Long Heartfelt Poems
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In regard to human's such abject abyss and absurdity, we can't help questioning: can human still be indulgent in the virulent vainglory having shaped their pretentious and dangerous preconception of a human-centered and human-dominated cosmos? can human waywardly go on with their ecologic vandalism having already triggered the macrocosmic nature's wrath and punishment? In fact, all their perverted precepts and practices have spoilt or to a large extent countervailed the hard-earned results of their positive efforts. ( e.g. vaccine development, treatment of the infected)
As can be seen more often than not: Overloaded hospital wards and overwrought medical workers are outflanked by waves of overwhelming epidemic peaks, and the process of vaccination popularization outpaced by the viruses' variation and proliferation. Indeed, human's arrogance, ignorance and particularly conscience absence have estranged them from one informative sense: The best remedy is the due respect for the macrocosmic nature that nurtures the entire universe and the due reverence for her sovereign system that really dominates every being and everything living or working inside her domain; The best vaccine is the virtue of taking all harmless lives kindly and taking kindly to the nature's heartfelt call for every bio-community member's benign ecofriendly behavior.
Having ironed out the aforesaid reasoning and arguments and having made clear our firm attitude and stance, we hereby urge Spanish, Dutch butchers and especially the Dane banes:
Stop your criminal and cruel cull without delay, do not engage any more in any activity that may bring us extinction, mass toll and physical or psychological harm, let us resume enjoying our old habitat safe and calm.
We also want to extend our exhortation to all of the human being: Make a thorough stock-taking of the circumstances of correlated infection-prone species and overall epidemic aspect before renouncing your previous evil ways and recommitting to building a livable eco-environment and lovable bio-community. Only after the strict imposition of precautionary disciplines upon your daily behavior, would there be a promising future of fine faith and fair fortune for every existent being under the sun, of course including yourselves; In the bargain, would come genuinely effective epidemic-controlling & prevention mechanisms for yourselves.
In the dark she is waiting, 200 kilos of velvet
separating one world from the other.
It was art to her, she was under no pretence,
she was an instrument, and she made the other instruments merge in a delicious unprecedented harmony.
A poet, a warrior, a lover, a sinner. She has tasted the divine and the melodramatic, to capture moments, photographs, for the use of summoning emotion and reality.
She had been hurt and she had hurt, she had walked towards hell and ran away from heaven. Beginning as a muse and then enslaving the musicians one by one with her whispy and sultry tones.
An electric keyboard breaks the mumbling, vibrato, a pause, a cheer. The drape rises and she peers from the darkness, masked by shadow to the floodlit mass in front.
The drums are brushed gently as the crowd softens to the figure emerging from the dark. Not knowing if they were permitted to break the spell or join it, the crowd pay their respect with silence.
You can almost see the phantoms she has witnessed being beckoned into her. Short linear smoky essences, touching her then being pulled inside. She saunters slowly towards the mic, eyes closed, and with both hands it becomes a sceptre. This will be a heartfelt song again.
She inhales, her belly fills, and she breathes life into the mic. Her tones slice through the thick air, soft yet with such projection and feel. The crowd can not contain themselves and let out a cheer as their eyes fill. She masterfully picks up her bass, as if resurrecting a lost love, and it sings for her.
Her hair is gone now, most of the crowd know why and they want to cry. But she holds them, captivated, and hypnotises a smile into them. They sway to her, some hold their chests as if covering some hole for fear of their hearts falling out.
This will be the last time we will feel her grace. But she will be summoned herself. The band know this. She sits, the treatment has taken it out of her. But her voice never falters. That chair will be kept alongside the drummer that loved her. Her bass will be his kryptonite. But he will keep it close anyway.
The curtain will not fall tonight, it shall remain at half mast. She will bow and we will fall at her mercy one last time. In homage, and respect. She will leave but she will never be forgot. She has trained herself into them, and she will always be singing.
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
are directly connected
to his or her heart.
What's truly seen and then seeks expression
is where poems do get their first start!
All human kind has a pair of eyes
and though open may not actually see,
certain conditions that may prompt a poet
to express them
with word artistry!
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
are similar to a potter or sculptor
who take an unshaped form,
and with vision and determination
they are guided,
by hand,
to mold, create and transform!
We do this very same act with words
and a heartfelt desire to say,
words that will touch,
also transform the reader
in a unique poetic way!
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
see this world in a way unlike any other.
They see the unseen,
send this vision to the heart,
with need to use words to uncover...
"truths" that can only be conveyed
by the poetic words that are written,
because we know
that through this poetic expression
we are also helplessly smitten!
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
are a truly gifted glimpse
into life and it's myriad conditions,
to express what is seen,
and felt and heard and done
with poetic compositions!
Every word expresses the heart!
We've something to say
and we know it!
Keep writing and know
that this gift of expression
comes from
"The Eyes Of A Poet!"
WTA-IV 3/21/2016
Karen Windle roughly on par...
with being a miniature poodle size dogsend
Apartment B44 one bedroom unit
at Highland Manor low income facility
housing older folks convenient starting point,
to launch poem and invite reader(s)
reason(s) without rhyme
why yours truly (me)
chose to express heartfelt gratitude
toward resident Karen Windle,
which named individual most likely unknown
across world wide web
(hmm... maybe methinks perchance
possibly ye did sound her out courtesy radar,
especially if thee dutiful patrol officer
generously handing out -
not necessarily) winning lottery tickets
within vicinity encompassing
University of Delaware.
We (myself and zee missus) inhabit
aforementioned single bedroom abode,
allows, enables and provides
convenient reference point
upon exiting our dime a dozen quarters
(housing near penniless occupants)
verily orient toward left of hallway,
no need to access global positioning satellite
leisurely amble short distance
just count three doors down on the left,
thee will espy name tag printed
small letters Karen Windle
her acquaintanceship we did kindle,
now greater value when measured with corn,
wheat, or other commodities
approximately equal to three bushels,
but varying in different regions.
Explanation whereby appreciation
toward Karen (spry firecracker, energetic,
diminutive, albeit frail looking gal)
materialized when series of unfortunate events
rendered me and mine spouse
without ready immediate access to automobile
near necessity within quaint enclave
identified as Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
affords absolute zero public transit,
hence necessity for chauffeur de jure arose,
whereby availability to shuttle us
found monetary compensation declined,
thus stymied intent regarding how I could
communicate sincere thankfulness
relieved when she would accept
poetic endeavor incorporating
best college try (mine) to alleviate
imposition if/when opportunity exists
to scrape meager money
and expect to sink a fortune
maintaining, insuring, fueling vehicle,
significant portion of social security (disability)
allocated to sustain reliability of car
dollar figure greater than buzzfeeding
caretaking, duties linkedin to
mental, physical, and spiritual health
concerning this aging baby boomer,
plus his counterpart approximately
previous couple dozen years.
Matters not how much I may want to rescue you
That closed steel door I cannot walk through
Outside the door feet planted firmly on the ground
Knocking every so gently trying not to pound
But everytime my knuckles on the door they tap
Stinging fire flies out and my face is slapped
Through the pain I can hear your plaintiff calling
For something to save you from further falling
So to my purpose I try bravely to stay true
Attempting to find a path to get through
To figure out a way in which my spirit can fly
Over walls of brick so tall they touch the sky
A prisoner within chained by ego, pain and guilt
There I can see the Fortress you've built
Out of the windows fire of anger consumes
Any real healing touch you continue to refuse
Because the rescue does not come totally free
Only you have the power to open the door and choose to believe
"Can't and won't take the risk you say
Of the sorrow you'd feel when it all blows away
Denying that you must search deep down inside
Beyond your walls and utterly foolish pride
You can keep decorating the walls as long as you like
And continue convincing yourself it's your lot in life
And when the spirits that be send you a sign
Crush it with cruelty and continue to resign
To the anger that keeps reaching out with a fire that burns
Against a true spirit whose soul only yearns
For nothing more than to grant your wish
Of inner peace and true love sealed with a kiss
But all the angry fire steals my strength
Taking my sensitive spirit to it's very length
My failure then scars my heart truly bad
That after the pain I become so very sad
Once able to see through my heartfelt tears
I know it so well and can feel all your fears
If only my love spirit I wish for you to see
How I offer all I have to you so humbly
Because even after the faeries come carry me away
The gift I give to you is to ease your dismay
No intent to cause pain or wreak havoc in your heart
Just only for you to escape the lonely part
Simple and free with no evil involved
"First" you say. "So many issues to resolve"
The walls of brick you've built over time
Seems like an eternity they would take to climb
When all along if you so choose
With a blink of an eye and not a moment to lose
It's been a matter of your choice to reach beyond
Those walls of protection to which you've grown so fond
........Cont'd in Part II
I was a famous conductor, and performing beautiful music was my joy,
As diamond sunshine, to pervade darkness, finds any means to employ.
Music had long been a part of me, in that I sang long before conducting,
Like the famed adult bluebird choirs, lead the songs they are instructing.
My much loved work kept me busy. Still, I loved every precious moment,
As wild, crazy, summer colors dash afar, with no cries of encroachment.
But I had a personal favorite song, which I loved more than any other,
As anyone recalling their great loves, find their thoughts turn to mother!
This song had held special meaning for me, for what felt like long ages,
And I never tired of hearing it, as blooms will never have enough vases.
I thought of the melody as 'my song,' for in my heart, it was mine alone,
Like multicolored autumn leaves flying, when green summer is disowned.
It was then marigold days of sultry July, and dark purple martins soared,
Like finding you have heartfelt passion, for someone you once abhorred.
I had just entered a restaurant, when I heard that stirring song playing,
Like chattering, mischievous monkeys, swing forever in treetops, saying.
Then like always, I was transported, back down nostalgic memory lane,
Just as orange birds recur every springtime, singing the melodies again.
As I was returning home that evening, the full moon was in the treetops,
Whispering with those flashing stars, as a part of the nightly peace talks.
As I went up the front porch steps, the fragrance of lilacs was tangible,
As on the streets of scarlet summer, where wild blooms are fashionable!
The moment I entered my house, my heart song began its playing again,
As a sultry summer that's come lately, only to meet the vivid fall refrain.
Though I was enraptured by extravagant music, and music was my life,
Still, it was odd that it could play itself, the moment this person arrived!
It seemed that the song I'd loved so long, had come to love me as well,
And had determined to follow me always, like fragrances casting spells.
My heart song is still pursuing, through mellow days and jasmine nights,
As owl stares at a moon of rapture, and bees are off on honeyed flights.
That song of precious sweet memories, greets me every room of my life,
Like a red rose that blooms for you only, even where wild blooms are rife!
(1.)
Dare I Compose, This Heartfelt Poem For Thee
Dare I reveal, dare to my soul expose
No longer hide behind life's hidden pose
Return to Southern roots, a simple man
Forget this dark world's constant wicked plans
Remember her, life's most beautiful rose
She the sweet goddess, that this poor man chose.
Dare I compose, this heartfelt poem for thee
Pray to Heaven to one day again see
Together walk those streets paved in gold
Hold each other always, never grow old
Wake each dawn, with Heaven 's love all around
With you darling, forever by my side
In divine paradise wading love's tide.
Dare I ink the words, darling I love you
Just to hear you say, yes, I love you too
Return to Southern roots, a simple man
Forget this dark world's constant wicked plans.
Robert J. Lindley,
Romanticism,
Dedicated To Blessing Of And Precious Memory Of-
( My Most Beloved Wife Clarisa, She That Saved Me )
*****
(2.)
As Length'ning Shadows, Filter Thru These Aching Hours
As length'ning shadows, filter thru these aching hours
Seeing flowers bloom, I lower both sword and shield
Yet in the black-distance still loom angry towers
For this world its angry powers refuse to yield
Dare I, beg this cursed world for a peaceful sign
As if this moment, Karma and golden moon align
Nay! To do such, what a great knave fool would be I
For Karma rang no bell and day holds no moon sky!
Standing alone, this soul seeks happiness again
As a wasted form, worn down by epic grief
Here walking through life, with overloads of pain
Crying out and at moment devoid of belief
Dare I, in such a state, again raise this sharp sword
Wade into battlefield, a brave soldier to be
Cutting and slashing the dark-cast and evil hordes
Tho' knowing, more will arise from a hellish sea?
Here wherein twilight shades are forever falling
And darkness its turmoil dances into my head
I cannot help but hear heartache and loss calling
Do I, do I thus choose to run away instead
Dare I, fail my raising, deny my Southern roots
Speed ever onward past grief, fears and bitter years
Absorb the poison arrows the enemy shoots
As they whizz on through this volley of falling tears?
Here wherein twilight shades are forever falling.
I cannot help but hear heartache and loss calling.
Robert J. Lindley,
Rhyme, ( Looking inward, Hoping to Life again Find )
An essence heard a heartfelt plea
meek, unconfident, not familiar
"Should I bother anymore? Please guide me."
His words hardly mist....
a response slices the scene
with the speed of a guillotine.
skittering over the asymmetrical
similarities of a snowy expanse
a messenger appears
cracks of icy dunes
produce precarious pawfalls
plaguing the vixen.
venturing further precisely
she plods over precipices
of ragged protrusions
desperate to achieve the comfort
of a smooth surface.
"Where you go is perilous!
I worry for your safety!
It can't be done, you won't survive!"
...cried the timid.
Her movement stops on cue
slowly facing the pupil
she teaches in silent syllables
floating on unknown frequencies.
" DAMN YOU NAYSAYER!
I have no time for the likes of you.
Say I won't survive? Come out alive?
I've fought through worse pain
finding sustenance to gain
morsels leaving one inspired
not feeling as if they're mired.
Search within your pores
find where you have hidden yours."
Dumbfounded - the novice stirs restlessly
"Perplexed, I see, you are mon cherie.
Hear what you seek before I flee.
When life's coldness surrounding you
leaves you writhingly wretched
don't feel so desolate and utterly dejected.
Deep inside lies the truth
albeit quite protected.
Bugger those scorning your worth
their eyes glisten shades green.
Stagnantly feeding ego's girth
pompous words - own to preen.
YOU are the Alpha here Jack
there is no need to whine
Condemn the disapproving pack
let your own light shine
Too much weight put into their drivel
making your inner child snivel
Buck up, put them in their place
other's ire force them to chase.
This be your nefarious impasse
faux approval merely to fit in
Always people of that class
saying anything to win
Lastly,
though I've said enough....
It's as you learned when a tyke
those times you fell off your bike
quit being a ruse
get back to your muse
keep working at what you like!"
Sunset facing her gaze
signals the quest resumed
Her protege audibly sobs
a simple seven syllable soliloquy stating:
"Thank you
I love and miss you!"
with a whispered (mom)
Tender tendrils of whispy wind
touch a cheek with a kiss
and a lasting voiceless return.....
"Forever, son"
IMPORTANT LOVE EMOTIONS
Love is good,
Love is important,
Important are the emotions,
Important are the feelings,
Feelings can hurt,
Feelings can heal,
Heal will the heart if honesty lies within it,
Heal will the mind if the thoughts are just.
Just is love when being sincere,
Just is the heart when life is genuine,
Genuine is the emotions if heartfelt,
Genuine is the feeling if they are earnest.
Earnest love must be to find God,
Earnest is the heart if God is within.
Within the mind thoughts must be authentic to the heart,
Within the heart that authenticates love is truth,
Truth is hard to find,
Truth differs all the time,
Time is of the essence,
Time heals all that is broken.
Broken is love when is unfaithful,
Broken-hearted is the unfulfilled love;
Love is beyond reason,
Love is the most blessed thing created,
Created by God, love is sublime,
Created by the sublimity of God’s love is straightforward.
Straightforward is a marriage that abides by love,
Straightforward is a family that consumes love daily,
Daily the heart congregates with the mind,
Daily love collects feelings from the heart.
Heart that beats fast is a heart in excitement,
Heart which doesn’t feel emotions is better dead;
Dead is the heart that doesn’t love,
Dead is the mind that doesn’t think,
Think before you commit adultery,
Think before you jump into a bed for lust.
Lust is not love,
Lust is unclean.
Unclean is the mind which ponders of the flesh,
Unclean is the body that is uninhibited,
Uninhibited is the lover who fakes love,
Uninhibited is the heart without compassion;
Compassion is a must,
Compassion is a word of God;
God created love to be given sincerely,
God did not create a lover to be controlled;
Controlled feelings bring sorrow,
Controlled emotions are dangerous;
Dangerous is a love of a promiscuous woman,
Sorrow shall accumulate if love is controlled.
Compassion is a must,
Compassion is a word of God;
God created love to be given sincerely,
God did not create a lover to be manipulated;
Manipulated feelings bring sorrow,
Manipulated emotions are dangerous;
Dangerous is a love of a promiscuous woman,
Sorrow shall accumulate if love is manipulated.
03/02/22
''B'' Forms, 10 Plus lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
x Once, one Incisive
Life went forth in
steadfast quest to
challenge both
prevailing laws
and social norms
that required all
strictly conform.
Corrupt religious sophistry and callous Rome's supremacy combined to weave
the tapestries of unrelenting tyranny. Defeating both should therefore deed
to Mankind this uplifting creed: exalt freedom and righteousness - exclude all
venal worldliness. Such quest by faith devotedly extolled in ancient prophecy.
The path chosen
though proved
to be a martyr's
tread implicitly.
While we revere
such sacrifice,
that principles
define one's life,
this story seeds
a fertile ground
where fact and
fiction both are
found. Though,
change whereby
might surely be
contained within
this verity: his
gifts of heartfelt
empathy, and also
gracious charity,
as well as moral
decency; Compas-
sion for our frailties.
Yet, praising too the Golden Rule, its promise ever worth renewal.