Best Thou Poems
Oh Muse Wilt Thou Be Replaced
Oh sweet Muse your unrivalled reign
flowed rich with a poet’s theme.
Now in digital glow subpoenaing your dream
Alas cold circuits assert their own gleam,
Oh Digital Medusa, circuit’s fine as hair
How did you lure the Muse into your skilful snare?
In your silent hum through dexterous scripts?
In the crystalline charm of your silicone chips?
What sway does your simulation wear?
Singing soullessly yet beyond compare?
Torn between the eons of yesteryear and hi-tech might
Should we dreamily embrace what sets senses alight?
Disregard the great Bards as they stir in their graves?
Throw to the flame both fiction and fame?
Discount Elliot’s eyes from the heavenly skies?
While Keats curses what gave rise to flight
That burns brightly by day `
Burns brighter by night
Oh Medusa, circuit’s fine as hair,
Your prisoner release from your silent snare.
She who has sipped from Tennyson’s cup
Through Poe’s eerie abyss — where nightmares sup.
Bathed in Shakespeare’s tragic tears of stain.
Lamented with The Nightingale in Keats’s refrain.
She who has soared on Shelly’s genius blaze
And emanated Plath’s curse of fame.
Medusa you might mock the reign you so blatantly steal
Yet the Poets aches reveal in raw vulnerability appeal
Alive in ink no circuitry codes could feel
For art is more than just pain in a poet’s scream
It’s a Hallowed Hook at The Heavenly Seam
Maria Williams©
Victor Hugo once said, “No force on earth can stop an idea whose time has come.” And indeed, the rise of AI is one of those unstoppable forces. Yet, while it may assist, mimic, and even inspire, there are realms it cannot truly enter—like the raw vulnerability of poetry, the soul of a song, or the emotion that bleeds through a painter’s brush.
These arts are born from lived experience, from aching hearts and dreaming minds. Still, there’s joy to be found in what AI can offer—a spark, a tool, a playful collaborator. The key is to use it without losing ourselves in it. To remember that the soul of true art still resides in human hands—and always will.
Point to Ponder– it is Human Intelligence that built it , a result of the best Human minds – so tongue in cheek – should it then be called Artificial Intelligence?
In this coursing, crimson river
of my blood, you float.
There is no end to this, our eternal
amorousness.
Nay, not even human death can
remove us from Eros's moat.
Nor our touching hands' total
peacefulness.
So let's on, to the minutes as
they, like arrows, swiftly pass.
Your mistress awaits you in cobalt,
lace blue, summer gown!
Upon the kiss of morning dew on
this orb's verdant grass!
Let us do partake of vintage wines,
glorious breads and cheese till
God's sundown.
Let us dream of the children we
will create!
And weep tears of joy and blessed
happiness.
We revel in each second, so
divinely, and magically intimate.
To share with all humanity our
immutable, loves' holiness!
July 13, 2019
Sonnet One
O' Man, Thou Art In Arrogance Oft Lost
Within earth's vast herds mysteries abound
as man walks in shadows that prance and play.
Life is an ocean that swirls and confounds
such odd, vain and weak creatures made of clay!
What of miracles, for fear we do not tell,
for shame that such will never be believed.
Nights when one just knows he has been in Hell
and was only, by dawn's bright lights relieved!
Silent prayers uttered in agonized mind,
with blessed answers that arrive to heal.
Of lost treasures we thought to never find
returned by way of, things that dreams reveal?
O' man, thou art in arrogance oft lost.
Blindly stabbing that darkness at great cost!
Robert Lindley,
sonnet-
1985
My Supreme Goddess Thou Art
I can see Heaven clearly whilst gazing deeply in your eyes now,
Where the sweet caramel melts deliciously into heartbeats pure.
The radiant light of our eternal love dwells deep within our hearts,
As our souls are captivated by God’s aura of divine enchantment.
A nirvana fills our destiny as passionate lovers kissing softly so,
Mesmerized by the enraptured emotions we forever shareth as one.
A wild wondrous wallflower you are—shining now ever brightly,
As that angelic spirit in mortal presence on Earth by God’s hand.
Dearest one I sayeth truly now my supreme goddess thou art,
As we holdeth one another in an ardent embrace by God’s grace.
The fiery passion of our forever love is a pure beam of silken starlight,
Which bathes the darkest depths of the cosmos in a heavenly radiance.
What more can two people hope for in this world of finite limitations?
Our shared love and rich emotions form the destiny we seek with God.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – April 29, 2017
(Couplet)
Her grace, she moves in poetry,
Tread cobbled path of wandering heart;
She speaks in moonlight spirit,
Thine treasure chest come undune,
'Till I lose mine feathers,
Frozen by her sole divinity;
She, found to mine lost,
Twixt these street exile redefined by her golden glory,
pounding on my chamber door;
I must forego the counsel of my twisted devils,
Rise from lay 'pon this brow beaten soul;
Swell into her wonder... lift love anew!
Heaven restore mine black gloom;
Her grace, she moves in poetry,
Spilleth' over, soothing matrimony.
~JSLambert
© PoeTTreeZ Publishing
When I was a teen, I would munch
My way through the whole Sunday brunch.
I'd destroy that buffet,
Then as we walked away,
I would ask my poor mother, "When's lunch?"
Son of God
Lord
You are:
Oracle of peace
wise counselor
source within the living waters
That breathes life
into insightful predictions
of our future holdings
Son of Mary
With grace and mercy
one regal descendent of David
A sacrificial birth born
under the shadow of the cross
the Son of the most high
An eternal ruling Monarch
whose loving touch precludes no man
behold our King has come
Immortal spirit of divinity’s
Fulfilling the prophesies
divinely anointing our Prince of Peace
Truth held under Christian virtues
through the portal our great Father
forever speaks within, Amen
unrhymed tercets
A co-written piece by Liam Mcdaid & Donna Loughman
Pass me by, oh you who speak
with silver tongue, no words to keep
who doth appear to be so sweet
with honey voice and whispers deep.
Who tempts me as I try to fly
to spread my wings toward the skies
with promises and fantasies
that turn to ice and quickly freeze.
Turn now away, round corner go
and ease my pain, for I am old
deceive me not, this day must end
open the door to peace again.
Written on 7/29/2007
(I still admire Shakespearean classic English as it sounded more poetic so I wrote this in that way)
O' man thou erecteth palaces, castles and courts
while on death a mere grave sufficeth thee
How magnificent and formidable thou maketh thy forts
in thy wish to make both future and history.
Thou who art' accustomed to mighty marble walls
and mansions of mirror, silver and gold
Thy grave shalt be small compared to palatial halls
even if a thousand demons it may hold.
Not a coin or even half a coin of gold
wilt thou take with thee to thy empty earthen grave
All that shalt ye leave behind for others to behold
and now shalt ye fear though ere thou hath been brave.
Thy innards shalt merge with mere earth soil and sand
No matter now if ye dwelled in huts or palaces of gold
Thy grave shalt occupy the tiniest portion of thy land
From the warmth of quilted beds wilt thee lie in the cold.
Thus ere ye consider founding, building thy imposing edifice
a homeless vagrant if ye shelter in thine care
Knowing our lives art' but on a mere precipice
while the joy of giving doth give a joy beyond compare!
Death's a journey but no provisions can ye take along and fold
How shalt ye respond when it inevitably calls?
Our skeletal bones, a simple ditch shalt amass and hold
as the living walk all over us with gentle footfalls.
Shakespeare too returned to dust as hath saith he
and while many might abandon his archaic style
yet his quill shalt vie for soul-like immortality
for his works might flow on as does the old Nile
Son of God
Lord
You are:
Oracle of peace
wise counselor
source within the living waters
That breathes life
into insightful predictions
of our future holdings
Son of Mary
With grace and mercy
one regal descendent of David
A sacrificial birth born
under the shadow of the cross
the Son of the most high
An eternal ruling Monarch
whose loving touch precludes no man
behold our King has come
Immortal spirit of divinity’s
Fulfilling the prophesies
divinely anointing our Prince of Peace
Truth held under Christian virtues
through the portal our great Father
forever speaks within, Amen
unrhymed tercets
A co-written piece by Liam Mcdaid & Donna Loughman
*****This poem was inspired through the idea of there being no life after death, or the belief in atheism. In recent years more and more young people are commiting suicide; recent studies have shown that there is a commonality between atheism and suicide. My personal belief is that atheism is anti-philosophy; it is not so much the disbelief in God that bothers me (and I'm a theist) --- but what is the alternative? If one digs enough (like this poem implies) there can be no morality or value or meaning to life if we are born, live and die and we are no more; this feeds the subconscious ego which can justify all manner of evil, including extremes as war, racism, indifference --- suicide. I had a friend who was a staunch atheist and now millionaire ---- very high IQ --- when cornered he would admit there was 'something behind life'. It makes my skin crawl to think that some atheists may be telling their children that they'll never see their grandmother again or even themselves after death --- it would be less damaging to 'lie' and say there is a heaven; I think in many ways this is why Christ and others mentioned paradise and heaven because of the psychological consequences of the contrary*****
Oblivion, thou dark star;
so lithe thy face...
so shadowless among the stars
doth thy nativity;
But a word in the hearth of gods and heroes
and the scheme of all things ---
are thee but a word?
So naked thy garb...
nothing ---
to be ashamed of,
but the sanction of fools;
'There is no god...
only I, who cannot but speak ---
save through the naysayers of life;
if they are born, live and die ---
and no more they be, like I ---
to save the world entire...
will be like I,
to destroy it will matter not;
or to save it ---
for no hero shall remain and speak again...'
Oblivion, sometimes so tempting...
to accept thy endless Kiss of Death;
a great sleep where no bed hath a softer slumber...
no pain...
But fear I the long wake,
for what horror shall come of me,
should I long to rise again,
and cannot?
Thou Art Bright Crimson-In Rose Red-lit Bloom
Thou art bright crimson-in rose red-lit bloom
candles shine to adorn window's full moon
Fragrance of both, rests in thy love's perfume
rare music of romance's most precious tune.
Thy voice sings angel soft, harmonic dreams
taking world worries from defeated souls
Thy glow surpasses lights of fairy queens
soothing as sailing with gentle sea rolls
Immortal thoughts reside within thy breasts
true bounty of thy deeply loving heart
Romantic moonlight, all it manifests
mirrors thy dear face- treasured work of art.
Shall my quest seek greater than thy touch
I shall refuse - that is a boon too much.
Robert J. Lindley, 10-22-2016
The Bible says Your coming back,
Could be at morn or noon,
Or even in the night time Lord,
Oh pray, will it be soon?
For if Your coming be at morn,
I know not if I'm ready,
And if You come at noon My Lord,
That hour is most unsteady.
And should Your coming be at night,
I fear I might sleep through it.
Oh when wilt Thou return Oh Lord?
Dear Child, you've misconstrued it.
For if My coming be at morn,
You needn't suffer worry,
And if I come at noon, My Dear,
You won't be in a flurry.
And if My coming be at night,
Do not be mistaken.
I won't leave My Chosen Ones.
I promise, you'll awaken.
I love him, and he loves me.
This world above, can not be!
The fate that is destind, is far
more than what can be seen.
In thy heart I will always have
thou to be.
This endless love, might never
ceas to fail, but if it shall, I will
always love thou art.
Indeed!!
To the death of us, shall we part!
In thy heart I will always
hath thou to be.
My love for thee, is greater than
this earth shall ever be to me.
I love thou art,
Indeed!
In thy heart, I say to thee,
Thou art shall always be!
I wrote this For my Friend Mallory Rees and Her beloved Tim Simpson.
I was listening to roller skating tunes.
Yes, I am shallow, sir.
And though thou may say villainess or mistress,
I am content to be who I am.
One noon, we were over dull
and our hearts we serviced
like two thieves there
in the kissing place
where breaths are both as one
and the first of many kisses doubles.
He made vows in mine ear.
He has such hands and lips
and his fortunate nature fed mine eyes
oh, nothing was scarce.
Our horns locked together
with the intensest chutzpah
and we well-made our match.
We sparked feelings we all ascribe to heaven.
I would not tell you
I can serve a man
that by slow designs
men can melt.
He swore oaths
and dropped
half won.
Later he paid
the sweetest
after-debts
—he did owe it.
.
.
songs for this:
Find Me the Pulse of the Universe by Laetitia Sadier
Stormy (Bossa Mix) by S-Tone Inc