Best Soils Poems
Paint me blue like the sky
rainbow's smile; thunder's cry
clouded curtains rife with rain
till shroud is lanced and bluebirds fly again
Wistful moods in mahogany frames
melancholy painters with undiscovered names
rearrange reveries in pastel hues
decorating lonely walls with brooding blues
Paint me emerald like the sea
feeling caged; rolling free
stormy rage; morning calm
who knows where swelling waves come from?
Which shades best record a personality?
Which side of the coin is preserved for history?
Shall I smile or appear dignified?
Do I show my true self, or try to hide?
Paint me tawny like a lark
as the sky dissolves to dark
flying free but not for long
a gloomy gloaming swallows up its song
What do you see as I hold this pose?
Will you reveal or conceal my imperfect nose?
Will you paint scars and wrinkles or leave no trace?
Will your biography in oils show lines on my face?
Paint me crystalline like a wine glass
for you somehow see right through
the paintbrush captures the epidermis
but the painter overlays the spirit
Superimposing your style, passions, heartbreaks, joie de vivre
onto my facets, form, features, and flaws
with love, you labor on
transforming my brief life into a lasting work of art
Paint me gold like a sunrise
as it marks the dark's demise
background wash of faith, hope, love;
the colors life's palette is made of.
When bones are one with graveyard soils
these memories preserved in oils
are saved for those who later come
that they may know where they've come from
written 1 Sep 2022
...with gratitude for all the inspired artists who
carry forward the grand tradition of portraiture.
[Verse 1]
I grew my farm roots beneath your starry-eyed loam
In soils of silence where dreams slip by, lost and unknown
But you were the willowing wind pulling you far away
Took to the stars as if you never meant to stay.
[Pre-Chorus]
I’m buried deep in the earth’s embrace
But you’ve spread your wings into the endless space
We were worlds apart from the very first start
One foot in the soil, one foot breaking my heart.
[Verse 2]
I watched you chase the meteor storm in your eyes
Like a red comet lost in the blackened velvet skies
I was the snow-capped mountain forever standing still
And you were the restless west wind chasing every thrill.
[Pre-Chorus]
I’m stone and soil, you’re wind and air
I reach for your touch but you’re never there
I’m anchored to the earth where the wild things doth roam
But you’re out there flying, with no place to call your home.
[Chorus]
You were my earth, I was your sky
I held you close, but you wanted to fly
I buried my soul, you touched the light
We danced in the dusk, but never in the dark of night.
(Repeat Chorus)
(2nd ending)
We’re just earth and sky
Two separate worlds that’ll never collide
Live or die.
[Bridge]
I let go of the stones beneath my hands
Tried to rise like you to understand
But the stars you sought burned much too bright
Leaving me cold and shivering, in shadows of the night.
Maybe I’ll grow or maybe I’ll fall
But we’re two halves of a broken call
Earth and sky, never quite whole
Two songs unsung, forever lost…
two restless souls.
[Chorus]
You were my earth, I was your sky
I held you close, but you wanted to fly
I buried my soul, you touched the light
We danced in the dusk but never in the dark of night.
(Repeat Chorus)
(2nd ending)
We’re just earth and sky
Two separate worlds that’ll never collide
Live or die.
[Outro]
You’ll be the stars, I’ll be the ground
We’ll spin through the night
(1st and 3rd Time)
going round and round
Earth and sky
Earth and sky
(Repeat)
(2nd and 4th Time)
but never be found
Earth and sky
Earth and sky
(Repeat)
“Together, ever and ever alone... in the cold dark of night.”
Somethings are best
said through blank
scriptures in sheer
silence, but pulling the
violin strings of
a poet strumming
to personify pain,
with tempests of
torment rushing
through thin veins,
would only widen
twisted tunnels for
ink to bleed in
vermilion lines of
broken thunder.
For these lungs have
long thickened
from scraps of
pretend promises,
to dress them
with mountains
of flawed flowers,
oblivious to the colors
that suffocate,
black hearted devils
hovering above
treetops of tainted roots.
And when the
angel of death
descends to steal
the steel within my
mind,
I question the vampire
grey hearts that kneel,
to raven midnights
beating tunes
of truth across
glacial valleys
of mourners.
Why is living a
gruesome terror?
Where artless spirits
sleepwalk along
olive lawns,
as grass snakes
sing deceptive
schemes-
with the reaper
that strolls through
a funeral of fairies,
collecting weathered
wings
and bleached skeletons
buried six feet under the
graphite soils of salvation,
confined within garden
graves of deception,
designed In unearthly
roses dipped in poison.
If only the sun would rise
and see,
how I am no longer
plagued by the vision
of you destroying peace
within your kingdom
of hypocrisy.
I am not your puppet
pirouetting through
hellfires ignited
by the thorny knuckle
of a megalomaniac—
chanting manipulative
mantras of a destiny,
devised from disorientation.
I will always sing my own stars
amidst suppressed scars,
until the moon trembles
and falls
into the heavy depths
of grieving seas
streaming in salty sapphires.
Sometimes In silence
I question citrine stars~
what streams beneath
murky waters,
Is hope still flowing
through rusty ripples,
why do we live
in an orb
of sheer blindness,
would the wind
ever seize tunnels
behind the black hole,
or are we destined
to narrate novels
too narrow and unseen
for the naked eyes.
Whilst the earth
lies dreaming,
manifesting milky-ways
quilted on magical mats,
wishing, hoping, praying
that pastel colored patience
and crystal clear compassion
would vaguely sway
like glowing fireflies
amongst the darkest
edges of innermost core.
Transmitting seraphic
breezes upon
tender branches
of silk cotton trees.
But amidst the
destructive defacing
of turquoise heart
within evergreen forests,
sun and the
moon still flicker
streaks of poetry
along the linings
of tattered
tweaks and wilted weed.
Yet worldly impulses
fail to remember
that mother nature
is in need of kindness,
as she’s been
fed poisonous petals
dipped in a quagmire
of ignorance.
Escorting her
golden spirits into an
inexorable grievance,
as ghastly greediness
left no rosy seasoning,
of soils we strolled,
paths unnamed and
undiscovered halt,
questioning toils
of intrinsic creation~
the earth lies
in solitary slumber,
for in delicate dreams
we sing songs
of tranquility,
more mellifluous
than the burning
fumes we
inhale mindlessly.
written on time’s page
with finite syllables of dust
he spelled my heritage
from earth to sky
along an umbilical line of faith
we fluttered from the lips of fingers
fully form for purpose
written on an invisible calculus
that bring monarchs where birth mark lingers
and salmons somersaulting sluice and streams
turtles, penguins, and herons white wings
netted in design with nested tabula rasa mind
I have an argument
against the beginning begotten from a bang
before atom or element
I have an argument against force and natural laws
at work without mass or embodiment
for embryonic gravity or forces weak or strong
I have an argument
that the singularity could not become more than fragment
of energy again if a single atom explode
its forces flocking away from fusion
for energy fission to explode
a theory
flimsy as spiders web
dethroning my majesty gulped
in primeval slime unlinked history from love
minimizing the particular time of our becoming on ships
that met the stagnant eyes of swampy thoughts … shuddering
in vain
the whip cracks louder than pain -
and on our black blistered backs … crumbling
soils in desertification threw some syllables skywards for mercy
starvation winds with sickle clouds of rain
they lie again ... leaving us without inheritance
for all our labors, lost, and grievance
what bang can buck the strain
and bring us broken souls to glory again?
On sunny summer mornings
the myriad markers gleam
and shimmer dreamlike
in the distance.
Visions from the stillness rise,
but only of the past,
for in this place,
time has come
to sudden end.
Glimpsed on headstone faces
in plain and shallow font
are etchings of their names.
Forefingers trace the course
of letters and summon memories,
suddenly vivid, of the fallen—
perhaps the only form
of resurrection most alive
will ever know.
A place of buried treasure this—
of ones revered and honored
who would unlock secrets of the mind,
give us cures for all disease that
we might live a thousand years
and summon knowledge beyond imagining.
Yet we have robbed ourselves of such,
for all these gifts lie with them interred;
their honors go unclaimed.
On headstones too are symbols carved,
emblematic of their faiths, for
we would have our deities
compete for attribution
until the soils of all the world
run red in honor of Their names.
Yet in the end our Gods are
much too small, dwarfed by
mankind’s boundless vanity.
Reveled in ancient times, words escape from the crevices of nature
Through soils that many have tread
The living and the dead
Eat everything and take a great big look
Something is waiting for you—someone is there for you
The history of mankind will not tell you otherwise
The vines of truth and peace surround your being
You are something new and true
And the words are willingly fleeing from my grasp
Life is a spinning top—it spins as long as you keep it going
Manmade trinkets are concepts of lives untold
Objects hold energy that are more powerful than mere words
The feeling behind the whole of it all is all too satisfying
Listen to the breeze
It whispers riddles that lift the spirits of the deep
I can hear it calling
Can you?
Humanity has closed its breadth of hearing
But they can always reopen!
Consume me—let the fires of your passion envelope me
I want to know everything I can before I leave this world behind
I want the living and the dead to be satisfied in luxuries
Luxuries of love, appetite, desire and cool water fire
There is a secret rhythmic chord in every brain
You must accept yourself
You must accept your surroundings
Let them curl all around you—let your heart turn from serpentine to
Clear fluid
Consume the waters
Consume me
Before the worms in the soil soak in what is rightfully yours
The earth will be your companion
Engorge what you may . . . but respect
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 )
i g n o r a n c e,
a contagious disease
turning specks of stars to stones,
burning bridges of life,
locked with names
engraved in gold and glitter,
leaving a s k y of sorrow
filled with ashes,
singing haunting lullabies
to the grieving galaxies,
as if there is no
space in the city of the clueless,
where walls are painted
with black diamond tears.
O watercolor forests,
where the moon sails above
trees of tranquility~
every raven has a nest to rest
when cold is the wintry eye,
roaming through dark alleys
where twilight sighs,
reverberates, and colors rise,
awakening hibernating rivers~
free-flowing like fine wine.
and here I weave
heartbeats with herbs of h o p e,
longing to waltz through
a sphere that sees
beyond
skin and i n k ...
You and I,
letting go of foolishness,
no longer spectators of actors,
dressed for a
carnival of chaos.
I am not your
defined nightmare,
echoing paranoia.
I am the silhouette of sunsets,
shaped in clover green,
signs of p e a c e.
I serenade for the weak,
with lyrics of love
amidst a choir of integrity.
see me as I am~
I am more than
the tale within narratives
you’ve long been taught…
illuminate your eclipsed soul
with sparks of
c o m p a s s i o n,
erasing egoistic stains
pulsating within veins of vanity,
for I breathe lilac and lavender,
drizzling from a lantern-filled horizon,
like jasmine raindrops
t w i r l i n g and s w i r l i n g
in tune to the rose rhapsody
of symphonic serenity.
Yet
silence
is the dialect
that speaks~
to sins that dwell within insensitive soils,
pushing roots to
s w e l l
in musical delirium.
Does not the pen yield its ink unto the bare page,
For expressionism to spill forward expelling inspirations
Liberal curve, it’s the power of freedom of speech is
It not.
How many have died for what they believe in,
What weight in blood soils, have these brave
Individuals has cost in life’s causes of the justice
And righteous.
These voices sounding can be heard even though
The flesh flame has been extinguished, hope light
Flickers in the darkest corner of silence, and it’s mighty
Winds wave can still be felt amongst the living.
Know one stands alone in a justified cause, if the truth
In the written words is spoken out loud, and is proudly
Bared by the author.
The next generations seeks our kindling fire, to inspire
There small embers to burn more brightly let us encourage
Such raw fuel to ignite, not smother it by smug self righteousness.
Set ablaze the pages of the future generations, let their inspirational
Spark spread, setting the very heavens a fire with enlightenment's torrent.
In this world we are given the gift of speech, thought, and wisdom,
For what other reason but to share the best of ourselves with others,
It is the gleaming light that sizzles in the eyes of the human spirit,
And severs us from the beast of the fields, and it is called Intelligence,
Compassion, and the freedom of speech.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
CRAYON
You can find me in the zoo.
Never will I be the beauty of a peacock.
I do not match with color blue.
I can be the color of a rock.
I am not the color that stands out to you.
My best friend is color green.
We make mother nature feel complete.
The color of the ocean is my enemy.
Drowning land taking away my color of space.
You find my color in chocolate, on a baby face.
You find my roots deep in a forest.
I provide you shelter with the color of my wood.
My soils give you the beauty of a florist.
My color can be changed from bad to good.
A simple color never understood
80% of of my eye color dominate the rest.
Before the butterfly leaves its cocoon
I support the bird in its nest.
I raised the pecan to seed with the moon.
A certain color that carries no tune.
My color is stored in a snickers candy bar.
A color that is not so pretty, but can be very sweet.
It can be worst, I can be the color of tar.
I am the dark brown dirt under every ones feet.
Kidnap by the drains of water like thieves
Brown the color so messy, but yet so neat.
Brown I am as the deep blue sea.
By; P.D.
((p.s. just trying out something
besides Free Verse,,lol,,and Slam))
I Am That I Am…Without End…
Listen, my heart is a soul drum
Beating the spiritual rhythms
Of the sojourning struggle of life—
Pumping pulsating blood inking
The notes of our story—flowing
From the past to the present—banked
In the here and now—waiting to cascade
Into the liberated future;
Yes, like an aged tree trunk, I am rooted
Here—anchored in the fertile soils—
Here, engaged in the struggles of freeing life.
Oh, the scars I bear are many; each being
A keloid memory of where I have been—each
A smooth raised and shadowed spiritual hope
Of where I am going when finished inking here.
Today, I now know that I am a child
Of a once lost race that is now found
And realized; a race destined to be forever free.
Oh, I know that I am a child of the rivers
Of blood—rivers fearlessly flowing free;
You see, I am as the night—pushing aside
The day—claiming my time now to be here, free.
Yesterday is gone and tomorrow may not be;
Thus, today must be the joyous freedom advent.
Therefore, today I claim myself eternally free;
I am as in the beginning: wind, water, fire—
The light! I am all: I am the Word without end!
I live in the land
where seas are high
and soils are low
where dikes and dunes
are border posts of
safe and sound
I live in the land
where sea levels rise
and soil levels sink
where boats look down
on red tiled roofs
and tops of trees
I live in the land
where sand and clay
replace the rock
where houses on piles
stand straight and strong
in shrinking peat
I live in the land
where poets have sung
of slow moving rivers
in infinite lowlands
where painters have praised
the grey kaleidoscope above
GROWING PAINS
It’s all about pain, frustration, tears. Fears, it’s all about fighting temptation
Watch the sun rise and set to the darkest thoughts of contemplation
My heart smiles not, my lungs laugh not to restoration
My light shines not it dims even the most vital motivation
From the day I was born to the day I shall die with lamentation
The question to my satisfaction still stands without fortification
The course of my education, my certificates sleep in nullification
The restoration of my sanity, my greatness, my dream is in a state of decomposition
As I watch it decay to a fossil plant without inspiration
I`m the brown leaf without respiration or perspiration
I am the unlubricated machine imprisoned in storage without life or action
The anger trapped in me bleeds my heart to death
It hurts my soul to a coma, to a collapse, to a faint
The pain and rage within me sends my brain to a trauma
To a clot of dangerous damaged stage of acts and drama
The finger pointing at me with pity soils my confidence
The mouth laughing at me spoils my happiness to a gloom.
That blossom to an irrational and uncontrollable doom.
The tongue that betrays me kills my authenticity
Usurp my serenity; launch a highly tactical robbery of my ecstasy
My peers are at the lecture room behind desks reading and writing
I am standing behind the lifeless tiles cleaning
Standing behind the stove cooking.
That was not the vision that was not the mission.
That was not my dream, it was not the operation
Beholding this heuristic flower which grows....
Astonishment amid the midst of the deserts dust
Isolations guise so shunned, this beauty it seems
Emitting an emollient fragrance as such
A nardostachys jatamansi ~
This healing and soothing ointment as rains
Loving cup, of sanctities moments such placid waters
Now rising from the parched soils of once barrenness
As a mastic mist of laudatories measures
Blanket it, with flourishings of precious dew
An inflorescent jasmine
Metamorphing into a prismatic rose
Before these melodious stones which smile....
As they gaze upon this magnificent splendour
Within a world wherein some still question as to how
Could this ever be?
This renewing of such trodden petals; rousing
And once crushed by the very hands
Which now stand within bewildered wonderment
As they blink their sting rayed eyes....How?
These second chances of a new born life
The Resurrection, of a once lost soul....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heavens Rose ~
Note: Smile ~ This is not an attack upon anyone but
"A Song of Hope & Faith!?" ~ "'Love,' Always," John!:) ~