She's heartbroken with nothing to look for.
The world around her looks devoid of life.
She wages a lone battle inside,
to drive out demons of dejection.
But she feels as if a sharp knife,
is cutting deep right through her heart
and she winces at every chop.
Though she tries hard to cover her bruises,
they bleed red and make themselves known.
Pain has completely sucked her out.
In a vessel, she collects her tears,
hoping to water the parched terrain
of her drought- stricken dry domain.
Light has miserably betrayed her,
and now she lives in eternal darkness
fighting black shadows day in and out!
Why write all this poetry when the
most comments I get are three?
The answer is quite simple, don't you see..
I write for me, not and never for thee.
.....
Being an entertainer is hardly my goal.
I realize I came here to share my total
life and my soul.
.....
Perhaps my poetry is worse than meaningless.
Perhaps it lacks a thesaurus's finesse.
.....
I started to post primarily so my family would
have a written memory of me.
Long, long after my spirit is gone, and I no
longer be!
September 14, 2020
1:30pm PST
As the world is in turmoil with no end in sight
It comes down to the simple that make everything alright
Whether it is in nature or something inside,
the key is to find them waiting, they don't hide
Also gratitude primarily is a way to survive
There are endless things to be grateful for alive
The things we can't control, leave us feeling helpless
But in our own way, we can create happiness
It's not that the bad things suddenly disappear
It's about coping, healing and holding onto life so dear
Heidi Sands
3/4/26
(C)opyright
Written: May 25, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Silent One
2nd place contest winner
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Quote: "Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.” — By Rumi ( With my honest wishes of a long and healthy life— Very Happy Birthday.
The moon still glows—an alabaster flame,
memory’s mirror, never the same.
Spume drifts, shimmering and bright,
not shadowy, but limpid light.
You watch sunsets and softly muse—
Do you fade, or do you fuse?
Their shades shroud loss and gain,
a peculiar parity of pleasure and pain.
Lessons grasped don’t be acrimonious,
regrets mollified primarily harmonious.
Time’s conundrum teaches clear—
Delicate days are a deep fear.
To your tender time, you’d tell and attire,
Beware quixotry, yet seize the desire.
Do not anathemize your fall—
Failure’s anodyne heals all.
Though tristful shadows at times prowl,
still you liaise with joy, still you howl.
Twilight or dawn, the soul’s refrain—
amaranthine light will remain.