Some think that the initial spark was certainly God given
If you accept the concept of free will I'll give you that
Some blink and think that all man's gain is surely striven
I think and therefore I am among the ones who know no one can know
For sure and so I choose to go in thought somewhere I know
I must rely on what I see for what I state in fact and don't react
To what I can't relate to anything outside my mind as mine alone
When inner dialog is represented as a matter then, of course
Discourse recourse will be dismissed as lacking any standing
The audience is left with less demanding understanding
Handing tending of the fire to the arsonists for hire
With ready fire as their aim midst claims to have a plan
The moment is all that exists.
Years are gone,the future resists.
In this present,life unfolds.
A story in time,bravely unfolds.
The worries of yesterday fade,
Tomorrow's fears, a distant parade.
In the now,find peace and light,
Embrace the present,day and night.
For in this moment,life is found,
On rock-hard ground,firmly bound
The present,a donation,freely given,
In this present,true living is striven.
The eye of truth
The eye of perception
The Eye of Horus
Defrauds deception
It pierces the soul
It reads the heart
It sits in the pyramids
Upper part.
The All Seeing Eye
Never blinks
It knows more
Than one might think
In cold silence
It always stares
Saying nothing
As it glares
Judging your actions
As they are made
Determining your fate
Intentions weighed
It never smiles
It never sleeps
But I think
It often weeps
How difficult it must be
Observing the human race
To watch this evil species
The image of God disgrace
Oh the tears
That eye must shed
Looking down
Into our heads
All the sorrow
That eye must feel
As we fight
War and kill
All the regret
That eye must know
Seeing the truth
Bent and broke
All the love
That we've been given
The breath of life
In us striven
For thousands of years
To no avail
Our better qualities
So quickly fell
And we think
OUR lives are hard
Think of the eye
We all have scarred
Think of the Hell
That it must be
For the Eye of God
That is cursed...
To see.
You have heard of it many times I am sure.
and probably of it abjure.
I have been driven, striven,
to obtain my little slice,
please take my advice.
I have achieved my little chunk,
without behaving like a punk,
you I can readily you assure.
You can seize it,
if you don't need to throw a fit,
of self-serving s**t.
What you really need,
is plant a little seed,
and work very hard indeed.
sorry for running
when first I should master the art of walking
sorry for loving
when liking you should have been foremost
sorry for wanting
and showing little patience and understanding
sorry for expecting
more of your time than I’m entitled to take
sorry for exhaustion
another round, another pint, another short
sorry for passion
when you’re not inclined to kiss me back
sorry for believing
this could be or could have been something
sorry for doubting
what could have been perfect, sublime
sorry for nothing
and everything all at the same time
sorry for missing
every point you ever tried to put across
sorry for submitting
when I should have striven to work this out
sorry for everything
that didn’t make for a perfect you and me.
3.4.2019 2.22am
Who can view me behind the fence ferrous!
Those infiltrating eyes bear me desirous!
Unveiling what was previously hidden.
Keeping this same watcher has striven.
I figure you should say, "What's in plain view!"
Penny for your ideas as they decay in a dark row.
Truth is a precursor to the hotly slated freedom.
The spilling from torn gum is giving a storm!
Am I a true enchanter worthy of notice?
I feel you crying, so please, let me focus.
I never set up in front of an audience.
I starve to escape the irritating sequence.
But does it work to retain me from leaving?
This clutter adds to the overall styling.
Do they have any considerable difference?
Do I cave in, or do I dazzle with my openness?
What has me scared! How am I striving to hide?
None, however, can bear reality inside.
After the Inquest, I cast the net vast and bleak.
Induce them all to cave up the skill to peek!
Written: October 3, 2021
Ever-cheerful and optimistic
An island of sanity midst pandemic's panic
A voice of reason in a sea of shouts
Dr. Janice Jackson, public schools CEO
Giving Chicago a leader to crow about
24/7 she's striven to better Chicago's schools
dealing with intransigence, high-handedness
an angry army of Teacher's Union hacks and fools
She's leaving next month
Can't say I blame her
May Dr. Jackson, God forever bless
Had a plunderer I, nay thither I thus,
how much life is wasted off as if fairly,
pace upon pace once more pace upon pace never odds,
this occasions a bliss is hither, a bliss is folly,
how I hope to have striven more,
how thus air, how fun and fair,
how lovely is dream to dream and dream this wave.
What these things serve a contemporary horizon?,
what rises? and what is stir hither?,
no, like wind it is yet known nor enlightened anon,
all jobs done let like mirrages flown thither,
what a service of immemorial poise?,
what an irony of a sort freedom?, what a dream?,
I spend, I am an eye witness thus those.
Now, it matters for it matters counts,
tis necessary, supposing it is thus,
to meet the limit of the normal airs,
still it is how to govern a life of surfs,
how it is right to fill room with hope,
a gift of this wave and thus a gift of a wave,
once more there is compromise.
Photosynthesis
Photosynthesis
Helps fund life
A plant’s synthesis
This is life’s wife
Food that is given
For others to live
To which one is striven
To take and give
So they stay alive
And stay completely sane
Always take the dive
Always say in lane
But you may go off road
So you lose control and death may now bode
Written on January 29, 2020
My name’s Juno, I do my duty,
us black cats are quite well suited,
for adding scares this time of year,
our sharp claws, people often fear.
We have a reputation, human-given,
and to please, we’ve constantly striven;
offering good scares on Trick’n’treat night,
to serve the folks with a desired fright.
Human’s seem to love a good scare,
careful going ‘round corners, I’ll be there;
I’ll flash my eyes and hiss and spit,
to pump your adrenaline, just a bit.
Really, it’s not the most glamorous job,
I’d rather be eating some fish-kebabs.
10-12-2020
Halloween Meow Poetry Contest
Chantelle Anne Cooke
Simile and metaphor in my poem
Substitute for an image of my agony
That I feel hurt by a rift
In fabric length of my soul,
Widened to an unbearable chasm
By the irreparable damage,
Caused by the glowing wounds
In the depth of my hearts.
Striven I’ve in sewing together
The edges between the rifts
By the strongly twisted threads.
But the bad stitches crafted by my hands
Reveal the scratches of the deep scars
That’s not hidden from others’ eyes
Even after my wound hailed.
Occupied I'm in
Veiling this scar in the rhythm
Of the poems created by
My agonized hearts.
*
Eternity Exists That We May Love
I hide not our love, its fathomless deep,
rising fevers from heart that never sleeps.
I love you, as morn's dew kisses the rose
a blessing and gem that forever grows.
I love you dear and your enduring grace,
that radiant smile on your lovely face.
Your voice, your soft, tender kisses given
for such love, all my life I have striven.
Your beauty, this willing heart truly slays
and in our hearts, romance so gaily plays.
Never shall world's dark our love interfere
for truth is, our love is always so dear.
Eternity exists that we may love.
I the eager hands, you the silken gloves.
Robert J. Lindley, 7-08-2020
Romanticism (sonnet),
( When Greatest Treasure Has Been Found )
Note:
This sonnet was composed in 1973,
I was then only 19 years old.
recorded it in my private journal.
Later edited it again and recorded it
in another current journal in 1984.
I have edited to post it here today
with only very minor changes to the
last two verses. (7/08/2020)
Within Hall Of Heroes His Soul Must Surely Be
Within Hall of Heroes his soul must surely be
for courage and steadfastness surged in his veins
this he truly lived for one and all to see
he fought bravely for truth and right, not worldly gains!
As teenage youth, I did such a great man befriend
and discovered what a true blessing had been given
I was away that day his life came to an end
now mourn he that for honor had always striven.
Years flown by as I look back at such a fine man
a granite rock upon which any friend could rely
I recall campfires fresh fish frying in a pan
And will see his smiling face until day I die!
Within Hall of Heroes his soul must surely be.
Man that taught me, takes faith and courage to be free!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-18-2020
Sonnet, Tribute- ( Treasures That Life Oft Gift Asking No Payment For )
Mother Earth has carried us all closer to the Sun, once more.
I can feel the stare of Ra against my pallid flesh.
The heat reflects my disposition.
Angry atoms galloping toward one another,
fighting for what little room is left
in-between sharp breaths and lazy wind.
I call to Winter.
Embracing the touch of fallen oak leaves
against my ankles as I walk toward the echo
of their once vibrant sway.
The ax swings true.
Splitting knots of beautiful growth,
destined to burn.
Just like me.
I watch the fire cradling what was once mighty
with purpose and purity with resolute obligation,
to consume.
I breathe in the smoke and try to will myself
into an ember. To just, for a moment-
Feel what it’s like to have striven.
Become magnificent, and fallen with grace.
To have such raw and vivid purpose, even in death.
But, nature, it seems, does not work that way.
The ember’s truth stings my skin
as the Texas sky opens its heart and reminds me Winter
is long past.
And although I burn,
It’s not in the same way.
And it never will be.
-James Kelley 2019
Do we need a Queen?
For the past years seem now like a dream
When she would pass us with a wave as we are striven
We would be frantic for any recognition given
When we see her picture reigning over us
As why wonder why all the fuss
But that was then and now is now
As the years and Monarchy know-how
For the question that will follow
When she passes on leaving a hollow
Do we have an elected official
Or someone appointed for all that drivel?
© Paul Warren Poetry
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