Here is the city born with stars from above
Gleaming the soft colors of love
Here where stars meet humans asleep
Slumbering down in the untouchable deep
Stars far above have fallen near below
Where in the day, away they are silently stow’d
Stars unreachable once are now in easy reach
Now that each are not just heaven’s tiny breach
Never was seen during the day
As they were always then away
But now they are down to observe the lan’d
And in turn, each and every newfound man
Local breweries abound
And in New York there can be found
Beers from Brooklyn and from Queens
And all the boroughs in-betweens.
My spouse and I, both city-born,
Love I.P.A.’s, so we were torn
About which brew would be the best,
So we devised a little test.
We purchase bottles and some cans
To see if we’d be equal fans
Of breweries from Brooklyn (me)
Or from the Bronx (his pedigree).
Though neither one deserved a rave,
The Hazy Bronx one was the fave
So I’ll concede it should be praised,
But I prefer where I was raised.
Something yond is sore to proveth,
judging those who is't disagreeth,
hurst nay hast peat swamp.
People breath their owneth blood,
Ulcers replaceth green air?
Benumbed lungs and panshard death,
city born city bred?
Heart Swore An Oath, Never, Never Again
When the joy overcame the epic pain
Heart swore an oath - never, never again
Letting life and love's great loss break this heart
Torn asunder, lost and ripped apart
Where love only exists as in a dream
A tragedy, drinking from a dry stream.
To see her eyes that inspired our lives
She with heart's true beauty that yet survives
Hear her sweet voice say, "good morning my dear "
Wake to morning sun's golden rays of cheer
Alas! Such paradise has now been lost
To regain it, I would pay any costs!
When the joy overcame the epic pain
Heart swore an oath - never, never again.
R.J. Lindley, Sept. 3rd, 1978
Sonnet
***
(Haiku Trilogy, Thoughts and Views)
composing pre-dawn hours
(1.)
Life, Contrasting Views
doe and fawn grazing
radiant sun beaming down
night cries, city born
Robert J. Lindley, 5/23-2020
haiku,
(2.)
The Camp And The Hope
fire,dying embers
tent and gear snow covered
dawn and hope rising
Robert J. Lindley, 5/23-2020
haiku,
(3.)
Remembered Times
home and winter's hearth
chilling winds whispering deep
white sands, vacation
Robert J. Lindley, 5/23-2020
haiku,
My best friend is like my right arm:
city born, with a country charm.
And striving to steer me from harm:
Should I stray, he sounds the alarm.
I've grown accustomed to his face:
He's impossible to replace.
For we joke, and at times embrace:
He's someone I trust in my space.
I feel lucky to have met him,
for he fills my glass to the brim.
And often drops by on a whim;
to brighten my day when it's dim.
He embodies finesse and style.
always going that extra mile.
And never fails to make me smile;
friends for life, not just for a while.
Knowing he'll always take my part
has bought him a spot in my heart.
And we will never drift apart,
for we've been best friends from the start.
I'm viewed as a plastic Maori,
because of the way I choose to live life,
moving with westerns trends,
away from traditional life.
This is all I have known,
being city born,
I did try to learn my Tikanga,
but I was severely scorned.
Don't talk that white trash they reckon,
what are you trying to prove,
bloody plastic Maori,
you ain't Tuturu.
From this point on wards,
I've struggle to fit in,
not knowing where I belong,
my identity taken.
I went back to my white world,
broke free from that cast,
forging my own identity,
free from there past.
The reason Maori struggle now,
there too wrapped up in the past,
they really need to change,
because the western world is changing fast.
(Tiikanga - Maori Culture.
Tuuturu - True)
M.Mahauariki © 2012
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