Best Relief Poems
Where Man Walks Blindly And Heart Begs Relief
In the gnashing of teeth rests
a curse hurled at infinity
with its smug cannons of false piety
and impudent airs of erosion.
Where that mystical Chalice of Hope
walks upon its three broken legs
seven poison arrows await delivery
unto Dawn's wide and gaping jaws.
As solemn cries quake the dying tree
untouched fruit, begs the ants
see our value, our sorrows
and tear into us, divinely.
From within hurt's final locket
golden relief asks no more
midnight flights of fancy
or delicious dregs of sad sorrows.
From seas of swarming inequities
fly certainty of rectitude
pipes of anxiety
chasms of cavernous solitude
and spasms of deepest regrets.
Where hides oceans of serenity
touch of soft velvety clouds
fertile soils of sweet charity
warmth of dawn's gasping lights
its new greeting hands?
Robert J. Lindley, 5-04-2019
Free verse, ( Thoughts My Muse Once Forbade Me To Ink )
Note: From this following old poem fragment that I recently found
on the back of one of my longer poems, I sat down and decided to write a free verse creation from that ancient time in my life and my memory of my thoughts back then
("As I walk short plank over hollow seas
Begging my feet to race ever faster
Or else jump as if all falling was free
And no more was Fate my truest master!"
RJL,1973 )
Tear
ooze
in drops
carries scads
gliding down contours
at the edge it drips with a plop
ease the mind of the woes, a sigh elude unawares
© Nadiya (10 March 2015)
* Chosen Poem of the Day on 12 March 2015
* Placed 2nd in the contest 'Fibonacci' by Rob Carmack on 14 March 2015
Let winter come
And freeze the sky
No more will shadows cast
Let showers turn to heaps of snow
With gardens hidden deep
Let working cease
Migration fly
Let herds to safety dash
Farmers idle, fires glow
No fields left to reap
My picket fence
Blockaded high
No perfect cobbled path
Let winter come, and snowstorms blow
I need some time to sleep
By: Kyle Ezra Kriticos
When words don't help
Knit and purl the agony out
Your hands will learn how
10/6/11
Inspired by Ann Hood's book "The Knitting Circle" (one of the saddest books I have ever read)
I think I'll open a tragedy club
where people can come to weep
I'll tell the saddest stories around
admission will be cheap
I'll call the venue Tragic Relief
where heartache is the norm
and "open mike night" amateurs
can mournfully perform
To be a standup tragedian
has been a lifelong dream
No longer caring to cry alone
I might even form a team
We'll bill ourselves as "Wailing & Tears"
and tour throughout the land
We'll have them bawling in the aisles
til they can hardly stand
They'll cry a mighty river
at our films from year to year
We'll throw in fresh cut onions
just to wring out every tear
Appearing at my club some time
to do a special show
the hottest new tragedians
will tell their tales of woe
No matter if your background is
from denim or fine silk
we'll gather round and cry all over
puddles of spilled milk
So take a break and come on down
and turn your joy to grief
Just keep your eyes peeled for the sign
that says Tragic Relief
When All Hope And Relief Seems Gone
( Loss of Hope) (Part One)
Today my sad spirit rides long dark rails
as massive storms lash and churn great blue seas
Lost in deepest of blues, Hope's sweet hand fails
as I crash on broken and jagged trees.
Far beneath a once great and mighty perch
as Achille's fate approaches my life
I recall divine words from father's church
"seek thee, love in our dear Lord, during strife"!
I crawl in forests dark, wickedly deep
smell of evil, death and destruction burns
I cry for safety and warm place to sleep
relief from broken heart's many returns.
Where hides Light's most beautiful saving rays
Dusk comes, no help for man that falls and prays!
Robert J. Lindley, 5-05-2017
Sonnet
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 110
Part One of- Hope and its greatest treasures,,,,,
When stress about work started showing
He smoked some of what he was growing
Showed up at work
No pants or shirt
Not sure if he was coming or going!
His stress he still managed to be numbing
Even though dismissal was forthcoming
He said, "It's cool man,"
"I'll live in my van,"
As to his boss, his nose he was thumbing!
Avoid the stress of feeling exasperation,
by finding the patience for toleration.
In the world of sadness,
I search for happiness.
In the world of grief,
I search for relief.
In the world of hate,
I search for care.
In the world of discrimination,
I search for a together nation.
In the world of corruption,
I search for education.
In the world of blue,
I search for you.
Cause I know we could achieve it all,
If we think bigger than small,
If we come together and fight for each other,
If we remove greed and become tougher.
Cause I know we will achieve it together!
Emotional scars can cut deep,
manipulating how you feel.
And at night, when you try to sleep,
phantom tears suddenly turn real.
Everything seems so surreal,
when demons empower the blade.
And exonerating the steel,
your inhibitions slowly fade.
With every cut, blood oozes thick,
while the tides of guilt ebb and flow.
And time, pausing to watch this trick,
grants the only relief you know.
Anxiety, sends each heartbeat
pulsing and pounding in your vein.
And purging your soul with its heat,
blood flows, to extinguish your pain.
All alone, you question your worth,
cringing inside your broken heart.
And the world that's hurt you since birth,
recoils, as your life falls apart.
Death's Often Promises A Needed Relief
Death oft' walks paths both light and dark,
desperately shallow and sometimes deep,
riding on purest truth so eternally stark
sometimes revealed in dreams we sleep.
So often as feared as a mad tiger raging,
with fangs showing and claws so long,
oft' a remedy to that of our painful aging
saddest melody in that dying song.
Often sweet is it's gliding shadowy mist,
time and walls silently passing,
seeking bright flowers on eternity's list
its great finality all encompassing.
Sadness is it's taking of the very young,
taken in such softened early bloom,
joy stopped, life so tragically unsung
left behind heartache's empty room.
Sometimes that promise so eagerly sought,
when in misery and unending pain,
comes with blessing of a last train caught
and the joy of much needed rain.
A gift when time has then sadly taken away,
joy, happiness and one's true love,
bright sun shining on each and every day
showering a new light from above.
07-23-2015
For the contest, Any Sad Poem, sponsor, Broken Wings
I hesitated
Sorry I brought up the subject
I choke up
But he insisted
So I blurted it out
In the end I bared it all
He listened
He said he understood
And sympathized
I didn’t buy it but
It felt good to tell him
The weight off my shoulders
AP: 3rd place 2022
Written: March 31st, 2024 for Matt Caliri Coagulation Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Finally, my blood began to coagulate;
I am initially concerned over poor fate,
Right away, I would lose a lot of blood.
Rich red hues wisely swing to warm tunes,
Every one of my atoms is as yours in pure gold,
When I xerox a warm lawn, I lie down and loiter.
Oh, what a tangled-up issue I had,
When I failed to tie a necessary knot,
But I need avail knotting a loop,
No one knew how to tie the exact knot I sought!
I hope my last breath is a grateful sigh
There's tightness in the core of my spine,
A knot bound with vibrant fuchsia rope,
That I've never managed to sort out.
A few nodded and hid my anxious gaze,
Some have enjoyed tightening it,
Skilled seafarers with stunning ties,
It allows a Full ship of pain and anguish.
Unrestful, between,
Dawn-to-dusk scars
Torn glimpses ooze riddles,
Flashes of a vacuum,
Thorny puzzle to soak,
To a soiled hook as hefty as my body,
Surrounded by bitter words and nails,
Untying harsh knots was never desired.
No one pulled an anger rope to set it free,
My sigh was not pulled out carelessly,
Longtime guarding in my throat,
Nobody has freed me.
summer fades away
as fall emerges refreshed ~
flora take succor
The scent of wet paper flops in my grasping hands.
Careful fingers tear mail open slowly to guard its contents.
A handwritten note from a woman I don't know
flows with sweet meanderings, too delicate to repeat.
Who is she that would lure a faithful wife's husband?
I trusted him with the strength of gold.
Torched like its making,
jealous flames leap my eyes to the return address.
I plan to confront this mistress for their heartless affair.
Quicker than anger surges, my eyes scroll to the middle,
squinting at the rain smudged ink....
Addressed to the neighbors, I shame my hasty accusations.
5-27-2020