Poetry and Prose for any season

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Tribute Poem, Dedicated To Memory Of Our Loving Father
( 1901- 1968 )

A man of great courage and iron nerve
as a youth into trouble he would swerve
some had called him, brute, rascal or knave
yet none ever stated he was not brave.

With strength God given and proud Southern born.
Always between two worlds his soul was torn.

As a kind and honest man he was tops
a father, a farmer proud of his crops
with labor and sweat falling from his brow
he taught us all, to love, by showing how.

With strength God given and proud Southern born.
Always between two worlds his soul was torn.

Swearing family was Hope and Treasure
gave us love, always in equal measure
made us swear to defend family name
taught us respect, asking only the same.

With strength God given and proud Southern born.
Always between two worlds his soul was torn.

Life had never been easy, nor his friend
he lived it well, right up until the end
as a giant, one we did so admire
a hero, our hopes he did so inspire.

With strength God given and proud Southern born.
Always between two worlds his soul was torn.

When his death came it was in peaceful sleep
pray we safe journey, his soul Heaven keeps
he died on the same day as of his birth
for sixty-eight years, showing us Love's worth.

With strength God given and proud Southern born.
Always between two worlds his soul was torn.

R.J. Lindley, May 27th, 1973
Rhyme, (Dedication to our father)
Note- Our father passed away in 1969 on the morning
of his birth, exactly 68 years old to the day.

Syllables Per Line:
0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 300
Total # Words: 240

Note, today : 9-24-2019 (50 years after father's death..
I have decided to present this poem, taken from my private journal.
Written when I was a mere lad of nineteen years young. Five years after
father's death and during my first year of marriage to my first wife.
Nothing in my life has ever affected or hurt me more than his dying.
I was fifteen years old and to me he was everything. After his death,
I went into a nineteen year long battle against this dark world-
lived a wild youth, fought many, many fights, endured many sorrows
and somehow lived to tell the tale. Now blessed with loving family,
great friends and the blessing of having found poetry to be a true
and marvelous treasure to read, compose and gift to others.

""Et hoc modo orandi, cum vero corde orant,
Caritatem Deus tuus benedixerit mihi omnis longa dies,
Atque divina iura pace locus tuus manum meam navem
Olim te in Caelo, oro te anima mea et lapsum.""


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2019

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Robert J. Lindley, 11-10-2019
Rhyme, ( With imagination, laced in darkness, that life hath a poet shown )
Inspired by Coleridge's famous poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
First poet- poem: of the Second series of poet's tribute poems.
(Five new poets chosen in this Second series.)

Note:
1.
https://www.britannica.com/biography...ylor-Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, (born October 21, 1772, Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, England—died July 25, 1834, Highgate, near London), English lyrical poet, critic, and philosopher. His Lyrical Ballads, written with William Wordsworth, heralded the English Romantic movement, and his Biographia Literaria (1817) is the most significant work of general literary criticism produced in the English Romantic period.
much more at link given...

2.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poe...ylor-coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge is the premier poet-critic of modern English tradition, distinguished for the scope and influence of his thinking about literature as much as for his innovative verse. Active in the wake of the French Revolution as a dissenting pamphleteer and lay preacher, he inspired a brilliant generation of writers and attracted the patronage of progressive men of the rising middle class. As William Wordsworth’s collaborator and constant companion in the formative period of their careers as poets, Coleridge participated in the sea change in English verse associated with Lyrical Ballads (1798). His poems of this period, speculative, meditative, and strangely oracular, put off early readers but survived the doubts of Wordsworth and Robert Southey to become recognized classics of the romantic idiom. much more at link given...

Ten Years Had Raced Into Oblivion's Cup
Second Poets Tribute Series, Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Chained am I, to desolation's huge anchor
on its long black ship, cargo of hate and rancor
yet in spirit oft I roamed blue skies above
and in my fantastic dreams, found I my true love!
Such was a balm that fled when heartache renewed
Could return only when young life was reviewed!

Alas! At night stars dimmed and evil winds blew
midnight hour, I was served bones I could not chew
and a foul drink of bitter regrets and lying
as Fate had set me here, this ship of slow dying!
Such was a dark curse, uttered by her deep hate
For she turned to darkness to then alter my Fate!

Ten years had raced into oblivion's cup
into darkest seas we went, I never gave up
tho' soul had been impaled by poisonous blades
I clung to that romantic love that never fades!
Such as the poets of old sang and wrote about
Looking to the heavens and giving mighty shouts!

Chained was I, to desolation's huge anchor
on its long black ship, cargo of hate and rancor
yet in spirit oft I roamed blue skies above
and in my fantastic dreams, found I my true love!
Such was a balm that fled when heartache renewed
Could return only when young life was reviewed!

Robert J. Lindley, 11-10-2019
Rhyme, ( With imagination, laced in darkness, that life hath a poet shown )
Inspired by Samuel Taylor Coleridge's famous poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner First poet- poem: of the Second series of poet's tribute poems.
(Five new poets chosen in this Second series.)

Note:
1.
https://www.britannica.com/biography...ylor-Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, (born October 21, 1772, Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, England—died July 25, 1834, Highgate, near London), English lyrical poet, critic, and philosopher. His Lyrical Ballads, written with William Wordsworth, heralded the English Romantic movement, and his Biographia Literaria (1817) is the most significant work of general literary criticism produced in the English Romantic period.
much more at link given...
samuel-taylor-coleridge

2.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poe...ylor-coleridge
Samuel Taylor Coleridge is the premier poet-critic of modern English tradition, distinguished for the scope and influence of his thinking about literature as much as for his innovative verse. Active in the wake of the French Revolution as a dissenting pamphleteer and lay preacher, he inspired a brilliant generation of writers and attracted the patronage of progressive men of the rising middle class. As William Wordsworth’s collaborator and constant companion in the formative period of their careers as poets, Coleridge participated in the sea change in English verse associated with Lyrical Ballads (1798). His poems of this period, speculative, meditative, and strangely oracular, put off early readers but survived the doubts of Wordsworth and Robert Southey to become recognized classics of the romantic idiom.

Coleridge renounced poetic vocation in his thirtieth year and set out to define and defend the art as a practicing critic. His promotion of Wordsworth’s verse, a landmark of English literary response, proceeded in tandem with a general investigation of epistemology and metaphysics. Coleridge was preeminently responsible for importing the new German critical philosophy of Immanuel Kant and Friedrich von Schelling; his associated discussion of imagination remains a fixture of institutional criticism while his occasional notations on language proved seminal for the foundation and development of Cambridge English in the 1920s. In his distinction between culture and civilization Coleridge supplied means for a critique of the utilitarian state, which has been continued in our own time. And in his late theological writing he provided principles for reform in the Church of England. Coleridge’s various and imposing achievement, a cornerstone of modern English culture, remains an incomparable source of informed reflection on the brave new world whose birth pangs he attended.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born on October 21, 1772 in the remote Devon village of Ottery St. Mary, the tenth and youngest child of Ann Bowdon Coleridge and John Coleridge, a school-master and vicar whom he was said to resemble physically as well as mentally. In vivid letters recounting his early years he describes himself as “a genuine Sans culotte, my veins uncontaminated with one drop of Gentility.” The childhood of isolation and self-absorption which Coleridge describes in these letters has more to do, on his own telling, with his position in the family. Feelings of anomie, unworthiness, and incapacity persisted throughout a life of often compulsive dependency on others.

A reader seemingly by instinct, Coleridge grew up surrounded by books at school, at home, and in his aunt’s shop. The dreamy child’s imagination was nourished by his father’s tales of the planets and stars and enlarged by constant reading. Through this, “my mind had been habituated to the Vast—& I never regarded my senses in any way as the criteria of my belief. I regulated all my creeds by my conceptions not by my sight—even at that age.” Romances and fairy tales instilled in him a feeling of “the Great” and “the Whole.” It was a lesson he never forgot. Experience he always regarded as a matter of whole and integrated response, not of particular sensations. Resolving conflicted feelings into whole response occupies much of his best verse, and his developed philosophical synthesis represents a comparable effort of resolution.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

O' Destiny Why Did Thy Fatal Blow Come?

Within midnight's pallid moonlight
Glows that sad heart boldly demand
Memories of that fateful night
And loss of a true angel's hands
O' destiny why did thy fatal blow come?

Within her love, lay paradise
Sensual appetites and more
Kisses that did more than suffice
To leave me begging for much more
O' destiny why did thy fatal blow come?

Within this world, misery ebbs
Huge waves crash and massive tides turn
Like flies in hungry spider's web
Fate cries, victims get what they earn
O' destiny why did thy fatal blow come?

Within dreams reality denies
Dance nights that lovers truly miss
Beddings, and yellow moonlit skies
Before hearing snake's deadly hiss
O' destiny why did thy fatal blow come?

Within life that sorrows now infect
Love's past memories sustain
Briefest moments to this reflect
How I shall not kiss you again
O' destiny why did thy fatal blow come?

R.J. Lindley, April 12th 1977, December 11th, 2019
Romanticism/Rhyme, ( When Sorrows Flood Like A Swollen River )

Note: Another poem fragment completed today.
Perhaps this Christmas season I may be able to do many.
A blessing if that is gifted me.....

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2019

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

Abbey thank you for the information given in your post my friend.. I will check out that poet tomorrow.
It does seem to me that I've came across her name before..
During my past research on my famous female poets dedication series....

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

As Blacken Monsters Paint Themselves As Glowing White,
Dedicated to, Ghost Writer

As darkness wields its deep slashing demonic blades,
sanity seems to be malignant tour de force,
corruption flows along hiding in wicked shades
as malicious malady on a tragic course!

One must hold steady if life is true to liven.
For we face truth, if sin is to be forgiven.

As evil dances in its guises and parades
slicing innocent hearts to laugh and watch them bleed,
from black abyss, spring such malevolent charades
beastly feedings to sate arrogant selfish needs!

One must hold steady if life is true to liven.
For we face truth, if sin is to be forgiven.

As blacken monsters paint themselves as glowing white
and too many simply refuse to this farce see,
do we flee, abandon others to hidden blight
does land race away from the waves of crashing sea?

One must hold steady if life is true to liven.
For we face truth, if sin is to be forgiven.

As life, its beauty, its sweet treasures offer up
and our deepest hope and dear dreams are ours to keep,
dare we in defiance, from adversity sup
or silently yield to darkness, too scared to sleep?

One must hold steady if life is true to liven.
For we face truth, if sin is to be forgiven.

Robert J. Lindley, 2-10-2020
Rhyme, Dedication poem
( A Poetic Answer To Greg Barden's Poem, ("Ghost Writer")

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2020

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

The Nightmare And The Chaos Raven Sent Into Poe's Poetic World

Waking into delusions of long dead rainbows and slow dying clouds
hard fallen mountains, enchanted winds and long black veiled shrouds
echoes of vanity, time that spawned whimpers of daring deceits
ice castles in deserts of despair, stone sandals on thorny bled feet.

Wherein lies fantasy, audacity of damnation and epic defeat
spilled blood and prophecy by ghosts of favors that lie to cheat
weeping dawns, roosters whispering beyond midnight cuts and cries
O' graveyard shadow, why beg to dance below saddened moonlit skies?

Days gasping into rivers of destruction and great clawed beasts
sunsets eating into valleys hiding banquets of fresh blood feasts
Alas! Shall ever those accursed verses of Poe this lost soul feel
or horror from agonizing loss as Love from heart burns to steal?

Pregnant pause, shrieks of arrogance and golden follies of mankind
circles of smoke and eternity within galaxies of devilish minds
ancient such wanderings into forbidden realms and Raven's abode
seas of lonely and the travesties of stories never to be told!

Waking into delusions of dead rainbows and slow dying clouds
Wherein lies fantasy, audacity of damnation and epic defeat
Days gasping into rivers of destruction and great clawed beasts
Pregnant pause, shrieks of arrogance and golden follies of mankind!

R.J. Lindley,
Dark Rhyme, Nov-3rd 1974
(Tribute To Poe And His Many Magnificent Dark Poems )
Beyond the curve of Time, Space and Lost Horizon


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2020

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Robert J. Lindley, 6-28-2020
Rhyme Dark, A bold look inward..
( On the inner ponderings of the human soul
and life's many paths taken )

Note One:
I would like to thank my friend, Lawrence Sharp
and his poem titled, "Of Myth And More Or Less"
for its seeding my brief ryhming comment made
to and about that fine poem. To which the idea
and continued inspiration later gave birth to
this new creation and my great pleasure in setting
the composing task to meet a hard criteria while
staying as much possible within the concept that
his poem revealed to me...

Note Two:
This poem was composed with these set restrictions
Three stanzas, each stanza eight verses, each
stanza exactly 60 words, each a total of 80 syllables.
Each stanza to be able to be a stand alone dark poem,
were that a choice made. In this case it was not.
This goal, this puzzle was met and a true joy it was
to complete the task.

Each stanza
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables:80
Total # Words:60

Total
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables:240
Total # Words:180

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That Which Held Me In A Magical Spell

That which held me in a magical spell
Dark, its winding infinity and heart
Its red beach, covered in sad broken shells
Shreds of humanity once torn apart.
Within hard gaping gasps and stormy sea.
Beauty once trampled in mad haste and greed
Else sadden look at folly within me
Why on our own swords we oft fall and bleed!

Deep thoughts and those silent murmurs in life
Echoes of cavernous pains, woe'some woes
Memories dredged up by dire worldly strife
So well hidden that no fear ever shows.
Mortal wondering, malevolent things
Deep sorrows and aches they come and they go
Weak flesh blundering(s), as a dark star sings
Each a dead corpse as lost and blind we row!

That which set me in a revolving maze
Phantasms of meanderings through deep hell
Gasping fears brought on by insipid craze
To search those nightmares we should never tell.
LO! Dare we unsavory black explore
Dawn armor to such inner sanctums raid
Seek long sought answers while we ask no more
Than devil's touch and the cut of his blades?

Robert J. Lindley, 6-28-2020
Rhyme Dark, A bold look inward..
( On the inner ponderings of the human soul
and life's many paths taken )


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2020

I rose this morn, having no intention to compose a poetic word today.
In fact, I had intended to not write but just read. And in my very first reading, a poem by
one of my friends and former collaborator inspired me to reply to and about his poem.
From that on the spot quick reply(of 8 rhyming verses) a seed that germinated and brought forth the new
poem written just this morn. Such to a poet is a blessing and in my mind one
should always notify the poet that their poem inspired the creation of another poem.
Thus I did so, and asked permission to state the facts of how my new poem came to be.
He agreed and I presented the new poem this morn at my home poetry site.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

I rose this morn, having no intention to compose a poetic word today.
In fact, I had intended to not write but just read. And in my very first reading, a poem by
one of my friends and former collaborator inspired me to reply to and about his poem.
From that on the spot quick reply(of 8 rhyming verses) a seed that germinated and brought forth the new
poem written just this morn. Such to a poet is a blessing and in my mind one
should always notify the poet that their poem inspired the creation of another poem.
Thus I did so, and asked permission to state the facts of how my new poem came to be.
He agreed and I presented the new poem this morn at my home poetry site.

I was given notice that today this poem was awarded "Poem Of The Day" at my home poetry site.-Tyr




That Which Held Me In A Magical Spell

That which held me in a magical spell
Dark, its winding infinity and heart
Its red beach, covered in sad broken shells
Shreds of humanity once torn apart.
Within hard gaping gasps and stormy sea.
Beauty once trampled in mad haste and greed
Else sadden look at folly within me
Why on our own swords we oft fall and bleed!

Deep thoughts and those silent murmurs in life
Echoes of cavernous pains, woe'some woes
Memories dredged up by dire worldly strife
So well hidden that no fear ever shows.
Mortal wondering, malevolent things
Deep sorrows and aches they come and they go
Weak flesh blundering(s), as a dark star sings
Each a dead corpse as lost and blind we row!

That which set me in a revolving maze
Phantasms of meanderings through deep hell
Gasping fears brought on by insipid craze
To search those nightmares we should never tell.
LO! Dare we unsavory black explore
Dawn armor to such inner sanctums raid
Seek long sought answers while we ask no more
Than devil's touch and the cut of his blades?

Robert J. Lindley, 6-28-2020
Rhyme Dark, A bold look inward..
( On the inner ponderings of the human soul
and life's many paths taken )


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2020


EDIT. Has since also been Awarded, Poem of the Week...

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Into That Realm Where Sadness Can Not Play

He was so tired, he had lived his long life,
knowing Time wields its long razor sharp knife
stabbing, stabbing, ever in its blade goes
until death comes, ending all that one knows
In his final hours, heart and soul recalls,
life, its many treasures, its golden balls
love, her touch, her beauty truly divine
romance, and all that life's true joy defines.

He walked down many a dusty road,
seeking truth, to lighten life's heavy loads
having found peace, within her loving arms
blessed to be willing slave to her charms
That sad night, he gazed at Heaven above
wanting to tell her of his faithful love
with sad tear-filled blue eyes, out loud he cried
she was my true love, my all that hath died.

He looked up at a pale, ghastly new moon
shouting - come, come death you are not too soon
let your crimson sword, willing soul destroy
I that feared your final touch since a boy
no longer seek to avoid that last breath
release me, that I may join her in death
I dare'st thy touch to this old soul here take
for her sweet touch, this life I now forsake.

Soft wind rose, its hands did spirit embrace
his dying heart, as bright smile lit his face
then down she came, to escort him away
into that realm where sadness can not play
his dear departed wife, her touch so soft
then night low moaned, as two lights went aloft
he that no longer grieved having found peace
accepted death's blade and its sweet release.

R.J. Lindley, 9-14- 1978, edited 6-09-2020,
8-19-2020
Rhyme, ( Wherein Life And Love Are Joined Forever )

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2020