Best Requesting Poems
Catching sight of unwanted reflection
through my eyes I observe my murky mind
lifeless, inactive, defying action
just a blank canvas, raw, pure, unrefined,
desire to inject substantial color
inspired pastels to brighten the darkness
eyes opaque though restrict light, much duller
impulses, brain requesting less Starkness,
my poor mind is without shape or structure
until my thoughts turn to the one I love
blissful images, colorful picture
changing this abyss, no more mourning dove,
she changes my thinking without restraints
such beautiful colors my mind she paints.
- breath blushes blue between us ...
you ask the question
THAT question
so, you're requesting rationality, lucidity
when you stand before me dressed in pure starlight
ONLY starlight, with moon drops in your eyes
splashing your coy smile like rare south sea pearls
damp from our cool evening swim, you shiver
dancing drops of dazzling diamond dew
shimmer like dermal constellations
turning your sublime surfaces into an ocean of sprites -
haute couture by the Cosmos
precious few and precious, times like these
when those definitions of love made in youth -
those confusing impulses of the emotional and physical
swirl and spin and wrap me like fleece
passion, desire, beauty … and love
spun together like soft cotton candy -
sweet and sticky and warm on the lips
melting together with THAT question, THAT concern
but what IS true? what defines "reality"?
what will last beyond this intense need to have you
to know you, taste you, every tender centimeter
every curvaceous, sublime, secret spot?
you stand there, perfectly imperfect, pert and saucy
form covered in tiny bumps of enticing invitation
your body’s braille, pleading
steam rising into the cool evening air
like a sigh from your skin
waiting for my answer - my affirmation
but I am mute ...
entranced ...
numb …
- I will let my body … speak.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Splash" Poetry Contest, Kai Michael Neumann, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 24" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Screwed XVIII" Poetry Contest, Rob Carmack, Judge & Sponsor. (No cliche's via PS Cliche Finder).
~ 10th Place ~ in the "Best Free Verse In April - Not For A Contest" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Judge & Sponsor.
A Poet’s Morning Prayer
8/24/2023
Father, in heaven, let this day in totality be.
One in which, I give to others, and you are proud of me.
On this Thursday morning, I happily do stand.
Requesting that you guide my poet’s hand.
Thank you for this gift my new,beginning,poetic skills,
Remind me, I am not on earth to do another person ill!
Above all, mans’ rewards or approval, most empty are.
Your blessings reward me daily, from your home, afar!
The Paths We Choose
by Edmund Siejka
When I was a young writer
I read all the greats
Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Yeats, James Joyce
And so on
I could write like them I said
So I felt good about myself
And wrote a play
In the heat of August, 1976.
Beating the lines on an old portable typewriter,
Rubber mat placed under its steel frame,
To keep from annoying the neighbors
But the walls in the East Village were thin
And next door guessed
What are you doing writing a novel?
She asked
I kept typing
And the rejections piled up
It was then I realized that I was attempting the near impossible
So I stopped.
Something came over me
I started writing again in 1992
Two unpublished novels
And inevitably
The mailman would trudge up the front steps
Lips pursed in a tight, thin line
Rejections coming in like a winter storm
I poured over each one trying to decipher their true meaning
But it was no use.
I wrote a poem in 2009
To my surprise it was accepted
Followed by an email from the editor
Requesting more of my “stuff”.
Someone recommended that I give a reading
At a local library
Start small they advised.
And so I found myself
In a crowded room of poets and strangers
When my name was finally called
I approached the podium
Determined and focused.
After reading my piece
I searched
The audience for their reaction
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It did not cost a fortune
and gave her so much joy
I sent a book
to a lovely friend
‘twas second hand
though good as new
I love the odour
I love the look
I love to hold
a second hand book
Reminds me of a film I saw
about a man named Frank
he ran a second hand bookshop
at 84 Charing Cross Road
A labour of love for many years
a commemorative plaque now marks the spot
True tale I’m told
of a New York gal
Helene Hanff her name
Over twenty years
she wrote to Frank
requesting books so rare
He found for her the
books she yearned
the words she loved
deep friendship theirs
as each and every book he wrapped
with tenderness and loving care
But sad to say they never met...
Frank died in ‘68
a bond was made
by books she craved
their story in this film was made
But I digress and must impress
these words I need to say
Please never throw a book away
when at the end give to a friend
It will truly make their day…
Written 5th August 2020
84 Charing Cross Road, by Helene Hanff, is an entertaining, evocative and moving collection of letters sent by the author, from her home in New York, to the staff at an antiquarian bookshop in London. Their correspondence spanned twenty years and resulted in a valued friendship. 84, Charing Cross Road is about love of books and words, and friendship. .... Such was their fate that Helene Hanff and Frank Doel never met. Frank died in December 1968 from peritonitis from a burst appendix, and the bookshop eventually closed. Helen Hanff did visit London in 1971 when she met Frank’s widow.
Contest Strand Completely New (17)
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
I have no idea what compelled me
To wonder what my future held
The craze about finding my tomorrows
To view delivers meld
So I decided to decipher my wants
To a Highland Seer I went
The desire to dispel my haunts
Kawasaki 500 sent
v
Sit down and close your eyes
Put your palms on the table
Whilst I shuffle your future be
And allow the cards to enable
.
Silence befell my ears
Thrilled, he spoke about my past
All through my childhood years
To be honest, I'm left aghast
v
He smiled at me as he wrote
Requesting I read it later
He wished me on my journey
This Seer, my future translator
Good evening, from the Highlands News
As we report on a roadside crash
A Kawasaki 500, has left the road
An Ambulance in Emergency dash
To the Hospital the News Crew followed
Having caught up in this saddened case
They were told of what was told inside
In tear fear fold explained
In pain, he whispers into the Paramedics ear
Please read this letter to me
On the opening of the envelope
There were no words to read
.
Declined
Laughing, only to hide the tears,
now gathering in the corners of my mouth,
drowning me…(I should be so lucky)
staring at a reflection in the protective glass,
not someone I recognize at this convenience store counter,
even if it is me
When facing a fool, as I often do,
I close my eyes as to not see the sorrowed face,
yet I know…I have been warned
“Don’t reach for what you cannot have…
No hands in the cookie jar,
it’ll spoil your appetite”
But I don’t listen, I hear, but…I am hungry,
she can’t mean me? Not me,
not the dancing clown that brings smiles
Watch me juggle, my heart, my love, my soul,
spotlights transition my lenses
and the stage goes dark
The minimum wage clerk is not amused,
wiping his nose with his hand,
then extending it as if requesting payment
But I have not purchased, I have only looked,
watched her walk to another, thumbing her nose in my direction
as if hitch hiking on her face
Still I reach for an empty wallet
filled with past due receipts and plastic poison,
fattening the faux leather Fossil with I.D. holder
Another swipe of the card, slowly as directed,
magnetic strip inward…
declined…what else is new
I summon Genie from Aladdin's lamp
Requesting he fulfill his wishes three -
I think of children (eyes becoming damp),
Wish 1: please Genie, end their poverty.
Then, contemplating nations still at war
With all the devastation they entail,
Wish 2: please end the conflicts we abhor
That global peace forever may prevail.
One wish remains, dear Genie; don't be mad,
But this one is more selfish, if I may -
I wish to spend some time with Mom and Dad,
Two souls whose presence I miss every day.
Frozen On Mountaintops Snowy White Slopes
Fast fading shades of beautiful new morn
angelic rays melt silver frost away;
promising life in each new day when born,
flow even if mortal man fails to pray.
Angels weep from heavenly perches high,
gifting tears refreshing mankind's lost hopes;
Life and love applauded with angel sighs,
frozen on mountaintops snowy white slopes.
At sunset , when we fail to wave goodbye
angels say a prayer for our lost souls;
standing guard within each new night skies,
despite even dark thunder's mighty rolls.
Although angels watch and often they weep,
we may sometimes feel such tears in our sleep
R.J. Lindley,
June 27th, 1975
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 100
Our mother, 88 years old, is in the hospital with life threatening
illness, heart and hip surgery(she fell-broke her hip Friday) scheduled for Monday.
Requesting anybody so inclined to offer a prayer for her recovery.
We've been told chances for success are not that good.....
Praying that she even makes it to have the surgery..
I combed my old poems to find something fitting today as I simply can not
write now. Thanks...
seeking elusive violets
in shadowy patches
beneath jacaranda trees
a window of sunlight fell upon you
desiring your favor
despite rapidly descending sky mists
our eyes connected momentarily
my caramel riveted to your mountain pine
misted veil dropping quickly
my carnal plans subverted
by humidity’s mood
rendering song
unto that which moves air
eddies, curls and swirls
soon swept the fog like curtain afar
gathering buttercream yellow anemones
coupled with heather thick ferns and leaves
a bouquet of forest wealth gathered for you
requesting you spend the season’s breath
with me
we summered and beyond
a petite blushing hand held mine
swimming lost in your windswept sea
blood in my veins surged
at a savory full smile
chest leaping when your lips
formed the name I carry
meadow green vision sipping of my affections
greedy for every pearl of my wine
Positivity Optimism Prayer and Meditation
Positivity has a wide-open arena in which to execute miracles
When we learn this, we will be able to spin our life into gold
We will be able to fly without wings, when we embrace our truth.
Loving optimism is knocking on our heart, requesting entrance.
When we embrace her, our lives will change for the best.
We can accomplish things faster and in incredible ways.
Prayer opens the highways of life wide open, giving our engines fuel.
Meditation enlists our spiritual self, allowing us to explore our dreams.
When we let God, we begin to return like phoenixes to our soul self.
Brightest Of Gems, In Glowing Emerald Forest
There was a great tree there, its roots firmly planted
as solid as love vows, those never recanted,
its massive trunk and limbs, majestic to behold
beautiful treasures, as in tales oft retold
surrounding woods, a glimmering emerald green
all in all, as if from a bright fairy tale scene.
To visit, watch dawn's lights set it colors aglow
is to see Heaven and Nature's truth, clearly know,
our lives are wrapped in fragile, weakened human states
chained cells of wants, each one praying its not too late
seeing evidence of Heaven's stamp upon earth
giving promises of better life, ones own worth.
To find such peace basking in its soft healing touch
one should kneel down to pray, requesting not too much,
for Heaven's light flows forth from that massive, tall king
from its branches, flocks of glorious birds oft sing
within its cools shades, its living colors send out
proof of God's glory, that cause believers to shout.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-28-2019
Rhyme, ( What God And Nature Hath Wrought)
Written: November 20, 2023, For Joseph May Contest
________________________________________________
How pointless to fight for global friendship.
We scatter sand, catch the wind, and waste life.
We could gain a faint peak or bright red ship.
We slide further as shades withdraw the strife.
Despite our confusion, we hound our quest.
The sound venture perseveres to renew.
Nonetheless, the grave gateway is behest.
We grunt a hive to our shock to pursue.
Yet whose charitable tide is smoothing?
Is akin to the vast, unknown ocean.
Deep into our souls, your love is soothing.
That would be requesting your direction.
You are being heard, your palm is raised wide.
Who would be keen on an erroneous guide?
As I struggle memorizing the rights or freedom
I found
The right of freedom of speech, press, religion, peaceable assembly and requesting change of government
The right to bear arms (the right to own a gun though subject to certain regulations
The right to trial by jury in most cases
The people have rights other than those mentioned in the Constitution
And there she laid
In the vast void of universal eternity
Her hollow eyes staring into the vacancy
Reflecting
the internal abyss of fire
Residing within.
As she pondered the invisible
A questioning Gazing fixed on the stars and -
Rotating planets,
mesmerizing its transcending infinity
Requesting the stars and energy's guidance
On survival in this void.
For there mere existence Still
Mystically conveyed the survival secret was present
Fiercely she scanned
Glaring at the Suns descending into the horizons
Dissolving into the darkness
As the stars of secrets emerge
Perplexing her with its appearance
Limited to darkness.
And then the veiled entered her vision
telescopic planets of fire that remain mystery
the moon that was always partly hidden.
And then the wind came rushing
Caressing her hair
And just like that - she understood
The disappearing wind has whispered it to her.
For it forever remained
Far - but near
Like the horizons - which existence is solely in distance
Like the sun that will burn you if it was any closer
Like the moon who is always partly hidden
Like the stars of secret that only emerge in the dark
And like all things that come close
But not close enough
to make her own
Forever she remains a stranger
In her house of existence
For the universe in distance has taught her
To never bring it home