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  1. #211
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    Prose written by Carrie Richards..
    Usually I am not that big on prose but sometimes I find awesome renderings that impress me..
    This is one that did that.. And struck me also because we have a fiery Kathleen here that strikes me as
    an exceptional person!-Tyr



    Lady Kathleen


    She pours the brewed, hot cup of tea, as we relax here in the shade
    Honeysuckle vines encircle the posts, of the old screened porch
    Webs of daddy long-legs, glisten in the afternoon light, and I listen, intensely
    while she nonchalantly chatters, telling me stories,..as if they were ordinary tales

    True life adventures, that I can't imagine, but yes......they are real

    She crossed an ocean, saw war, in action,
    A life of adventure, of hardship, of courage, of fear
    Yet, nothing revealed, to hint of the years
    that have weathered her crinkles nor dampened her cheer

    Inside the house, the counter is a clutter, piled high with dishes
    The old floor is sticky, and dog hair floats in prisms of light
    One old hound sleeps in the middle of the worn kitchen rug.
    Another lame Labrador laps water from a pie tin,
    dripping water from his sloppy face across the peeling checkered floor.

    Throughout the house, a lingering musky smell of well loved pets,
    and a stale, smoky odor of burnt toast from her attempt at breakfast.
    Servants, cooks, gardeners, part of a long ago past.
    The house is filled with dust covered, belongings
    History fills each corner to mingle, along with the dust motes that linger in air

    Junk mail, newspapers, dog treats, documents and clippings
    prized antiques and artifacts, ......just facts of life, from how she sees them

    On every shelf, and on the walls, are sepia-hued photographs
    Famous faces I have seen, on the news, and on the screen

    A handsome young man, and she was his bride
    A commander when the world took sides
    She followed him to the ends of the earth.
    And soon will gladly follow him to the grave

    I sit here now,...with this woman of many lives.
    Like one of the flowers on her porch, she wears a tattered, splattered dress.
    Today, she is a homespun, country widow.
    An extraordinary woman, this grand Duchess,
    yet now who bears traits of Ma Kettle
    She brought class, dignity, and a wealth of knowledge
    to our small country neighborhood,....... to my life.
    Here we are, together, so far from the world she once knew.
    We sit in the shade of her covered porch
    A long haired, grey cat jumps into her lap.
    Under the veil of a summer day
    I pour her another cup of tea, and a little more for myself.
    Tea is served, flavored with lemon....I have much more to drink in.....to savor.


    __________________________________________________ ______
    A True Character....dear /Friend/and Neighbor (Kathleen Maitland) now deceased
    Whose husband was an aviation pioneer
    The most amazing couple I have ever known
    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lester_J._Maitland
    Revised 10/21/14 For Guatami's Contest: Sketch a Character
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  3. #212
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    Death, You Do Not Win


    The world has been unkind to me
    yet there's no where, no where to flee.
    I'll sit and take it if I must
    for all return to earthly dust.

    To cry will do no worldly good.
    Defy with spirit, as I should.
    A loss that cannot be replaced
    yet life must once again be faced.

    So here I sit and wonder how
    to stop the gloom which eats me now.
    Can it be slain with greater love
    or only healed by God above?

    Once, anger always worked for me
    but now, this time decides to flee.
    Yet I seek not its quick return
    true folly that my Soul shall spurn!


    Robert J. Lindley, 10-05-2014

    Note : Contest
    Giorgio A. V.
    Contest Name Structured forms - Iambic verse III
    You may select between Iambic tetrameter, pentameter, hexameter, heptameter (quatorzain), royal rhyme, blank verse and decapentasyllabic verse. Poems composed with different Iambic forms are accepted as well. Just specify the Iambic forms you have used, beneath the poem.

    Form chosen , Iambic tetrameter.
    CONTEST NOW JUDGED

    This poem written in Iambic tetrameter took third place. After reading the first and second place poems I agree with that result.
    I judged those better myself. Third place is great when considering the quantity and caliber of the poets that wrote for the Top-gun Poetry Contest. A great many are already published poets...
    I am especially happy this write placed so high in the contest as it was about the death of my brother-in-law recently.
    I usually do not care to do Iambic verse as I favor a less structured approach.
    One that gives the writer more leeway to express their message. --TYR
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  5. #213
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    This was written by my 16 year old just after her Uncle passed and his best friend was drowning in his hurt with alcohol.
    Love this kid.


    Stay Awake, Poetry by Veronica

    I would pay a thousand prices for honesty
    Give everything to have you see
    That the appropriate response
    Is not to dig your own grave with the same shovel

    Yes, it's true, and I'm sorry
    He's gone, and it hurts
    More than the Little Monster
    Digging itself into your torso
    Facing Little Monster is hard
    Fighting is beyond your capacity
    Giving in to Numbness
    Is brief sweet serenity
    Numb only holds for so long
    And when Numb gives out
    It hurts worse than it ever had before
    Little Monster gnawing away
    Soon you become so lost in being Numb
    That Little Monster uses Numb as a blindfold
    Traps you in it, wraps you in it
    Salvation is a cage
    To ignore your cage
    You burrow deeper into Numb
    Your blindfold is thickened
    Web spins tighter, and you gave it the silk
    But something inside is screaming
    Little Memories are screaming their names and their stories
    Even though some of the Voices are too shrill, and too new, and they hurt
    You smile despite yourself
    A switch flips, and you remember your existence beyond Numb
    Wriggling, you fight
    Grasping you begin to claw your way out
    But the climb is harder
    Climbing takes more than you think you have to give
    Little Memories screaming in your ear,
    Little Monster babies biting at your will
    But you fight
    You fight and you fall because that's HOW YOU DO IT
    You WILL slip, but the part about slipping is that
    It's NOT another fall
    Unless you let it be
    YOU choose whether or not to fall back into the silken dream of Numb
    YOU make the world around you
    Make an upward climb level
    And teach Little Memories to SING
    Don't beat your Memories down for hurting you
    Accept the hurt as another part of happiness
    Don't lock yourself away from Numb
    Accept Numb as a part of Awake
    Don't let go
    Make peace
    Don't fall deep into Numb for someone who left
    Stay Awake for the people they've left here
    Numbness is only a day
    Waking is an eternity
    Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.” —. Morticia Addams


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  7. #214
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    Quote Originally Posted by NT'sGirl View Post
    This was written by my 16 year old just after her Uncle passed and his best friend was drowning in his hurt with alcohol.
    Love this kid.


    Stay Awake, Poetry by Veronica

    I would pay a thousand prices for honesty
    Give everything to have you see
    That the appropriate response
    Is not to dig your own grave with the same shovel

    Yes, it's true, and I'm sorry
    He's gone, and it hurts
    More than the Little Monster
    Digging itself into your torso
    Facing Little Monster is hard
    Fighting is beyond your capacity
    Giving in to Numbness
    Is brief sweet serenity
    Numb only holds for so long
    And when Numb gives out
    It hurts worse than it ever had before
    Little Monster gnawing away
    Soon you become so lost in being Numb
    That Little Monster uses Numb as a blindfold
    Traps you in it, wraps you in it
    Salvation is a cage
    To ignore your cage
    You burrow deeper into Numb
    Your blindfold is thickened
    Web spins tighter, and you gave it the silk
    But something inside is screaming
    Little Memories are screaming their names and their stories
    Even though some of the Voices are too shrill, and too new, and they hurt
    You smile despite yourself
    A switch flips, and you remember your existence beyond Numb
    Wriggling, you fight
    Grasping you begin to claw your way out
    But the climb is harder
    Climbing takes more than you think you have to give
    Little Memories screaming in your ear,
    Little Monster babies biting at your will
    But you fight
    You fight and you fall because that's HOW YOU DO IT
    You WILL slip, but the part about slipping is that
    It's NOT another fall
    Unless you let it be
    YOU choose whether or not to fall back into the silken dream of Numb
    YOU make the world around you
    Make an upward climb level
    And teach Little Memories to SING
    Don't beat your Memories down for hurting you
    Accept the hurt as another part of happiness
    Don't lock yourself away from Numb
    Accept Numb as a part of Awake
    Don't let go
    Make peace
    Don't fall deep into Numb for someone who left
    Stay Awake for the people they've left here
    Numbness is only a day
    Waking is an eternity
    A truly impressive write for a teenage. Actually it is an impressive write were she an adult IMHO.
    She should be encouraged to write and to write more..
    Her talent is there and all it needs is nurturing , time and experience...
    I suggest that she perhaps she consider joining a poetry site and submit here work. A good one will give great educational feedback and experience! -Tyr
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  9. #215
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    Lord Byron Biography

    Poet, Playwright (1788–1824)
    Quick Facts
    Name Lord Byron Occupation Poet, Playwright Birth Date January 22, 1788 Death Date April 19, 1824 Place of Birth London, England, United Kingdom Place of Death Messolonghi, Greece AKA George Gordon Byron Lord Byron 6th Baron Byron Full Name George Gordon Noel Byron


    Lord Byron is regarded as one of the greatest British poets and is best known for his amorous lifestyle and his brilliant use of the English language.
    1 of 5 quotes
    “Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure.”

    —Lord Byron

    Synopsis

    Born in 1788, Lord Byron was one of the leading figures of the Romantic Movement in early 19th century England. The notoriety of his sexual escapades is surpassed only by the beauty and brilliance of his writings. After leading an unconventional lifestyle and producing a massive amount of emotion-stirring literary works, Byron died at a young age in Greece pursuing romantic adventures of heroism.


    Early Life

    Born George Gordon Noel Byron on January 22, 1788, Lord Byron was the sixth Baron Byron of a rapidly fading aristocratic family. A clubfoot from birth left him self-conscious most of his life. As a boy, young George endured a father who abandoned him, a schizophrenic mother and a nurse who abused him. As a result he lacked discipline and a sense of moderation, traits he held on to his entire life.

    In 1798, at age 10, George inherited the title of his great-uncle, William Byron, and was officially recognized as Lord Byron. Two years later, he attended Harrow School in London, where he experienced his first sexual encounters with males and females. In 1803, Byron fell deeply in love with his distant cousin, Mary Chaworth, and this unrequited passion found expression in several poems, including "Hills of Annesley" and "The Adieu."

    From 1805 to 1808, Byron attended Trinity College intermittently, engaged in many sexual escapades and fell deep into debt. During this time, he found diversion from school and partying with boxing, horse riding and gambling. In June 1807, he formed an enduring friendship with John Cam Hobhouse and was initiated into liberal politics, joining the Cambridge Whig Club.


    Early Travel and Writing

    After receiving a scathing review of his first volume of poetry, Hours of Idleness, in 1808, Byron retaliated with the satirical poem "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers." The poem attacked the literary community with wit and satire, and gained him his first literary recognition. Upon turning 21, Byron took his seat in the House of Lords. A year later, with John Hobhouse, he embarked on a grand tour through the Mediterranean Sea and began writing "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," a poem of a young man's reflections on travel in foreign lands.

    In July 1811, Byron returned to London after the death of his mother, and in spite of all her failings, her passing plunged him into a deep mourning. High praise by London society pulled him out of his doldrums, as did a series of love affairs, first with the passionate and eccentric Lady Caroline Lamb, who described Byron as "mad, bad and dangerous to know," and then with Lady Oxford, who encouraged Byron's radicalism. Then, in the summer of 1813, Byron apparently entered into an intimate relationship with his half sister, Augusta, now married. The tumult and guilt he experienced as a result of these love affairs were reflected in a series of dark and repentant poems, "The Giaour," "The Bride of Abydos" and "The Corsair."

    In September 1814, seeking to escape the pressures of his amorous entanglements, Byron proposed to the educated and intellectual Anne Isabella Milbanke (also known as Annabella Milbanke). They married in January 1815, and in December of that year, their daughter, Augusta Ada, better known as Ada Lovelace, was born. However, by January the ill-fated union crumbled, and Annabella left Byron amid his drinking, increased debt, and rumors of his relations with his half sister and of his bisexuality. He never saw his wife or daughter again.

    more at
    He interests me because he was strong in intellect but so very weak in virtue. Yielded to his carnal desires with abandon and so often said, "to hell with the world and its values". I myself, went thru a long period like that and wrote during that many years long period over 25 short stories and about 340 poems.. Most deliberately destroyed by a very vindictive ex-wife that refused to give them back to me unless I remarry her. I refused, she burned them. Stone cold fox or not I simply could not stay with her and her drug addiction. -Tyr
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  11. #216
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    Climbing That Hill

    Slowly I climbed that silent hill
    just to sit in solitary thought
    Desperation fights against my will
    destroying all the mercies bought

    As I crest that hill to summit high
    a calm feeling washes all over me
    No more shall I seek mercy to buy
    it has been sent in all that I see

    A stand of mighty oaks looming tall
    so many birds singing all around
    This majestic wonder gifted to us all
    Nature's blessings so eagerly found

    Whip-poor-wills singing to early morn
    hidden so cleverly on the wet ground
    I muse, happy just to have been born
    paying homage with such loving sound

    Robert J. Lindley

    --------------------------------------------------------

    This poem was written many decades ago but only recently submitted into a Poetry contest
    --Theme was Solitude and Awakenings..

    It took 8th place in a very stiff competition and yes I think after reading the other entries
    It should have placed no less than second or third place. However placing in the top ten in that
    competition is an honor..
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  13. #217
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    Read this and it was so funny I just had to post it..
    A post and commentary from a poetry critics site.. --Tyr




    "Can Poetry Matter?"
    by
    Stephen Dobyns

    Heart feels the time has come to compose lyric poetry.
    No more storytelling for him. Oh, Moon, Heart writes,
    sad wafer of the heart's distress. and then: Oh, Moon,
    bright cracker of the heart's pleasure. Which is it,
    is the moon happy or sad, cracker or wafer? He looks
    from the window but the night is overcast. Oh, Cloud,
    he writes, moody veil of the Moon's distress. And then,
    Oh, Cloud, sweet scarf of the Moon's repose. Once more
    Heart asks, Are clouds kindly or a bother, is the moon sad
    or at rest? He calls scientists who tell him that the moon
    is a dead piece of rock. He calls astrologers. One says
    the moon means water. Another that it signifies oblivion.
    The girl next door says the Moon means love. The nut
    up the block says it proves Satan has us under his thumb.
    Heart goes back to his notebooks. Oh, Moon,, he writes,
    confusing orb meaning one thing or another. Heat feels
    that his words lack conviction. Then he hits on a solution.
    Oh, Moon, immense hyena of introverted motorboat.
    Oh, Moon, upside down lamppost of barbershop quartet.
    Heart takes his lines to a critic who tells him that the poet
    is recounting a time as a toddler when he saw his father
    kissing the baby-sitter at the family's cottage on a lake.
    Obviously, the poem explains the poet's fear of water.
    Heart is ecstatic. He rushes home to continue writing.
    Oh, Cloud, raccoon cadaver of colored crayon, angel spittle
    recast as foggy euphoria. Heart is swept up by the passion
    of composition. Freed from the responsibility of content,
    no nuance of nonsense can be denied him. Soon his poems
    appear everywhere, while the critic writes essays elucidating
    Heart's meaning. Jointly they form a sausage factory of poetry:
    Heart supplying the pig snouts and rectal tissue of language
    which the critic encloses in a thin membrane of explication.
    Lyric poetry means teamwork, thinks Heart: a hog farm,
    corn field, and two old dobbins pulling a buckboard of song.

    (from Pallbearers Envying the One Who Rides, 1999)


    "Poetry is not a code to be broken but a way of seeing with the eyes shut." -- Linda Pastan
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  15. #218
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    Wrote this early this morn. And yes, I did see the humor in it now but it was also a damn rough young life too.
    Hope it brings a smile to somebody. As even I got a laugh out of my early ten bitching about chores..
    Life, if we didn't laugh about much of it we would have to cry more!--Tyr


    Sawing Firewood For My Dad, Again

    "Saw them logs boys, saw them logs
    heat for the kitchen, heat for the halls
    Winter is going to be so very cold,
    so get it done before we all grow old."

    Boys, don't gripe, somebody got to do it
    so hurry up and get right on to it
    Winter is coming on and lickety-split
    we need that firewoood before it hits

    Early morning hours before going to school
    sawing damn firewood, sure wasn't cool
    Getting tired and sweaty wasn't any fun
    stacking newly cut firewood by the ton!

    A boy of fourteen truly does not care
    to pull a damn crosscut saw anywhere
    If his washing dishes wasn't bad enough
    now this job, it was sho' nuff tough

    Working two hours before school was bad
    four more after school made one really mad
    Curse this damn wood and this damn life
    hickory ain't butter, this saw aint a knife!

    Someday, I'll get a real fine job then
    get myself rich like so many other men
    Fancy myself with riches and a beautiful wife
    curse this damn wood and this damn life

    "Saw them logs boys, saw them logs
    heat for the kitchen, heat for the halls
    Winter is going to be so very cold,
    so get it done before we all grow old."

    Stop yelling, we sawing to beat the band
    want any better, get another slaving hand
    We cut and stack this crap all the time
    pay is lousy, not even one thin dime

    Big bro' pulling on the saw's other end
    laughing at me , with that damn silly grin
    "Little bro', stop bitching you're wasting spit
    nothing to change so lets get on with it."

    Another one, urging me to be a working fool
    when grown man I'll be nobody's damn tool
    Gonna get me that money and a life of ease
    lay about, do just as I damn well please!

    "Saw them logs boys, saw them logs
    heat for the kitchen, heat for the halls
    Winter is going to be so very cold,
    so get it done before we all grow old."

    Early morning hours before going to school
    sawing damn firewood, sure wasn't cool
    Getting tired and sweaty wasn't any fun
    stacking newly cut firewood by the ton!

    Robert J. Lindley, 11-09-2014

    note: Special thanks to my friend Sara Kendrick for this concept
    and inspiration. Inspired by her new contest theme....
    Written about my young life and some of its hardships.
    Usually writing a sonnet comes so easily to me but when starting
    this write this blew right on out of me. Definitely not
    a sonnet as was her contest requirement , so its not an entry in
    that competition.
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 11-09-2014 at 12:07 PM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  17. #219
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    Had time to write for another contest..
    This dark poem warns of living with abandon and embracing a lustful life ....


    Plea From A Dark Soul


    Weep not in the sun for me
    my wasted life spent in vain
    by death I did flee,
    all but my shadow dwelt in pain

    Utter not proud words for me
    years of drunken whoring feasts
    by death I did flee,
    feeling no love, set loose my beasts

    Deny not the fate I did earn
    in my own just Hell to endure
    by death I so return,
    leaving a black heart so impure

    Cry not over my burial urn
    my deeds harvested bitter fruits
    by death I so return,
    to anguish in my dark roots!

    Robert J. Lindley 11-09-2014

    note: Written from a dream, rather a nightmare
    that I had recently. As the darkness closed in the
    screams grew louder, the pain stronger and the heartaches
    shouted for more agony.. Singe this sinner's hide with pain
    that makes the angels cry..
    A voice speaks out, tis only the start , we have ages and ages to increase
    the torment and pain.
    Time serves us this sweet delight , this lost soul now lives within our eternal night!
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  19. #220
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    Mermaids - Poetry Contest


    Sponsor Suzanne Delaney
    Contest Name Mermaids
    Enter Poetry Contest
    Deadline 6/30/2014 12:00:00 AM
    Note From Sponsor No updates yet...
    Contest Description
    Mermaids are celebrated in verse and art from time immemorial. For this contest I want to hear your stories…. in a poetic form that weaves the most magical tale about these alluring creatures with a fantastic fish tail. What to Submit?

    You can use the first person and become a mermaid

    The Mermaid
    by Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1809-92

    'Who would be a mermaidfair,
    singing alone, combing her hair,
    Under the sea, in a golden curl,
    with a comb of pearl,
    On a throne?

    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    My entry.. Tis' not easy to write in poetic narrative form...I took this one on as a challenge and it came out well. Taking 4th place in such a stiff contest with so very many entries by published poets was indeed a great honor.. And on my first attempt at this narrative form no less..


    The Mermaid's Rescue

    A lost and lone survivor of a sunken warship
    back into conciousness the sailor finally did slip
    All alone in the vast, vast empty water prairie
    fleeting thoughts of home and his sweet Marie!

    Hazy, crazy thoughts swirled in his aching head
    had he not drowned , O' why was he not dead
    Memories of being saved by an unseen guiding force
    O' but what a song , what a beautiful angelic voice!

    Visions soon appeared for his mind's eye to see
    of a beautiful creature rising to his rescue pleas
    Hair of radiant gold lying lovingly upon breasts bare
    a swimming angel appeared ever so swiftly there!

    Now waking upon this small and desolate rock
    feverish and deep in the throes of a tragic shock
    Suddenly hearing voice began to softly, sweetly sing
    his spirit , soul healed so quickly that voice did bring!

    Searching eagerly across the shining ocean's waves
    for a mysterious hero that did desperate lives save
    A wished for vision soon appeared at the water's edge
    a mere dozen feet from the jutting rock's lower ledge!

    The same beautiful face he saw in his vision's haze
    the magical creature he now knew his life had saved
    One even prettier than his cherished, loving wife Marie
    now it's entire form he could astonishingly see!

    A Mermaid ! Heavens how could such vision truly be
    strange tales, fictional legends of very magical seas
    Could this have been answer to his desperate pleas
    a vision so tempting that his faithful heart it did tease!

    Singing stopped and that voice began to clearly speak
    telling he had been fast asleep for an entire week
    A rescue ship would be arriving there that very day
    as it appears I must say goodbye and swim away!

    Final hours his Mermaid and he did pleasantly share
    he in awe of her glory, her sexy body and golden hair
    So many amazing stories of many a daring rescue feat
    telling of rescues where sister Mermaids even compete!

    Suddenly that promised ship raced coming in so fast
    sailor knew this was his only chance, his very last
    Please, he asked, will you give me a good-bye Mermaid kiss
    wished granted , Mermaid vanished into the deep, blue abyss!

    Rescued and now safely aboard his miracle life-saving ship
    his story told and nary a miraculous part did he dare to skip
    His tale he told to all that sat amazed at his strange ordeal
    so mythical and strange, even he wondered was it truly real!

    Robert L. 05-29-2014

    AWARDED 4TH PLACE...
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 11-10-2014 at 07:44 PM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Arrogant Fools With Hollow Eyes


    Those arrogant fools with hollow eyes
    dark clouds blocking sunny skies
    So ready to decry our natural rights
    scheme and plot dirty little fights

    This world hails such loud fools
    there cheap words are but dirty tools
    Seeking to destroy brave, honest men
    as they wallow in their filthy pig pen

    Yet men are blinded to their deeds
    such snakes slither hiding in the weeds
    O' sons of freedom raise your banners
    fight this evil beast, teach it manners

    Those arrogant fools with hollow eyes
    dark clouds blocking sunny skies
    So ready to decry our natural rights
    scheme and plot dirty little fights
    Shall they now reap a just reward?
    justice delivered so very swift and hard!

    Robert J. Lindley, 11-10-2014

    Note: Written AS A PERSONAL CHALLENGE FROM A VERY GOOD POET FRIEND OF MINE ON ANOTHER POETRY SITE CHALLENGED
    ME TO WRITE THIS POEM ABOUT THE POLITICAL DOINGS OF THE CURRENT CROP OF TRAITORS INFESTING THIS NATION AND THE WHITEHOUSE.
    Will post it there later this week and stir some blather about me being so intolerant..
    I named no person or group but I know exactly who and what group will be ever so critical of this write.. ---Tyr
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    As Darkness Spreads Its Wings

    Night sky, no moon can you see
    blackness sits and abounds
    Blocked by massive old tree
    the mysteries on these grounds

    Shadows streaking here and there
    deep within this darkness dwells
    A walking dead , grieving pair
    envied by prisoners in all the hells

    Forbidden to enter those dark gates
    doomed to haunt this lonely place
    Rejected by the evil Furies fates
    each wearing a sardonic face

    Shrill laughs chase their trails
    as darkness spreads its wings
    A new victim, it never fails
    dies painfully as that pair sings

    Night sky, no moon can you see
    blackness sits and abounds
    Blocked by massive old tree
    the mysteries on these grounds

    Robert Lindley, 11-12--2014
    note : Written AS REQUESTED BY A POET FRIEND.
    A DARK AND SCARY MYSTERY UNSOLVED AND AWAITING A PART TWO TO EXPLAIN THE MEANING..
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Daddy's Poem

    Her hair was up in a pony tail,


    Her favorite dress tied with a bow.


    Today was Daddy's Day at school,


    And she couldn't wait to go.



    But her mommy tried to tell her,


    That she probably should stay home.


    Why the kids might not understand,


    If she went to school alone.



    But she was not afraid;


    She knew just what to say.


    What to tell her classmates


    Of why he wasn't there today.




    But still her mother worried,


    For her to face this day alone.


    And that was why once again,


    She tried to keep her daughter home.



    But the little girl went to school


    Eager to tell them all.


    About a dad she never sees


    A dad who never calls.




    There were daddies along the wall in back,


    For everyone to meet.


    Children squirming impatiently,


    Anxious in their seats



    One by one the teacher called


    A student from the class.


    To introduce their daddy,


    As seconds slowly passed.



    At last the teacher called her name,


    Every child turned to stare.


    Each of them was searching,


    A man who wasn't there.



    'Where's her daddy at?'


    She heard a boy call out.


    'She probably doesn't have one,'


    Another student dared to shout.




    And from somewhere near the back,


    She heard a daddy say,


    'Looks like another deadbeat dad,


    Too busy to waste his day.'



    The words did not offend her,


    As she smiled up at her Mom.


    And looked back at her teacher,


    Who told her to go on.



    And with hands behind her back,


    Slowly she began to speak.


    And out from the mouth of a child,


    Came words incredibly unique.




    'My Daddy couldn't be here,


    Because he lives so far away.


    But I know he wishes he could be,


    Since this is such a special day.




    And though you cannot meet him,


    I wanted you to know.


    All about my daddy,


    And how much he loves me so.



    He loved to tell me stories


    He taught me to ride my bike.


    He surprised me with pink roses,


    And taught me to fly a kite.



    We used to share fudge sundaes,


    And ice cream in a cone.


    And though you cannot see him.


    I'm not standing here alone.





    'Cause my daddy's always with me,


    Even though we are apart


    I know because he told me,


    He'll forever be in my heart'




    With that, her little hand reached up,


    And lay across her chest.


    Feeling her own heartbeat,


    Beneath her favourite dress




    And from somewhere here in the crowd of dads,


    Her mother stood in tears.


    Proudly watching her daughter,


    Who was wise beyond her years.



    For she stood up for the love


    Of a man not in her life.


    Doing what was best for her,


    Doing what was right.





    And when she dropped her hand back down,


    Staring straight into the crowd.


    She finished with a voice so soft,


    But its message clear and loud.




    'I love my daddy very much,


    he's my shining star.


    And if he could, he'd be here,


    But heaven's just too far.




    You see he is a Canadian soldier


    And died just this past year





    When a roadside bomb hit his convoy


    And taught Canadians to fear.


    But sometimes when I close my eyes,


    it's like he never went away.'


    And then she closed her eyes,


    And saw him there that day.





    And to her mothers amazement,


    She witnessed with surprise.


    A room full of daddies and children,


    All starting to close their eyes.





    Who knows what they saw before them,


    Who knows what they felt inside.


    Perhaps for merely a second,


    They saw him at her side.





    'I know you're with me Daddy,'


    To the silence she called out.


    And what happened next made believers,


    Of those once filled with doubt.





    Not one in that room could explain it,


    For each of their eyes had been closed.


    But there on the desk beside her,


    Was a fragrant long-stemmed rose.


    And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,


    By the love of her shining star.


    And given the gift of believing,


    That heaven is never too far.


    Author unknown.... was sent to me this week in my email by a poet friend....
    Seems very timely considering recent bad news we have had .....
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    My latest contest write.. A sonnet on lost love.
    Personal experience drawn upon and life's lessons found. -Tyr




    Your Love, My Every Thought


    Send me to the pastures ripe, lush and green
    nestled nearby a stand of mighty Oaks
    In sight of placid shimmering lake scene
    never been disturbed by boat splashing strokes

    There I may soon see the wonderous sky
    feel the breeze settle my tormented mind
    All about feathered creatures sing and fly
    embrace all woodland glory I may find

    Beauty brings soft memories of you
    flowers rivaling your soft flowing hair
    Fresh newborne leaves sprouting out so new
    my mind soon rested and without a care

    I wonder how the hell all came to nought!
    When your love races in my every thought

    Robert Lindley, 11-16-2014

    Note:
    Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
    Total # Syllables: 140
    Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
    Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
    Total # Words: 103
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Another sonnet but this one is written for a friend that requested one on Nature at my poetry forum.

    After The Storm, Rebirth

    Storm has torn the majestic forested scene
    as ravaged are the shrubs on high hills
    Surviving birds yet sing and calmly preen
    unmindful of last night's ripping thrills

    Trees now broken, toppled at Nature's behest
    all forested tranquility yet to be restored
    Nature shook violently and did its very best
    lakes many boats sunk where they moored

    From this destruction new life shall reign
    savage death brings on creation's birth
    Beauty shall come with all that we see plain
    earth renews the landscape for all its worth

    I see with these renewing things a greater plan
    All that teaches life's lessons to the heart of man

    Robert J. Lindley, 11-17-2014

    Inspired by Gry's Christensen's poem , "Brewing Sunsets In Teapots"
    that I read early this morn.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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