I would say good bye to no one
except my husband, if he were here
If he was at the store, I would jot down a little note
It would say do not cry; I am eager to go
And do NOT waste any of my money on a funeral
Take whatever is left and go out to eat
Take salsa-making lessons
buy yourself that new car you have always wanted
Love, Mom
I opened the screen door to a silvery crescent moon
In the east, a red spring sun rises
What beauty God has in store each day
If only we opened our hearts to receive the prizes
All day long, beauty and surprises presented
One time there was a brown thrasher
Over in the birdbath washing with delight
A little later four starlings were splashers
Each moment of the day there was a new gift
Joy overflowed with each delight
The only problem was I couldn't jot down
About my day's awesome highlights
Decadent ice cream sundae afternoon,
you let me come undone and melt slowly.
Licking the delicate parts of the spoon
I’m immersed in the taste of strawberry.
Sunday returns and is devoured so soon,
there’s no time to jot down the recipe.
Relax and enjoy the sweetest moment
and worry not on the calories spent.
Beyond the Vast ocean's kingdom
lies a splendid land without boredom;
there this wandering boy discovered real joy,
stumbling on beauty that defined harmony!
Other kids spent their entire afternoons
at the soccer field, he climbed many hills,
and the wonders he saw enriched his intellect:
was he a prodigious child or a would-be poet?
There he avidly consumed his fancy-free days
watching the big-winged eagles in swift flight,
and the noisy airplanes soar above white clouds;
he followed them 'till they disappeared in distance!
Did he choose soothing solitude as a means of escape,
running to idyllic places to jot down unrhythmical words
on his pad from the reflection he made on the landscape?
His peers lacked the imagination to pursue poetic thoughts!
Distance is grief, while time transforms his wrinkled looks,
not the vigor of youth that prompted many humorous jokes;
even now he remembers well that beyond the vast kingdom:
he can retrace the footsteps of his puberty to regain freedom!
Who writes lovely poems
extracting buried words
from profound feelings,
or even deft thoughts?
Have mourners listened
to an epitaph and cried?
Have good mothers read
a nursery rhyme to a child?
The purpose of a poem
is to make us laugh,
or hold our breath;
it can break boredom!
Who writes lovely poems:
a drafted soldier who cries
and longs for his distant home...
singing the national anthem?
Give it a try, nothing is too hard;
jot down whatever comes to mind!
with rhyme or without, it can surely impress:
the simpler it sounds, the quicker it charms!
It's about time I tell you my story-
so jot down notes, and take inventory.
I've been there, done it too-
I've left my past behind me, and started anew.
I've been in relationships, and I've been alone-
I've made it through, all on my own.
I am not stuck on any past ordeals-
I empathize with others and I know how it feels.
I've lived in many neighborhoods, some not so nice-
Most of the areas were good, and suffice.
I had my share of bad decisions-
Wrong choice's were my life's collisions.
I've lived, I've loved, I've envied, as well-
I've even lived behind bars, incarcerated in a cell.
I've been charged, and I've been convicted-
Not at all the life that I had depicted.
I've seen wicked, evil people in my time-
straight up demonic slime.
Once I had a man try to beat me into submission-
I've even had my bouts with the disease of addiction.
I lost opportunities and run out of chances-
Poor choices were life's circumstances.
I continue forward and try not to dwell-
No longer living in my own created Hell.
On a bench in the sun,
With the river close by,
I can get something done
(Or at least I can try).
For out here I unwind
As I soak up the rays
And I’m likely to find
Something I can appraise.
With my pencil in hand
And a notebook page, blank,
I fulfill the command,
With the river to thank,
That I jot down a poem
(Which is almost complete).
Now it’s time to head home;
There’s some popcorn to eat.
Surprise! The power of journaling,
To keep your goals aligned and life fulfilling.
Our creator knows us inside out,
And in our prayers, we can find the route.
Quiet time with the Lord, pen and paper in hand,
Jot down the thoughts and goals, make a stand.
Observe the percentage, how prayers are answered,
God's faithfulness shown, as life's path is traversed.
Journaling holds us accountable,
To live to the vision, it's truly reliable.
Over years, the success rate is high,
Best practices learned, never to die.
Surprise! The power of journaling,
A tool for life, big goals and small things.
Block
An idea forms and your mind is on fire
Your fingers are itching to write
The eagerness builds, the excitement explodes –
Your heart and your soul are alight.
You drop everything. The moment is key!
You rush to your screen or your page.
Fingers on keyboard, pen in your hand
And you wait for the muse to engage.
Then… Nothing.
You stare at the page, lean back in your chair
Fingers on head, interlocking.
But mute and defiant the page stares right back.
Its blankness rebellious and mocking.
You jot down a word or two, force out a sentence,
Immediately rejected, deleted.
For ninety long minutes you take your best shot,
As each futile attempt is repeated.
You’re beat, feeling drained with your chin on your chest;
No masterpiece written today.
After all that struggle you can’t even remember
What the great idea was anyway.
So admitting defeat, you stand up and stretch.
Trying desperately not to feel doleful.
Tomorrow awaits. Perhaps when you try,
Your writing won’t be quite as woeful.
Here I sit, diving into some wits,
my mind over, at this time
Looking for some intellect to jot down
Then, I came across these words in my mind.
It is with the muse, that comes to take up,
With my pen to these words, I do write
With the memories of my past, I can seek
They were good times, and bad times, passed.
Though the journey hard
Those times have I flown
I have no more misery
That need to hold out in my storms.
Those times have defined I,
And these words, as I write
It's time to find an end to my fray,
As I, last write.
erasers are nice
but we learn from our mistakes
so why erase them
why not cross it out
jot down another sentence
and make it complete
An Ode, Verses Born From A Friendly Dare
To write an ode, to a spirited gal
One that no dream even dares to surpass
To a ravishing beauty my good pal
As a gift to celebrate her sharp sass.
Nay, such enchanting a task tis overdue.
Dare I, to one in dreams only, I knew.
Rather I, jot down verses that soft sing
Of her beauty, she a most lively lass
And the radiance her glow often brings
Her elegant voice, words said never crass.
Nay, such enchanting task tis overdue.
Dare I, to one in dreams only, I knew.
When dawn's fantastic smile her eyes so shines
I dare, boast of kisses given in mass
Creative words and such heart I opine
Chance for another kiss, I dare not pass.
Nay, such enchanting a task tis overdue.
Dare I, to one in dreams only, I knew.
Robert J. Lindley, 1-10-2022
Ode,
( On a dare, muse, pen and paper summoned up this )
Note:
* -- sass
sass
/sas/
Learn to pronounce
INFORMAL•NORTH AMERICAN
noun
impudence; cheek.
"the kind of girl that wouldn't give you any sass"
verb
be cheeky or rude to (someone).
"we wouldn't have dreamed of sassing our parents"
Have all the melodies been created
and all the original thoughts stated
When I took my pen, to jot down my feelings,
I was a bit hesitated, because’ my mind was yelling,
At me, giving its appeal, that
Is this possible for you to be so poetic??!!
But my heart was against my mind,
Giving me a sign for my proceedings.
With the high spirits in my heart,
I began to start, my poetic glimmer,
Sometimes, in a dilemma to start, or should I depart??
I eventually decided that I would set a benchmark,
With my penned sparks.
I started to put all my darker shades and the brighter too,
Starting with the two, later on few,
And still it continues….
I don’t want to be the sun or the moon,
Hoping, for at least to be the twinkling star among the many
unknowingly known.
Where I could feel that, now I am done,
As a receiver of love and appreciation,
In more Tons!!
The writer in me
Wants you to know
That I love to
Jot down my thoughts
Even though I’m
Fairly new at this
The writer in me
Wants you to know
That I write short stories
And wants to write a screen play
The writer in me
Wants you to know
That I have constant
Interruptions and a writer’s block
That sometimes followers me around
AUGUST 3, 2021
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