Haiku 50
wheat field bathed in gold
grain shafts, wind sways them all~
time for harvest in fall.
. . .
. . . . . .
.\ I /. .\ I /. .\ I /. \ \ \
\I/ \I/ \I/ \ \ \
\I/ \I/ \I/ l
I I I l
I I I a
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• • • • • • • • • • • m
w ~h ~e ~a ~t f ~i ~e ~l ~d b-a-t-h-e-d in g-o-l-d e
h
g-r-a-i-n s-h-a-f-t-s, w-i-n-d s ~w ~a ~y ~s t
t ~I ~m ~e f-o-r h-a-r-v-e-s-t in f-a-l-l.
I have loved too much,
its just imagery in my head.
You can tease me kindly
and I'll love you fondly,
I know its flirting at the end,
Those all-seeing eyes
like the shining of bright
Pelicans flap and cry
when its not time to fly.
Dead at the end graffiti
A rebel's chest not perished.
These old steps decrepit
barely can take my weight
and my visions are serious,
recent until flaming wheat
She lay down
among the verdant wheat
listening to swishing overtures,
supine, eyes slightly closed;
relishing the blue of a spring sky
wishing she were the white cloud
that appeared out of nowhere...
envious of the free spirit
she could have been.
Von der lye-ing says there is a beast.'
Snarly and growly, its out in the east.'
quyeer and macron; rutter complain
All un-masked' their con-vid lies well slain!
Even bread is bugged, this report is the least!
Do you think it a trifle odd,
when dirt clumps in a clod?
and more exquisite and grand,
when separated into sand?
If that's the way soil moves you,
It would certainly behoove you,
when preparing Cream of Wheat
to stir often over medium heat.
What’s done is done
As the chips fall
And the die is cast
Each of us
Taking a part
Donning a mask
To play
Our allotted role
At each step
The road forks
With freedom and tyranny
The choice to make
And so we do
Instinctively, habitually
Compulsively or consciously
A choice that’s always ours
Whose world do you live in after all
One inherited from deceivers
Who apply bandaid visions
To your mind
Or one you find revealed
In each moment
As you joyfully sacrifice
All that has come before
(9/30/24)
"Whole Wheat"
Trench coats
Pantyhose
Riding lo
Knee high
Nehi soft
Drink
Drunk
Drinkers
Drunk on a
Plasibo
Please no
Tell me it's no
Lie
Laying on like
Mayo laid on
I'm toasted
Tomato
Lettuce but no
Bacon beaconing that
I'm vegan BURP
My lactose
Baby
Can we hang
Out before
I kill the
Ah...
Conversation
Turning to views
Of political intrigue
Triggering
My AK-47
Mouth to
Shout
Out out loud
Loudly tattarrattat
Meaning
Absolutely
Unrefutably
And
As usual
Casually
Nothing
In any of the
USA God save
The queen of the
King James
Joyce hidden
In Gideon Bible
Phrases proclaiming
A swerve of short
Of a short to a
Bend
A way
A lone
At last
Loved
Loved long
As Adam and Eve
Long
And for
Always will
And always will
Cyclically forever
Endlesslessly ever
Be
Sun off kilter tanning the wheat—
The crows broke into her cold fast,
As breeze stir dropped its sweetness by
The dark golden, her soupy flesh.
From childhood not cooling like
The sun off kilter tanning the wheat
Comes a girl's faithfulness on skin—
The atmosphere for pressing heat.
A sweat thaw on her boundless brow—
The girl running lost, wild and free;
The sun off kilter tanning the wheat,
Palms shake in her sign expressing—
The bleaking crows eat off her heart;
She's in their blue brassing— it speaks,
The child still not a child's bearing
Sun off kilter tanning the wheat.
A unicorn travels through the wheat fields and lays its dreams on pillows of poppies,
In your fragrance of wind, as clover crowns itself in bloom,
Over the evening horizon, see, stars were falling,
And in a handkerchief, I knot the embroidery of the storm.
Under my feet, dust grows, and lightning passes through me,
The wind moves among the shadows, caressing itself.
My summer, you who were ephemeral and now delay yourself,
Septembers will come again just as butterflies arrive on flowers.
I don’t see how time flees if my eyes are blind,
Nor how amber flows through the clock, hidden beneath the rhubarb,
Under foreign rains, water suffocates in the abyss,
And crowded seconds walk their fingers through the fords.
From a clock falls a shadow trembling towards the horizon,
I no longer know if I have died or am a bird of salt,
The moment between butterflies sometimes seems a chasm wounding words,
Other times a field of mallows that is silent and deceives you.
On a child, time paints the dew of golden steps,
I gather the swallows from the grass, fleeing from summers that fly away.
winter wheat blowing in melodies of gold....
snowy fields in aged mind
He wanted whole wheat not rye
The sloppy sandwich made him cry
He knocks the plate on the floor
Then decides to order more
His sandwich was extremely dry
Blowing Blissfully In Immense Wheat Fields Of Fertile Minds
Upon the soft winds and the unenduring pallid breeze
with its ragged, hot breath a flaming torch of frozen tease
she that keeps her knives ready to cut in so very deep
and poisons the pleasurable hours that tender heart sleeps
her beauty its mirage displays a glitterings of gold
and her spoken words cried by spirit far too damn bold
she that has the magnificent beauty of a siren's face
stole ravenous beating heart, without any to replace
as I drown in deep waters polluted by her foul breath
I feel the lying whisper of a very painful death
as pale sky and bold seas both cast their powers far adrift
and in glory oft Heaven sent, dear blessings that uplift.
Blowing blissfully in immense wheat fields of fertile minds.
Are visions from word magicians, immeasurably stone blind!
Robert J. Lindley, dark sonnet
March 25th, 1973
Cotton wool puffs that are up so high,
Drifting along in a clear blue sky,
A field of wheat waving just like the sea,
To see these things shows how beautiful the world can be.
A gurgling stream that goes rushing by,
A baby bird that's learning to fly,
All of these things bring a happy cheer,
And tell everyone, summer is here.
The fields all covered in golden brown.
Natures beauty all around.
Deers jumping throughout the wheat.
The crop has groomed so very neat.
Beyond the wheat, the sky is blue.
The sun shines bright, no site of dew.
For every field you can see.
Wildlife roams so free.
Needing the green lands, for crops to grow.
No more building, land to sow.
For food is grown here.
A shortage would bring fear.
Beyond the wheat,corn, and other plants to.
Are grown so nicely for me and you.
In matters of love and life, I seek
A second opinion, a wiser peek,
Beyond the veneer of my hopeful heart,
To find solace in truth, not just in part.
For love is a tempest, wild and fierce,
Yet tender moments can quell the pierce,
And life, a symphony of joy and pain,
Where harmony hides within the strain.
So let me pause, and contemplate,
Seek wisdom's counsel, before it's too late,
In shadows of doubt, may clarity rise,
Unveiling the secrets, hidden in guise.
For with a second opinion, a fresh perspective,
Love and life's tapestry,
we are better connected, with a second opinion.
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