Second Creation-
A Poet's Blog -
On Life, Love, Living, Death, Earth And Eternity
(Blog on poetry, its depths and man's search for eternity)
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Quote- April 9th, 1979
"On Shelley and Keats",
"One was poetry's truest heart, the other was poetry's truest beats".. RJL.
(1.)
Wrought Of Man, Destined For Its Decay
Wrought of man, destined for its decay.
Created from earth, Fate cries of no worth.
And in that cold, darkened certainty
Lies truth that forbids bought eternity
First that infant breath, taken to survive
Then wailing cry, shouting I am alive.
Wrought of man, destined for its decay.
Created from earth, Fate cries of no worth.
Mortals doomed to ever seek power
And over high mountains seek to tower
Yet dark seeded with hopeless vanity
Born into evil, - all humanity.
Wrought of man, destined for its decay.
Created from earth, Fate cries of no worth.
In these shallow coverings, our clay shells
Ever taking, as lustful greed impels
Embracing those vices this realm demands
In blindness destroying air sea and lands.
Wrought of man, destined for its decay.
Created from earth, Fate cries of no worth.
Robert J. Lindley,
Rhyme,
( Tribute to Shelley and his magnificent poem- " Ozymandias" )
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(2.)
The Quest, The Discovery, The Great Revelation
From sun's bright glow he went into valley below
With dedication and courage in tow
There menacing shadows, rocky terrain unknown
In ancient forest, thistles and vines overgrown
He not yet the brave hero he was soon to be
Thinking should he survive the world would surely see.
Farther and farther down he went yet unafraid
With his bright golden shield and ever trusty blade
At last, with great relief entering level ground
Having come upon some ancient burial mounds
Each huge grave having a massive black-cut headstone
He felt here, more than just sinister undertones.
Ahead he saw where half a mountain had come down
Edged by broken remnants of a crushed town
Crossing there he saw signs of a great battle fought
And shuddered at great carnage as was once wrought
Ahead he saw- a palace of shimmering gold
Same as was in childhood fairy tales he was told.
Crossing a small stream to a temple he then came
There was a tall stone pillar bearing just one name
Etched in quite deep, were words praising that great king
Proclaiming -beware over man my wrath I bring
I the world's most powerful ruler shall smite all
Under my banner even great giants must soon fall.
Ahead seventy steps lead to a huge headstone
Carved were these sad words, here rest the dead king's bones
He that had soon found, Fate had far different plans
Than those shallow dreams born to such an evil man
His words angered destiny and thus its wrath
And death had quickly rushed across his vain path!
With that find, hero turned to retrace his path
For wisdom cried, dare thee to test Fate's dark wrath
Hero returned, seeing the valley below
Kneeling he then thanked God - for letting him know
How He had supreme rule over this evil world
And He had never, angry lightning bolts hurled.
Robert J. Lindley, started 3-23-2015, continued,
8-09- 2019, completed 5-13-2021…..
Note: sometimes these things just take me what
seems like forever to find the path to finishing them.
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Yet Eager Heart, Its Poet's Ink So Bleeds
In my youth, I dreamed a thousand deaths
Swore I, thousand curses under my breath
And life's old memories now screams at me
Ah my dearest boy, soon you will all see
Now hold your breath until you cry with me
All was fantasy, life was never free!
Yet eager heart, its poet's ink so bleeds
Onto page and feeds soul's tenderest needs!
There was a wandering child, seeking more
Life beat him, he kicked in Fated doors
From dawn's breath- he saw glints of paradise
He began to think world would soon be nice
An error, one that would so dearly cost
For path it gave- his true sight he soon lost!
Yet eager heart, its poet's ink so bleeds
Onto page and feeds soul's tenderest needs!
In those dreams, youth found no treasure at all
Just a life leading towards chained halls
Woe! Years danced, quickly away they flew
Then nights became blacker, morn's breath did too
Dreams all faded and dear love ran away
And so soon future's sweet hope lost its way!
Yet eager heart, its poet's ink so bleeds
Onto page and feeds soul's tenderest needs!
Robert J. Lindley,
Rhyme- (The Depths Of Heart And Dreams That Wandered In )
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And Fate And Time Were Gaily Conspiring
Swimming that desert the waves were splashing,
Back in the shadows sharp teeth were gnashing
There was no comfort in the great knowing
Hell to pay as black-winds were a'blowing
Silence screamed, nobody could hear it
World exploding, blind I did not fear it
And Fate and Time were gaily conspiring
We danced forth foolishly admiring!
We that were young saw only false visions.
Shot our blank-guns with such imprecision.
Life was a sad, a sad little parade
And in it, world's end was already made
New-ghosts they came along just a'prancing
Watching the innocent youth romancing
Life its heartbeats sad and so damn blinding
And those long sharp shadow teeth were grinding
There was no comfort in the great knowing
Hell to pay, as black-winds were a'blowing!
We that were young saw only false visions.
Shot our blank-guns with such imprecision.
And life was a dark, a dark little parade.
And in it, world's end was already made!
And Fate and Time were gaily conspiring.
We danced forth foolishly admiring!
Robert J. Lindley, July 23rd 1979, March 11th 1985
MAY 18-2021
Rhyme, ( edited version of an ancient poem)
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I Was A Poet But Never Was I Complete
I was a poet but never was I complete
I had the heart and the sad bruises on my feet
But never was I free from those hard aching blues
I fought the raging world,
paid me some ghastly dues!
I was a man, ink stains splattered in my head
I a wanderer, ghosts dancing around my bed
Midnight came, with darkness singing its devilry
Dawn came ending,
all of night's stomping revelry!
I was a warrior, with both sword and sharp pen
I had a lost soul, as did many other men
Time, its flowing sands blasted my old, leather hide
I fought the idea,
to ever end this long ride!
I was a poet but never was I complete
I had the heart and the sad bruises on my feet
But never was I free from those hard aching blues
I fought the raging world,
paid me some ghastly dues!
Robert J. Lindley,
Rhyme, 5-19-2021
( With Candles Burned Out, The Night Cried The Loudest)
Note:
(As the mystical light faded, with it went the promise of immortality)
For the lost, the weak, the hard fallen came only poet's fresh ink
and sometimes drops of sad, sad aching insanity....
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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Age_of_Russian_Poetry
Golden Age of Russian Poetry
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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Golden Age of Russian Poetry is the name traditionally applied by philologists to the first half of the 19th century.[1] It is also called the Age of Pushkin, after its most significant poet (in Nabokov's words, the greatest poet this world was blessed with since the time of Shakespeare[2]). Mikhail Lermontov and Fyodor Tyutchev are generally regarded as two most important Romantic poets after Pushkin.[3] Vasily Zhukovsky and Konstantin Batyushkov are the best-regarded of his precursors. Pushkin himself, however, considered Evgeny Baratynsky to be the finest poet of his day.[citation needed]
Vasily Zhukovsky
Alexander Pushkin
Evgeny Baratynsky
Mikhail Lermontov
References
John, Gary (2009-08-07). "LESSON 4 The Golden Age: Aleksandr Pushkin". Department of Slavic and Central Asian Languages , University of Minnesota. Retrieved 2012-03-23.
Boyd, Brian (2011). Stalking Nabokov: Selected Essays. New York: Columbia University Press. p. 203. ISBN 0231158564.
Nabokov, Vladimir (1944). Three Russian Poets: Selections from Pushkin, Lermontov, and Tyutchev. New York: Norfolk: New Directions.