Best Ranging Poems
I tracked along a silver trail
carved out from Earthly dust
by rays persistent in the dark
and midnight wanderlust.
It led me to a bubbling fount
of sulfurous mud and tar;
whereupon I chanced a glimpse
and found a fallen star.
An ancient from celestial realms
ensnared terrestrially
dimly glowing in the murk
I heard it sing to me:
Sojourner of the moonlit way
I sense thy beating heart
I’ve travelled from infinity
now hearken ere you part.
You roam upon this infant orb,
you draw from it thy life,
but I sense greed and evil scorn
and no land void of strife.
I beg you tell me how it came
that creatures such as thee
have found such hatred in thy souls
to punish endlessly.
It’s not so bad, I said out loud
we know of love as well…
as to the fate of mother Earth
I simply can’t foretell.
The ground beneath my weary feet
gave way to empty space
then all around me in the void
I saw the human race.
Starving children, ill and gaunt
were kicked by wing-tipped shoes.
Females ranging every clime
in silence nursed abuse.
In darkness men were plotting war
in light their banners raised
it mattered not which way I looked
some evil met my gaze.
Make it stop, I beg you please!
Why poison thou my mind?
What can I do to stop all this,
is no good left to find?
Sojourner of the moonlit way
I sense thy beating heart
I’ve travelled from infinity
now hearken ere you part.
You roam upon this infant orb,
you draw from it thy life,
and though you’re one of many men
love in thy chest is rife.
You must return to whence you came
you must confer abroad
the goodness that within thee burns
seek first to serve the flawed.
Think on the vast expanse of space
so empty, dark and cold…
and how despite the hopeless cause
star-light you still behold.
So too might thou, if you’ll but try
endure this awful plight
for in the vast expanse of hate
love is thy shining light.
07/16/15
The point of no return could be global or individual
but never is it in the middle.
It is a horizon of dreams aloft in hope held by tentative
strands of rope that weaken and deny what hearts are
seeking. It is love, stirred with hate that drips need to
bleed us, heal us and force our tired cope. It is a circle
never ending, a line never bending, and it holds questions
with no answers, like keys to kingdoms none can find to
turn or master.
It is that door, the door, where dear ones come and go,
ones who carry joy, hold us, love us, then, in time
they lack reasons to feel or the want to know us, so, no,
I mean, yes, it is not long-term, strongly rooted trust.
It is a strange, bewildering, momentous fuss that boils in
us until we bubble up our filthiest cuss.
It is same attempts in a familiar game of strange
ranging from old to presentations tweaked as new
that leave us standing without scent of a clue. It is
the reason creating all things we do and the matter
with our universal supply of glue. It is your craziness
fondling my insanity, too.
As a match, it does flame fan mankind’s fire to rise in
heat stroked red curls ever higher. It is the silence
that secrets our desires and the stillness of hush-laced
conspires. It causes human hands failed attempts to grab
sky-warm, star blankets, not to be human had.
It is a riddled fear maze forcing us to run, to race by men
with aimed happy guns, to quick stride far from addicts
selling sons and slowly consider embracing those we have
shun as we forgive ourselves for all never seen done.
It is another day, and, say, someday it might not come.
A world community like no other, this troupe
Of writers and lovers of insightful poetry
Gathered under the imprimatur of Poetry Soup --
Delightful, inspirational, sometimes contrary
With verses ranging from wildflowers to poop.
Something for everyone in these lofty environs
Even historical forays and pedantic endeavor
From sonnets to limericks, epigram, and puns,
Versifiers here are creative and extremely clever
Someone might even write something that stuns.
Here we meet trolls, gremlins, and a gleeful fairy
Playful nursery rhymes and some serious thought
An occasional juicy bit like a fresh ripe strawberry,
An incredible story with a convoluted poetic plot
Poetry Soup can make a most stressful day merry.
So, join us here and find pleasure in our pieces
Take up your pen and write for us a few keen lines
Find a place where your pent-up anger releases,
And all the best muse in you matures and refines
Expression is welcome where wonder never ceases.
Written April 21, 2022
The mighty 3rd to the north did steam,
Chasing a ghost not to be seen
Guard the landing your task assigned,
Quiet the day is to be benign
At dawn the Imperial fleet does appear,
Surprise complete, ranging fire splashes near
Outnumbered and out gunned, duty is clear,
Close the range you must in spite of your fear
Laying smoke, a jagged course you take,
An account of yourselves you will make
Steel your heart and make sure your eye,
For each salvo keeps you alive
Toe-to-toe the battle, you exchange mighty blows,
Triumph impossible, yet into the fray you all go
In perfect rhythm, the mad dance goes on,
As smoke filled gunhouse loads powder and shot
Decks strewn with the dead and dying,
Teams repair to keep the ensign flying
Struck and struck again, yet to point blank you steam,
Hard to port, you cross the “T”
“All guns to fire at the turn, torpedoes away!”
The enemy scatters in disarray
Too late, mortal blows you take
To the deep, no more your enemy to rake
One final salute their captain does render,
For you fought to the death and did not surrender
On this all men do still agree,
These were the finest two hours of Taffy 3
*****************************************
On October 25th, 1944, 3 destroyers and 4 destroyer escorts of Task Force
Taffy 3 engaged a combined force of Imperial Japanese Navy battleships and
cruisers in a 2 hour running gun battle to protect the escort carriers and troop
transports taking part in the Leyte Gulf landings in the Philippines. Two of the
three destroyers and one of the escorts were sunk while sinking three
Japanese heavy cruisers and damaged three more. Due to the fierceness of
the attack, the Japanese fleet retired from the area thinking they had been
attacked by a much larger force. At the outset of the battle, the commanding
officers of these 7 ships, without orders, individually decided to attack and
headed at flank speed to the fight all knowing they would most likely not
survive the day. Almost 1600 did not. In a final act of respect, the commander
of one Japanese cruiser saluted the crew of an American ship that had just
sunk as his ship passed them floating in the water.
Canvas in Creative Colors
Painter Paints to Persuade People;
Sends Surprises to Spectators'Sight,
and Wide-ranging Wonder World Wide;
Like Lighting the Love in one's Life,
Arts in it is an Asset from Above!
Note: I composed this poem because arts is my passion.
If loving you is wrong
I don't ever want to right.
If loving you is a sin
I outrightly reject righteousness.
If loving you is disobedience
I give in to mutiny.
If loving you is folly
I swear I detest Solomon.
If loving you is madness
I deny not my state of lunacy.
If loving you is an error
I want to keep this mistake.
If loving you is death
I am a living dead person.
But if loving you is life,means life
Believe me...
The state of my heart,
This outpour of my emotions,
The lovely looks in your eyes
And this ranging fire in our hearts
Was written in the stars... .
REPLACEMENT
I champion a different philosophy of life
On a scale line of dramatic and emotional
Thought
Ranging from hate to love –
Weight dishes filled balanced evenly –
Replacement overpowers the right extreme
The love dish clatters noisily on the table
Hate is left hanging high and dry
Replaced by love
Whose presence is monumentally ponderous
The ideology remarkably simple –
Any thought residing in the suspended hate dish
Is blessedly replaced by love.
Dave Austin
Trembling in the silence of a fresh snowfall, awaiting the struggle of laughter and tears, the beautiful that comes from stars shadowed by flakes so gentle they seem to speak silence into the spirit – like the voice of a vision, preaching peace ~ quote by poet
Secreted beneath the gentle fragments, shivering,
Blown in piles, demanding as January’s piercing light,
Silence caressing the stones, the oaks, the pines,
In glistening reflections, hearts possessed,
By the indigo skies who are burning with grace,
Speckled with sensations, amazement –
Sweltering in the 12 degree rays, where moments
Tend to breath in the crispness and release brilliance,
In waves, wisdom from the hunger
Ravenous appetites, awaiting the colors of light,
Friendly aromas of souls, newly blooming,
Emitting sounds that go on, unnoticed, echoes,
Vibrations trembling in soothing sighs…
Melodious blessings, ranging from hearts to insights,
Lifting the nights on wings of angels,
Promising the heavens to release the broken hearts,
Send comfort to the earth in the form of snow,
Who breathes a quiet truth, silence…
Beaming from the tender scales, shavings of ice,
Glittery and crisp, crumbling into moments,
When the laughing sun kisses the blanketed ridges,
Stirring the scene so that only the blurry vision,
Squinted from eyes who remember –
On the snow covered land there is plenty to glimpse,
But only the blinded eyes can truly remember,
How the sparkling snow seemed to shudder and shake,
In silence… deciding just how significant
How consuming is the silence of a shadow,
Reflected on the land whose bathed in fresh white,
The frosty sheen of hope breathing its lasting glance,
Over the peaceful promise of this kind and graceful spectacle,
Commotion in brilliance, awakening the spirit,
With a wonderful white home where the fires crack,
Popping so that even the wood can feel the flames traveling,
Deep into the bones, risking tragedy…
To be lauded by the sensations of Winter’s amazing,
Winter chasing the dreams, the belief, the faded hope…
For those silhouettes who follow the moon,
Ride the stars and twinkle like the deathlike grief,
Who arranges for even the darkness to be plucked from the earth,
By the fresh fallen flurries who break away the brittle,
Soothing souls so that they’re sanctified by the sentimental.
They sat around the table,
ranging short to tall.
Hands were clasped in silence,
every head was bowed.
The day was drawing to a close
and as they sat to sup,
their father sat at table head,
his eyes were lifted up.
He searched the tender faces of the children in his care
and looked so deep inside himself for words that were not there.
The children waited patiently,
to hear the supper prayer,
and wondered how to thank the Lord for food that wasn’t there.
All the plates were empty.
The bowls were empty too.
They guessed that what they had for lunch was going to have to do.
Life had been a struggle,
their mom had not been well.
The load on Father’s shoulders
was a tough one they could tell.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head and then began to pray.
“Thank you Lord for loving us
and thank you for today”.
He didn’t ask for anything
as far as I recall.
He did not know that I was there, waiting in the hall.
The tears were running down my face. I slipped outside the door.
Such a prayer of gratitude I’d never heard before.
But what I saw before I left I’ll never see again.
When their father’s prayer was done the children said “Amen!”.
A ranging hunger deep inside,
a twisted coat of shame
a free-wielding fire
that nothing can contain
It can not be extinguished,
the searing sword of lust
to feed the growing hunger
that turns ashes into dust.
How insatiable it must feel,
the demanding, constant drive
when feeding the growing need
makes you feel alive.
It's variations of emotion,
where love is but discourse
because you crave something more
an intimate, emotional divorce.
Everything can't be cuddled,
making love will not suffice
where pain equals pleasure
needs aren't always nice.
The world is not a PG page,
nor only black and white
sometimes it calls for a freak
and not a gentle knight.
From my blog on, Amoretti LXXV, by Edmund Spenser
my tribute poem included below,
Sailing Away From Dark That Wrecks Havoc On Earth
Earth left cursing in raging anger and sad roars
horrid spinning mess, its great darkness raining fear
vast teeming multitudes, with evil shore to shore
lies, wicked beasts, future never really clear.
These new waters, horizon now promising love
her beautiful kiss, those lips waiting just for me
Heaven sending guiding angels down from above
singing of light, truth and a divine sanctity.
My soul, its core now filled with a king's treasure worth
of romance and flowery meadows gifting life
sailing away from dark that wrecks havoc on earth
my ship, cutting through sleeping waters like a knife.
Sailing away upon Heaven's soft, tender sea
ranging across waters with her windblown caress
repentant and dwelling within bountiful glee
a sinner, long ago my sins I did confess.
Sailing into expanse of waiting paradise
her big bright smile gifting an ocean of delight,
never again begging more, this love shall suffice
with passionate gems gifted each and every night.
Pray I, eternity weds our Lives, Love and All
And we together, sail to our true Port of Call.
Robert J. Lindley, 7-26-2020
Rhyme, Romanticism ( The Dreams And Sweetest Wishes Of Youth )
Syllables Per Line:
0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables:264
Total # Words::::178
A dark lonely silence walked into a town, in hopes of a dream to arise
Yet not even a single smile looked its way, surely the dark silence was here to stay
Only the stars witnessed the passing shadow that lurked behind that lonely silence, it was surely a surprise
Pain was written all over the silence with broken dreams as ink, yet not a soul in sight to pray
One by one the stars peeked into the world, visible they became for the sky lit in many colors
Soon there after the moon showed face, her smile came into sight first, happy she was
A vast amount of shining stars gathered to witness the dark and lonely silence pass
Not a sound was heard for miles to radiate, not a single soul to count the guest ranging in millions, plus
The gathered stars began to whisper secrets among themselves, for they knew of the coming end
They formed a line to tell the story, yet had no audience to read in the time it would be to spend
Floating hidden passionate messages carried the stars in their bellies
Lost course, no where to head the silence began to read, amazed beyond imagination it sang
Speak or for ever hold thy living breath
For a man that does not speak is just as dead inside to death
Walk into a scene with a smile, floss your spirit, speak in proper tone or even slang
Broken was the heart that once sang
Apache, the Ndee, "the people" of Arizona and other States
Blackfoot, the Siksika, whose painted red faces we can relate
Cheyenne, the Tsitsistas, meaning relatives of the Cree
Dakota Sioux, the Dakota, meaning little snakes in Ojibwe
Euchee, or Yuchi, are the "children of the sun"
Fox, the Meskwaki, eventually native to Wisconsin
Gros Ventre, strangely named "big belly" by the French
Huron, with their above allies left many a tribe wrenched
Inuit, the Eskimo, this tribe with the snow
Juaneño, from the Sunshine State around Orange and San Diego
Kickapoo, with their linguistic code, unique called "whistle speech"
Lakota, like the Dakota, speak with similar tongues they teach
Mohawk, "People of the Flint" from upstate New York
Navajo, is now the most spoken, where extinction has not gone berserk
Ottawa, "the traders" their name lives on in their City
Potawatomi, "fire keepers" one hundred speakers, my hearts in pity
Qwulhhwaipum, "the prairie people from beyond the mountain range"
Ryawas, by the Missouri River where they no longer reign
Shawnee, meaning "southerner" were are far ranging tribe
Tonkawa, "they keep together" but only a few still reside
Ute, of Colorado and Salt Lake valley fame
Victorious the ones who remain to this day, whilst the V has no name
Wiyot, and its last native speaker, died in 1962
X, xenophobic they would be, to the ancestors of me and you
Yavapai, from Arizona, are the "people of the sun"
Zuni, like all the tribes above, fell victim to the white mans gun
.
The True American.
Why subject them to danger and risk?
If they represent something so special
Why not attend to them with such brisk?
Especially, when things look crucial
Every child is an important element
It’s been my intent to save every child
Come on, this is not an experiment
I am stopping it with every effort in wild
I am so determined to stop this train
Hopefully, I am not alone but in a team
Working to stop child labor again and again
Oh yeah! That’s also my dream
Please just help get the message across
We are here to help carry the cross
The time is very due!
The time to stop it all
Time to stop this bad act.
The act of child laboring.
Set the children free.
Save our future leaders.
Save them from suffering.
And save our dear future.
Nourish them with much care.
Give them the needed attention.
And Stop Child Labor, stop it now.
Stop it completely, stop it for good.
This is only one way we can.
To save our wonderful future
I can see only one way
Only one way to save our tomorrows.
The children we see today,
Are the instrumental future leaders.
Perhaps they are the hope of the future.
With arms in arms, wake wild and bold.
That we may soon arrest this saga.
The little children, our future heroes
Suffers a lot and we can testify this.
It is most happening in Africa.
And far in the corners of Asia
Save them from risk and danger
Make life live wealthy for them
It’s our very very responsibility
To protect the future leaders
There has been several efforts.
I know many people are hard on it
Deep in it with all arms widely open
Wild in it with all eyes watching over
Just to bring this child labor thing to a stop
I know brethrens and sistrens across the globe.
Who are working with real energy
To put this child labor thing away.
Ranging from the United Nations'
Conscious and sub conscious efforts.
Through UNICEF and other wings
To save the future leaders everywhere.
Just can’t refuse to regard that great work
Also the relentless efforts by corporate bodies.
Such as NGOs, Governments and other institutions
That fights every night and day across the globe.
To save the future of our precious world.
Just can't imagine the world of tomorrow
All so without the children of today.
Now the call is clear and loud
Wake up and join in the fight
To Stop Child Labor Now
Breaths of air raise... emotion.) classic form
departure is.. "a feeling through a line"
bright red; sky or blue.!
my first inkling of..
wide ranging
possibility's
as dad
and I
watch
you
fly....