my tears are falling
calling me through the sounds of rain
broken heart aching
winching from all the pain
echoing inside etched ears
"sound the alarm sweet soul"
tattered dreams fell and crashed
upon the shining dash
stunned dazed pondering
the meaning of it all
written on the wreath
worn upon my head
"sound the alarm sweet soul"
i am standing
"standing" merely because I can
holding faith in my hand barely
because I am
no one else can endure
none other than
an unwilling sacrificial lamb
drinking back the sweat of fright and fear
work of my goals and struggles all these years
up in smoke, in one stroke
smiling face show not the burden I bear
among the many out-of-touch and unaware
picking glass from my hair
scratches mark my neck
the love of my life’s
left dying
a heap
a total wreck
passing cars wheezing by
take no means to care
darken eyes covered shields
bland blinding stare
raise up this mortal coil
cast light to my silhouette
Categories:
winching, bereavement, dark, endurance, faith,
Form: Dramatic Verse
Can I ever escape
The hourglass of time?
It seems I only have a hour
I swallow that lump
Beating in my throat
As I taste the sand on my tongue!
As I run, blisters bloom
On the soles of my feet
Like flowers rising
Watered by my sweat
Sand stuck to my hot skin
Those grains of gold
Oozing, drip by drip by drip
I feel the prick in my eyes raw and red
Thick with grime, winching in pain
I am trapped inside the sands of time!
With my last breath I release
The hourglass now overturned
I slip through, only to realise
I have escaped to the other side
It seems I only have another hour
To live my life within it
Tick tock, tick tock, the sound
Of my heartbeat close by!
28.10.22
Categories:
winching, time,
Form: Free verse
I had become less watchful
in this honeycombed body,
blind behind a thousand windows;
windows boarded up, abandoned,
not disused but closed off,
the way a hive becomes blind
one window at a time.
It is the slow drowning of long winter
that opens fusty shutters.
for now is the 'becoming' time,
a time for the winching resurrection
of awakening trees,
of honey-suckling days.
I have windows and behind each one
there is a lively hum and light,
and golden eyes polished bright.
Categories:
winching, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Bring green barges for the winching,
heft a portage of willowy thrones
for the wind thrummers,
gild each gap with dewy vines.
A droning in the leaf shelters,
all the humming skimmers
grown beyond their husks.
Gather the garner to be had
sift and share.
Time to haul-in Lady flaxen hair
her goldenrods dancing.
We have windows, behind them
volant dragons glitter
and whisk.
We see her serpent forms
in the airy whim.
We have lashes on ox-eye buds,
honeycombed fodder
in the silky sap,
tidings leap,
utter bright on every tongue.
It is the rivering. The Spring awakening
and the rioters are weaving sunlight
everywhere.
Categories:
winching, poetry,
Form: Free verse
A droning time with its honeycombed eyes;
lives grown beyond their husks.
Bring green barges for the winching of the awakening,
portage willowy thrones to the wind thrummers,
gild each gap with a dewy wine.
Time to pull up the lady with the golden hair,
wash the water's with her amber and
blood-stones.
We have windows and behind them
volant dragons whisk goldenrods.
We have windows in ox-eye buds.
We see her serpentine hair swim
in the airy whim.
It is a droning time, a glut and glutch
on every glistening tongue.
It is a rivering.
Categories:
winching, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Like An Old And Worn Battleship Hard And Fast Ran Aground
Walking wearisome road, dollar in pocket, my knife in right hand
nothing in sight but wicked are the many alluring sounds
Hard are long nights rest in this dangerous raging land
for now nothing, nothing seems to be out of bounds.
Like an old and worn battleship hard and fast ran aground
with no celebration , no parade, no marching bands
Just the hammer blows on and on they wickedly pound
at each winching pain, crowd cheers in the upper stands
Fork ahead, promises mysteries, be they for good or bad
ah but that is the dear spice in life our spirit seeks.
Many are the joys, pains and sad regrets I have had
yet nothing beats kisses laid on my darling's rosy cheeks.
Like an old and worn battleship hard and fast ran aground
Off beyond the horizon, again comes that fast flowing sound!
Robert J. Lindley, 4-23-2016
Note-- Sonnet written to remind me life holds future surprises , hope and
blessings but one must still remember the hard lessons of the past.
Categories:
winching, angst, art, conflict, future,
Form: Sonnet
I'm only supposed to eat carrots
and carry large loads for no pay,
so winching me up the Cathedral
was not in my plans for the day.
The crowd below seemed quite excited
as over their heads I shot past,
till the zip wire could bear me no longer
then it was my turn to kick Ass.
To say I was grateful to those folk
who cushioned my fall, there's no doubt.
So I left them a gift for their rose beds- I hope that it all washes out.
Categories:
winching, humor,
Form: Rhyme
The right atmospheric conditions can animate your bones.
I tell ya,
Dinosaurs rising, ichthyosaurs rising,
Rise of the hominids no more, eh?
Resurrection ain't a fool's business, fellow, ol' pal,
Sonny boy. My boy,
Reanimation is a booming industry,
What with all these dinosaurs and ancient mummies reaching and tightening their buns,
Winching their skin on.
Drink that elixir first, boyo.
Keeps ya from fossilizing in the first place.
Them creatures all wanna be looked at good again,
But I says, I says pickle yourself in the first place,
Never lose that spark.
You don't have to wait for a magical scientific chemical power combo,
If you were preserved in the first place.
Categories:
winching, life, time
Form: Free verse