Long Lingering Poems
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It’s never too late to tell the truth,
Come clean and lay it all out,
To clear up any vague mistakes that’re said,
To remove any lingering doubt,
And try to restore a trust, a bond,
Restore a confident smile,
Return to a time with innocent truth,
Like you had when you were a child,
Because honest is happy, carefree and good,
Honesty shows you are strong,
When you’re honest with yourself in the mirror each day,
You can see where your own thoughts belong,
And others will judge who they see in your shoes,
“Is he a saint or a crook?”
Others will read the words you whisper,
As you write your own honesty book.
Poets stumble over half written sonnets
find themselves trapped in dark poetic throes
Not for the lack of interest, but they often wilt
as petals wither on the stem of a plucked rose
Their Haiku go on hiatus; lingering on vacation
Romantic writings drag on without decent rhyme
They are not procrastinators, but often tumble
down a mountain side they cannot seem to climb
Writing sharpens the points of dulled memories
black ink is splotched by an onslaught of tears
eyes blur as their hands tremble from sorrow
pens draw deep scars across hearts like shears
Long held melodies keep playing across their minds
unfinished lyrics that lay resting in regions of nether
tunes haunting them until tears rain and lips quiver
Impossible to complete when shackled by love's tether
Subtle wafting enlivening fragrance
Waves of cascading bliss ripples arise
Lingering thus in timeless dalliance
In which heart delights in childlike surprise
Time dissolved stillness holds sway over heart
As consciousness chooses to vaporise
Feeling each moment bliss ignition start
Causing lower mind in time to capsize
This delightful play unfolds deep within
With nary a trace upon countenance
Hermit in but not of this world of sin
Transfixed thus in divine entwined parlance
Such open secrets hidden in plain sight
Cognised by lamas with spherical sight
18-January-2022
She came around on minute limbs,
Smiling like she’d discovered some great
Happiness.
She giggled and she whispered, songs
Healing and embracing, glistening like the stars
On a ceiling of sapphire skies
She taught me about what it means to believe
In the poetry of roses, breathing hope and healing
Through the sunrise revealing…
Her kindness, her abiding grace, the wishes and promises
Brought to life by her embrace, hugs and kisses –
Cuddles that gentle the spirit and reply to the darkness
With light beyond stilling, light that trembles, glowing
Like the halos on the angel’s thoughts
She reminded me of moments I treasured,
Firefly dreams and startling victories for the joys
Felt deep within, where her presence filled me to the brim
With treasured reflections, imaginations so alive
They stirred to life the sweetest kinds of magic, fairy-tale
Thrills and inspirational feelings
Her heart, reflected in the snapshots
Little glories she taught me to hear when I couldn’t believe
In the angels with their stardust displays,
The urging of stories meant to be believed
By small ears, slight tears –
This visitor of mine, she grew through the years
To become the sparkle in my eyes,
The way I bled hope through my smile,
The lingering of a love far more alive – than it would have been
Without her, my little friend!
A Visitor Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
April 9, 2023
Just when you think you’ve lost me . . .
Just when you think you’ve lost me and I’m nowhere to be found—
Stop! Take a moment; look around.
… Feel me in the morning when first light falls across your bed;
open up your sleepy eyes and shake the cobwebs from your head.
… Find me in a garden where morning grass is wet with dew;
think of me as a tender blade reaching out to gently touch you.
… See me as an ardent butterfly kissing an anxious flower;
remember me by lingering— captured by a summer garden’s power.
… See me in the orange leaves as they slowly turn to brown;
think of how we tried to catch them as they lightly floated down.
… See me in the first snowfall as a delicate, soft white flake;
remember the hot chocolate and cookies I used to make.
… See me in the first shy bud that the warmed earth is sure to bring;
think of how we laughed and drank the sweetness of the first sign of Spring.
And then, when the seasons have come and gone— only to begin again—
Stop! Take a moment; look around,
And see that I am found!
“Thank God I despise you,”I declared,
“or I’d want to hear more of that!”
She roared,”I’d tell you of his safaris,
if you weren’t so annoying and bad!”
Said I,“Thank heavens I don’t have to hear
about such an adventurous tale.
Sure, the teller, may look hot in camo,
Bbt in truth, I think she’s made of fail.”
Cried she,”And I’d never think that a jerk
could appreciate a woman of the wild,
even one who’s eyes are so clearly
lingering for a long, long while!”
I screamed,”And I couldn’t tell such a twit,
that she’ll have just as much luck tomorrow,
that my game cameras have been watching here,
and know this game path is by deer followed!”
She yelled,”And I wouldn’t tell such a heel,
that I’ve been watching these woods all week!
And that he might find the bucks active
down by the shores of Anderson Creek!”
I roared,”Certainly I would never offer,
an obnoxious girl a place in my stand,
even if does have clear shooting lanes,
and a sweeping view of the game lands!”
“And I’d never follow such a tool,
even making offers so generous.”
She said it as she gathered up her gear.
“To think I would go is just plain nuts!”
We walked out softly to my tree-stand,
perched up high on a towering oak,
she climbed up first, and despite my anger,
I could not help but to watch the girl go.
And though it was cramped up in that tree,
it gave us both a great view of the grounds,
and we eagerly scanned, seeking more deer…
at least we did when we weren’t making out.
The very next day to her blind we went,
such a masterfully camouflaged tent,
we got no game, critters heard our cries,
and easily sniffed our ‘co-mingled’ scent.
Now I know none of you think this is true,
that I must have made it all up, right?
But I swear to you, it happened this way,
that’s the tale of how I first met my wife.
The yearning years of youth have come and gone
passing like a restless wind felt crossing the perfumed days
of time's passage
where precious moments were touched
in endless silent surrender to personal prisons
where the shadows of my youth hide
and ramparts were built for self-preservation
from failed rendered dreams, chased
I bow to the times I've lived and times I have
in gratitude for every breath given to share
along my chosen path with others
as I like them are a visitor
knowing that time cannot be touched or sustained
it can only be endured
how simple it could have been
how complicated it is, to grow old
remembering how it felt like to run
through grassy meadows as a child
living on imagined fantasies and illusions
found in pillowed passing clouds
I have known the beginning of my days
and have measured the middle of my days
to the distance of my rest-filled days
where I'll drift through memories
that may or may not have been real
as I touch my yesterday's full of promise
and lingering desires, that set my eyes aglow
lifting my heart and soul in harmony with exuberance
I look upon the world now with wiser eyes
and try to understand the meaning of it all
for I am a guest born in a world of confusion
where time seems important, and then is not
as I spin on its wheel of endless motion
knowing that when it stops,
I will be tossed off without notice
The mind was an enemy of itself
A weapon forged by its own hands
Every thought a spiral of panic
Every decision a thought out plan
Silence became a blessing when noise is all you've known
It becomes a safe place after a war of chaos
The betrayal of your own thoughts is a tragedy on its own
To not have your own back, in a world against you
Is to have a house not a home
To be surrounded by people, yet still feel alone
A prison of your insecurities
Haunted by the ghost of regrets
Forever lingering in the deepest part of your soul
The mind a vast ocean of dead past selves
Screaming to be heard
Begging to be known
Wailing to be loved
But who could love a mind that's perception of love is non-existent
Fatigue drains the fight from the spirit
Within the mind numbness creeps
Paralysing the mind until it gives in
To a life sectioned by depression
Until the poison of self deprication becomes too much
That you fall into the state of being a zombie
Trapped inside a body you no longer own
Each day becomes a blur
A constant reminder of a life long gone
A sad ending to the person you were
each day is a journey with mountains to climb
but I tend to l i n g e r on the way. . .
to touch a fragrant wildflower and listen to birds sing
oh- I lay in meadows dreaming
and gaze at clouds drifting in the azure
and in cool streams, I wiggle my toes
then at the end of the day I fall back down to earth-
only to begin the journey again tomorrow . . .
_________________________
September 23, 2016
Poetry/Verse/lingering
Copyright Protected, ID 16-831-967-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
“The fervent garden grieves as the fallen flowers called love
enwrap the shards of broken heart” – Quote by poet
A sleek crack in remoteness is split open
in the rocky ledge of your garden
by a sapling growing in splendor,
free from the confining burden.
A lone bud blooms uncared,
blushes with the pristine patina of spring
within my heart like a luring flower,
called love mesmerizing.
In your embrace my senses delicately turn
into the rhythm of heart enchanted within,
set the lingering longing so long latent
to sail in the stream of my desire keen.
In the passion sea of my yearning the rapture waves
shine like swirling pearls of your smile illumined.
With the mesmeric moonbeam lattice of your charm,
its sparkle splashes on my essence entwined.
In the scintillating stream of zooming zephyr,
as you drift away unconcerned past me,
and blow a devastating storm of apathy,
my fervor is fragmented in the debris of ecstasy.
Suffused with the diffused drizzle
of my fading love in the tarnished twilight,
you disappear out of my sight
beyond the gloomy garden once a den of delight.
Your flouting footsteps trample
my emotive flower as you depart,
its crumbled petals make a wreath
for the strewn pieces of my broken heart.