Best Vacates Poems
The Deepest Depths Of Epic Pain
The scars of life unveil the weight of lies,
lest it be the torment of moral sin,
wherein the guiltless suffer wounds and cries
of love’s deceit as heartless notions win.
The evil whims of wicked fancy shows
no mercy for those crossed by hands of fate
when magic dreams are cast by darkened clouds
which turns the morbid sorrow into hate.
In rage of fervor, passion's zeal is lost,
oft destroyed by life's dire tribulations,
as sunning rays vacates dawn's gleaming frost
human frailties blind truth's revelations.
Within hope destroyed and life's darkest stain
remains the deepest depths of epic pain.
3-14- 2017
T.J Grén & Robert Lindley
First 8 verses by Teppo Gren, final 6 verses by Robert J. Lindley
Note: Has been an honor and great pleasure for me to co-write this sonnet with my very talented friend, T.J Grén.
Thanks for the invitation my friend.. Your generosity and kindness match your poetic talents..
The College Caravan
Last night we loaded the minivan with her
suitcases, Rubbermaid vats, and chest of plastic drawers
stuffed with clothing, toiletries, school supplies, and posters.
While our vehicle is tightly packed, her room stands hollow;
drained of stuff and spirit, except for the furniture she left behind
like the last icicle melting unnoticed in the spring thaw.
Morning’s excitement, today’s foreseen guest, found her passkey
so early, she displaced the alarm clock, announcing her presence.
On the verge of adventure, our cramped van vacates the driveway,
eager to meet the other jammed vehicles joining our journey.
Sporadic chatter splinters moments of spurned monotony,
spanning the miles amassing in our rearview mirror until …
A hatchback hauling a heavy load leads our line exiting for the rest
stop, where the parking lot hosts vehicle after vehicle stuffed with
suitcases, Rubbermaid vats, and chests of plastic drawers …
Our re-entry acceleration runs smoothly, courtesy of a
clamshell-covered car graciously slowing to permit our advance.
From sedans to SUV’s, the right lane is flush with fenders and
families, forming a cohesive chain whose links approach “The Exit”
signaling for the deceleration lane. The college caravan, flowing
onto the exit ramp and through the green light, turns and winds
along Main Street. As the minivans, hatchbacks, clamshell-covered
cars, and SUV’s pour onto college campus USA, they’re carrying
suitcases, Rubbermaid vats, chests of plastic drawers,
and, of course, the proud, nervous parents …
escorting the Freshman Class of 2018!
E. V. Wyler
~I ’m blessed by my mourn…
released from strife’s scorn…
I am by grace comforted…
in Love‘s sacred kiss…
thus torn, I gain bliss…
my sorrow thus aborted...
~though death claims a face…
mourn is sacred grace…
alone by the throne, I find…
sorrow dissipates...
vacates, sacred gates...
sacred mourn is peace divine...
~death where is thy sting...
borne of human fling...
only thoughts by humans wrought...
arise from disguise...
of human devise...
by mourn the sacred is sought
For and in Honor of Nette Onclaud
“ALOUETTE, Your Cleansing rite
by John Moses Freeman
Isolation
Silence
My old foe.
It stalks me with its unforgiving glare.
I hide in the wooden harness,
Someone solemn.
Courage
My distant memory.
It taunts me with its sinister whisper.
I gaze beyond the point of no return,
Somewhere solemn.
Freedom
My vanishing treasure.
It vacates me with its harrowing loathing.
I fight off the urge to let go,
Something solemn.
Solace.
Something forgotten.
It holds my fate in its callous clutch.
I plummet through the timber prison.
Numb.
There he blows
on his way to the gents
Book in hand
we all know
this is where
he shall be occupied
for the next half hour
Imagination envisages
him making himself
comfortable
There for a duration
Intent on sinking
his teeth into several chapters
of the latest James Patterson
Belt slowly snakes
to the floor as he sits there
concentrating
on task in progress
with trousers half mast
supported by knees
Book on lap
A certain familiar
thunder echoes
through the house
Stench slowly seeping
through under door
Leaves mum running
for the air fragrancers
Doors and windows
are opened as mother
tries to ‘air’ the house
as she goes about
her business cleaning
the house until it shines
bright as a freshly minted coin
Eventually father emerges
Fresh and relaxed
Missing one gas mask
Mum trepidly takes a breath
and dives into the bathroom
Intent on finishing her work
disguising Dad’s omissions
Bathroom engaged again
Mother’s work never done
and yet as she vacates
a beautiful flowery scent
followers her through
The empty room vacantly awaiting
Welcoming next guest.
sunday morning angel
blue wings and purple hair
fingers tattooed at the tip of her shoulder
if the sun vacates your skies it's over
children sing songs of burgundy rovers
I am your rent my lover
camel crushes
rated your sweet plushes
crowded voices
but no one hushes
the chaos is lovely
but it's the misery that touches
my sunday morning angel
arched smiles
a mother apart from her child
it's been a while since you last foul
you're just a number on speed dial
outside the cafe
a voice some what raspy
a favor indeed
if you choose to ask me
deflower before me
and life just may not last me
city towers
you and me minus the hours
in the neon lights
walk the stars that fail to touch the sky's
apartment 1210
where art thou twelve sinners
the cellos that failed everyday men
the displacements
only seen through a heavens lens
the saint of Orleans
bard windows
crucify your friends
i'll lend you a noose to tie your ends
and when it all ends
think of my sunday morning angel
she never warned you of danger
but she adored the insanity within your anger
my sunday morning angel
is like loving a widower
you never know
what's on the other side of the window
buildings that touch the sky
ceilings that never die
capsize the truth
baptize whatever you knew
there was a time it was just me and you
"songs in a book reflect vacancy"
Your sweat vacates your brow like treacle...
...You shudder as your conscience trembles...
I stand firm...like mighty oak...
Go round me if you dare...
I stand firm like mighty oak...
In sweet silence I hold my tongue...
In time all things will be done...
I stand in wait...
I stand firm like mighty oak...
Go round me if you dare...
Logging into the vibrant void,
just like a comet’s burning tail,
our awareness is still alloyed,
with egoic fears that make us ail.
Who attains when there’s no one here?
We are awareness, self-aware,
with body but an interface,
wherein both pain and joy does spear
but once ego vacates the chair,
we instantly imbibe God’s grace.
Making void-centric our soul’s stance,
synced with strobes of bliss magnetism,
mood and mode prayer, we advance,
transcending each religious ism.
By the green lake snow drifts on
Sun vacates the vacuous calm so cold
Swirls of powder white, footfalls come in a trance
On children's heels, slips into tomorrow
Covered by hours numb and numbered count
Crisp particles frost down to dusk
Leaving us to discern what matters
Shivering lips, thin ice and rosy cheeks
Twilight bends dark shore escapades
It is not quite tomorrow yet
Green turns to blue under the slice of moon
White snow has mesmerizing powers
Winter waits, wastes no time
Billows of cold air coming from the young
Breathing heavy in clouds of pure pleasure
A chance to run forever on the ice
Vile creature of the night;
vice unquenched, sees her, the
victim, innocent, warm;
veins lush with blood. He feeds
vacates, leaves behind a
vapid ashen corpse; her
vital signs fade to naught.
A rose reaches to meet the sun shinning down
A worm vacates his home as water enters the ground
The sun goes in the moon comes out
The wind blows to shake the trees about
The rain falls to nurture the grass
Autumn approaches summers pass
Colours from green now orange and red
The rose once bloomed now is dead
Winter is quiet not much sound
A blanket of white now covers the ground
The rose gone bye winters doom
Springtime showing its new bloom
Who is this woman standing here?
is not a lady of conscious clear
whose time on earth was not spent praying
of dubious character mankind was saying
as death takes hold and her spirit vacates
she stands at heavens pearly gates
as they open she enters in.....
St.Peter smiles and tells her then....is not all mankind full of sin'?
Though I'm not in pride,
I feel like I have been used,
My name is always said,
For I know I have been abused.
The leaves are falling now,
My heart is pounding hard,
I need to be sheltered,
But I always seem to lay the wrong card.
The dark should be light,
My dreams should be bliss,
While I depart from my sorrow,
I know that will never be missed.
The sun begins to shine,
While the darkness vacates,
I now have my freedom,
Which I shall never hate.
A simple sight a single ladybug
Waftin' out about my coffee mug
On her way today to see
That lovely little bumblebee
Who hides amongst the trunk towers
A field revealed with new flowers
The daze of praise vacates a shrug
A simple sight a single ladybug.
When The Sun Goes Out
By the blue lake snow drifts, vacates
Thoughts follow hours hollow, mild
Traced by a line of reason along a narrow road
Peace covers white mounds proper flow
Slips over them in a deep but common coma
Sleep comes, leaving swirls of powder
Over crisp particles of ice
Placed there with complacent cold
Frozen down to the soul of dawn
Sun moved on long ago