For Linda
Kevin Davis 2024
Thank you for being there for me.
When I was sad or lonely,
You always listened and understood,
You always made me feel good.
Thank you for being there for me.
When I was happy or excited,
You always shared and celebrated,
You always made me feel delighted.
Thank you for being there for me.
Through thick and thin, day and night
You always gave me your best,
You always made my life bright.
Thank you for being there for me.
You were my faithful companion,
You always showed me love to see,
You always made me feel like a champion.
Thank you for being there for me. - To Linda
Her voice, a river, smooth and clear,
A melody that faded every fear.
In music, we found a bond so deep,
That bloomed in time, as love did seep.
In shadows we danced, where nobody could see.
A step behind, yet you noticed me.
The years between us, a quiet doubt,
Would they understand, what love’s about?
The silent moments, where hearts ignite,
The secret spark that burned inside.
What others said didn’t matter then,
For in your heart, I found who I am.
I lived in voices, a cast of disguise,
A chameleon seen through countless eyes.
But you just smiled, saw past the show,
And let me be the one you’d know.
My dear Linda sang a song for me once,
I was young and unsure, just learning to run.
Though time has passed and I’ve grown in years,
Her voice still resonates, sharp and clear.
Her skirts lands against her springy step in a pretty way
Swirling around her luscious legs with an extra sway
She’s an old- fashioned woman, our Linda Lucy May Kay
Wearing silky nylon hose nearly every single day
Sailors all along the channel and down the bay
Will testify to what I have observed and now say
Her swishy skirts often lead their old eyes to stray
She is a snazzy dresser, our gorgeous Linda Lucy May Kay.
lovely poetess
sweet Linda Alice Flower
pleasant neat odor
Lighthearted Linda had an effervescent buoyancy
Spirited, gay, and lively, she totally lifted up me
Having a good friend like this seemed like a thrilling luxury
Much better than a yacht or a five-hundred-dollar shopping spree
Fall flourishes with flighty flair,
a lilting song upon the air.
Symphony of fading cinder
all in spirit, rhythm, and timbre.
In Her heart a mild melody
flirting with a sweet revelry.
She has not sung this song before,
an unearthly, uplifting score.
Morendo a niente, fades out,
catching Her breath in subtle shout.
Crescendo of color escapes
in multidimensional shapes.
Catching currents, Her breath has blown,
paves the path with scattered seeds sown.
Her name is carved on every tree
She has conceived her canopy.
Dulcet, the voice of Autumn sways,
Presto agitato, She plays,
Leaves flutter in a rustling dance,
taking part in russet romance.
What sweet music tingles the trees!
Baring bold birches, blows the breeze,
Arias aired in harmony
with woods akin bleeding honey.
Enjoy Fall's vibrant banjo beats,
as she raps with hued leafy sheets,
whispering soft kisses and dreams,
Refrains released in umber streams.
Foliage tanned and tinted brown
tango with harvest's golden gown,
Autumnal chorus slow tingles,
Join in with Her joyful jingles.
there’s a halo hanging from her head everyone agrees~je t'adore
sublime sneaky snake come slither by~who directs traffic in the grass
pal owl perched on glove~wise bird see more less spoken hears her muse recite
She looks snobby, judgemental Linda said.
I observed the newcomer who looked a bit stand-offish.
But perhaps it is because I had not met her yet.
I ran up to tell her that I liked her costume.
She was pure steampunk all the way.
She was a lovely woman, ready to converse with a stranger, me.
We hit it off and sat together for that supper and next day’s lunch.
The convention lasted a week, and I saw her often.
She always smiled, waved and said “hello”.
I never thought my new friend looked or acted snobby.
But judgemental Linda is not as open to meeting new people as I am.
She wandered around alone most of that week, looking miserable.
I thought about spending time with Linda, but then I remembered
How judgemental she is, so I saved myself from her.
In the turmoil of troubling thoughts
I hear your voice calling to Me.
Listen! Your sick heart is screaming
as it seeks out comforting spots.
Listen! You must feel contrition
in the turmoil of troubling thoughts.
Turn eyes to Me for forgiveness
and ask for Divine redemption.
Listen! Your soul churns within you
and you need My kind, healing touch,
In the turmoil of troubling thoughts,
I can transform your life anew.
Listen! Let Me untie those knots
that tangles your heart in worries.
Let Me fill you with Godly peace
in the turmoil of troubling thoughts.
7th April 2023
Heaven-sent on dove’s whitest wings,
unique beauty of nature sings
with cottony clouds and harp strings
gushing out crystal sparkling springs.
Its magic an enchanting tease
as music floats down with the breeze.
Subtle nostalgic melodies
whisper God’s clear cathartic pleas.
Life bursts forth with a childlike glee
in earth, in sky, and on the sea.
My heart and soul cavorting free,
playful caresses cover me.
Divine musings flow from my soul,
when in the woods, I take a stroll
to purge me, cleanse me and console,
heaven-sent blessings make me whole.
7th April 2023
When Spring’s first touch is gently set
with Winter now scarcely a threat,
implore the ocean breezes spray
all cares and troubles far away.
With sweet caress of warmer days
and softness in the sunny haze,
carry me to pastoral thoughts
of my favorite nature spots.
Where flowers kiss the breeze that blows
and young ones run, too spry to pose,
transport me to refreshing moods,
where nature's calm, no one intrudes.
Such peace brushes my soul out here!
I lie still as Tender Hands steer
my notions to emotions pleased
and comfort me, turmoils are eased.
Form: Rhyme (8 syllables)
30th March 2023
A poetess named Linda Alice Fowler
Chose the spirit animal owl for her
avatar and muse, and who
doesn’t worry ‘bout bird flu
with all her power, no not this prowler
True to herself and has keen intuition
If she appears in your dreams, pay her attention
It’s well-known symbolism
Embrace change with optimism
Owls can appear as protector’s or an omen
A night owl stays up and writes poetry
Makes POTD, and a great contest entry
Rotates neck to such degrees!
Linda Blairs? Nothing like these
An owl's genius, beyond elementary
Linda’s wise and so clever in her flight
The talent to guide others to the light
A unique voice, she toots
Her and I, we’re in cahoots!
You won’t see her on your way, she’s out of sight!
An owl can rotate there head up to 270 degrees.
She wrote Bits N Bots
A terrific, prescient poem
I suffer bots, bots, ads, and data thieves
(We all might be the last)
But she came with bouquet of words
To the funeral of my tree
There were only four attending:
My wife, myself, one neighbor, & Linda
Social media, life, friends keep us busy
I understand
Not everyone can come to
Unusual
Funerals
Still ... do think of our environment
Always
people liked her
not for her beauty,
but the sound of her laugh
the happiness it brought
leaving people chuckle
now she's gone
laid to rest
three years already
I can still hear
her laugh and
it makes me chuckle
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.