Adorned by days in rich décor,
nature refills her fresh bounty,
as Mother Earth sprinkles air with pure mist
caressing seeds of life ,
to tend roots which nourishes homes,
while generous arms gather fields
and herds of cattle, rows of birds glide free
regaling seasons' toil...
Gold the corn carried by townsfolk,
fruits riper than sun bursting sweet
a rare moment at ease like a dance alive,
a harvest in motion!
Yet this maiden longs for rest- time
her frame aging from burnt decay
while she awaits the shedding of soiled trees
to rest from cycles' dirge,
Where renewal of lush parade
changes grains,grass from dry to gold,
her pause, the charm of sweetened hollowness
heralds earth's blithe rebirth!
Baby Gooey seeds riper-diaper
Baby Gooey needs diaper-wiper
When Gooey goes goo-goo
Then Gooey goes doo-doo
Baby Gooey feeds hyper-diaper
There was a time
when my vision was raw
but my words
were riper still
There was a time
before there was pain
with the weather
never chill
There was a time
when the wind called my name
zephyrs
fresh and new
There was a time
with my feelings in song
in love with the moment
— and you
(Perelman Center: September, 2025)
Let’s say he wanted to live to the fullest .
She wanted to die and couldn’t wait for the grim riper to come knocking .
He saw good where it didn’t even exist .
To her good never existed .
He believed in happily ever after
She can’t believe in happiness if she never felt it .
He made her see the white in black while she made him see the black in white .
Tho he made her feel what one could maybe describe as happiness .
But as their fate was dared he died of cancer ............he left her .
So he wanted to live while she wanted to die
He died so now she will live for both of them .
I knew not where my riper be,
for green was yet my high:
obsessed with all reflection within~
the backside of my eye; such
self-centered youth, though often
berated...while its lose I secretly
sigh
God often losing a young man's ear
near the upper part of his thigh
Disregarded darkness acquires a recognisable form
With light, our sight deciphers
Bestowed components rewritten by reassuring dawn
Viewed essence appears riper
Signal to rejoice in sun after ice moon's reign forlorn
Renegade dimensions drink their new found palpable
Given shape after night forgot them
Shine beside shadow layers human translate tangible
When hid in dusk, doom hangs rotten
Redeeming arms arrange clarified fragments infallible
10th November 2020
Written for Contest: Sicilian Quintain
Sponsor : Emile Pinet
Like wine,
Poets age with every year
Tattered labels stained,
vintners unclear
Bordeaux, Merlot, or Cabernet,
words mellow in the dark
Where time ferments a riper day
—its richness to impart
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)
She snores under Night's somnolent veil,
Far from quiet throes of his teetering sail;
Her pulses come and go in silent throbs,
Attuned to trigger no lover’s salted sobs.
Her breath kicks in and out in frail wafts,
And makes sullen breather and her lover
Immune to stingy Love's meanest dose,
Both unhurt by Time's estranging cover.
Both lie on the false-soothing couch of hope,
That dupes naive souls to wait for riper days;
More fecund seasons marked by richer crop
To nurse Cupid’s stars and prop their praise.
If heavens their rationed graces further hold,
Her hushed snores and his dreams shall die;
And the two loving aspirations end in naught;
A sad tragedy like of Juliet and Romeo of old.
She's laden to death with yet unrequited love,
And he dies for a brief feel of her turgid verve.
“BABY FACE WHAT’S YOU THINKIN’” Picture “B”
Get a Load of This One Dad !
Oh yeah! Yesterday you changed my stinky diaper ! In case you think you’re tough, today’s is even riper! So steady as she goes with your footing, because the proof will be in the pudding, Get ready Dad, the stink will bite ya like a viper!
Written 1/7 2019
20/04/2018.
My 3 M’s
It’s time to change the minds dirty diaper,
To think crisply, cleanly, somehow riper.
How is this cleansing feat to be achieved,
A new process of thought must be conceived.
I’ve tried my hand at CBT,
Electro Magnetic shock Therapy.
I’ve consumed my share of SSRI’s,
Still I ruminate on the how’s and why’s.
Here’s a thought I thought all by myself,
I’m losing my grip as the Quack gains my wealth.
Why don’t you meditate on regaining your health,
Reduce of his drugs, with lies and with stealth.
Then once I am clean I can find my sense of self,
Come to terms with the shitty hand I was dealt.
"So my life’s not perfect", I say out loud,
So get of the couch and make yourself proud.
It’s hard to start off on any new journey,
When you’ve spent so long on a hospital gurney.
But anything worthwhile doesn’t come easy,
Use the power of will to travel your mind freely.
Movement, meditation and a life of moderation,
Are my 3 M’s for life and for your consideration.
Do We Celebrate Ancient Red Rose's Well Earned Death
No great fire, yet get the water hose
decayed words fall in ancient settled dust.
As they break under weight of new age prose
in modern shone light are we now to trust?
No riper fruit to be sweetly savored
classic poetry is now scorned as rust.
New age ink, tis now the new gem favored
ill winds destroy more with every huge gust.
Birds of Paradise show only dull gray
old vineyards no longer make treasured wine.
Sun illuminates brighter the long day,
bow to new masters and all will be fine.
If allowed, new-age will destroy the past.
With such broken foundations, what house can last?
Robert J. Lindley, 6-30-2017
Sonnet( Do We Celebrate Ancient Red Rose's Well Earned Death?)
Nay say I, Fate controls death yet we control our souls and heart
Tribute To The Memory Of John Keats
Child of the storm-swift Hermes, lithe and strong
To Trojan tumult, had the gods thus willed,
They gave thee one short year of riper song
And more melodious than ever filled
The heart of youth; they gave thee power to build
A noble altar for thy offering
Amid the heedlessness that had long chilled
True poesy, true souls that fain would sing.
And thou, from depths of silent agony,
Hast left unto the world such rich bequest
Of love's own loveliness that thy last rest
Becometh as the soul's own sanctuary
To all that long have learnt of thee to wear
Sun-raiment in the shadowy House of Care.
R.J. Lindley
Sept. 9th 1975
The book that’s my absolute favorite
is the most effective by far
after all my years of stuttering
having left many a inward scar
‘The treatment of stuttering’ on hardback
written by the renowned Charles van Riper
a former severe stuttered now it’s master
so hoping could be my stuttering wiper
Having tried many therapies in my life
none had much effect upon my tongue
so now in my early 60s one last fling
giving it my all so full must be my lung
CVP was leading speech pathologist
with this book showed his learned light
working out his pre-block modification
hoped this technique be my speaking sight
Now since my study of this therapy
can get coffee on my very own
this indeed is a huge forward step
so now make on to next milestone
The fears of past now receding
thanks be to God for His intervention
directing me to get hold of this book
giving me the way to speech correction
('The treatment of Stuttering' by Charles van Riper (1905-1994)
Speech Pathologist and former severe stutterer.)
WATER LOO
Water water everywhere*
and oh how it did stink
water water everywhere
and all my undies pink
alone amid the rising tide
of baby toys and diapers
I stand in brownish bubbling surf
wondering which is riper
my mutinous crew has left the ship
fleeing from the putrid stench
I’ve also been abandoned by
my “ever-faithful” wench.
Alas as Captain I must endure
consequences of this blunder
hold my nose as I await
my rescue by - the plumber.
John G. Lawless
3/30/2016
My apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge for stealing this line from his poem
“The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”
NOSE WOES - limerick
My nose told me it couldn’t get riper
as I opened and peeked in the diaper
one last gasping breath
succumbing to death
single shot from intestinal sniper
John G. Lawless
5/30/2015
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