Best That Poems
Like no one before, nor since
you painted that starry night in oils
superimposing your life story.
I feel I know this idyllic village
blanketed by tranquil rolling hills
embraced by calming olive trees
their very branches a symbol of peace
the steadfast church steeple
a sacred echo of the stalwart cypress.
But never have I witnessed
hills so inflamed - burning to tell the world their history
a moon so agitated - suffering from an incurable insanity
the night sky so frenzied - seeking answers to life's suffering
such undulating indigo eddies of despondency and confusion
or stars radiating with such feverish beauty - concentric circles of passion.
That starry night
you painted stars that, like you, are light years away from anyone else
looking on the serene village scene from an insurmountable distance
for you saw things, Vincent,
like no one before, nor since.
[free verse ekphrasis of the painting "The Starry Night" by Vincent Van Gogh]
Written 5 Jul 2020
Soft autumn rain ...
cascading over brightly colored cherry blossoms,
releasing a sweet scent of aromatic aphrodisiac
A fragrance of springtime love blowing in the gentle autumn wind
Our two hearts made a vow that day
We promised to fall in love anew
each day all over again
Fall madly in love a thousand times
every twenty-four hour spin
As the light, misty rain came down,
it meet our joyous laughter rising up to the clouds
Two lovebirds being purified,
two souls now joined together
as husband and wife
It rained gently that beautiful day
The maple and evergreen trees
greeted us with a mélange of bright promise,
of an ever evolving love that would last a lifetime
We beheld the colors of change all around us,
holding hands as our lives were changing as well
Upon the lifting of her white veil,
our eyes kissed and our lips looked
for no more words than two
I do
After a pregnant pause, we added another ...
I love you
Then we ran outside,
and frolicked like two little children
Me tugging at her beautiful, African zakiya dress,
she tossing aside my African kente vest
And when we pressed our cheeks together,
the soft autumn rain began to fall ... and we too were falling
more in love
I remember so well,
how it rained that day
How gently the autumn rain fell
At day's end, I take in the last light
seeping into the dark waters
across the bay and keep it here.
I gather the sound of departing gulls
smudged on the sky, the quietening
settle of birds in the cypress trees
along the foreshore, the giggle
of a child high on a swing
being pushed by a mothers hand.
I hold here the gentle sweep
of waves soaking into wet sand,
the slow roll of seaweed, bubbles
bursting around shells, wings
low over the water.
I draw in the evening and keep
it close with its lights
sprinkled around the edges
of the headland,
emerging stars hung soundless
in the heavens, the blinking
passage of a southbound airplane
heading into a long night.
From somewhere, the smell
of honeysuckle spilling
into the waiting air.
I make my way home, filled
with all that I have taken in,
having little space left over
to fit myself.
I think no stimulus could be
as potent as the one to pee.
A feeling frequent and innate
is this - the urge to urinate.
It comes each day to everyone
at work, at play, or on the run.
It comes sometimes as home you drive,
and soon you're hoping to survive
the bursting of your inner dam
while sitting in a traffic jam.
Then down the street you drive distressed
with thighs together tightly pressed.
You wish so badly it would cease
and then you pray for sweet release.
And as you drive, you ache and ache
and curse that drink you had to take.
You want to speed, but big surprise -
a cop's behind you. Squeeze those thighs
to keep inside what wants to flow!
You do not dare to let it go.
Few impulses can so compare.
Oh, how you'd love a diaper there!
Then home at last, you do a dance.
You run while pulling down your pants.
And horror, if when once inside,
you find the bathroom occupied!
WEll, just be glad it's mountain dew
you're holding in, not number two!
The
old house
from my memories
opens to a wide porch
adorned by mom with her
loving touch.Herbs,flowers
swayed to caressing breeze
Lilies in pink, roses in blue
and bougainvilleas that
blushed in lilac hues.
Green tulsi shrubs
tended with care.
Ah! leaves that
flavored
our tea.
They
were
laced
by a
fence
with a
sweet aroma
from tendrils
curling bluebells
intertwined in mesh.
The fragrant jasmine,
she sang to them
and put one in
her wavy hair.
Spring bloomed them to full moon. Monsoons brought a divine petrichor
that made us breathe the heavenly aroma of her love. She taught me
to care for them under the Mahogany tree that enveloped them from
raging heat. She worshipped her nursery like her own kids. Every
evening, dad used to share his stories watching the rosy blush.
On moonlit nights, we stargazed lying on the grassy bed and
listened to old songs on radio. I had built a corner of three
bricks to keep my favorite books to bloom and read them
on lazy noon with cuckoo's songs breathing intermingled
scents. When we left that house, the garden lived for
someone else. My mom had wished they would care
for it like she did. I packed my old books to move on.
Now years later, far from mom, when I miss my garden
of bliss, I unpack those books that still release scents of
roses and jasmine drenched and dancing, releasing soothing
petrichor. For a love so deep shall bless me now in my kitchen
garden, confined to few flowers. That love still blooms with those
books as I inhale the fragrance of those foregone days. Like I carry
my mother's essence in everything I am, the divine garden of that heaven
from my memories and the eternal fragrance of mother gleaming, lives on.
~ To the garden where I wrote my first poem
An infinite door of midnight blue;
glowing peephole that is the moon.
Dare I look before turned to dust?
Yes, dear friend, I surely must.
In the midst, a city of finest gold,
large as the earth; immense and bold.
Quoins of pearl, this must be known,
the lusture seemed a life, it's own.
Rising from it, a mountainous temple;
whisps of prayers escape the steeple.
Without the city, fields of crystal flowers,
and trees more akin to wind chime towers.
Platinum trunks doning metalic leaves.
Angelic music when brushed with their wings.
Out from all this, layers of various planes
seemingly worlds of their own, yet all of the same.
Once starving children and homeless ones too,
with comforts of home; endless tables of food.
One plane of great sports, children running free;
prosthetics and wheelchairs, now trophies and glee.
Another, Indian braves running with buffalo,
women laughing carefree with children in tow.
Serene planes of beaches and tropical breezes.
On none was found pain, lameness or diseases.
Thousands of planes, but my favorite to view;
families and the ancients with no need of adieu.
So euphoric, this sight, but there is more to tell,
as three glorious chimes of the great temple bell.
All froze still as beams of golden light
transported them to the temple in quiet.
The most beautiful prayers and songs arose.
From within the city; pure love aglow.
Three bells again and all were beamed out;
some to the same planes, some different routes.
I wanted so badly, to open the door
and be in this place forever more,
but the door was locked and I had no key,
then an angel turned and flew towards me.
Approaching the peephole, that is the moon,
It said, "Don't worry, you'll be here soon."
I have need of a key, I began to implore,
and it slipped a note neath the midnight door.
I unfolded the note; three lines within,
and three nails fell out; payment of sin.
The first line proclaimed, the door was faith.
The second; the beams are God's loving grace.
Overcome by peace as I read the third line.
Jesus is the way, the truth and the light,
and I remembered a scripture that so sweetly states;
"For by grace, through faith, are ye saved."
I thought I would go backwards
Into my uncertain
My awkward
The days of my wondering
What will I be when I grow up?
Will I ever grow up?
Is everyone better than me?
Boy I wish I could be more like that
That guy
Yep him
The athletic confident one
Words come so easy to him
Jokes flow freely from his lips
And they laugh
They love being with him
What's it like to be that self assured?
He has so many friends
None of them would ever talk to me
What would it be like to hang out with the cool kids?
I try telling myself
It doesn't matter
I have a few friends
I want it to be enough
I think it's enough
With them
I imagine and pretend
To be funny
Interesting
Until
One smile
One chuckle at a time
I gradually become me
A better more confident self
Assured
Witty
A lover of words
Dialogue
Conversation
I talk my way towards my future
While listening for clues
Building myself two by twos
Real friends are the ones I choose
Their words
Teach me about them and myself
I don't hide on lonely street
There are more people to meet
So I jump up off my seat
Rewrite myself on many a sheet
Until I can follow and hear my internal beat
Do what needs doing
Repeat and repeat
Until I come to here and now
Breathless with WOW
Understanding HOW
That uncertain and awkward part
Changed everything
It still is
And
Always
Will be
An important part of me
Because it helped me see
There are many many
Incredible
Significant and individual
ways to be
So now I choose
Care Free!
viscera wound tighter
than the tightest rubber ball
never mind bouncing off the walls
guts like a pinball machine
an arcade between the ears
with tilt alarms screaming
02.10.19
For Capture That Emotion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nina Parmenter
Things that seemed poetic were
always sad, though I yearned for
glitter and my dad's guffaw, which
never came. Familiar things were
always drear -- repeated motions
in the same old game. There were
only distant glimpses of budding
Spring, fleeting views of daffodils.
The strongest poems dealt me
death and dying. Still, I always
hoped, never went under to gray
despair, forever dreaming of a
garden of love we could share --
but those forbidden delights
faded quickly away. The only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal
death and dying.
Hoping that it might be you
Verse 1
I've got some troubles in my life...
I'll help with yours, will you, help with mine?
"Cause I need love like everyone...
Will you be here when the day is done?
(day is done)
Verse 2
Seems, like the whole worlds in a mess...
each day gets harder, I confess...
I need someone, to help me through...
I was hoping, that it might be you!
(might be you)
Bridge 1
Try to be.... the person that I need
I'll try to be...the person that you need
Verse 3
There, are some things, I just don't like...
when, somethings wrong, but they say it's right...
So... would you share my point of view?
Or... would it, just be...too much for you?
(too much for you)
Verse 4
I've lived, a full life, made for one...
I've seen a lot, and, I've had my fun...
but now, I'm ready for, a life for two
I hope you feel...the way I do!
(the way I do)
Bridge 1
Try to be.... the person that I need
I'll try to be...the person that you need
Bridge 2
Will you be here when the day is done?
Will you share with me the setting sun?
Will you be here when the day is done?
Will you share with me the setting sun?
Verse 5
What would you do, when I'm old and grey?
Would you leave me here, or would you stay?
I'll need someone to help me through...
I was hoping that, it might be you
(might be you)
Bridge 1
Try to be.... the person that I need
I'll try to be...the person that you need
Finale
I'll need someone to help me through...
I was hoping that it might be you
Yeah, I'll need someone to help me through...
I was, hoping that it might be you
(hoping that it might be you)
(hoping that it might be you)
(hoping that it might be you)
repeat and fade
John Derek Hamilton
January 15,2016
Will You See Truth Beyond That Dark Stone Fence
Can you feel true heart in early dawn's light
soft grace and gentle winds in Spring's new flight.
Can soul feel Nature's benevolent course
from open mind, mankind's weakness divorce?
Hear morning doves as they sing out soft calls
let kindness escape from imprisoned walls.
Gather knowledge, true strength from mother Earth
seek truth in doing right with all your worth.
See brilliance in every golden sunset
cease striving for all earth's wealth you can get.
See Nature, its great eye-opening gifts
let grace come as your spirit it uplifts.
Will you see truth beyond that dark stone fence
find calm over world's chaotic suspense?
R.J. Lindley,
April 14th, 1982
"what is this strange place, we find ourselves in
trapped in the open, we are free within"
in the darkest realm of desperation,
we find love and some hope for elation,
in swirling crowds, solace of solitude,
amongst stony hearts, pearl of gratitude,
in eddy currents of tears, hint of smile,
in scorching heat, shade to rest for a while,
a crack of lightning in gloom of clouds,
in violence of storms, beacons on grounds,
in chaos, anarchy, voice of reason,
a rose in full bloom, outside its season,
so ride on, ride on, ride on till sunset,
captain your life, ride on with no regrets,
sail with your dreams, with strong courage to win,
trapped in the open, we are free within!
Through frayed seams a rosy dream bleeds
needled and re-stitched
with threads of time and love and hope..
and still — a rosy dream bleeds
the miscarriage of a promised rose garden
leaving me bereft but for entwined bands of gold –
contemplative thorns tempt my angst
moony moody barbs bristle twigs of tenderness
sigh— it’s not a laurel wreath worn atop my brow
as I sit alone with a squeamish friend
my blue-sky-to-storm-cloud introspection —
as your distant eyes deserted mine long ago
Winter's beast laid bare a cerebral graveyard
lost you wander amongst laid-to-rest neurons
worn headstones of thoughts and laughter and memories…
you wonder why they hide — why they died
the crackle of cognitive circuitry quiets
branched-lightning fades from unwitting clouds
and aged roots of reality perish
our red rose finished fallen to pieces
you-and-me-petals a messy heap like old potpourri —
yet in dark’s hush love’s scent lingers on our dream pillow
Oh nostalgic sepals embrace me!
my heart yearns to return to the bud
to the fullness of our June bloom —
instead, I bury desires beneath life’s litterfall;
amid pollenless stamens and leaves of one-sided reveries
and cage my fear my despair behind purple thistle facing the light
as I free a smile for you, my love —
you my sun that still parts the rain-bearing nimbus
An early morn mist that fadeth away
revealeth the goddess that stole this heart.
In radiance, her hair shone as blazing gold
soft-born winds welcomed her that fine day.
Her approach held me silent and steadfast
earth and sky both envied her elegance.
Nothing on earth could her power dispel
nothing could her love's depth ever outlast.
Transfixed, my frozen legs refused to act
for her magnificent beauty brought me fear.
Fear of not knowing why at me she gazed
I wished my lustful thoughts, I could retract.
O' Blessed day, when I saw that loving smile,
her warmth cast forth to calm this lonely soul.
With heart relieved and soul stripped bare,
I saw love's truth, in it was no human guile.
Then, she took my trembling hand and said
words that will forever burn in this glad heart,
"I chose you, for thy spirit needs true love's gift
and with it comes relief from all thou dost dread."
She led me to paradise through beacons of gold.
Emerald eyes sparkling, brighter than the sun.
I watched as mischief grew in the vixen's orbs.
She woke this heart that long ago had grown cold.
Alas, she spoke to me in a gentle lilting voice,
sweet symphonies she crooned in my willing ear.
Beyond the realm of all opulent Utopian dreams
my spirit rose aloft with her. In love, we rejoice.
Up to the stars then to the dark side of the moon.
Ere long we rested where no eyes could intrude
upon tender kisses she bequeathed to my lips.
My lovely goddess surrendered to me in a swoon.
O' what depth of passion between us doth lie.
Breath mingled with breath until the sun rose.
Within my arms she stirred, but for a moment
then snuggled closer with a soft angelic sigh.
She had chosen me to love in that early morn mist.
From dawn to dawn she endowed her glorious gift;
the gift of love, 'twas like no other I had ever known.
My golden haired goddess, lips longing to be kissed.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Written with admiration for a talented poet...Robert Lindley.
Robert, thank you for the journey among the brightest stars.
pink marshmallow clouds
tinted by the setting sun
artist mixes oils
11/13/19