Sitting here with the wind,
as it swats at my hair.
The sun dancing with clouds,
with them our part will share.
The interplay of light,
that decries nature's sway.
Holds too the lost secrets,
of a more godly day.
From afar came the gods,
to plant the seeds of time.
Where desire can be king,
and a common man shine.
History will point out,
the man with iron will.
Who comes with a mission,
for a god to fulfill.
The ancient dark drama,
where a man has to choose.
from having everything,
when his life he must lose!
the minimalist
decries clutter
wishing for less
perhaps nothing
a seeking goal
already
fulfilled~
when a close one dies, we realise
we are looking at waves, not the ocean
light of our true Self, delusion decries
eye of wisdom calming commotion
The world collectively
lost its mind
When fires burned
our vision blind
From East to West
and North to South
Insanity
from mouth to mouth
The world has finally
woken up
Pundits quartered
their lies corrupt
Mobbed together
they screamed on high
But run for cover
—as truth decries
(Dreamsleep: December, 2023)
”Spontaneity chooses not to rehearse,
playful, joyful, embracing offered surprise,
vibrant in the void, one with the universe,
delighting beholding bliss beats within rise,
cajoling head-heart entwined, to pen a verse,
celebrating rebirth, when our ego dies.”
Wary ego, always tip toeing with care,
prone to weigh and size, negates offered surprise,
phlegmatic its stooped stance, mostly unaware,
trauma bonding with sorrow, with each breath dies,
head-heart in conflict, which never ever pair,
dwelling in the shadows, love and light decries.
A moment of truth
a century of lies
The left hand deflects
what the right hand decries
A little bit pregnant
the ending begins
A monster gestating
—and living within
(The New Room: December, 2023)
The ghosts of fear are nesting
glaring clouds that are driven
A procession of baying donkeys
The ponds reflection loudly decries
as gulls shriek for attention
Nighttimes plumage banishes bluish
A torrent of rain flatters
the receiving river
painted by the sunshine
in the days of gold
It's too bad there are only English poems allowed,
For I found the most beautiful poem,
the most exact, precise, lush, and sustainable string of words.
But they are from another planet,
A separate universe,
An odd community.
But the words,
Their meaning,
Transfixes time,
Melts the moment.
Decries of new gods.
Turns the very grains of sand into jellybeans.
But, alas, I cannot share it.
Only English language poems are allowed.
Thanks.
Okay, I'll give you the first line:
dlskfh[roeihujn wepfjwpei pweifjw'efipj.
If you knew what that meant.
It would change your world forever.
A proprietary hold on God,
religion does proclaim
Defining what we know inside
our souls will they reclaim
The Cross or Torah, Buddhist lore
each ritual decries
What can’t be owned or scripted pure
through centuries of lies
Divinity a birthright deigned
for those who search to find
What God embeds in every soul
—that structure can’t define
(The New Room: May, 2022)
And Now is Not When Not is Now
David J Walker
If everything must happen Now
And Now is now and not is not
And Now is then and Thin is Got
And one is When and win is lost
Wind will wend its way past Lest
(And sleep is never fraught with cost)
And evening east and morning west
And truth is lies unless its tossed
And everything has died in jest
The sun decries the midday frost
Now is not and not is now
And not will never cost a lot
Lustful eyes, feral their intent
Base instincts holding sway
Until we grant God’s love consent
Wantonness is our way
We may choose path of life
What avail, needless strife
Be a child, with bliss rife
Soul decries
Lustful eyes
03-March-2022
Quietus
Over The Horizon, Dedicated To Andrea
Beyond normal sight and imagination
Tho' perhaps a dear new sensation.
Hidden rainbows kiss blue skies
shall we issue cries?
Love begs not
Lies
to thus blot
out what truth decries
as life's greedy little tries
to dismiss such new titillations.
Beyond normal sight and imagination.
Robert J. Lindley, 10-02-2021
Form: Andaree-
Thanks given unto my friend Andrea
For gifting us this truly brilliant new poetry form.
This my first ever writing with this new form dedicated
to its immensely talented and massively gifted creator.
Mine is not displayed - as centered.
Note: - Form: Andaree
It is syllabic, with lines of 11/9/7/5/3/1/3/5/7/9/11
Rhyme Scheme: AabbcbcbbaA
It requires a Refrain: Line 1 is repeated as Line 11.
Generally displayed centered.
Note: Had to list it as "Rhyme", instead of its correct list of "Andaree".
Which PoetrySoup has no current listing for.
Ego pride rise, we behold in surprise
Filled with lies, bubble yet does not capsize
Fed by thought, spiralling in narrow slots
Shaky hubris of consciousness, fear fraught
When we cease to weigh and size, ego dies
Voice of conscience stifled, weary soul sighs
Earth entity’s antics, gently decries
Floundering despot, origin forgot
Ego pride rise
Discerning eye within, does truth apprise
Revealing Gods path, through life’s lows and highs
Tragic bondage to desires ego brought
In web of our making, we are thus caught
High time we recognise, as do monks wise
Ego pride rise
01-June-2021
Two decades have gone by
Wisps of smoke traces
Indicate fallen graces
Lower mind decries
We feel no contraction
Upon proof of betrayal
Misdeeds inconsequential
Heart outpours compassion
Space centred agendas void
Pernicious acts innocuous
Bliss renewal continuous
Thus with love buoyed
Heart murmurs prayer
That the fallen soon rise
Light of clear truth recognise
In vibrancy of Gods love recover
In time all souls align with love
Shed off all narrow craving
Reclaim love scintillating
Blessings from above
Thus our eye is softer
Many cannot stand erect
We too are far from perfect
Gods assistance makes us kinder
20-January-2021
We all feel pain!
But what is pain that is not physical but seen
in blackened faces, tortured minds,
glistening eyes that surely mean -
pain … emotional - heart wrenching, disbelieving,
coming from the aftermath to accompany the grieving,
where time - eternal time, decries to halt the mental strain,
though cannot steal the call to mind - but ease the awful pain.
And pain is real -
each time a call for help echoes through the open door,
where the unknown is imagined - is there tragedy or not?
Therefore the pain returns - for it’s been felt before.
There is concern with every siren that alerts the road ahead.
Do I know them? Are they mates? Are they alive or dead?
So there is pain no matter who - police, fire or the ambulance,
for the victim - the wretched victim - could be a friend by chance.
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