Reprints Poems | Examples

Enter Moon Gate

Once dreamy, butter-filled suncups,
Shining ‘neath the moonlight.
Past shadows shimmer on pond of
Evening Primrose midnight.

Spineless spirits, angel’s trumpets,
Kept as outliers, aloft.
Once shady blow - paired sleeping rocks
Covered with lamb’s ears, soft.

Dark and lightness ravish garden.
Sweet scent rediscovers
The sway of grass on little path;
Reprints of fresh lovers.

If only she’d whispered warning;
“Enter moon gate,” was said.
White creeping phlox - she’s as white as
Sole touch of garden bed.

The Twilight

The cadent curls recede upon the shore,
with fizzle sounds like brushes on a drum,
their once brave tune declined forevermore,
beneath the growing shades of a beach plum.

The shadow fingers stretch along the beach,
to close the eyelids of a sleepy sun,
on the horizon nodding her last speech,	
her closing song, as her best time is done.

Yet, she leaves fervent images behind,
reprints of joyous moments on the sand,
or backwash from tides pounding so unkind,
a montage of love sketches super grand.	
	
Before the final twilight curtain’s drawn,
seek to bask in the wonders of each dawn.

The Empty Book

Opening your book only to see
Teardrops of loneliness dripped upon page one
Your biography has been emptied of love
The Contents includes the first chapter of loss

The autograph that was placed within is disappearing
Your pictures are fading away with your words
This history of life has become only empty memories
Your cover has become hard your binding glue melting away

Life without meaning joy without feeling
This your last book for you have been sold out
No reprints will ever be made you are at a loss for words
This author will never return

Two Beach Strolling Sisters Discussing Their Savior

Two Beach Strolling Sisters Discussing Their Savior

This was his virtue; that with head and heart  
He saw life sanely, from all mist apart, 
and spoke with such assurance as he showed  
our way as straight as an old Roman road.  

This was His beauty, that with bird and flower  
He loved the strange revealings of each hour,
from wandering stars, from waywardness of earth;  
Fountains of poesy quivered at his birth. 

This was his grandeur, that in all he saw 
or dreamed, he bowed before eternal law. 
Knowing his soul the vassal of the King  
whose realm is established by our laboring!

Robert J. Lindley, 1-10-2016

Painting number seven
Poem number seven, Ekphrasis (rhyme)
Inspired by- the painting
( Twilight Confidences,  by Cecilia Beaux 1888)
and Debbie Guzzi's 10 for 10 challenge
Ekphrastic: Writing on Art and Art on Writing  [this site ACCEPTS reprints] http://www.ekphrastic.net/submissions.html

Her Longing Heart Seeks Love's Relief

Her Longing Heart Seeks Love's Relief	
  
         Pretty young lady, my how you steal the show 
how many admiring eyes look back at you? 
Perhaps a secret admirer is gazing back you know  
longing to be in your private booth too. 
        With that handy fan hiding your shy smiles 
you're features are an enticing mystery.
Clever use of your female charms or wiles 
denying him such an early discovery. 

What of the high stage, you alone dare grace, 
could your setting look more like a throne, 
or your beauty reveal more of a loving face, 
while desiring you, should he walk out alone? 

Alas! Society restricts such daring bold acts. 
Yet, a longing mind can always find some way,  
to defeat the prudish rules society enacts  
she's sure there's time to steal away to kiss and play!

Robert J. Lindley, 1- 10-2016

Painting number six
Poem number six,  Ekphrasis (rhyme)
Inspired by- the painting
(Theater, by Mary Cassatte 1879)
Debbie Guzzi's 10 for 10 challenge
Ekphrastic: Writing on Art and Art on Writing  [this site ACCEPTS reprints] http://www.ekphrastic.net/submissions.html

Colorful Fantasy Flights

Colorful Fantasy Flights 

You brought color to life;  
a soul seeking newer forms. 
Into bright red, sandy, realms  
holding rainbows in disguise, 
you instead slept not 
yet endured all—  

with honor. 

Blank canvas speaks to you 
about its great thirst 
and colors galore. 

Your firm belief in honor and 
beauty satisfies. 

Did you not find heart in 
brush strokes? 
Sending painted glee  
and with art have you not flown deep 
into life's mysteries?

Robert J. Lindley, 1-09-2016
Painting number five
Poem number five, Ekphrasis (Free verse) 

Inspired by-
Autumn in France by Emily Carr 1911
and Debbie Guzzi's 10 for 10 challenge.
Ekphrastic: Writing on Art and Art on Writing  [this site ACCEPTS reprints] http://www.ekphrastic.net/submissions.html

Magical Mountain Where Blue Cat Resides

Magical Mountain Where Blue Cat Resides

This Majestic mount made of magic stone; 
I climbed every night as a lonely child. 
Tall and regal, it stood there all alone, 
symbol of a world fantastic and wild! 

Atop the peaks in my racing night dreams, 
I looked across earth's fantastic skies. 
Resting below, forests and flowing streams 
lay magic's realm where a blue cat resides. 

Deep within each night's visionary quest, 
I'd pray for family sleeping nearby. 
Brave climber, courageous, daring his best 
fantastic thrills rewards every night's try! 

This Majestic mount made of magic stone 
was conquered by a child of flesh and bone!

Robert J. Lindley, 1-08-2016

Painting number three
Poem number three   Ekphrasis (sonnet)

Inspired by 
(The Blue Cat by Pamela Colamn Smith 1907)
Debbie Guzzi's 10 for 10 challenge
Ekphrastic: Writing on Art and Art on Writing  [this site ACCEPTS reprints] http://www.ekphrastic.net/submissions.html


Syllables Per Line:	
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables:	140
Total # Lines:	17  (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:	
Total # Words:	98

Deliver My Sanity

Be not a constant reminder of such a withered existence,
State of mind being part of the fear, fear of a losing race.
Flying past the places that were lost before they were found,
Finding warmth from the blood, flowing without a sound.
Speak that I cannot hear, don’t escape me no matter what u want,
Yearning for eternity the only thing I have not got.
Deliver me a way to bring Balance back this way it comes,
Towards the place where the pinnacle was sliced,
Cut the cord to the one thing left beating in this body,
A corpse, delivered unto me, disgraced from all who looks upon thee.
Pooling from corner to corner, seeping through the cracks,
Creases made to conceal and make the weary forget time,
Pendulum that stops for no one, hold, feel, touch, caress,
Trace a pattern in the sand, so a way may be found,
Hide not from your hero, gasping for breath your only speech,
Tell me not, the task I ask, cannot be done,
Finish what you promised and save me, save the balance.
Bring the balance back to me, save us from our sanity.

This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be 
requested in writing to the original author. © Alisha Groves

Perfect Inhumanity

Ticker tape life into a single frame
Moon and stars silhouettes look down upon the sane
All the pristine porcelain faces lifted up to care
Intertwined fingers optimistically seeking out repair
Tolerance is not the toiling only of the brave
To find unified understanding is what the species craves
Eating of chrysanthemums call to darkness, be eclipsed
Bathe pure enlightenment producing innocence
Causing hearts to swell with love, beating live balloons
The “Perfect world” residing within Fabergé cocoons

Ticker tape life into a single frame
Darkness and misery secreted from disdain
All distorted tarnished faces sodden with despair
Lungs expanded beyond capacity, choking on the air
Hollow heads full of sorrow roll in like crimson waves
Crashing upon hopeless steely shores with desecrated pain
Soaring far from absent shadows into the great abyss
Bitter taste of hateful words linger on pursed lips
Lacerated tongue, swollen, bleeding from its wounds
Inhuman world residing within lanolin cocoons


This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to 
the original author. © Alisha Groves

The Mirror

Mirror mirror made of glass, 
Reflex the details of the past.
Shatter not, less shards be lost,
And with them every single thought.
Blame not yourself, sweet little bird.
The accusations are absurd.
Fire and ice this day will rain,
And cleanse away the weak and sane.
Left are the strong, left is the pain,
Seal it away, forgotten again.
And so over and over the story plays,
Lost and found in so many ways.
Once upon a time, a mere flesh wound,
Was only the crack in the mirror’s swoon?
Attracted to the light that reflected there,
Caused the rift of time to tear.

This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to 
the original author. © Alisha Groves

The Poet Dreams

Payment is a thousand dollars per word
and twenty-five contributor copies,
upon publication. Accepts reprints.
Simultaneous submissions are fine,
and all rights revert back to the author.
Responds within a few days to a week.
Submit up to twelve poems at a time.
No limits on length, genre or style.
Our editorial staff reads year round.
Cover letters enjoyed, but not required.
We are a perfect bound, book-form, monthly
periodical. Translations welcome.
Standard post or e-mail acceptable.
We want everything you put on paper.

Birds Swim

Birds swim in soapy lily water
Against the currents of time
Fish fly on citrus scented air
Watching centuries pass them by

This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be 
requested in writing to the original author. © Alisha Groves

Zring Sissity Rib Rang

Dada or Dadaism is a cultural movement primarily involved visual arts, literature—poetry, 
art manifestoes, art theory—theatre, and graphic design, and concentrated its anti-war 
politics through a rejection of the prevailing standards in art through anti-art cultural works.

This is my attempt at Dada.


Zring Zang
pinggity prong pang
jumping across from train to train
Bring Brang
sissity sis sang
circling round, round the storm drain
dring drang
ribbity rib rang
Trains and drains, over my life reign


This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to 
the original author. © Alisha Groves

Perfect Inhumanity

Ticker tape life into a single frame
Moon and stars silhouettes look down upon the sane
All the pristine porcelain faces lifted up to care
Intertwined fingers optimistically seeking out repair
Tolerance is not the toiling only of the brave
To find unified understanding is what the species craves
Eating of chrysanthemums call to darkness, be eclipsed
Bathe pure enlightenment producing innocence
Causing hearts to swell with love, beating live balloons
The “Perfect world” residing within Fabergé cocoons

Ticker tape life into a single frame
Darkness and misery secreted from disdain
All distorted tarnished faces sodden with despair
Lungs expanded beyond capacity, choking on the air
Hollow heads full of sorrow roll in like crimson waves
Crashing upon hopeless steely shores with desecrated pain
Soaring far from absent shadows into the great abyss
Bitter taste of hateful words linger on pursed lips
Lacerated tongue, swollen, bleeding from its wounds
Inhuman world residing within lanolin cocoons


This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to 
the original author. © Alisha Groves

Butterfly...Why?

Butterfly in the sky,
why don't you fly very high?
I see you with a sorrowed eye,
listen to me, that's no lie.

Butterfly why your tears,
have you any troubling fears? 
I can give you joys and cheers,
if you'll live with me your years.

Butterfly can you see?
You would be happy to live with me.
If you live with me you'll be,
the happiest butterfly in my tree.

Butterfly wipe away your tears,
come to me if my tear you hear,
because butterfly in the sky,
like you, I too am a butterfly.


This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to 
the original author. © Alisha Groves

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