Best Spurns Poems
I wrestle with my words in aimlessness when I write.
Poetry is a relationship to me, it's a troubled courtship.
I can't come to reasonable reform in words on the spot..
but rather seek intimacy with my thoughts in attempt.
The two of us, man and his romantic notions,
carelessly Laid into tousled affections on a page.
I love her, and the page, she spurns me willfully.
I love her, and grasp in hopelessness to understand her.
I give my undivided attention, my eyes wander her form.
I've sought shamelessly to appease her whispered desires.
But she is a selfish lover, asking for more than can be given.
She, the playful counterpart in a field of rationality, often eludes me.
Beneath the sunset snug upon blue hills,
are stalks of corn, a standing army gold
but long, their shadows fall like swords that stills
a weary legion cold with growing old.
Like soldiers dug in trenches they hold ground —so holy.
They hug their summer-season-dreams of youth.
The sun, their crown, now spurns them burned and browned —unholy!
Nor’easters shred what’s left with claw and tooth…
Oh, solstice rays once sweet as sugar maize,
the shadows short as days were long. The throng
of lazy mornings bathed in earthbound haze,
ah, leaves raised higher by the evensong.
September swans press wings in hum against the freeze;
a whisper to the rooted to concede to Autumn’s seize.
(Contemporary Sonnet)
When air is still and dread silence suffocates
death violates esteemed sylvan sanctity—
whose jealous eye in malice deprecates,
absent demur, spurns all that ought to be.
Sussurus raised on gossamer wing;
rebuild the scaffold of life’s innocence.
Forever defer morbid harbinger’s ring,
proclaim sacred tales and stifle abeyance.
Compile sacred prayers we might ever utter;
inhale the waft of life’s incense redolent.
Disregard uncouth hordes that senselessly mutter;
encircle, condemn all the callously petulant.
And ever be heard wolves' melodious song;
endless the days their sweet harmonies prolong.
God of the universe, God of love,
yearns in sorrow.
Man, created in his own image,
spurns his love,
pushes aside his words.
Even the knell,
conveyed in aquatic tongue,
rests on closed ears.
His ultimate roar becomes a whisper
in the hearts of men: Sin and death
have now been crushed.
He who believes,
may yet be redeemed.
© cfa 11/27/2013
Angel, No Romantic Heart Could Forget
( Collaboration R. Lindley & K. Hunt )
Desiring to feel again, thy warmest touch,
Dreams that have faded into distant past,
Love burning hot in our hearts was too much,
Its glow and ardor faded too fast,
Thou wouldst have had eternal sweet dreams,
In castles created to hold our true love,
Alas! This dark world destroyed with wicked schemes
All that was heaven sent from above.
We in our youth, tasted of love's purity divine,
Gentle hands, held wealth of all precious to me,
Thy image and power, did my romantic soul refine
Gifting passionate fruits of thy bountiful tree;
Now my soul, cries out for thy blessed return,
This miracle I pray shall one day be,
As flower meadows, rich in glory, one never spurns,
Let love send us again, sailing on its heavenly sea.
For all the ages revealed our great love eternal,
From silver spires did the world seem so small and otherworldly
We crept into our lofty paradise, teeming our little secret furled;
Two great eagles soaring soft to eternity
A thousand kisses too holy and sweet thy lush peck
A million lovely seasons thine eyes sparkle as honeyed stars
To Venus (shooting!) and thine vast heart our thee wed
But without thee, life is empty and its affections as death's cold charms
So sweet, death whispers your name.....
To tempt my fate to follow thy fleeting footsteps;
How damp this love, wouldst now seem in vain
No flask too deep to numb this bitter-made bed
But I shan't despair no more to mourn ----
For too holy my angel, lest I forget her plea;
The beauties of her idylls (alone) as lovelies shown:
Let love send us again, sailing on its heavenly sea
First half written by Robert Lindley
Second by Keith O.J. Hunt
Sweetheart, Your Lips The Only Honey I Will Taste
A collaboration with Susan Ashley
Sweetheart, Your Lips The Only Honey I Will Taste
Bright heaven's night skies, in your eyes once were,
agleam they glittered, gems as you danced free;
my darling, sad you once thought I loved her
oh how that sexy vixen did chase me!
Her lies about our night trysts at the lake
she said we did commingle on white sand;
I know the pain they gave, was hard to take
her vicious calls to you worse to withstand!
I give you this, our hearts both love entwine
your lips the only honey I will taste;
my love-life’s yours, as only your’s is mine,
so please, lets live and love, let’s not time waste!
Your lips the only honey I will taste.
So please, lets live and love, let’s not time waste!
-----------
Temptress: Your Lips The Only Honey I Will Taste
My tongue tells lies to get me what I want
and longs to taste the sweets of your desire,
I’ll tempt you and your woman I will taunt;
behold this tigress striped in passion’s fire.
I have no shame in stalking you, my prey,
my green eyes have you surely in my sight,
I watch and pray that from her you will stray;
upon you with my purr I will alight!
If prayers don’t work I have a backup plan..
I’ll tell her of us when her back was turned -
a sly seductress always gets her man,
as if by magic when the truth is blurred.
My claws will hook you given half the chance,
beguiling rumors charm with their snake dance...
Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration) , February 13, 2019
Poet’s note: Thank you, my dear friend, for your accepting
my invitation to compose beautiful verses with me yet again.
to share this new double sonnet collaboration.
And as always, it was an honor and true pleasure to write
with you and see poetic verses be born.
This about an evil temptress that falsely accuses a man
faithful to his beloved wife spurns her unwanted advances.
Such that happened in real life and was a nightmare to have
to had endure until the truth came out about the lying
and crazy temptress. Lucky that her best friend finally
exposed her for the liar that she was.
Gaia in white flame burns
Yaldabaoth himself spurns
A second cycle turns
The Golden Age returns
The first-begotten son
Comes down from heaven’s sun
Barbelo, Armoured Queen
Look gently at this scene
Of Christ’s birth long foreseen
In this iron machine
Hearts of iron will melt
Hearts of gold will be felt
Hearts, gold and meek
Will rule from the word’s peak
Valis will rule and speak
With the lute of mystique
This birth in mystery
Will be our victory
As Polloi rules here
The first child will appear
Clearing the mist of fear
Every past sin and tear
Will be washed away
Clearing a narrow way
The world soul will rain down
Hedera all around
Lilies to make a crown
Acanthus for renown
Myrrh, gold, and frankincense
Without any expense
All goats will return home
All blind cobras that roam
Will be under death’s dome
Miles under farms and loam
Sheep will not fear lions
Men will see aeons
In the stream of Dead Sea
He’ll become a man free
Oak trees will weep honey
On every wild thorn-tree
Grapes will turn Persian plum
Gold will be the plain’s sum
But iron will remain
At sea, war ships will reign
Wars will bring pain
Walls will cover the plain
But when you will grow up
Gaia will drink the cup
Please, come soon, in our plight
You, the viceroy of might
The globe bows to your light
The earth and the blue height
Beseech you to be set free
From Yaldabaoth’s dark sea
You, our lord and brother
Child, smile at your mother
Speak words from the Father
If your lips will not stir
No light will bless your wine
And wisdom shall not shine
(Gnostic poem based on the ancient Roman Virgil's fourth eclogue, often interpreted as foretelling the birth of Christ)
Is government control of humans’ birth, aging, and dying
In century 26, as practiced by a new World State;
Different from 20th century’s use of eugenics,
Which used “fitness” to determine people’s reproductive fate?
A high-tech London, where humans’ material needs are met,
Setting of Aldous Huxley’s, Brave New World, utopian tale;
Sterile world of human cloning and conditioning to castes,
Recreational soma drug and sex use on widespread scale.
In respite from his boss’ – the DHC’s – awkward confessions,
Bernard and Lenina fly to the Savage Reservation.
There they meet Linda and her young adult son, John “the Savage”,
Fathered by DHC 20 years before, on vacation.
Bernard publicly presents Linda and John to DHC,
Bringing Director of Hatcheries and Conditioning [DHC] down.
DHC flees from “sin” of involvement in natural birth.
Bernard and new celebrity, John “the Savage”, gain renown.
Finally, John rejects the soma, sex, and clones of London,
Spurns Lenina’s moves and keeps soma from “lower” Delta caste.
His retreat to do penance draws crowds and curiosity;
Leads to suicide by hanging – John’s perceived freedom at last.
This Brave New World’s parallels to eugenics cannot be lost,
Since, in both cases, the state had a hand in who lives and dies.
American Breeder’s Association, “better babies,”
Forced sterilizations – how U.S. eugenics took its guise.
Human cloning now – gene, reproductive, or therapeutic –
Raises a host of ethical, moral, and other issues.
Somatic nuclear transfer to clone human embryos
Evokes Brave New World’s ‘soma’ in copying people’s tissues.
Eugenics – legal in U.S. until 1970’s;
Its dehumanizing nature gone from society’s norms?
With current human cloning research, genetic ‘shopping’, more,
No one’s safe ‘til humankind is respected in all its forms.
4/20/17
Ballad of the poet
When the moon kissed the sun, and light spread upon the earth. *hh*
Bright and early,
early bird gets the worm.
With sullen time on stand by.... *DJ*"
Spurns emerald valleys that blur upon my new-found perch *J.M.G*
While all nature wakes from slumber in timeless glory. *E.G*
Morning glory stroked by a ceremonious dandelion... whisper~ *K.D*
Bitter like morning breath.
Rooster crows, two songs, I share a note with him.
My cat rises to the sun of a new day.
Stretches into a c with her tongue curled and tail furled *S.K.*
My coffee offers the sweetest taste after a goodbye kiss.
Clever and warm, I twinkle to the new morning light,
as I step outside, something pierced my heart..
~Wing broken, his bow in tow, arrows strewn,
~No flight for thee, love lost, bent arrows I see," *R.M*
Everything I see, everything I feel around me.
Becomes a new song.
Born of many emotions.
I roll them on a paper without a pen.
BUT! In my mind they speak clearly to me~
Look into My eyes with your heart... and there you will find your soul * R.A.D.*
"I hear an angel calling The beastly being within" *R.S*
A new creation awaits beyond the path of dreams content,
Eros and Cupid both shoot through my heart." *J.H.*
As the arrow's liquid enters my soul... *RON*
Will that winged creature with the bow and arrows stop blinking his eyes?" *R.P*
He has stretched his wings too far this time. *V.B.*
"His arrow of love is strumming my heart with golden grace. *L.M*
A Halo'd smile upon my face. * L.H*
Has suddenly turned to a grimace! *G.S.*
(( feel free to add a line** in my comment box... ))
The alleyways within the maze are paved with rats and mice.
Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice
from losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise,
while in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice.
A bum called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter;
with broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter,
the passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter:
“Let’s pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.”
A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.
Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice,
the painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price
and loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise.
A crazy guy cries “where am I”, a schizo titters twice,
and double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice.
The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with meth.
The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth.
And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth,
while telling tales to no avail of everlasting death,
at least imbue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath.
The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they’re kneeling down to prey,
to fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday,
to etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé
on shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil’s dossier.
Old dan, he's drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud.
A Monk begins to wash Dan’s sins, and asks “How are you, Bud?”
“I’m feeling pain and crying rain till soon there is a flood.
And no god’s there who seems to care I’m always coughing blood.”
The Monk, he turns, Dan’s words he spurns and lets the bible thud.
Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray:
“The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men’s minds astray
to rings of gold they’ll never hold in fingers made of clay.
But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.”
Continued
Valentine Limerick- for DW
As I shared all my poetic emotions with you,
Change of inspiring avatar was a blunt in the blue,
Broken heart spurns to beat,
Misconstrues your intent of deceit,
To the flightless birds, can you bid adieu ??
Written Feb 17th, 2015
For contest by SKAT A
Awarded 8th place
Consultation Room
Our organs we disdain
Until we have some pain
Then begin to learn
Let organs respect earn!
There’s this red “bean”
Fond of giving a spleen
Pith can suffer “cones”
They call kidney stones.
Maligned cirrhotic livers
Afflict with painful fevers
You may relish one of sheep
Yours gives scant sleep!
“You’ve got a Big Heart.”
Then think you’re smart!
There’s fire in the chest
You would hardly rest.
Diseased swollen lungs
Give the worst pangs
You sweat all over night
Yet shiver with frost bite.
When eyes are in pain
They see lightning and rain
The Pain eyes can lodge
You wish them to disgorge.
Not least a swollen ear
Which no sound will hear
It gnaws into your soul
Leaving you an empty bowl!
“Labour, to an aching tooth
“is nothing, I tell the truth!”
“You’re good wif no teef
“Than wif cyst underneaf!”
Cancer of the prostate-
Who would aptly relate
The worst of all the worse
It is a pure human curse!
Those who eat so well
Call gastric ulcers real Hell
Once a morsel you partake,
Writhe like a dying snake!
And, cancer of the cervix
Has Pain with no prefix!
The sick that you nurse
Suffer agony like a curse.
*
Whoever is now healthy
Is confirmed as wealthy
Organ treatment or care
All our efforts must dare.
Correct thy eating habit
Potential throe will inhibit
Work till you sweat
Disease spurns the heat.
Substance use or abuse
Condemn it and accuse
Cancers that we endure
Come from deals impure.
Regular checks are noble
To detect what may wobble
“And rectify the setback
“That’ll get ya out o’ track!
*** Upon spending a sleepless night with a malignant lung (13/11/2013).
JM
14th Nov’ 2013
It was always you
For love sings thy name
The cool wisp of blushing lips
The chorus of springtime's first kiss
Which my heart still proudly bares
Without refrain
I can still feel your smile
A warmth that spurns
Winter's deepest dire
Shivering fears erased
Imperfections embraced
By the fingertips of faith's fire
It was always you
Who stayed trembling skies
Summer tears lead astray
As jagged nights bled day
The hand of autumn assuaged
For you always held mine
Without refrain
You are the rock
That shields my soul
The mirror time cannot break
Nor I could ever mistake
For being alone
It was always you
The Doer does: Yes, he does
The doer never says what he does
He does
Nor what he’s going to do
He simply does
Fears not the consequences
Of what he does
If by the hoi polloi right
He does
In accord with vox populi
He does
Even what the lambda citizen spurns
He does
Fears not what history books record
He does
What he’s compelled to do
Only just does
Takes only tentative steps
Never really does
Even when lame-ducked
He does
His heart’s not in it
A contrecœur does
Puts not the blame on the other side
For what he does
Nor the lambda hoi polloi for the mess
He does
Wags not the flag of executive terror
And what it does
If he fears not his own vested power
Aught he does
Even if only one people remain un-free
Nought he does
Depletes not his side’s chances
With what he does
If he takes time out to shore up his side
Will forget about what he does
Should he think only of what he could do
Will wonder about what he does
Will re-double his appearances
To talk about what he does
And the other side’ll take the advantage
Not because of what he does
Yet because of what he does
So he does
Yes he does
Yet he does
Yea he does
What He does !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Voyagers, convene thyselves to return, among us...
Caesura, crown nigh clod, a sylph unwept,
elision thy silhouette, meno thy minuet...
Thine late occurence on thee, wake of cerise sand
Thou belief, like a billow, upon your whitish cheek,
'Twas marina bay, her twaddle a garb of mer,
A henchman docks, thy quay, girdles stymie ebbs,
but he cannot dream aloft a dream she confers...
O'er to woo hand in hand, thou overture unto Sirocco,
Plagues thy pirate ships, quakes men with mar,
His and his only demand, an aegis for lagoons amidst...
Once deluged, sun askew above, one abyss of bagatelles
Deters a tocsin, feign mooting mammals, thy kin a boon,
Aquatica, thee damsel for diminuendos, spurns thy sire,
Her gentle mettle, calls thee, His fervor season calentures...
Aloof thy celestial kisser, nay thy nine, vim domiciles solitary
Doomed skulls ravish, an age id by ice, culls thee, for chastity,
Some may not know, we died to have our love live, over and again,
Amity vows posy littoral seaflowers, buoys colonnades of adventure...
thence, cradles await upon matins, sail thy Oceanus genesis, amen.