Best Waded Poems
I rode high up in the saddle,
on a prancing horse known as Pride.
Outside beaming with confidence,
but empty and shaken inside.
An old wise man once told me,
it was a long time ago.
You have to walk a dusty trail,
before you're white as snow.
Waded out in the muddy waters,
I got down deep to save my soul.
Left my high horse in the pasture,
leaving Pride has made me whole.
12/30/21
Marmalade
drips from
the sky,
and all around me, the world is awash
in vibrant orange splendor
splashed with yellow gold
Here in Paradise
where graceful palms
lean toward
dipping sun
I dip
my toes
into the liquid amber of the tide.
As if to catch the day’s last rays,
I embrace radiance as it embraces me.
Far off in the distance,
the stretch of mountains
on a neighboring island
cradles
what remains of the sinking sun.
I have now waded out into the sea. . .
my eyes savor
the sky’s color of sweet marmalade
and below it,
water’s warm honeyed gold
lapping softly at my shoulders.
Suddenly
a swarm of swooping wings
bursts from the heavens!
My eyes now feast on hundreds
and hundreds of dark
wheeling gulls,
stark against the bright sky -
the marmalade sunset’s
surprise finale.
For A Place Called Beautiful Contest of Janis Thompson
These days you're with me, everywhere I go
I know you're there, although you never speak
Just yesterday we waded Dogwood Creek
It picked me up when I was feeling low
Last night, out on the porch we swung real slow
Your being there enhanced the night's mystique
You fell asleep, I kissed you on the cheek
It was so soft you didn't even know
Today, we'll go to some exotic place
Some island where we've never been before
Escaping far away from this rat race
Just you and me on some secluded shore
Although I've never met you face to face
You're here inside my heart forevermore
by Daniel Turner
I waded with a cross through sea beds
bone-dry now of torrential rains
from last night's summer storm
my arms carrying the boat to treeless banks
And heard whispers , an angelic song
amen-rowing from distant shores
drowned by thunder-shouts of repentance
from a rainstorm world that could end no sooner
than tomorrow, bleeding the shore...
Our town world did not end yet,
but it could be near as the fork
from a raging gale became a drowning plate
gushing into bones, scabs of children... dead.
What force came to the Sea of Noah
after the third , fourth day ended in pain?
Today, I ask,where shall i cast my nets
when the light of calm wipes out, shuts down?
SKAT's Deep And Dark Contest
We Walked The Night Sands, Moon Shining Down
Walking the white sands by the windy sea
Lost in my deep thoughts of love, you and me
Nights in private, locked in long held embrace
In hearts glow, our most cherished hidden place
I walked flowing hills, where we once danced
Waded flowering meadows, where we romanced
Sun and blue sky both reminded me of you
If only, once again blessed, we could do
We journeyed into Nature and love's bliss
O' how that time, I now so sorely miss
We lost our way, coming storm tore us apart
I could not forgive, when you broke my heart
We walked the night sands, moon shining down
I still see you, in your white flowing gown
R.J. Lindley
June 11th, 1975
so there I was hanging out
between the door jam
in between the
crack and sunlight
hoping to grow like the skinny weed
trying to break free of the concrete
to be better for whoever
or worse
but lost that diamond ring actually now
pushing daisies back up
to the sixth floor window somewhere
between the street below and hell if I know
I had carried that mountain for you
wrapped in a big ole lazy bow
and waded for you in heavy splendor
until that day you came home
carrying that poem
and said that I should
plant my own flowers
because you had found
another rose
He was airlifted to another place.
The heaths, the dales,
the high ridges,
all began to slip away
under throbbing wings.
(When you are unearthed,
roots still wriggle,
flecks of native mud
cling to your senses
and come with you.
A sediment makes its way
inside wrinkles and pockets.
Places you have slept on,
waded across,
had breezy sex over,
tether your turf).
He began to plant.
He left lichen trails
on the faux marble floors of shopping malls.
he placed moss under plastic rocks.
In time he discovered good clay in a new land.
If asked:
to what country he belonged?
He would show the dirt
under his fingernails.
Baile con migo, hips made from the rhythm of merengés and cumbias, samba, swagger and a pinch of azucar mixed into my backbone.
My first language was Spanish.
Learned from sweet stories told by my papi at bedtime.
My tongue a formation of the stardust of my heritage,
An intertwined galaxy of rolled r’s and the pledge of allegiance.
It was something I would soon forget after I was told it was wrong
Taught a new way to introduce myself “mi nombre es” turned to “my name is” after the girl in my class told me she couldn’t understand me.
So I was taught to reject the language of my family and to be proud to call myself American over Mexican.
Now my Spanish 2 native class seems so god damn foriegn and I can't seem to remember what comes after domingo on my pop quiz.
I would learn to hate my name, much preferring something like Tiffany,
Leaving behind my silent TL and X that sounds like an S because they said it was strange.
When I visit my grandmother all I could do is nod or shake my head,
Because her native language sounds like a tongue twister I can't seem to master.
So she reminds me that the colors in my soul and the rhythm in my bones are blessings and that I come from the Incas, the Mayans, the Aztecs, los Mexicas, who built an empire nunca imaginado.
That we are a children of an oscuro pasado,
A mixture of pain, sadness and oppression,
But we inherited the strength.
We have inherited the passion.
She reminds me that my name holds the power of the most legendary Aztec princesses who ruled with the grace of the most beautiful flower.
So this is for the women that still name their children in nahuatl and the men who wake up on Sunday mornings to listen to Vicente Fernandez with their fathers,
And families that still pass on recipes of arroz con pollo.
Because we are the sons and the daughters,
And we hold the stories,
The journeys of the remembered,
Those who walked through deserts, waded through rivers.
We wear their legacies on our shoulders with pride,
And we do not lose ourselves to broken perceptions,
But rise above with the help of our powerful stories.
Our melodies, our galaxies,
Por que somos Latino-Americanos
And we will not be forgotten
Black Bird
Sitting on a wire
Why is your back turned towards me?
Do you wish to hide the intelligence of your eyes,
or do you wish to create some mystery?
I have seen you
Here at this old dump
Picking through the unwanted wanted things
I wish I could search along with you
Check out what the Jones's have no more use for
The bits of unfixed
The not new enough
Their "I think we deserve the very best"
"This ain't good enough, let's buy more and more stuff!"
At one time
I wore their discarded clothes
Wore them without pride
I should have been proud
For I dug for them with wanting hands
Hands that waded through decadence
Refillable
Recyclable
Usable
Black Bird
I watched you and your brothers
As you feasted on our last suppers
Ripping open black bags
Fighting for morsels
Unconcerned with the rotting
Intoxicated by fermenting fruit
Pungent aromas
Bones that needed to be picked clean
Me noticing but not recalling until now
Back then
I was hoping
Praying for a bicycle
Desperately wanting to ride far away from here
Escape my then
My embarrassment
My, I hope no one sees me!
"Garbage picker!"
"Where did you get that coat?"
"We threw that in the dump!"
Boy oh boy do I like clothes now.
No one makes fun of what I wear!
Part of me wishes to return with you Black Bird
To see what I left behind
Reclaim
Recycle that little boy
But I can't
The dumps aren't open anymore
It is like those old bones
Bleached
Picked clean
Manicured
Items placed in appropriate piles
All the while
You sit on your wire
Back turned to me
Intelligent eyes hidden
Knowing I can't disturb you
In a while you will feed on yesterday
For this place
Is not closed to you!
On that summer’s day when we first meet and kissed,
I knew you Madelaine as one I could adore.
Against your family’s wishes, I still persisted
in wooing you; we’d wed or I’d be your paramour.
The levant winds blew through Spain’s hills unfettered
bringing death to suitors far and wide from above.
We had cause to feel our choice had made us debtors,
leaving our love a littered path, a ball-fisted glove.
Like Romeo I’d leave, not die, but without a trace
for I’d not hurt you more and death would be too much.
I’d give you time to heal your sorrows to embrace,
to come to terms with the rightness of our chaste touch.
In a far off land, I recall your devotion;
your lamented father’s wish for a princely dower,
but all have died who wished our love to be undone.
Soon, I’ll claim my Lady from her empty tower.
Fate gifted us passion, drinking from its chalice.
We waded through flaming waves of rising ardor,
in your summer home, your primrose covered palace.
The memories of your touch make absence harder.
As I looked across the wind-blown spray of ocean,
my mind turned to the sadness of our parting hours
Kneeling, I begged for a distance closing potion
so I could reclaim you to our rosy bower.
I see your longing, desperate, lovely, face
endowed in fears dire depth as we parted from the clutch.
I reminded you distance could not erase love’s trace
or lesson my need to feel your soft, gentle touch.
Last week, I sent a love-soaked, tear-stained letter;
now I return aboard a ship to my sweet dove.
I hope my missive sent has made you feel better,
nevermore will I be denied the touch of my love.
By Robert Lindley and Deborah Guzzi
Across the valley
Stood the mountain I believed to be id
Two levels and a summit
Made it appear layered
Like first-dynasty pyramids
It would be a long climb
Step, stumble, slip,
Clutch and elevate my entire being
The valley’s simple green plants
Lived in symbiotic coexistence
With bees and ants
Nature nurturing nature
An embryonic journey
Between the Tigres and Euphrates
Such splendor might have caused me to remain
Many do
But I walked on
At the base of the mountain I paused
The summit hidden by a cloud ring
I looked back upon my Mesopotamia
Hailing its verdant simplicity
Questioning the summit’s worth
But uncontrollable curiosity
And unquenchable desire
Edged me forward
I climbed onto rocky soil
I stumbled as stones slipped ‘neath my feet
Reaching out to clutch a bush
I pulled upward
The first plateau ran before me as a brook
I peered into the pool of life
Finding amphibians, reptiles, fish
I waded
Ankles rubbing green algae
Creating eerie sensitivity
Slippery touch
The water cooled me
Thinning air brought calm
A sandy bottom soothed me
Such harmony might have
Caused me to remain
Many do
But above me
Within a mystical Saturnic cloud
Secrets of the summit beckoned
Edging me to elevate
Sweaty palms grasped a wild rose’s stem
Sharp thorns drew blood
My body fatigued, I cursed the climb
What marvels lay above the ring
The second plateau’s diversity thrilled me
Simple moss, brown rabbits
Deer with long, willowy legs
Hundreds of life forms
Gave me entrance
To Thoreau’s untouched paradise
The alluring cloud hung low above me
I questioned my destination
The second plateau’s oasis might have
Caused me to remain
Many do
But irresistible desire
Again edged me to step, stumble
Slip, clutch and elevate
I entered the cloud layer
Feeling hot and cold dancing vapor
The mountain I believed to be id
Swam under my feet
Perplexed, I muddled upward
Above the timber line
No trees, no grass
No plants, no animals
No life
Still I was curious for id
And took the final step
A cold granite peak
Amidst the grey moisture
Self-realization was achieved
I had seen all that was beautiful
But passed it by
The key to paradise was offered
Three times
Yet I had been a martyr to my own desire
I could not see
The valley, brook,
Or paradise of total life
I could see
Only myself
And I cried
For want of something beautiful
One enchanted evening
I followed Luna’s moon,
as She guided my ship
to a secret lagoon.
In a golden ocean
buffed to a mirror sheen,
I spied the sexiest
mermaid I'd ever seen.
She flaunts ebony hair
befitting, a true Queen,
offset by a sweeping
tail of aquamarine.
Anchored in the shallows
I waded to the shore,
and evoked the magic
that would open love's door.
Under a full March moon
she steps from fantasy,
and rises from the sea
to make sweet love to me.
Sharing this special night
I know that she must leave,
and I’m to be content
with the gift of this eve.
Summer Sunset
I smiled at seagulls dancing on the beach at low tide
and dug my toes into lemon-colored grains of sand,
nearly the same light hue of a fresh egg yolk, if fried
in Summer heat of the saffron sun's outstretched hand
I'd enjoy being alone today and feeling a bit recluse
I planned to bask and tan for a while near the dunes
In a swimsuit of lilac flowers, ruffled in chartreuse
while listening to orchestral music of my favorite tunes
I'd been lulled by the rhythm of waves on the shore
mingled with scent of lavender and soon I fell asleep
The slight sting of a burn had set in. It was past four
and what I wanted was to bathe my body in the deep
The waters of the sea were not quite emerald green
Nor the cerulean blue of a preening peacock's feather
It shimmered in late afternoon, as a bright aquamarine
I waded in but kept an eye on the changing weather
A wave washed me ashore and beside me a conch lay
pearly shades of watermelon and pink, imbedded inside
Then my eyes were drawn to a coral sky above the quay
On the horizon a tangerine sunset, so lovely that I cried
August 2nd 2017~Seasonal Color Contest
Colors to be used:
aquamarine~cerulean~chartreuse~coral~lavender
lemon~lilac~saffron~tangerine~watermelon
I Looked To Heaven That Christmas Night
What shall I do, cast far away my pen
Should wizen Cheshire cat stop its grin
Mighty Amazon stop its massive flow
I paint my Christmas scene devoid of snow
Nay, surrender poets must never do
Snap out of it, sling a new verse or two!
I once a grieving teen, found hope to write
After the shadow of death took a bite
And father went beyond the purple veil
Life fell into abyss, maddening hell
Years flowed past, a zombie I became
Fight the world, slay it was my morbid game!
Just before Christmas, our daughter was born
I saw life, love , hope- left behind my scorn
An angel, with blonde hair and sweet blue eyes
Gift divinely sent from heavenly skies
That very night, my pen spoke words to me
A treasure was given, now you are free!
Renewed the bond and joy again found
Oath to live, a poet honored bound
Given was again dearest saving light
I looked to Heaven that Christmas night
Nay, surrender poets must never do
Snap out of it, sling a new verse or two!
Robert J. Lindley, 12-20-2021
Rhyme, ( Based On A Life As Has Been Lived )
Dedicated to my beloved daughter
KaShaundra
Note:
These last few days, a gloom had came
I waded darkness, forgetting my name
In misery, I drank for sorrow's well
Was this world still here, I could not tell
I woke at dawn and saw a shred of light
Heard a stern voice say, rise thee up to fight
Give life a chance, are you not yet alive
Grab a pen and into poetry dive
Christmas is near, just a few days away
With that admonishment, I knelt to pray.
the dogs were happy
did not have to dig deep
in bomb craters and
makeshift graves
they licked at pulverized bones
and liquefied brains
slurped up the proceeds of war
and roamed the street
sluggish and flatulent
saliva dribbled as well
from the industrial military complex
fused joy with sore fingers
from counting the money
Dmitri wondered
what had become of his folks
and where the flowers had gone
before he pegged his rag doll
to a skull bone that floated
in a sewer of lost hope
his young soul was confused
with reality and fake news
and yet his scarred mind
was never far from revenge
as he waded through carnage and destruction
he found remains of his pet
and smeared a bloody reminder
on his feverish forehead
picked up a land mine
and bode farewell to one of his arms
because the weapon exploded
never one to cease with belligerent ease