Best Righted Poems
Love Was Sent, Treasure That Healed Two Crushed Hearts,
A Collaboration with Susan Ashley
Life shattered, soul crushed, another one has perished
once gone from this world was all she ever cherished
No amazing and joyful tales to tell the kids
just naked silence, from raging of black rapids
From heavens above, truest of gifts handed down
romance sent, from He that wears faith's eternal crown.
In that gloom and doom came our Spring's resplendent morn
Love, joyful sound of Living, thus we were reborn
Love, its Lights flamed, happiness needs no explaining
summer warmth came from darkness rapidly waning
O' what glory, shall your heart forever hold mine
our sweet blessing, came from angelic hands divine
Within nights, kisses that sated our hot desires
came oaths of eternal love that never expires.
In that gloom and doom came our Spring's resplendent morn
Love, joyful sound of Living, thus we were reborn
Our soaring passions’ pure as nightingale’s song
enrapturing seduction righted what was wrong
upon our heartstrings’ twilight music we did fly
as supernova lusts did unfurl ‘cross the sky -
scintillating stardust showered us with magic
our souls’ kissed in sparkling bliss since events tragic.
In that gloom and doom came our Spring's resplendent morn
Love, joyful sound of Living, thus we were reborn
Dreamy nectar - ripened wine, whetted revival
as I sipped upon your essence for survival
rousing the wild-honey luscious look in your eyes
behind ambrosial mist passionate beauty lies
on thirsty tongues of fire we burned ‘till morning’s light
melting past the pain in moonflower swirls of night
In that gloom and doom came our Spring's resplendent morn
Love, joyful sound of Living, thus we were reborn
Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration), April 24, 2019
Poet’s note: My dear friend, it always a great honor for me to be able to collaborate with you and truly enjoy your inspirational verses! Such a blessing is to me a very precious gift you give me and my appreciation is sincere and honest in this my admiration for both your great friendship and your magnificent poetry talents!
lasting...
all through your life, dear child,
the following crucial life lessons...
let go of the things
you cannot change;
all things beyond your control.
the past lies decayed
in your rearview mirror.
don't look back!
never mind
that "T" left uncrossed,
that "I" without a dot on top;
all the wrongs not righted.
don't look back!
never mind
what you regretfully did,
what was done to you,
what opportunities you missed.
focus on the present
and mine diamonds out of it.
don't dwell
on mistakes you've made;
they're supposed to be made.
do not lose sleep
the over opinions of others.
you have no control
over how people perceive you;
do not lose sleep!
let it go...
look forward.
the future awaits you.
you can never predict
what it has in store.
there's no telling
how the order of things will go,
how moments, events;
life, in general, will play out.
look forward nevertheless!
just keep busy living,
breathing, and let
the unchangeables all go.
Poem of the week on 03/18/2023
Writing Challenge - L words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme chosen: Lasting
Date written: 03/14/2023
Mom, you are my role model
Raising me to a young woman, from a little girl
Step by step, day by day
You've done a great job, in so many ways
When I need someone, you are always there
I never have to doubt that you care
I can always tell you what i'm thinking of
Mom, you have my love
You raised me the best you could
Took care of me like any good mother would
You brought me in this world, guided me through life
Giving me the things every kid needs to survive
You righted me when I was wrong
many times you helped me stay strong
Like many mothers, you've tried your best
And mom, i'd say you passed the test
Raising four girls by yourself
Must have been harder than I could inmagine
But obviously you knew just where to begin
And for that i'll love you to the end.....
The mighty line their pockets,
And the workers pay the price.
Racing along in the jaws of the rat,
As we fight for moral life.
Wrongs no longer righted,
Paying through the nose.
Suffering for a wealth of greed,
As apprehension grows.
Domino’s standing in a row,
Just waiting for that push.
Not knowing when it’s coming,
Left dangling on a hook.
Heads just above the water,
Braced for more to come.
Working harder paying more,
Subsidising on and on.
Swallowing the lies no longer,
We're seeing what is true.
The freedom of choice is dwindling,
There’s nothing we can do.
The safety net has long since gone,
Leaving broken and shattered trust.
A nation with fading identity,
Slowly grinding into dust.
What once made us who we are,
Disappears each passing day.
As rules and regulations change,
Human rights are stripped away.
Feared to voice opinions,
Lest we’re branded for our views.
Seemingly cornered, no way out,
Hoping we make it through.
The worst around the corner,
And so much more to come.
Take it on the chin, stiff upper lip,
Left to bravely soldier on?
The mighty fall eventually,
A cycle that time has repeated.
The price is high for working man,
As resources are depleted.
A lump in the throat of the future,
And what awaits us there.
For those we chose to lead us,
Line their pockets, is that fair?
Too blind to see, with carrot dangling,
And now we pay the price.
In a crazy suffocating mess ,
Just another day in paradise.
©.L.Kelly
I shall take my morning walk,
communing with the birds and talking
to myself while reading Kafka,
glancing at the latest headlines.
Dear Stravinsky's 'Rite' is slighted,
(he'll be back when ears are righted.)
When I smell a rose I'm prompted
to recall a certain lady, gifted with
a strange perception, I must sadly
take exception, for the moment anyway.
Torrents of misfortune rained down
Swollen rivers of grief overflowed
threatening to sweep us apart
but not on that day
On that day all wrongs were righted
Curses dissolved into blessings
Tension melted in the glow of good will
Evil evaporated in the light of truth
Despair fell victim to hope
Death succumbed to life
Sipping Eggnog spiked with Rum
Hugging our sons and our daughters
Gently scolding wayward grandchildren
Slapping old friends on the back
Bragging and telling tall tales
Laughing hysterically at our lies
On that day there were no missing pieces
On that day the wounded world was healed
On that welcome Christmas Day
it all made sense
The Moon’s Yellow Eyes
After: The King in Yellow by Robert Chambers
Situations righted by the assassination in Sheepshead Bay (alibied with difficulty under earth’s single moon), I curl up on the windowsill hissing at the pallid orb. Oh how, I long for my planet, Carcosa. I lick the remaining human poison from my claws. Yes, man-made poison, but I, I am the one who delivers— population control.
Wilde, my mate, our transformed intermediary, brushes my coat. I purr. How oddly complacent Wilde has become. Once, he too walked on four legs. After our arrival on Earth and his change (We thought the change would regrow the ear I tore from him in his last life—) my mate became no more than a castrato. I do regret the torture which deprived him of two fingers on his right hand. (It made his job more difficult.) But, discipline was necessary.
the pestle crushes
poison white snakeroot:
yellow eyes shine
Well, why am I telling you this? To that I would say, why not? Who on earth would believe a cat could talk?
The feline form has advantages in espionage. A petted and pampered puss can lure the reticent, overhear the loud-mouthed, two-footed, earthly baboons—with cunning, obtain information no human in their right mind would divulge to an enemy. As valet, advisor, disciplinarian to Wilde (and he to the earthlings), my position abides, a mere slap and tickle from the throats of power. My teeth, neck piercing weapons of choice; my claws scimitars of death drip with the blood of masters.
One more night out. Wilde cat-like licks the scar on his damaged hand and stares at the invitation stamped with the Presidential seal. One more night, sweet puss and the reign of The Yellow King will begin.
Published by Illumen 2016
Conditionally,
“unconditional”
comes with its
vast conditions,
don’t you agree?
we invest our love,
and all of ourselves
into the adoration
and dissection
of all forms
of muses,
who will,
or will not
be found
swimming amused
in each others'
minds,
in each others'
poetry;
we are a muse
ourselves, egregious
to the rules of iambic
and other rigid romping
rhythms and rites
to be righted,
that we daily play
dodgeball with ardently,
it's like ducking from
incoming magpies
guarding their nests,
circling their
small-worldly boundaries,
establishing their tiny
very tight territories,
they fly in at us hard
with their sharp beaks
and their spit, they assert
they are allied with the best,
those well informed
highly schooled scribes,
who largely mistaken in mind,
dunk others less than less, and wait
for the curs'ed to float,
but in the sinking
those curs'ed
drowned muses,
in that terrible
horrendous misfortune,
tied to their dunking chairs,
eyes now wide open,
find diamonds
at the bottom of
their damned pond,
as they swiftly pass
schools of wayward fish
with no clear direction in mind,
and other monsters
pulling out hearts
with their pre-prehistoric
saber-toothed grins;
hellelujah for those
who bespoke for you
freeverse from the ego
within the heart -
it’s the mind that cuts
without hesitation,
draws lines in the sand,
limiting us to couplets
in greeting cards
sans ampersand,
conditionally
"unconditional";
the curs'ed
eventually wake
and they rise,
spilling tea
stirring
sugar 'n spice
into the bland,
who eventually
open their eyes
and their minds,
unconditionally
“conditional”
sans ampersand
heart
mind
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Until I've seen, Melbourne days
was not just emptiness in play
I know I'll see
What I didn't see,
the September soaked symphony
of Vivaldi vines climbing,
jacaranda booms,
tremolo spilling eaves
Until you know this suburban kid's righted the wrong
I'll verse on my way, you as the bridges in my song
Making choruses of dreams that could soon belong
And urban princes and their Porsches
Lost in winters, cold in summers
They adore to ornate you, over muskwood and glassy silvers
But can they look up to the night,
And know wonder in the sight?
In that blue-hued veiled Van Gogh I see your stars
These hardened hands carrying letters I send
will wear me down to some sorry end
And this I know
But I'll go knowing
the Chapel charade was the pretty noise
of sonnets chasing sunsets,
drunk Welsh poets
tearing tails for London wisps
Until it comes, a northern boy without southerly blues
The swaying Yarrans, sparkling flutes, Victorian flues
Keeps Flinders Station stepping full of over-priced shoes
And boney bonny dames, old money games
Skirts for winters, surgeons for gains
They climb to lower you, for fifteen lights upon their names
But can they look up to the night,
And know wonder in the sight?
In that blue-hued veiled Van Gogh I see your stars
Gazing out my window screen
I picture fields of gold.
Beholding sights so long unseen
and stories gone untold.
The wonders of Spring unfold.
Sunshine dripping from the sky
and falling on my shoulder.
Flowers giving another try
and squirrels growing bolder-
the earth's another year older.
Easter bonnets soon we'll wear
and dresses made of lace.
Ribbons and flowers in our hair
put smiles upon our face.
Of snow there's not a trace.
Sunshine fills the freshened air
while everyone's delighted.
Buds are blooming everywhere
and butterflies are sighted.
Winter's wrongs are righted!
for contest "Here Comes The Sun"
written Feb. 6th, 2014
A game of musical chairs has just begun in earnest. A pot and kettle band arrives
through the dining rooms’ French doors following the Valentine Queen. A putrid pink
flamingo with a croquet ball stuck in its beak settles it’s derrière onto a fine caramel
leather seat. His humor is short lived. A snort echoes from each of the six bullhorns
forming his head. “Got him that time, you really did, Matilda!” laughed Lucky, the
horn-backed chair. A single, rose-pink, button pops off Matilda’s back and lands in
the hatless brigands’ teapot, just as he is placing a silver tea ball inside. “Ou a le
petite fille?” Matilda groans. Around the far end of the table chasing a set of
disembodied eyes with a cat tail, a girl child runs screeching. “She looks familiar,
don’t she?” Windy whistles beneath the lacy tablecloth, tickling Mattie’s fancy. “Her
name ain’t Louise,” as with a plop, a brigand crushes Laddie’s rushes. The windsor
replies. “Geeeeeeeeez Louise!” the ladder-back mutters, between its back straps. A
top hat flies through the air and landed on the top knob of the lanky ladder backed
chair. The child righted herself, wiping her nose on the errant apron string. She lisps
through the spider web pattern of her seat. “Awww now what a shame,” Mary
whispers to Tex. The loose tails of her apron caught beneath Mary’s rocker and the
child tumbled face forward into a full cup of Assam tea. A girl child resplendent in
golden locks and white pinafore tore into the room planting herself on the caned
ladies rocker Mary. “Mon Dieu” She moans. “Ya’ll see that nasty monster splatter
chocolate icing on my skirt?” A knob kneed, potbellied prig, holding a cupcake,
shoves his way onto Matilda, the little ladies slipper chair. Tex the horned back chair
at the tables girdle chortles. “Do you know who’s been invited to this soiree?” The
rabbit topples over backward, his watch bashing his delicate pink nose. Windy
sneezes.“Aahhh chhhooo!” Tufts of fanny fur tickled between his spokes.
“Good golly Miss Molly,” shrieks Windy the windsor chair at the far end of the table,
as a wild-eyed, white rabbit with a gold watch plunked into his well-worn seat.
*Refer to "The Chairs Have it"
This poem can be read from the backwards too ;)
Something in the air.
People will see what they want to see
And blame who they want to blame
I don't want to see the reflection of me
To face the mirror of my own shame
The one who smelt it dealt it
Is a jibe we learned in our youth
The one who denies it supplies it
Looking back we see it's the truth
It's easier to point the finger
To divert attention elsewhere
And if the smell should linger
Just refuse to breathe your own air
Something stinks around here he proclaims
Take a breath, did you get a good whiff?
But only it seems around you!
That confirms it then he says to himself
Why is it you're always last to know
When your breath gives off a bad smell
With your nose located an inch from your mouth
You should be the first to tell
But it's always another who points it out
Hey, brother, I've a mint for you!
No thanks, I just ate you quickly reply
But he insists,'Go ahead take two!'
We need to be tactful, and never be mean
But it needs to be pointed out
The importance for all in oral hygiene
Can never be left to doubt
So next time someone offers you a mint
Take a moment and ask yourself why
Is he kindly trying to give you a hint
For the cause of that tear in his eye?
If we all could focus on the rafter in our own
And not that straw in another's
We wouldn't have to find ourselves all alone
Shut off from those we called brothers
The kisses of a hater are to be despised
But the wounds of a lover invited
So when offered a mint don't be surprised
He's helping your wrongs to be righted
If only you could close up that space
Given more thought to the words that you chose
The source of the problem in many a case
Is right there under your nose
Old Jo-Bob checked his still one night,
What he saw gave him a terrible fright.
One eye and one ear
They were drinking his beer,
With feet that glowed with red light.
It seems their ship was stuck in a tree,
So they decided to stay and partEEE.
He watched them dance
until they fell in a trance,
and slept soundly 'til quarter to three.
After awhile they righted their ship,
And flew off with a bit of a dip.
Bob started to drink
And tried not to think,
Had been true? or just another bad trip..........
For the Aliens contest..
Let me tell you a story
One day, near summer’s end
Martha and her husband
Went canoeing with a friend
Suddenly a log’s there!
And what can Martha do?
Then she’s in the water
She tipped from her canoe
The canoe was righted
But she’s still in the creek
“I cannot climb back in there!
Oh, I am just too weak!”
Then the men were thinking
About what they could do
To somehow get her out
And into the canoe
Then their friend gave warning
He pointed, “Look up there!
In the logs and branches
I saw a snake–beware!”
Now it has been proven
That miracles are true
For when they looked at Martha
She’s back in the canoe!
Theme: funny
4/21/22
"
Greed I see and spy it
No need for me to hide it
What I seek, still can't find it
If I'm curious about it, I'll try it
If I want it, I'll buy it
There's no need to deny it
THC I always light it
I'm always the drunkest and the highest
I've been
Blinded
And misguided
Yet still one of the nicest
It's not always two-sided
Maybe, I've been a fool, and slighted
In areas that are blighted
Corruptions lingers on, little if any wrongs being righted
The path no longer clear or lighted
Endlessly people remain divided
Despite it
Does no good if I quit
Why b****
And always feel some type of way by it
Always sensed a slight shift
As soon as night hit
Like a firework leaving the sky lit
In ultraviolet
They put out the bait, but I don't bite it
Many couldn't resist or fight it
At times in order to survive it
Was a close call and tight fit
Believe me, you'll just get swept out with the tide if
You try s***
It all could impact the climate
Can't just stay quiet
Always making a scene, causing a riot
Then quickly turning violent
You either do or don't mind it
I stay silent
It all used to make me quite sick
But now it just gets brushed aside quick
Like a flip of the light switch
Still got the touch like Midas
Yet going through a crisis
If I slip
Then I'll be lifeless
It's just the prices
Of having dangerous vices
When it all no longer suffices
Trust me life is
Full of surprises
Still so caught up on devices
Yet never making sacrifices
No wonder opportunity rarely arises