Firmest Poems | Examples

Keepsake

Tell me that you've felt a failure
In doing what was right
While pillows dampen, salted
In dying sleepless night
A wonder, wonders bless the wicked
And the same thing in reverse
Ensure the gnarled vines of virtue
Not easily traversed
With once a gleaming moral compass
More a burden than a tool
Its rusting ends give rhyme to meaning well
A witty slogan of the fool
The firmest grasp may surely loosen
Slipping chains cut like a knife
In vain, try letting go completely
This blessed curse carried for life
As tainted blood drips from your calloused palm
And every orangy link
Try not to smirk upon the splashes
More rewarding than you'd think

Should a Woman Put On Trousers

Should a woman put on trousers?
Yep: ones that don’t men make browsers:
That let Top Secrets remain secret;
Documents eyes should not just meet:
Trousers that won’t hatch Internets,
Lust cause to beat its castanets…

Trousers fully masking Womanhood,
Easily The Misunderstood:
Sometimes, seeming to say “Draw close,
So that you may pick up your Rose…
	
Women may be free with trousers
But trousers could turn howitzers: 
Pastors and Imams gunning down, 
Priests causing to smile who should frown,
Maiden forcing to dump her gown;
Strongly shake the firmest crown!

And may men put on the skirt?
Yeah: if their trousers packed up dirt
And nearing it could image hurt
Worse than a woman’s for Shirt.

Farmer Daniel Faces His Spaniel

A land which doesn’t much nutrients wield
Will certainly not many grains yield.
This I had, flatly, told friend Daniel:
A farmer with more time for spaniel
While it had been Terrible Story
In a Rice Field of One-Time Glory!

And he had begun to with The Dog hunt,
While each time he was back I would be blunt.   
Daniel, also, is finding it hard
Bidding The Firmest Farewell to card,
Wherefore he might remain in Shanty
To keep managing what is scanty….

Daniel with chance of glimpsing Yonder
Without having to up there wander.

Water Borne Diseases

Water-borne diseases
Man senselessly increases
With his trembling “No”
To drinks he doesn’t know
Instead of “The firmest”
That portrays “The Dead Earnest”

Water-borne diseases
One hopelessly increases
By not taking The Certified Pure
Or with a bow declining The Impure
Between tap water adjudged pure
And liquor blissfully a lure.

Isn’t affordable to the poor
Bottled water for official tour?
Then, one always pick one up after manicure
Beating the vulgarity of A Moor
And keep declaring for The Pure
For even elixirs that cough cure …

For their not-one-not-two numbing releases
Trifle not with water-borne diseases.

Internal Organs

Ernest was a taxidermist.
Who stuffed birds and animals the firmest.
Ernie had made a name,
In the taxidermist game,
He was also a professional internist.

Bootless

Ten years spun into ballooning wear
Keep slipping through tighter fingers, 
Fresh year's tries in futility repair
Adamant dents of wasting days.   

Naive New Year's Eves pop in and go
In swift succession of dying dreams, 
Most astute labors bootless bow;
Giving up more rewarding seems.

No tiny stone now unturned remains, 
Yet progress-freezing agues fetid ail;
 Stinging more than adder's fang ever sunk
Into most luck-lacking lamb's sleekest tail. 

Expressionless Heaven looks on still,  
As basest ills and brutish hell as one
Choke to death firmest hope's last ray; 
As faith fruitless toils beneath the sun.

Flower 2

Flower smiles in the morning
To overthrow any mourning,
Engendering the feeling
That begins soft healing:
Flower displays our choicest elegance,
Exuding the firmest fragrance,
Past striding the hellish gate into the territories of Hate:
All the time too good for the hovel 
We’d come across in a novel.
 
Love miserably can fail
The head revealing with a missing tail,
If flower should be excluded from things 
If things be not buoyed by its wings,
On my chest to keep feeling pressure 
Of a degree one can’t measure,
When some husband in one hides a knife
And with its loveless blade kills his wife:
Clearly, an unspeakable desecration,
No more no less matrimony’s profanation.

Now we’re pushing for the tillage
Of the gardens in our village, 
Vowing to make it just flower or never,
Hoping no anti-florist will be clever
Its planters enjoying the Labor,
They, considering it a favor…
Flower they sight and they‘re well
And when they don’t, in hell!
Not a little something of psychology
Being enacted without apology.

Pensioners, Come Tomorrow

What can it be if not ignited tension
Among retirees waiting for their pension
That weakly caters for their weekly ration
Their numerous legs, hundreds of suspension:
A carbon copy of the criminal’s in a police station.

Long, I’ve been watching their tired faces
And ceaseless circuitous paces,
All of them buffeted by  the issued new orders
About which they wouldn’t tell others…

So, the Ministry won’t immediate payments be making
For the breath of relief they should be taking
And for long sitting on retirement seats,
occasionally their only nurses for roaring heartbeats
And varicose veins of legs deserving an apology.

The Ministry - for Goodness  Heavens!-
can, herself, spare the Image of Black Ravens
with the firmest farewell to “Come Tomorrow” Announcements,
Often her making time-seeking searchers of misplaced documents.

Hate

Hate
In civilized quarters, an outrageous obscenity:
Unwashed, perishing pant
And, for real, a dismaying insanity,
When a hater heatedly rants
At his subject of unusual dislike,
Whom he would’ve loved to strike:
His heart hammering vessel –damaging beats,
His head contending with an ache a doctor treats.

With hate, nothing is normal any more,
Haters best action, an unsightly sore,
With glances that like dagger stab
And fast breathing that would air grab
And reflections on hundreds of things
United by Death with wings!

Hate is the firmest shutting
Of the outlet to delicate love
And trust me - mortifying hitting
Of a non owner of even one boxing glove.

Knowledge of enemy’s demolishing fate
And serial number on Satan’s punitive slate 
Comes with the Supreme Hate
Also, how long his success shall have to wait
Plus the exact date
Of the unlocking on his behalf of cemetery’s gate.

My Home

"for when I'm with you, I'm home"

At the long day's end,
I hasten to that place of peace
far from the world's hectic pace,
and it's with eagerness
 I make my way to that place of grace,
for it's there that I can be
totally at ease.

Those days when life has beat me down,
I know that I'll find solace
in your arms,
for love and concern we have for each other.
My home is "our home,"
and it's built on trust, -
the firmest of foundations.

Aug. 14, 2019
For the Lu Loo's "My Home" Poetry contest

First Sight

When our eyes met, I knew
and so did you.
Our years of longing, waiting
were through.

In the flicker of a blink
I was at your side.
A longer look into your eyes
truth we couldn’t hide.

No words escaped our lips.
I simply took your hand
in the firmest of grips
and two were one unplanned.

A Handshake

A knot in a rope, a twist in a strap, 
Bound tight to never give way,
Shackled in trust and tied to each other, 
Relying on what they both say,

They’re able to confide the truth in each other, 
Confide the secrets they own, 
And know this truth will be securely kept, 
Their words are written in stone,

They are friends who say what they actually mean, 
And never distort, lie or cheat,
They know they don’t need to record what they say, 
That there’ll never be any deceit, 

This knot in the rope, the firmest handshake, 
Only deals with honest and true,
It’s how we all believe and trust in each other, 
It’s what reliable folks do.

Tend Thy Orchard, Its Bad Limbs Prune

Tend Thy Orchard, Its Bad Limbs Prune

Shall thee let hope hold firmest sway,
Live life well now, without delay;
Enjoy the beach and its cool nights
Walk under moon's soft beaming lights.
Remember sorrow comes with grey,
Relief shall come if one but prays:
Yet thy heart must seek, stay in tune,
Tend thy orchard, its bad limbs prune.

Hold thee deep, virtues that are good,
Rarely say, if only I could;
Be given more, my days are hard
Life now deals me very bad cards.
Send me more, I deserve it all:
I bow and answer thy hard call,
Reward me for my greater work,
For my duty I never shirk.

Tis' best to in a humble way,
Sacrifice more, asking no pay;
Enjoy hard tasks, thee are blessed,
With those unseen hands that caressed,
Faithful Hearts and Souls from the start,
Joined in truth that which never parts.
Embrace the favors in Truth's Light,
Fear not demons of darkest night.

Robert J. Lindley, 5-25-2018
RHYME, ( Tribute to Christina Rossetti )

Fortitude

Fortitude

Foundation of fierce stone,
forging life on its own.
Fortissimo strong heart,
fights for its every part.
Force but with strength of mind,
fiber finer than wine,
from firmest on the vine.

9/23/16




https://www.howmanysyllables.com/poem_syllable_counter_workshop/index
42 syllables in all 7 lines

And I Will Come

…and I will come.
When the first snow falls down/ 
when the fall gives its rights/ 
to the winter/
you know I will come/
for good or for bad/
I’ll board the train/
Passing by / stations/ and countries/
I promised/ and I remember/
You said “there’s no fortuitous meetings/

…and I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
When you’ll lose the trace/
When my firmest snickers/ wipe out/
I will/ I will come…
Unexpectedly/ knowing solely the door/
Just the road / for sure/
Before/ take you I’ll ask/
“are you ready to go?” / 
You are ready/ I know/
All the noise doesn’t matter/
I don’t haste/ will be later/

…I will come.
When it finally turns out/
That November is overthrown by December/
When the first snow falls down/
Will be clear/ that nobody is remembered/ 

And I will come…
Somewhere in chest/ between ribs/
You slashed me/ with thoughts/ 
I can feel it with lips/ crawling under my cloths/
Our world is alive/ our life/ we’re alike/
And I….

I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
When the death is changed into fate/
When the winter gives up/ 
To wait/ for spring/
to stay with shining sun/
I will come.

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