Best Toast Of Poems
The Bloodstone, The Raven And Master Poe,
Part One
The ancient stone, here Raven bled
Cursed and flew away alone
To follow the dark and make its night-bed
Unholy accursed path, bloody the stone
From the abyss, into light of the earth
With Fate and anger, its darkest of hands
A beast reborn - shadow of devil's worth
A repugnant new plague upon this land.
Woe! To the unsuspecting that are blind
Wading through life, unaware of the beast
A heart slayer, infester of the mind
Ravenous for innocence, its great feast
Invisible to most, a curse to few
Relentless in darkest of wicked guile
Ever seeking the cries of victims new
Witty its bold actions, patience its style.
For centuries it search to he then meet
And with the cleverness of its black wit
At his house uninvited take a seat
Torment nightly, drive insane- bit by bit
Blind to the ghastly creature was young Poe
He that life and love had been so tragic
Raven decided, put on a fine show
By showcasing its best evil magic.
First to wake its victim at midnight hour
An ungodly screech a soft tapping sound
From the walls, using its wicked powers
Then whisper, to further its victim hound
For years Poe pretended not to such hear
He was busy, with writing his great verse
No time for such nonsense, no time for fear
Deny the truth of this tiresome new curse
In so doing, shut out this bothersome beast
Pen sweeter words of love and write, write, write
Enjoy fame, his being toast of the East
Phantom ignore, that newborn curse of night
Yet to Raven, this was but the new game
Had it not, its greatest victim now found
And in glee, flew aloft screaming that name
Swearing an oath to one day have Poe bound.
Robert J. Lindley, started Sept 4th, 1979
Rhyme
Note:
Part one of three, this from the original that was never completed.
Edited-- with now to write the two remaining parts to complete
the dark tale.
Only Leaves
Their numbers are overwhelming
golden and brown transversing my path.
I abandon every one in each step forward.
Green lives, lived,finally
fallen to the battlefield of my morning walk,
some burning red, the last fire extinguished.
Others are dry and crisp,
burnt toast of maples,
drifting and rolling as Mariah scoots them.
Is it the wind;
or are these pointy little corpses
positioning for Halloween tricks?
As a girl in my teen I did stray
to the circus I did run away
I wanted to fly
high in the sky
But, Mother wanted me to dance ballet!
Yes Debbie-Do flew upon a trapeze
in sequined tights with a rod 'tween her knees
her hair in a tail
her cleavage unveiled
I was the toast of the town if you please!
As I preened on the platform up high
and powdered my two hands and my thighs
one fine reporter
said I really aughta
Try out for the circus in Shanghai.
Frozen to perfect, stiff, fixed and fast,
Forever replicating exact,
Transparent colours of love and beauty,
Forever being abstract,
She’s a water kingfisher, with a purple song box,
Or ocean wave smashing to shore,
Forever being a shimmering dog,
Or a magnificently powerful horse,
She can be hard and solid, reliably strong,
Unflinching to hurt, rage or pain,
Or she can be a delicate fragile of perilously weak,
Carrying your toast of champagne,
She’s our beautiful glass, our goblet of glaze,
Our sculptured trichromatic quartzite,
She’s everything beautiful wrapped into one,
Illuminating a rainbow of light.
There is naught more important
This cold, rainy, winter day (to me)
Than to wrap up snugly by the window
And watch the world pass on it’s way
I’ve seen the grandest of canyons
Seen the grandeur of seaside beaches
Breathed mountain air, cold and rare
And have soared to the highest reaches
And now has come the time to sit and see
Creatures that live only arms length away
That live unknowing of the concept of tomorrow
But dwell fully in the moment …each day
Watch small birds fluff to twice their size
Watch Fox squirrels quarrel and chatter
Watch Nature undress before my eyes
Watch leaves dance…then tatter
Watch clouds play hide and seek with the Sun
Watch shadows shrink and grow
Watch snowflakes fall to merge into one
Watch the wind blow them to and fro
I live now where there is no Winter
Only a sad simulacrum of that season (I know)
But in my mind I sit by that window and…
See naught but Cardinals, squirrels, chickadees
Fat fluffy sparrows, Christmas lights in the distance
...And skeletal trees that wave welcome to me...
To which I reply with my glass held on high with
…A toast of warm Peach brandy…
28 lines
Your good love strengthens bones like sunshine
My nose, a rose, a toast of red wine
The great flames of passion licking hot
though evenings grow, firsts sometimes forgot
Forgot that tender morn our eyes met
Hot with extraordinary sweat, wet
Wine, a blush cabernet, sparkling smiles
Sunshine spotless, a wonderful while
Would I forget Heaven's first advent
Haunted Mansion – Beware!
Abandoned mansion cries in loud creaks and groans
From deep within the dark cellar ghostly moans
Attic lights flicker...then suddenly turn off
By unseen hands of haunted souls castoff.
Windows rattle, winds intone incantations
Of tangled webs to strangle all sensations
Hallways echo spectral chants as terror flows
Reeling rhythms - eerie haunted vertigo.
Deep in vaults dark plots of midnight roses grow
Thorny canes drip with poisons like black snow
Chalice filled with toxic brews from blighted petals
Touches lips in a toast of stinging nettles.
All doors and windows tightly locked and chained
Only unheard shrieking prayers still remain
Foreboding fears smothers like a phantom kiss
When screams free fall into a bottomless abyss
10-13-22
Contest: 12-16 Lines of Scary Halloween Rhyme
Sponsor: Tania Kitchen
Rhymes checked with www.rhymezone
I was a classic 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air, in mint condition, admiral and white.
My owner had other beautiful, classic cars, like stars sparkling into twilight.
My owner loved his old cars, saying 'they don't make them like they used to;'
And I enjoyed getting out upon the open road, to show him what I could do.
My fellow cars and I saw lots of sunny days, in bliss freedom of the flowers,
Traveling the length and breadth of this land, in the clasp of jeweled hours.
Flighty friends and I recalled 'good old days,' in rosy sunset times of finally,
Laughing and talking our memories in darkness, as moon shone, indefinably.
Forever friends were like feeling family, in the floral days of fuchsia's reign;
When flitting, green butterflies fanned for long, and falcons flew like a train.
I lived in the house of pleasant shadows, which didn't have many windows;
For it was one huge room without a view, like a path without the primrose.
Sparkling summer sauntered in silently, creating such scenes on my street!
Silken clouds roamed, when Sam ran his errands. Traveling was ever a treat.
Neighbors made admiring noises about me, going off on rides in neon night.
We cars were the toast of the neighborhood, nice nostalgia, in a golden light!
Clown orchids had ceased performing, in gone days of purple, beard orchids.
Now their summer relative had the holy ghost, like bliss from many sources.
Mask flowers held beautiful mystery, in alluring hues of pink, cream and red;
Like sweet secrets of moonlit shadows, and violet dreams after going to bed.
Once, Sam and I were cruising Sunset Highway, for it was my turn that day;
While dear friends waited in the cool, quiet of home, for their chance to play.
I felt a sudden impact on my left, and I knew I was hurt! There was damage;
But if not for Sam's expert driving, we might not have been able to manage!
This had happened to me times before. Such is to be expected in a long life.
As ever, friend Sam was my Superman, my mechanic in times of cruel strife.
My convalescence didn't seem so long, as I laughed about old days with pals.
When streets were not very busy, and many listened to front porch musicales.
For we were darling, daring trailblazers, quaint old paving way for all modern,
Leaving lingering feelings of fond nostalgia, like lovely fall leaves which yearn!
OUR BOUNTIFUL GOD
Our God is bountiful because…
Eternal generosity never runs out of blessing remedies
They appear when least anticipated
Popping up – leaping out – capturing the unexpected
As lost pennies found with surprises bearing gifts
Trembling with anticipation of smiles and dancing laughter
Benediction of brightest benevolence
Love divine sent in daily, heavenly, valentines.
Valentine’s appear signed by love’s sweetest heart –
Hearts of God’s beatifying bounty not hidden
Found in clouds and rocks, in garden harvest consecrations
Beloved bliss overflowing –never empty - no refills needed –
Greeting cards of extravagant grace – no signature or postage due –
Bound in mercy’s lace impervious to time.
Love divine sent in daily, heavenly, valentines.
God’s bursting bounty of abundant grace filled with delights –
Warehouse shelves of mercy’s lavish greeting cards inexhaustible
Divinity’s heart throbs in love letters – no conditional caveats –
Always a dedication to beloved children even prodigals
With an everlasting toast of grace spoken over miracles
Postmarked invitations to jubilees sealed with eternity’s kiss
Love divine sent in daily, heavenly valentines
Tender devotion more enduring than resurrected bones once lost to time
Revelation’s paper hearts edged in fragrant incenses of filigree
Abounding generosity – uncontainable – exalting felicity
Written in messages of consecrated majesty
Surging elegance refined in the refiners purifying fire
Unfettered favor, the ever open hand, solace of the heart’s desire.
Love divine sent in daily, heavenly, valentines
God is bountiful because…
11-13-20
Contest: Our Bountiful God
Sponsor: Julia Ward
I Don't Understand ?
why do some people get away with things and others don't
people are people so why should it be you and I appear awfully
no one questions anymore no one has a voice
it's the blind leading the blind soon will fall into a ditch
all the hero's and legends I knew as a child turned into idols of clay
don't you believe in what t.v. or the radio says about you
many seek for solace amidst the inner plight of silence
death is there doormat they squeeze all the love out of you
some seek to drawn there sorrows in a bottle like no tomorrow
the impulse of a hug takes a back seat with cheap lust
why does one equate logic for fear ?
I sit again in the silence alone,
minds that plug for bitter destruction in their brain washed minds
how it rains on the just & unjust...
a tug at the heart will light the inner spark to what I've been waiting for....
man has constructed living pyramids to honor their dead,
the notion of no atheists in fox holes
I don't debate them anymore only choose to love them instead
the walking dead having viscous hanging fangs that bite...
dot the i's and cross the t's
we resign as living socialites in our miniature soldier war
a toast of friends only to discover there is no love in their hearts
there are heads in the street for a burning cause but for what ?
they all claim its a banner of love but its hate in disguise
a lover in life is not the sinner
weak willed tyrants feeling a funeral in their brain
Why is love cheap lust these days get back to the basics
we choose to hide behind the false garb of compromise
Can't we see through all those twisted Satanic lies ?
Sung to the tune of "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem"
Our infant school nativity,
Directed by Mrs. Page,
Was my first opportunity
To act upon the stage.
I always was an extrovert;
So that appealed to me.
My hopes and dreams of all the years,
An actor I would be.
I wanted to play Joseph,
‘Cos Mary was played by Joyce.
And, of all the little girls in the class,
She was my first choice.
And if I couldn’t be Joseph
And ride along with her.
I’d be a king with golden crown
And frankincense or myrrh
I practised every morning,
And every evening.
Imagining the audience applause
For Joseph or a king.
But when it came to casting,
It didn’t come to pass.
The part that Mrs Page gave to me
Was the back half of the ass.
But one day I’ll be famous,
And then I’ll marry Joyce.
The latest toast of theatreland
And all will know my voice.
I’ll invite all my friends to attend,
As I take centre stage.
They’ll be there in the front row.
But I won’t ask Mrs Page.
Tomorrow
If tomorrow I’ll be late for a coffee to "The Greek"
Do not wait
Above Olympus of pain I make portrait of Mother
In the loneliness I knit nostalgic mosaic of Father's
To the Children we build together the statue of longing
Let we kiss a lot Grandmother but not let us kill the exile
If after tomorrow I will be absent for cappuccino to "The Italian"
Wait me a bit
To save desperation about homeland
I will ride crazy within Dante’s circles
While daughter of Tyro’s King wound words from haven
Kills me every day and Kosovo in daylight
If today again I’ll not come to “The new club”
Don’t think that I don’t want
But there are gossips, rumors and fog
And I pray for everyone, even for those who only speak Albanian
Wait me to the field of the church where our childhood suffering
To make toast of tears; why we haven’t had the beautiful youth age
one lovely morning
warm smile,fresh air
light talks,
day dreaming.
A toast of love,
a scent of aroma
soothing in my membrane
creamy and sweet,
a perfect moment indeed.
“Jealousy”
Jimmy had odds to beat, one he was a black teen and the temptations of big city’s Streets.
But a single black mother’s determination held his attention sternly,
So he had only Minimal interaction with streets.
He had rickets but Jimmy could catch any ball.
He ran with a gang that like to brawl,
Then he entered a Youth Center where a Mentor introduced him to football.
Pop Warner he’s leader of the team,
Onto High School Football team as runner for TD’s.
Scouts without doubts offered degrees.
Mother’s pleased when he goes to USC, to be toast of the university.
Jimmy rode football like a Hell’s Angel rides his hog.
He played halfback, fullback carrying the ball.
Top backers called, packs of women clawed,
Because for a rental car he ran through a mall.
Sydney was a naive Germany beauty queen,
Blond haired eyes emerald green.
Done nothing much since she jumped with the school cheer team.
But she had dreams, being famous on T.V., a celebrity.
But she’s stalled in the Pokipsy Mall,
Serving chili, hamburgers and hotdogs.
When in comes Jimmy, walking tall, followed by his enthralled.
Each sees the other and head over heels each falls.
Their love, sweet, she felt entitled to be,
With the famous Jimmy.
After their affair they married, two heirs, beach house on Bundy Street,
Her face on T.V. with Jimmy, her dream is complete.
But Jimmy believes in slavery,
Believes possessions are bounty one forever keeps,
And Sydney is his property.
But black eye secrets don’t keep,
So she and her parents agree, divorce Jimmy immediately.
Jimmy falls, fell by divorce when the gavel falls.
But most of all,
He felt affronted by the German goofball in front of media tell-all,
So he watches her like a hawk, to see with whom she walks.
She saw a new fella who won her heart and Sydney falls.
He wines and dines her many times and shows respect to all.
So Jimmy waits, pissed off jealousy he has no date, until one night on her Ronald calls.
Greens seethe engulfs Jimmy from head to feet, it shuts off reasoning.
Disrespect for “The Great ME” is all he sees in this rivalry for his property.
He sees she succeeds with this non-minority.
To the door during their adoring greeting Jealousy creeps,
Like Flash he slash the throat of the one he knows,
Then at speed stabs repeatedly the one she greets,
As he tries to flee from Jealousy.
Hollow is the chilling winds of October,
Frozen solid is the lunar moon that illuminates the night,
Fears lost kindred roam the ice fields of limbo,
Under the clarity of forbidden warmth, that has been
Shielded beyond the reach of the spiritually deprived,
And depraved.
Spirit wonders drifting amongst the snow packs,
These lost members of humanity, hanging on the sheered
Edge of mankind’s reality, the doomed stalkers whom
Wailing cries haunt, split the chilling silence of winter
By depth degree, in an eerie shroud of the forgotten and
Betrayed.
Hatred’s chains of malice’s intent drag behind them, these
Ghosts of winter, tangled roots of ignorance are left intertwined
Mangled amongst the shades of life’s regrets, clanging linkages
Of harden steel, the bass metal of kindness tarnished by greed’s
Deist, and financial lust for profits high cost in flesh and bone.
Shadow figures placing their hands of frost, against the window
Pains that gleam with the flickering lights of the seasonal
Celebration called Christmas.
Harken this message my friends. is it not the time for
Forgiveness, let us then the living raise a toast of holiday cheer,
In these beings honor, for the harsh road hey tread is a lonely
Venue unto nowhere.
Live each day to the fullest, let the true meaning of Christmas
Swell within your heart and envelope thy soul, and just maybe
The ghosts of winter will rest at peace at last.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN