Poetry and Prose for any season

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

My first new poem presented on my return, composed 3 am , this morning......-Tyr


PALLIATIVE

Gasping beauty of Life, Love and Nature's treasures
Dawn and its promise, given in fullest measures
An ancient oak spreading out wide to give cool shade
Wonderment, diversity of the Everglades.

Glory of a red sunset and a cool Spring night,
A gift of newborn kittens in morn's first light.

Hope, sweet summer days -life and so very much more
Those answered prayers that the faithful implore
Watching radiant moon sing on a summer rest
Romance and heart joining passing every test.

Glory of a time when hard day's work is well done.
Watching beloved children having such great fun.

Vacation, old ranch- together those horseback rides
Midnight pier, rolling waves of the Pacific tides
Watching old, yellow orb sink in the great beyond
Gifting morn's first kiss as ones beloved responds.

Glory of holding so tight in that sweet embrace.
Jewel each new day seeing her sweet smiling face.

Robert J. Lindley, 11-07-2021
Romanticism

(1.) Palliative

pal·li·a·tive
/ˈpalēˌādiv,ˈpalēədiv/

(of a medicine or medical care) relieving pain without dealing with the cause of the condition.
"orthodox medicines tend to be palliative rather than curative"
Similar:
soothing
alleviating
sedative
calmative
calming
alleviative
alleviatory
lenitive
demulcent
Assuasive

(2.)
Poetry, writing
Setting free -thoughts ideas, deep feelings- giving -helping others, etc…

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

From Isolation Into Contemplation Of A Better Tomorrow,
Part One

When he rose that morn his old dog let out a bark
shaving he saw night's foray had left a slash-mark,
with smiling grin he recalled the glorious fight
how he felled his attacker with a mighty right.

Yes he thought, was fantastic to do such again
remembering days of youth, a man among men
and with that he began breakfast for his grandson
just as he had now for almost two decades done.

Why not he mused, let the lad sleep a little late
for this golden new dawn he had a date with fate,
his grandson would leave this cabin travelling forth
into deep freezing lands of Alaska's far north.

While he continued on his lonely existence
fighting dark world, his own personal resistance
ignoring broken heart, massive buckets of pain
farming his wars, his bread made without any grain.

Contemplating glory days of a wayward youth
reminded then, Fate and Death -harbingers of truth
both lie with a certain deep, vicious fortitude
night and sleep, dreams gifts feeding darker attitudes.

Robert J. Lindley, 11-12-2021
Narrative

Note-
Part one of a planned 4 part narrative
but hey, with the uncertainty of life who knows,
could be cut short or on a mere whim extended until
another storm blows out the near fading lights…..

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

New Life, Inspiration From A Gifted Revelation

Methought I heard a fallen angel call
Forth from a forest of beautiful falls
With lakes and rivers and sweet mountain view
Through the thick undergrowth I waded through
Under blue sky and bright sun beaming down
I heard, lost my wings and my golden crown
Crying out, help I can no longer fly
Please kind sir, save me now before I die.

Therein a booming loud echo came back
One that quickly stopped me in my tracks
Do you hear my angel in dire distress
Just ahead, in that catastrophic mess
In your evil world, on your heartless earth
Dare you show your true mettle, your true worth
Or will you do as others have oft done
Race away to look for your worthless gun?

I replied not I, a gun I need not
What good would be a gun, a useless shot
Soon I found an angel bound in chains
Crying and moaning from deep piercing pains
That come from a heart slashed very deep
From loss of crown and wings it could not keep
Next to the sad angel was a large rock
There were words reading, " your chains have no lock".

Then I saw a bloody sword on the ground
As the angel made earth shattering sounds
Truly baffled, I looked for more clues
Asked I, angel did this mess you choose
I got only icy stare and silence
As my heart went out seeing this violence
How angel was cut up and put in chains
Asked I, angel can this you explain?

Angel then spoke, pray tell, where do I start
Do you not know, I am your blinded heart
Manifestation of your soul within
A shadow of darkness found in most men
You have walked through life too deeply blind
With your selfish love on your dark-set mind
I am chained as is your straying heart
I exist here now lost, all torn apart.

Thus your task is to your own life renew
To free me a complete change you must do
Have you that within you, are you that brave
Will you reform and this angel then save
At this great shock, I went down to my knees
Looking up far beyond cover of trees
I prayed and did so with fearsome might
That this heart and soul could regain true sight.

Those words uttered, were as sprouting seeds
Then came wisdom and light to fill our needs
As the light flashed, wings the angel grew
Flying back came the gold crown justly due
Chains melted off and we were both set free
As heart, soul, and mind could suddenly see
Angel said, now to heaven I return
Because you choose to your former life spurn.

Through the window dawn's soft light drifted in
Eyes opened, was it just a dream then
As I rose, a voice from the outside said
Do not dare, let those lies into your head
I was there and chained but am now free
You were there blinded but now you can see
Today, walk to that place - read that large rock
Dear friend, that is if you can stand the shock.

Robert J. Lindley, June 7th 1990
Narrative- edited august 22nd 2004,
Feb 3rd 2007 and 11-15-2021

Note:
Sometimes , one has to wait to find the right ending
to certain poem fragments.
Especially so with heartfelt narrative poetry…..


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

**********
Note:
Recently some things caused me to remember and then search for and find this very old poem fragment to edited again and finally complete.
I hope you the reader may enjoy it, because some of the journey that brought this now finished piece to life has been real. God bless..

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Of Nature, Desert, Sand And Western Skies

Oh, silence -arid air where thorny cactus grows
Where desolation runs ever so wild
Towering nearby whitecapped mountains of snow
Bless the sweetest innocence of a child.

At dawn, an avalanche of soft golden rays
Promise of a bright new day. Hope begins
With magnificent essence of last night's dream
A strike! Down topples wobbling bowling pins

Oh, flicking tongue slithering across the sands
Promise of heat and sweat, salt oozing skin
Yet beauty lives within these god-forsaken lands
No place for the week, or feeble old men.

At mid-day, even the cactus cries out and droops
As air stands still, baking all to its glee
Marching ants scurry underneath in racing troops
Life seeks shade in ovens of sandy seas.

Oh, beyond the expanse- heavenly shores of green
Where the low hills sing a soft melody
Cowboys vanished, just lonely in this hot scene
Hot rays, heat and thirst makes the threnody.

Oh, silence -arid air where thorny cactus grows
Where desolation runs ever so wild
Towering nearby whitecapped mountains of snow
Bless the sweetest innocence of a child.

Robert J. Lindley, 11-16-2021
Imagism

Note:
Rewrite of an old poem from the early 1980's..


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Cherished Moments Locked In Like Flint

You were my first cup of wine with a kick
As we sat there watching a horror flick
O' but were you not a beautiful sight
And I, wild young I, so lucky that night
Cherished moments locked in like flint
What a world I found, I had not a hint!

Hidden away such a sweet precious truth.
Taste of greatest pleasure found in my youth.

I loved you then and yet do today
I remember all, tho' now old and gray
Thrill of seeing your glamorous long legs
Curves that could make any guy up and beg
Cherished moments locked in like flint
What a world I found, I had not a hint!

Hidden away such a sweet precious truth.
Taste of greatest pleasure found in my youth.

Promise, tonight you will be in my dreams
You with that smile those bluest eyes that gleam
And delicious taste of your hot, hot kiss
For all of the world's gold, I would not miss
Cherished moments locked in like flint
What a world I found, I had not a hint!

Hidden away such a sweet precious truth.
Taste of greatest pleasure found in my youth.

Robert J. Lindley, 11-18-2021
Romanticism

Note:
Such was not a dream, although was so very long ago
that quite often it seems that it was. Young and reckless
I let that treasure slip away. Perhaps for the best, as I was
wild, wild and out for more and more treasure! Youth
its greatest and often its saddest commodity is its abject
and pitiful blindness…..


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

**************************************

New Note: 11-18-2021

This poem was composed long ago- I remembered it,
searched for it to update it and the editing added
came from greater hindsight that the passing decades
have given me. I think it a far better piece with the revisions
that have been added with the benefit of hindsight....

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

From Isolation Into Contemplation Of A Better Tomorrow
Part Two

Spring had come amongst the eager popular trees
he walked the old trail with his arthritic knees,
thinking about ongoing life, wide open plains
angry sky above, promising a flood of rain.

Hearing river, melodic was its soothing roar
if only she was with him, life would be no bore
youth and its glories jumped into weary mind
what today, what little newborn joy could he find?

Then there it was, a boat, his boat long ago lost
there in red letters, "LIVE BEFORE THE KILLING FROST"
found again, after seven long years had flown by
little joy had come- he remembered her blue eyes.

Fleeting tho' it was, for lonely then cried out
fool- remember she is gone roared that loud shout
ahh yes, to eternal grieving self he mused
life relents not, for a spell he was confused.

Reality knocked, saying grandson is gone
how could that you forget, you are always alone
that flooded river, in your lost boat take a ride
stop weeping, childish sorrow I cannot abide.

Robert J. Lindley, 11-20-2021
Narrative

Note-
Part two of a planned 4 part narrative
but hey with the uncertainty of life who knows,
could be cut short or on a mere whim extended until
another storm blows out the near fading lights…..


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Seven Revelations Born From Early Morn's Poetic Thoughts


Life Moving Ever Onward

one broken gold band
empty house, new motorcycle
fast flowing river

Robert J. Lindley, 9-29-2021
haiku


Real, Imagined And Appreciated

dreams of Nature's gifts
golden castle, mountain top
Fall, harvested fields

Robert J. Lindley, 9-22- 2021
haiku


Once When Life Was Simpler

bright shiny penny
pair of shoes, about three bucks
faded memories

Robert J. Lindley, 9-17-2021
haiku


Youth, A Lonely Day And A Wish Once Made

old fence, red robin
summer afternoon sunset
dreaming, future life

Robert J. Lindley, 9-11-2021
haiku


A Sweet Morning Delight

hot coffee and dawn
out the window, mowed lawn
bacon smell, yum yum

Robert J. Lindley, 9-07-2021
haiku


A Small Town View, Time Flows Ever Onward

old cracked sidewalk
summer morning, soft cool wind
weekend looking back

Robert J. Lindley, 9-05-2021
haiku


Sad And Lonesome Scene

old plank, termite holes
farm, old paths to empty pond
dead forest, lost hope

Robert J. Lindley, 9-01- 2021
haiku
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

My first composing again to enter a contest after a long break from doing that.--Tyr



(“Heaven doesn’t ignore cries of a broken heart.”- Toba Beta quote)

Writing, Healing After True Love Lost

Can the heart love again after a true love lost?
Can poetry heal such a tragic, crushing pain?

Across universe, so does this dark storm parade
slashing, challenging mind to its powers defeat
does no good to devise constant clever charade
for real relief never rewards those souls that cheat
yet a measure of joy can come from ink and pen
as heart sincerely speaks, ink to paper sinks in.

Can the heart love again after a true love lost?
Can poetry heal such a tragic, crushing pain?

Such realization from writing a blessing sent
by way of purging out dark to another realm
matters not how ones hurt soul may be torn or rent
a poet steers life's ship as master at its helm
by embracing writing as a new lover's kiss
write, weave joy's blanket to forget love gone amiss.

Can the heart love again after a true love lost?
Can poetry heal such a tragic, crushing pain?

Let spirit this path pursue to a soothing place
by questioning self and how world its losses gives
whenever love has been lost, one must such pain face
writing can be that balm to teach that love forgives
grab paper and pen ink heart and soul to release
if truly sought, the results brings a lasting peace.

Yes, heart can love again after a true love lost!
Yes, poetry can heal such tragic, crushing pain!

Composed, November 22, 2021
Inspired by "W" New Poetry Contest
Theme: Writing
Sponsor: Constance La France


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

From Seed A Promise, Treasures To Flourish On Earth
Blog, On Poetic Contrast, Between Dark And Light
(My two poems composed -one of dark, one of Light.)
(from my new blog)

(1.)

The Horrid Night, The Terrible Nightmare



In a dance of serpents the long fangs drip

poison falling from needle sharp fang tips

chained here in this dark cavern of doom

with just one bite this will become my tomb

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



Seems a dream, ghastly nightmare to endure

I think, tis true my heart is not so pure

but that proves what a weak mortal I be

one like all other, too blinded to see

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



I cringe, three snakes slither over to me

in their cold serpent eyes hunger I see

agonizing with my shivers I wait

powerless, now cast into hands of dark Fate

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



As minutes pass like weeks or painful days

aching brain conjures up some fleeing ways

If I sincerely pray maybe I live

I do, I think what treasures may I give

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



Then from the dark a voice begins to speak

you are man, and man is evil and weak

I the master of fear reign in this dark

here you are like a bare tree with no bark

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



I fought the strong urge to give a reply

I wanted to ask the hidden voice, why

on earth was I in this place brought and bound

in this frightening dark, deep underground

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



How I do not know, the voice heard my mind

saying, I brought you because you are blind

in this cavern, a lesson you must learn

recalling life's warnings you once did spurn

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



It was then I cried, God forgive me

I was truly a lost fool, now I see

Please rescue me from this dark abode

I know now it was my soul I then sold

I now know how I ended up down here,

where my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



I give thanks, that this lost soul you now save!

With your mercy, I leave this self-made grave!



Robert J. Lindley, 11-28-2021

Rhyme (Dark)

*************************

(2.)

From Seed A Promise, Treasures To Flourish On Earth



Seed waits not only for Spring's first shower

but for glorious rays of dawn's first hour

resting 'neath in its comfortable hidden bed

far away from cries of earth's ancient dead!



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.



As world represents its raging black-seas

man exist, victim uttering sad pleas

battles fought, sacrificing flowing red

Alas! But vanity that gifts more dead!



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.



Spring arrives, O' glory- of rising seeds

earthen harvests that many billions feeds

fruits of man's labors, Nature's blessed soil

does soul and body well, labor's hard toil.



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.



Mankind walks onward in its blinded way

amidst darkness, victims to set to pay

forgetting divine gifts, walking dead roads

increasing chained hands, life's heavy loads.



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.



Why mankind seeks sadden hearts, weary hands

one must embrace light's truth to understand

for that is the source of those waiting seeds

healing balm that stops black-rivers that bleed.



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.



Seed waits not only for Spring's first shower

but for glorious rays of dawn's first hour

resting 'neath in its comfortable hidden bed

far away from cries of earth's ancient dead!



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.

Robert J. Lindley, 11-28-2021
Rhyme

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

(3.)
Just found while rummaging thhrough my poems..
I have many poems scattered everywhere,
this just found. Goes with the theme-so I added it here as bonus. -Tyr

Pray A Well Lit Path Be Your Choice

Pray a bright lit path be your choice
Let Dawn sings in its brightest voice
Its rays cast away black of night
Allowing Truth to shine in Light
Basking in that eternal glow
Both blind heart and soul shall then grow.

Pray a blessing soon comes your way
As dark night yields to break of day
Wherein Dawn's glow your heart delights
Hope its power reveals to sight
Songs of better days echo loud
We learn to stand up bold and proud.

Pray your sorrows are washed away
Life renewed destroys the grey
Peace and new cheer are again found
In scourging dark we are not bound
Laughter across the land is heard
And pray, we thank God, is the word.

Pray a bright lit path be your choice
Let Dawn sings in its brightest voice
Its rays cast away black of night
Allowing Truth to shine in Light
Basking in that eternal glow
Both blind heart and soul shall then grow.

Robert J. Lindley, 4-13-2020
Rhyme, ( New Rays Of Hope, Amidst This Doom And Gloom )

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Deep In Newly Disturbed Soil, Lies My True Love

( “Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them” – George Eliot.)

Deep in newly disturbed soil, lies my true love
'neath a canopy of virgin soil and loose rock
where no more glows splattering of earthen blue skies
accursed world can deliver no greater shock.

Remember that prayer gifts hope and hope is key.
For 'tis wise to from encompassing dark to flee.

Beg I, this woesome agony may go away
that life may again thrive and gift its wondrous gifts
shall such a dream ever award this weeping heart
and send light and divine blessings that so uplift.

Remember that prayer gifts hope and hope is key.
For 'tis wise to from encompassing dark to flee.

Now true, this life feels as if all is meaningless
unstoppable torment meant to slay the all of me
in this sad darkness, will salvation ever come
shall this dying man ever again the Light see?

Remember that prayer gifts hope and hope is key.
For 'tis wise to from encompassing dark to flee.

What wonder would such Light this aching soul award
could it be, a sword that cuts through these iron chains
or healing balm to gift me sweet power to sleep,
thus bringing an end to these sorrowful and deep pains?

Remember that prayer gifts hope and hope is key.
For tis wise to from encompassing dark to flee.

Robert J. Lindley,
Original poem first born- May 17th 1974
Edited, April 12-2006, 11-30-2021
Elegy

Note:
(1.) woesome

https://www.collinsdictionary.com/us...nglish/woesome

in British English
('w??f?l) or woesome ('w??s?m)
ADJECTIVE
1. expressing or characterized by sorrow
2. bringing or causing woe
3. pitiful; miserable
a woeful standard of work

**********
Note
https://poets.org/glossary/elegy

(2.) Elegy

Elegy
Explore the glossary of poetic terms.

The elegy is a form of poetry in which the poet or speaker expresses grief, sadness, or loss.

History of the Elegy Form

The elegy began as an ancient Greek metrical form and is traditionally written in response to the death of a person or group. Though similar in function, the elegy is distinct from the epitaph, ode, and eulogy: the epitaph is very brief; the ode solely exalts; and the eulogy is most often written in formal prose.

The elements of a traditional elegy mirror three stages of loss. First, there is a lament, where the speaker expresses grief and sorrow, then praise and admiration of the idealized dead, and finally consolation and solace. These three stages can be seen in W. H. Auden’s classic "In Memory of W. B. Yeats," written for the Irish master, which includes these stanzas:

With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;

In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.

Other well-known elegies include "Fugue of Death" by Paul Celan, written for victims of the Holocaust, and "O Captain! My Captain!" by Walt Whitman, written for President Abraham Lincoln.

Many modern elegies have been written not out of a sense of personal grief, but rather a broad feeling of loss and metaphysical sadness. A famous example is the mournful series of ten poems in Duino Elegies, by German poet Rainer Maria Rilke. The first poem begins:

If I cried out
who would hear me up there
among the angelic orders?
And suppose one suddenly
took me to his heart
I would shrivel

Other works that can be considered elegiac in the broader sense are James Merrill’s monumental The Changing Light at Sandover, Robert Lowell’s "For the Union Dead," Seamus Heaney’s The Haw Lantern, and the work of Czeslaw Milosz, which often laments the modern cruelties he witnessed in Europe.


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Long Ago, Memories Of A Cold Winter Night Conversation

Hebridean isles, once sang to me in a dream,
She her beautiful hair silky, so very long
There rests magnificent treasure few ever find
A good poet would use it to create a song
Not I said lonely starved mouse in the corner
My heart desires warmth and lots of red-wine and cheese
Friend, quiet I let you live so I am not alone
Good sir, be quick and pour us more wine if you please!

What? You plead being tired, so angry at me
Alas! Dare you refuse your master to now serve
It is I that keeps fireplace jolly and roaring
I have noticed lately you have a lot of nerve
You have no gratitude, do I not share my ink
You my good sir, shock me with such an attitude
Do I not share with you my most expensive wine
You raise conceit to a much higher altitude!

Yes, I resent that insolent snide little smirk
Your demeanor has taken on an angry voice
It is as if, you are no longer my good friend
Know you not, a poet 'tis by Fate- not by choice
I will pen some verses of your heroic stand
Alright, stop weeping, my ink and paper will soak
Methinks you have had far too much wine, go to sleep
Tomorrow, we see Hebridean isles, no joke.

Does not such jubilant news cheer your little heart
Friend, did I ever tell you my angel lives there
Confide I this with you because you are a pal
My love, 'tis she with gentle eyes, long silky hair.

Robert J. Lindley, January 4th, 1972
Rhyme

Old Note: Jan 4th 1972
I once lived in an old and sad lonely house
My new friend was an exceptional little mouse
I remember he could sing the sad blues and dance
I now look back, was it a blessing or mere chance?

New Note:
Poem was written as an imaginative piece to explore
the real world experiences of those people that have grown old, outlived so many and experience the lonely life that remains.
Such a person, a friend I knew back then- and yes he was a writer, he was a great story teller. Sadly at age 89 he passed away. I was away out of state when he died. When I used to see him and ask how he was doing he would say- : " Just fine young lad- me and my mouse are always living it up."
That gave me the idea about the conversation with the friendly but sometimes uppity little mouse.


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

***********************

EDIT:

Lindley Avatar
Robert Lindley
Date: 11/30/2021 5:52:00 PM

I do so very much wish that I could give my dear friend's name. But can not do so. He has passed on to his reward and I have not permission to do so. Although I know he would love the poem and surely say yes, it is ok young lad. Mouse and I are living it up- with a never ending supply of red-wine and cheese..

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

With Eternal Sent Bliss Two Hearts Reborn - a collaboration with Susan Ashley


Under the midnight moon, romance waited
its true heart and beauty, with love baited
for dawning gleam across powdered snow
and she her handsome soldier to soon show
for his appearance was far overdue
she could hear his parting words," I love you"
watching the cold street and new snow falling
thought of his not coming appalling
heart and soul with dear memories aching
sounding here and there, icicles breaking
reminding her of coldness of alone
the terrible long years he had been gone!

within Life's hardship, true love truly sworn.
with Eternal sent bliss, two hearts reborn.

God, she prayed as he was overseas
save my prince - award these my heartfelt pleas
his last letter told me he was very near
in it sweet tones, I felt his lonesome tears
I ask his safety be my reward
you know Lord, my life has been very hard
this house and farm has seen much better days
I need my lover, his soft loving ways
I need kisses in midnight escapades
Romeo and Juliet roles played
I place deep faith in my only request
that my dear Samuel be our home's next guest!

within Life's hardship, true love truly sworn.
with Eternal sent bliss, two hearts reborn.

peering through deep darkness, there twin lights shown
my how love's anticipation had grown
heart a'thumping she went to cold front porch
night a'glowing with her true lover's torch
she touching her wide golden wedding band
in the distance across snow splashed land
came a lone car racing towards its goal
it was her man, she knew it in her soul
as she looked up thanking moon above
feeling power of their forever love
Oh Lord, she prayed, please, please let it be
there a'flying, my true lover to me!

within Life's hardship, true love truly sworn.
with Eternal sent bliss, two hearts reborn.

the scene plays out in black and white
a grainy film’s nostalgic mood in moonlight
her flaxen hair the dawn in lantern’s glare
bound in a bun as uptight as her war-wife stare
she steels her spine and hand-cuffs the rail
will her beloved Sam be hearty or frail?
he alights with a limp but his gait elegant
Heaven-sent to banish nights oh so desolate
Army left behind in curvy Forties coupe
one of a tired but triumphant troop
a king welcomed home by his homecoming queen
she toasts the finale of a fervid dream
as sparkle-spills from her lifted true blues
heart’s champagne soothes an embattled bruise –
sorrows of Europe untold the story - waits
as their red rose reblooms with unfolding glory

within Life's hardship, true love truly sworn.
with Eternal sent bliss, two hearts reborn.


Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley

(a collaboration) Rhyme/Romanticism

December 4, 2021

Poet's note:
Susan my dear friend, as always it has been by great honor
to again join pens with you. Letting our pens in unison seek
to elevate our poetry to gift to the readers a composition
that interests, hopeful delights and stirs their hearts,
minds and souls. With your magnificent addition, this poem
was set on a winning path and 'tis always my sweet honor to
to say, I am truly humbled by your finely honed poetic talents.
This poem cries out, that Love triumphs is a treasure gifted unto mankind...
God bless…


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

edit 12-14-2021

This poem was awarded Poem Of The Day...

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Truly Revel In Nature's Gifts And Youth Recall

Rolling hills, wide countryside that gifts truly sends
Majestic sweeping waves into eager spirit
When ones' crushed heart sees, no longer pretends
This awesome landscape, so soothes just to be near it
Miles away, with its whitecapped and glowing crown
Rests a giant, slumbering through to racing ages
To see it brings a smile, washes away a frown
Reminds one of wisdom from the famous sages.

To traverse this in Spring, see its glowing glories
Where mind's eye can absorb magnitude of such
Sets a memory of golden fairytale stories
That spurred sweet childhood dreaming kids love so much.

As bright gold-cast skies above, enhance warming sun
This scene watching Nature its vast glories unfold
I, young child yet again, reveling in great fun
Race back to dear, tender memories when ten years old.

Rolling hills, wide countryside that gifts truly sends
Majestic sweeping waves into eager spirit
When ones' crushed heart sees, no longer pretends
This awesome landscape, so soothes just to be near it.

Robert J. Lindley, 12-12-2021
Ekphrasis, (done for ailing heart-not for any contest )
( A Meadow in the Mountains: Le Mas de Saint-Paul, 1889 by Van Gogh)

************

(1.)
Note:

https://www.vincentvangogh.org/a-mea...-mountains.jsp

A Meadow in the Mountains: Le Mas de Saint-Paul, 1889 by Van Gogh
A Meadow in the Mountains: Le Mas de Saint-Paul, 1889 by Vincent Van Gogh
Courtesy of www.VincentVanGogh.org


A Meadow in the Mountains: Le Mas de Saint-Paul was painted by Van Gogh in 1889 when he entered the asylum of St. Paul near Saint-Remy in Provence. Van Gogh was initially confined to the immediate asylum grounds and painted (without the bars) the world he saw from his room. Soon Van Gogh was allowed to paint in the hospital's garden, and by June was able to leave the hospital, accompanied by an attendant (Jean-Francois Poulet) to paint in the surrounding fields. He was particularly taken with the local landscape, which was his subjects over 150 canvases.

There is great rhythm in this painting that is created through these very precise brushstrokes - every stroke of paint here has a function and builds towards the greater surface pattern across the canvas. His forms are very rounded from the stacks of wheat to the mountains, and this sense of 'roundness' and curvature was something that was characteristic of many of his later works. This painting was done in July 1889, which was when he made his first trip back to Arles from the asylum, and subsequently had his first serious breakdown in Saint-Remy.

(2.)
Note:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Mead..._de_Saint-Paul

A Meadow in the Mountains: Le Mas de Saint-Paul was painted by Vincent van Gogh in December 1889.[1] It depicts fields of young wheat with a background of lilac mountains and yellowish sky.

In May 1889 Van Gogh voluntarily entered the asylum of St. Paul near Saint-Rémy in Provence.[2][3] There Van Gogh had access to an adjacent cell he used as his studio. He was initially confined to the immediate asylum grounds and painted the world he saw from his room, such as ivy covered trees, lilacs, and irises of the garden.[2][4] Van Gogh could also see an enclosed wheat field, subject of many paintings at Saint-Rémy.[5] As he ventured outside the asylum walls he painted the wheat fields, olive groves and cypress trees of the surrounding countryside,[4] which he saw as "characteristic of Provence". Over the course of the year, he painted about 150 canvases.[2]

Van Gogh sent the painting to his brother Theo in 3 January 1890, with an accompanying letter in which he refers to the work as The Fields.[6] It is now held in the Kröller-Müller Museum in the Netherland

(3.)
Note:
ek·phra·sis
/'ekfr?s?s/
Learn to pronounce
noun
the use of detailed description of a work of visual art as a literary device.
"it's not surprising that Hecht, a master of ekphrasis, would include descriptions of visual art"

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Of The Greeks, Olympus, Blindness Of Modern Man

And the modern Gods laugh poisoning wells
While their blinded throngs hide under sad stones
From the deepest pits come magical spells
To birth new sins from which we must atone
Blackness, its powers hold billions as slaves
As this world races towards its near doom
Freed from old chains by sleeping in new graves
We marvel at our spacious new room.

Shall we admit, that the old Gods were right?
Pride, our deep arrogance gifts us with blight!

What say you, of wisdom sent ages ago
Philosophers, artists to this world gave
Does such not deliver truth, yet still glow
Of essays, sermons authors in their graves
Dare we -yet in stone-blindness- we so dare
Ignore with the vanity of lost fools
Toss such treasure away without care
Dance in darken pits, swim in dank cesspools.

Shall we admit, that the old Gods were right?
Pride, our deep arrogance gifts us with blight!

Should this poet wonder, were those Gods fled
Far off realm, a hidden cosmos to reign
After in cruel darkness this world so bled
Leaving we mortals, wallowing in pain
Alas! Such dares not speak about it all
How in abject darkness we bow to greed
Built our tall castles with decaying walls
Because we know our failings, our great needs!

Shall we admit, that the old Gods were right?
Pride, our deep arrogance- gifts us with blight!

Robert J. Lindley, 12-13-2021
Rhyme


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

In It, I Saw Prometheus Chained And Bound


I was reading Salinger's, "Catcher In The Rye"
A follow up from Leo Tolsty's, "War and Peace"
I heard a voice say, "seek wisdom before you die"
Remember this, courage was a mainstay of Greece
And dear ole Mark Twain was himself Huckleberry Finn
Would poets ever give up muse and trusty pens?

I recall a verse from Raven and Master Poe
Mentioning the famous, intriguing, "Nevermore"
Raven's mystery was more than just for dark show
One fathoms, Raven came from abyss full of gore
And our dear ole Poe, his demons so bravely fought
Living twixt Light and Horror his soul firmly caught.

I in my youth, deep in the forest a cave found
In it I saw Prometheus chained and bound
His sorrowing words were, "thus punished I stay"
Never forget that for good deeds one has to pay
Slowly nodding, I raced out into the light
Thanking God to be free under our sun so bright.

That night I wrote a poem titled , "Shoot If You Must"
Dawn's first quaking I saw title was one quite new
It then read, " When Apple Pie Needs A Crusty Crust"
That glittering morn shine on roses is dawn's dew.
Now back to Salinger's book, "Catcher In The Rye"
I heard a voice say, "seek wisdom before you die".

Robert J. Lindley, 12-14-2021
Rhyme,
( " Life but a fleeting blink and a vanishing dream" )

Notes:

(1.)
"The Catcher in the Rye"
https://www.britannica.com/topic/The-Catcher-in-the-Rye

The Catcher in the Rye, novel by J.D. Salinger published in 1951. The novel details two days in the life of 16-year-old Holden Caulfield after he has been expelled from prep school. Confused and disillusioned, Holden searches for truth and rails against the “phoniness” of the adult world. He ends up exhausted and emotionally unstable. The events are related after the fact.

(2.)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_and_Peace
"War and Peace"

War and Peace (Russian: ????? ? ???, romanized: Voyna i mir; pre-reform Russian: ????? ? ????; [v?j'na i 'm?ir]) is a literary work mixed with chapters on history and philosophy by the Russian author Leo Tolstoy, first published serially, then published in its entirety in 1869. It is regarded as one of Tolstoy's finest literary achievements and remains an internationally praised classic of world literature.[1][2][3]

The novel chronicles the French invasion of Russia and the impact of the Napoleonic era on Tsarist society through the stories of five Russian aristocratic families. Portions of an earlier version, titled The Year 1805,[4] were serialized in The Russian Messenger from 1865 to 1867 before the novel was published in its entirety in 1869.[5]

Tolstoy said War and Peace is "not a novel, even less is it a poem, and still less a historical chronicle." Large sections, especially the later chapters, are philosophical discussions rather than narrative.[6] The writer rewrote the novel several times.[7] Tolstoy also said that the best Russian literature does not conform to standards and hence hesitated to call War and Peace a novel. Instead, he regarded Anna Karenina as his first true novel.

(3.)
" Huckleberry Finn"

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Adv...novel-by-Twain
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, also called The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, novel by Mark Twain, published in the United Kingdom in 1884 and in the United States in 1885. The book’s narrator is Huckleberry Finn, a youngster whose artless vernacular speech is admirably adapted to detailed and poetic descriptions of scenes, vivid representations of characters, and narrative renditions that are both broadly comic and subtly ironic

(4.)
"Nevermore"
https://poets.org/poem/raven

( excerpt- from poem's closing stanza )

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

(5.)
" Prometheus"

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Prometheus-Greek-god

The Greek poet Hesiod related two principal legends concerning Prometheus. The first is that Zeus, the chief god, who had been tricked by Prometheus into accepting the bones and fat of sacrifice instead of the meat, hid fire from mortals. Prometheus, however, stole it and returned it to Earth once again. As the price of fire, and as punishment for humankind in general, Zeus created the woman Pandora and sent her down to Epimetheus (Hindsight), who, though warned by Prometheus, married her. Pandora took the great lid off the jar she carried, and evils, hard work, and disease flew out to plague humanity. Hope alone remained within.


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2021