Best Speak Poems
A kind word, of course,
Can soothe the flustered soul or bring a smile
To a frowning face. That’s a given, but
In one’s troubled times, words still are
Only words.
Naked they become, for we see right through them when
Sincerity is misspoken and devoid of thoughtful deed.
Simple gestures are more meaningful than pretty words.
Persuasive poets perhaps pen verses to their beloved
Elegant and extravagant like pearls. Empty all the same
Are artful words given in pretense or with thought of recompense.
Kindness for me is found in action!
Lovers - real and honest lovers - are
Obliging, and they are more than kind!
Unabashedly they step in to defend those whom they hold dear.
During good times and bad, they will be there,
Enduring every hardship by their lover’s side,
Relinquishing their own needs for the needs of their adored.
Thank God if such a man or woman
Has ever graced your life.
Actions of their ardor
Never should be taken for granted.
Words can be loud with promises,
Overflowing also with
Romance! But only a fool would
Deny that one's exhibition of love is
So much the sweeter!
Written March 29, 2016 for the Cliche contest of Silent One
Speak of it not,
think of it not,
lest regrets may
cloud the failing light,
and weariness
a shroud becomes.
This little thing,
once proud in love and lust,
now hides its face
and soon it will be dust.
Gone is the lustre
and delight
of fond imaginings,
as shadows deepening
enfold what once
seemed ever bright,
impervious to
encroaching night.
When you take a stand and say what you choose,
Without hesitation, or being confused,
Not holding a fear of what others may say,
But to say what you mean in every way,
It liberates your soul, by setting you free,
No longer a prisoner of insecurity,
But a teacher to others who sometimes hold back,
By seeing in you the strength that they lack,
Releases their fears and doubts that they hold,
And helps them now see its ok to speak bold,
Just do it with dignity, kindness and love,
Give all of your fears to our friends up above,
Don’t compromise yourself to collude with the rest,
Speak truth in your words and remain at your best,
If others don’t like the control that they lack,
Because of your strength to speak truth and talk back,
Let that be their issue, don’t lose who you are,
Keep making that stand and you’re sure to go far.
We all have the right to express our beliefs,
Our ideas, opinions, happiness and grief,
But we must allow others to do just the same,
Respect them and their wishes without drama and pain.
To allow them to shame you or belittle your voice,
Says “its ok I don’t mind” like you don’t have a choice,
And the more you keep quiet, the more they control,
Giving up who YOU are so that THEY can feel whole.
It just doesn’t make sense to allow this to be,
I'm no better then you, but your no better then me.
So keep trying hard to find that strength deep within,
And Let old habits go, so new ones can begin.
How Dare We Ever So Boldly Speak Out
Let me write in obscure and chaotic words
stirring waters tepidly unknown
Yet my spirit refuses to admire such birds
or the massive flattery they are now shown
Why yes, some of us write from poetic hearts
with passion and not merely for fleeting praise
We that sail the seas, using understood charts
are now thought to be in an insane craze!
O' that we dareth to sparsely use archaic words
in poems as way of joining with the past
O' what folly, not wanting to be in a modern herd
or be afraid of those that so love to lambast
Cry thee, to thy Gods of confusing adulation
while we carry on in our simple ways
Content with depth, not writing for modern adoration
full of faith that truth and heart in poetry pays!
Robert J. Lindley, 4-27-2017
Note- Old poet, simple slam and quite tired of elitist criticisms
of poet novices, true hearts writing in understood words and
some that seek to exalt themselves by tearing others down..
Yes, this is a slam, but one done in a simple,reserved and more poetic style.
Speak not to me of love, I cannot bear to hear
The fervent pleas you stoop to whisper in my ear
Speak not to me proclaiming staunch fidelity
Or how you will adore me through eternity
Speak not of how your love is stronger now by far
Than what it was before, so I must lift the bar
Speak not in vows regarding purity
Of how you swear to worship me, and only me
I've heard confessions of this sort quite oft before,
No proof are they of love, I'll show you now the door
My heart has bled enough, I want the pain to end
Our love has run its course, why must I now pretend
While you were loving her, he started loving me
My broken heart he healed and showed me ecstasy
The shroud of pain you gave, he turned to joyous gown
My head with kisses wreathed and gifted me a crown
His ravished all the places unbeknownst to you
Each fantasy he played, each dream he made come true
His tongue, it sweetly roamed to each delicious place
Our bodies fused in rhythm, lost to time and place
Speak not of sad regrets and turning back in time
Of seeking to recapture love that was sublime
Each night he speaks to me in passion's lovely rhyme
With heart and soul I speak and tell him he is mine!
For Georgio V's Iambic III Contest
This is written in Iambic hexameter
October 6, 2014
Eileen Manassian
In the dim-lit alley of the soul's bazaar,
Were jazz and jive spill from ajar,
We tap our feet, snap fingers, under stars,
And speak in verses, raw and without pause.
The city breathes, a living, pulsing beat,
Its heart a drum, its voice a saxophone,
We weave through streets, our words a rhythmic feat,
In its sync with life yet distinctly our own.
We are scribes of midnight's whispered tales,
Our ink, the dreams that dance in smokey air,
Each line is a track on which our spirit sails,
A journey deep, beyond the skin, we dare.
So let us write, with passion as our guide,
Some beat poems, where truths cannot slide.
Then we'll take a carpet ride,
Sail across space standing side by side.
Raven Speak Not To Me, For A Plague Flees Thy Lips
Sadness came, in clumps of ripping hard, smashing waves
as if morbid thoughts could such sorrows ever save,
none but the blind and deaf could know a darker realm
or more lost ship with, blinder captain at the helm.
Yet even in such pains, one must seek out the Light
for the blind can see, if they embrace truest of sight!
Wayfarer now in hideous ancient abodes
mind burning flames, blasts of misery that explodes,
born of the vile demons that plagued Master Poe
from fiery depths they sprang, as savage and dark foe.
What greater black-curse can one thus be forced to bear
or evil that sends monsters that nightly scare?
Raven speak not to me! For plague flees thy lips
weeping soul, prays not to enter such ghastly trips,
save your epic lashings and thy horrific calls
as well as scalding-hot brands from thy torture halls.
We that saw deepest pains, you once sent Master Poe
enter not chambers or beg more accursed shows!
Your friends attack, forcing each soul to further flee
from hell's first dark levels, with its pitiful pleas,
into caverns wicked, filled with flesh eating beasts
with each new arrival cry, more food for our feasts.
Sirens lure fleeing lost souls into black-sea pits
always seeking, more blood, deeper cuts, harder hits!
Raven, thy terror-nights will soon come to end
for in bright flooding lights, I have found a new friend,
stalwart ally, armed with more than long sharp teeth
one whose true faith, will silence thy calls from beneath.
Dawn's shimmering lights, you shall plague me no more
I bow to he, his powers seals your wicked door!
Robert J. Lindley,
Dark Poetry, ( Poe, Raven and Nightmares)
12-18-2018
Tho' I am but the sparrow's twining strains
The palette and the pen of whisp'ring souls
I'm sweeter, still, if dashed upon the shoals
Or bleeding from the hem of day's remains
Tho' I may weep from all a scoundrel feigns
For what each soldier's dying breath extols
It's grander, even, morning's meadow rolls
As spindrift, tossed upon the grassy plains
Oh, I am found the coursing thru all things
As warm within your veins, as sunset's sky
My constancy, to love and swoon and hate
To stir in hopes or see what passion brings
So guard me, close, or open me and cry ...
I'll bound and thrum and patiently ... await.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Open Me First" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
Line of inquiry
"I Am as I Am complete
Though ego opines otherwise
Invoking grace we feel God’s heartbeat
What else does there remain for us to realise"
If ego was a season
it would be like the summer sun,
ascending and descending,
but without protection,
if you become too consumed -
you only end up being burned.
My soul is like spring,
always resurfacing after the big freeze,
looking for shelter against self absorbed rays.
My spirit is a voiceless orchestra,
yearning to connect through scriptures,
eradicating the ghostly echoes of ego,
composing a melody of honeyed harmony.
In a world of nonstop waterfalls,
I seek serene streams,
in silence and stillness,
where the 'true self' resides.
Temptation is a crimson illusion,
attempting to seduce us inside a
sea of self - admiration,
where the feather minded submerge.
Life is bittersweet,
surrounded by fake guides and stone saints,
so I persevere to escape this prison,
listening to the call of sincerity,
hoping the path opens before me,
as I cannot breathe without a heartbeat
and where, once, there was only barren fields,
meadows of verdant, vibrant visions now prosper.
Ego is the nemesis of my existence,
so my soul becomes unsighted to its intoxication
and when it dies, spirit transcends,
connecting with the ultimate truth of divinity.
In the crepuscular halcyon sunset, bells tolled urging
the desultory audience to attend the sermon of the new pastor.
Despite their cynical sentiments, they dared not absent themselves.
The look of visceral satisfaction on the pastor’s face
was unmistakable. Outside light became penumbra,
Still, men and women trudged towards the chapel
as the dirge-like bells faded into silence. His audience was silent too.
He spoke in a sonorous voice, in an opulent resonant poetic vein,
an exuberant style which was to be his familiar characteristic:
Unbridled jealousy is a sin, he intoned, so speak no evil, my friends.
The interpretation of the listeners is FICTION. Still the advice is correct.
They Speak of You
Hey beautiful,
How often
have I called you softly
by that name?
Your voice is a warm whisper
more soothing
than a gentle rain.
You are lovely in so many ways,
I could spend eighty-eight days
times eighty-eight ways,
just writing poems and plays.
Dedicated to just how beautiful you are...
From your head to your toes
to your near perfect nose
and all your girly parts in between.
...
You have only to look in the mirror
to see what I mean.
You are the beauty
of a single sunflower
in the middle of a desert oasis,
as twilight sets fire
to the sun baked sands.
You were created by the hand of God
and wanted by every man.
You are the beauty
of a cool glass of water
on a world where summer is eternal,
and no one has had a drink
in a thousand years.
What I believe to be true,
the word beautiful
was invented for you.
So, when anyone,
anywhere, at any time
utters the word beautiful,
they speak of you.
Perfect in all your imperfections
you've been beautiful all your life.
And if it hasn't happened already,
one day some lucky young man,
is gonna beg you
to be his wife.
For your a natural beauty,
that kind of beauty
where make up makes no sense.
You’re the answer to the question...
Why mess with perfection?
Oh
hermit,
we have heard
that you have seen,
that which is unseen,
namely the face of God
and that too in broad daylight,
so with folded hands, we request
you to please teach us all the practice,
following which, we too may see the light.
Dear soul, the path to follow is pathless,
appearing on its own when we seek
with a pure heart, in childlike trust,
making mindful every touch,
seeing God’s light in all
for that is the truth,
so recognised
in the cave
of our
heart.
Actions Speak Louder Than Words
Actions versus words
Actions speak louder
Louder is figurative
Louder is expressive
Figurative language is effective
Figurative does not truly speak
Effective is deeply important
Effective is walking the talk
Important lessons must be demonstrated
Important lessons show you don’t tell you
Demonstrated lessons are shown like an exhibit
Demonstrated lessons than may be emulated
Exhibits can be observed
Exhibits are seen not heard
Observed actions are watched
Observed actions trump words
Watched love is full of verbs
Watched love shows it is an action word
Verbs are action words
Verbs help one’s mind create mental pictures
Words alone are soon forgotten
Words are remembered when taught with an action
Mental pictures formed in one’s brain
Mental pictures are recalled simpler than jargon
Brain stores memories
Brain loses words
Memories are potent tools
Memories recall meaning
Tools seen in use is vital
Tools talked about remain idle
Vital is performance
Vital is activity
Performance is an execution
Performance is a rendition
Execution creates stimuli
Execution shows not tells
Stimuli create neuron connections
Stimuli causes better recall
Connections boost like a catalyst
Connections fuel memory
Catalyst spark visuals
Catalyst evoke images
Visual aids are useful to teachers
Visual images are appealingly vivid
Teachers must display good character
Teachers may not just define it
Character is taught by example
Character in not lexically learned
Example set is learned in action ~
Example cannot be set with words
For Silent One’s Cliché Contest
3/28/2016
He was debonair, full of flare
charm exuded here and there
but she was so unaware
and she let her heart to dare
poured out love and all her care
But he another love did share
There he stood, there he bled
he knew that she longed to wed
all this filled his heart with dread
for she loved the youth instead
This young rival he must shred
Take her to his heart and bed
Walked in rain then took a spill
Jilted, wilted soon fell ill
to live life she lost the will
Passion gone, there was no thrill
but her heart he longed to fill
His love was the magic pill
The she knew love has no age
his hand turned a brand new page
Now that in love she was sage
Rescued from falsehood's cage
Passion danced upon their stage
No one could their joy to gauge
Jade Celeste
This is the story of Marianne and Colonel Brandon from Sense and Sensibility. You should watch the version that has Kate Winslet play the part of Marianne. Emma Thompson is her sister. Marianne is in love with the young John Willoughbye, who is dashing and charming. She is passionately in love with him, but her heart is broken when he gets engaged to someone else. Colonel Brandon, played by Alan Rickman, is an older man who is passionately in love with her but doesn't express it to her in ways she expects. However, when she falls ill, he is the one by her side. He nurses her slowly back to health and wins her love. :) This story is written by Jane Austen. Oh how I love the classics. Sometimes it is the steady, deep, unassuming love that is truly lasting.
I've written a poem on this theme with a different twist: Scent and Sensuality. ;) I http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/scent_and_sensuality_474084
Here they are before me,
surreal in the dazzling morning sun.
Against clear skies of blue, and
peaked snow-capped mountains-
these tall glaciers of Alaskan ice,
stand heavenly before my eyes.
Their marbled, glistening whites,
with multi shades of blue,
arcane crevices and jagged peaks-
stir visions of cold, ghost-like forms
that glare at me in this mysterious Bay
of murmurous creaks and moans.
More than the eye can see,
these lustrous glaciers speak,
like eerie, moving forms,
in corridors that shift and moan-
and with their loud sonorous wails,
give birth- calving chunks that fall.
With an abrupt, roaring explosion,
all at once, it starts- the large,
calved segment plummets to the sea.
Waves and splashes follow every birth.
These exotic glaciers live and speak-
more than the eye can see.
April 25, 2016
~2nd Place!
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 3
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Judged: 06/20/2022
~5th Place~
Premiere Contest: Splash
Sponsor: Kai Michael Newmann
Judged: 06/07/2020