Best Reared Poems
The Best Any Mother Ever Birthed And Reared
He stared back at his life amazed
a scattering of miracles here and there
many cried out that he was crazed
when he gave that stern look and stare
Back there vast plains loudly waved
forested jungles crept up so very slow
Nature he wanted touched and saved
a tragedy of pain that the angels know
Dry, dead cities awaited his return
the man that set beauty in the blue sky
his life , a tree destined to burn
walking where others feared to even try
A man among men they admired and feared
the best any mother ever birthed and reared!
Robert J. Lindley, 02-27-2015
note: Dedicated to H D L ....
ONE IMPAIRED FATHER REARED BY HIS SON
or
AN EXPANDED EXPLANATION
Oh how I wish I’d been a father like him
Rather than a father whose future was duly dark and dim
I raised my son in the starkness of a future filled with fear
A wondrous young son a frightened father was somehow to rear
Oh if only I had the wherewithal to have known it all
Rather than a father who couldn’t even teach his son how to crawl
I had too many other concerns in my body and mind
While my son had a father who was metaphorically blind
My eyes were incapable of seeing too much
While I reveled in my tiny son’s most tender touch
Otherwise I was numb to my son’s naturalized needs
With a litany of habits to satiate and feed
I saw that father pushing his son on the swings
While I was a dove wounded with withering wings
That father in the park was all I truly wanted to be
But alas, I was a father who was a father like me
I risked my son’s life time and time again
While pretending I could be just like most other men
Men who owned the wherewithal to do something worthwhile
Yet and still my little son always imaged a soothing smile
While he was smiling I was frowning and filled with fright inside
Since the age of seventeen when my self-control died
I was a father wrought and fraught with anxiety and fear
And if only I could have been a dad like that father by the swings over there
© 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
MY PARENTS
Who brought my soul here
Where the world is so pleasure
Who listen me too near
When the soul feels displeasure
Who feel me so dear
How the tree gives us the air
Who make me no fear
Since the soul brought up dare
Who build me crystal clear
When mess of future near
Who never expect me fire
Where every chance of admire
ONE IMPAIRED FATHER REARED BY HIS SON
Oh how I wish I’d been a father like him
Rather than a father whose future was duly dark and dim
I raised my son in the starkness of a future filled with fear
A wondrous young son a frightened father was somehow to rear
Oh if only I had the wherewithal to have known it all
Rather than a father who couldn’t even teach his son how to crawl
I had too many other concerns in my body and mind
While my son had a father who was metaphorically blind
My eyes were incapable of seeing too much
While I reveled in my tiny son’s most tender touch
Otherwise I was numb to my son’s naturalized needs
With a litany of habits to satiate and feed
I saw that father pushing his son on the swings
While I was a dove wounded with withering wings
That father in the park was all I truly wanted to be
But alas, I was a father who was a father like me
I risked my son’s life time and time again
While pretending I could be just like most other men
Men who owned the wherewithal to do something worthwhile
Yet and still my little son always imaged a soothing smile
While he was smiling I was frowning and filled with fright inside
Since the age of seventeen when my self-control died
I was a father wrought and fraught with anxiety and fear
And if only I could have been a dad like that father by the swings over there
© 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
The call to cut, dizzy came, the rib is off,
Now woe man!
Spiritual farm farmed by he
None another could carry;
Moisturized soil dried,
Sea wildlife fried,
Bush toil players, roared but are reared,
All other breeds feared.
At eve, He was hissed,
Ahhh, the devil dined!
This stew is rare; not many but few are real,
Thine rib made thee whole.
All these, many are the woes on he,
Beside the sin, sweet is she.