A Poem A Day, Authored By Me

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Walked In Sad Valley, Thinking I Was Alone

Walked in sad valley, thinking I was alone
Each step a blister, I had so much to atone
Rounded a corner, there sat an angel smiling
There was no fear, for she was far too beguiling
I begged her to speak divine words to save me
Relieve epic pain, force sorrow to let me be
She laughed, pointed towards a majestic blue hill
Go feed thy desperate hunger and eat thy fill
Went to the top, found a banquet laid out in rows
Why I ever came down again nobody knows

Down again, I asked her, where do I go from here
She smiled and told me, correct path will soon appear
In a flash, I was through fluffy white clouds flying
My safe passage, on her good graces relying

Walked in sad valley, thinking I was alone
Each step a blister, I had so much to atone
Rounded a corner, there sat an angel smiling
There was no fear, for she was far too beguiling

Robert J. Lindley, 3-07-2017
Rhyme


Syllables Per Line: 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 0 12 12 12 12
Total # Syllables: 216
Total # Words: 166

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Native Americans, Truth In The Telling

Savage was their race, deep cuts in their blows
Brave with no disgrace, as history shows
Hunters strong, wandering in wooded glen
Where they belong, valiant tales of men

Swift as deer, primeval in their wild ways
Rarely prone to cheer, hard were their dark days
Soldiers of note, fierce in every brave fight
If truth be wrote, they lived a life more right

Serene in their love, wards of Nature's lands
Worship spirits above, scattered in bands
True to a fault, with honor never bought
When Time cried its halt, great Spirit's they sought

Savage was his race, deep cuts in their blows
Fighters with no disgrace, history shows
Hunters strong, wandering in wooded glen
Where they belong, valiant tales of men

Robert J. Lindley, 3-08-2017

Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 120
Total # Words: 94

Note: Dedicated to my Native American grandfather.
An honorable man, fierce, brave and noble. He died in 1964
after living his life far from the ways of his childhood and parental teachings.
Under the rule of white men and their white laws. I saw regret in his eyes, but never surrender! I saw love in his heart but never hate!
I have failed him miserably in my white skin and its too often deceptive ways of living..
Yet we each walk our own path for better or for worse.
I do not surrender to that which attempts to destroy me now....-Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Form: Romanticism
You Are My Sky, And I, Your Softest Blue



You Are My Sky, And I, Your Softest Blue

I hold this, thy sweet image close and fast
In memory seas, sailing to me at full mast
Soon shall come this soul to thy heavenly rest
Are my prayers for our Love in each request
My life lived, only to one day be with you
You are my sky, and I, your softest blue

Precious are those days we once danced
Living for each moment each hour we romanced
Thy kiss, nectar that my dreams now gift
Now I often pray my passing be swift
For my love burns hotter each lonesome day
In thy glowing love embers, I seek to play

I await sweetest moment of our first reunion kiss
That smile and thy touch I now so miss
Darling, my love, please pray my departure soon
I long for thee again this sad month of June
Our Love's fire yet burns, I allow no cold ashes
Nor destroying storms that true Love crashes

I hold this, thy sweet image close and fast
In memory seas, sailing to me at full mast
Soon shall come this soul to thy heavenly rest
Are my prayers for our Love in each request
My life lived, only to one day be with you
You are my sky, and I, your softest blue

Robert J. Lindley, 3-09-2017

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Mighty Oak Tree, Its Acorns Fed Many
(A Native American Food Source)

Hard-cast shell
flung down in Fall,
food for man and beast
nuggets of forested treasure,

Nature
sprinkles its bounty
majestic Oaks rain
fruited missiles to ground:

thy treasure feeds life itself
creatures survive on thy seeds
winter hoards feed many
fruit of thy life.

Regal and tall,
massive trunk, widespread limbs
O' sweet thy summer shade
Blessing to us all.

R. J. Lindley
November 11th , 1980

Old note- My grandfather explained that his people ate acorns, so I tried to eat just one. Bitterest thing Ive ever tasted.. Yet Native Americans had a method to remove that bitterness and its poison, in order to use that bountiful food source to survive.

New Note:
http://nativeamericannetroots.net/diary/1055
Indians 101: Acorns
Posted on September 7, 2011 by Ojibwa

Long before the arrival of the first Europeans, California was the home to an extremely diverse variety of Indian cultures. The California culture area has the widest variety of native languages, ecological settings, and house types of any North American culture area.

One of the mainstays of the diet for the region was the acorn which was used in soup, porridge, and bread. Sixteen different species of oak provided the acorns. Because of the nutrition provided by acorns, the Native American people in California did not develop agriculture. Acorns contributed to the fact that California peoples did not experience annual famine months or develop traditions or legends dealing with famine. It is estimated that among one tribe, the Yokut, a typical family consumed 1,000 to 2,000 pounds of acorns each year.

While many of the early non-Indians in California noticed that the acorn oaks which were so important to many of the California Indian nations tended to grow in regular rows, they did not understand that these trees had been planted as orchards by the Indians.

There are a number of steps involved in gathering and processing the acorns. They are gathered in September and October. Traditionally, the people gathered the acorns by climbing the tree and then beating off the nuts with a long slender pole. The acorns which are collected have white bottoms and no insect holes. The acorns are then dried in their shells, a process which takes anywhere from a few weeks to a few months. During this time, the acorns are stirred to increase air circulation and encourage drying.

Once dry, the acorns are cracked to remove the nutmeat. This was traditionally done with a small, handheld stone pestle. The acorns are then ground or pounded into acorn flour. The flour is pounded as fine as possible. Once the acorns are ground into flour, it is then leached. Acorns contain tannic acid which is very bitter and which is poisonous in large amounts. The leaching process removes the tannic acid from the acorn flour. The leaching was traditionally done by digging a shallow sand pit near a creek. The flour was then carefully spread in the bottom of the pit and water was continuously poured over it until it was sweet. It would take several hours of pouring to leach the flour.

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Poet Thy Fear, Should Have Thee Cast Onto Page


Poet thy fear, should have thee cast onto page
Sank ink deep into paper for posterity
Others have endured despair and insane rage
Failure to act denotes not weak temerity

Now thee has deprived this world of thy heart
Acted in misery with greatest of errors
Tragedy of death allows no restart
Slay thy soul, ends not thy future terrors

As we grieve deeply, for both our great sins
That of indifference and its pain inflicted
O' that we poets have been true as best friends
Yielding not to our emotions conflicted

Now thee has deprived this world of thy heart
Tragedy of death allows no restart

Robert J. Lindley, 3-12-2017


Note: Written in reply to this essay and a comment made within..-TYR

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/fea...s/detail/69134

Essay
The Rebirth of a Suicidal Genius
Thomas James died obscure at 27 in 1974, then became a cult hero. Now Graywolf republishes his lost, legendary Letters to a Stranger.
By Lucie Brock-Broido

"In the title poem, Thomas says, quite simply: I am afraid of what the world will do. "

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/fea...s/detail/69134

[Russ]

Walked In Sad Valley, Thinking I Was Alone

Walked in sad valley, thinking I was alone
Each step a blister, I had so much to atone
Rounded a corner, there sat an angel smiling
There was no fear, for she was far too beguiling
I begged her to speak divine words to save me
Relieve epic pain, force sorrow to let me be
She laughed, pointed towards a majestic blue hill
Go feed thy desperate hunger and eat thy fill
Went to the top, found a banquet laid out in rows
Why I ever came down again nobody knows

Down again, I asked her, where do I go from here
She smiled and told me, correct path will soon appear
In a flash, I was through fluffy white clouds flying
My safe passage, on her good graces relying

Walked in sad valley, thinking I was alone
Each step a blister, I had so much to atone
Rounded a corner, there sat an angel smiling
There was no fear, for she was far too beguiling

Robert J. Lindley, 3-07-2017
Rhyme


Syllables Per Line: 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 0 12 12 12 12
Total # Syllables: 216
Total # Words: 166

Beautiful poem, Robert.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Beautiful poem, Robert.

Thank you my friend...
Sometimes people think a tough man has no feelings..
Toughest man I ever knew, I saw break down and cry like a baby because of the drowning death of a neighbor's child, back in 70's.
Wasn't even his own kid....
When I see children in very bad situations, things I can not rush in to help that helpless child --sometimes tears well up in my eyes,but a man faces such with the knowledge that he can not help-or save everybody..
I have many times in my life given a damn fine ass stomping to some adult(male) that was harming a child.
Innocent women and children are golden in my book- I will fight or else give aid whenever I can to help them....
MAYBE I AM TOO SAVAGE BUT I ALWAYS GOT THE GREATEST THRILL OF MY LIFE WHEN BEATING THE LIVING HELL OUT OF THOSE GUYS..
One is not necessarily weak/pansy if they write poetry=-nor is it required to be a pacifist!
THE FAMOUS WW1 AND WW2 POETS WERE AWESOME FIGHTERS AND MAGNIFICENT POETS!--Tyr

[Balu]

Thank you my friend...
Sometimes people think a tough man has no feelings..
Toughest man I ever knew, I saw break down and cry like a baby because of the drowning death of a neighbor's child, back in 70's.
Wasn't even his own kid....
When I see children in very bad situations, things I can not rush in to help that helpless child --sometimes tears well up in my eyes,but a man faces such with the knowledge that he can not help-or save everybody..
I have many times in my life given a damn fine ass stomping to some adult(male) that was harming a child.
Innocent women and children are golden in my book- I will fight or else give aid whenever I can to help them....
MAYBE I AM TOO SAVAGE BUT I ALWAYS GOT THE GREATEST THRILL OF MY LIFE WHEN BEATING THE LIVING HELL OUT OF THOSE GUYS..
One is not necessarily weak/pansy if they write poetry=-nor is it required to be a pacifist!
THE FAMOUS WW1 AND WW2 POETS WERE AWESOME FIGHTERS AND MAGNIFICENT POETS!--Tyr

Excellent words, Robert!
A visible toughness and rudeness very often appears to be nothing more than the shell of a turtle to protect and secure an easily vulnerable Soul. Sometimes it can misleading.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Excellent words, Robert!
A visible toughness and rudeness very often appears to be nothing more than the shell of a turtle to protect and secure an easily vulnerable Soul. Sometimes it can misleading.

So true. Yet even more remarkable is when those qualities exist within the same soul, each performing when called upon.-Tyr

https://www.google.com/?gws_rd=ssl#q...+one+and+two&*

8 Battlefield Poets of World War I - History Lists [http://www.history.com/news/history-...d-war-i_green]
http://www.history.com/news/history-...of-world-war-i
Feb 16, 2016 - The One Thing You Should Know About WWI .... While some of these warrior poets were killed in action before their work ... In August 1914, more than two and a half years before the United States entered World War I, poet ...
Top 10 war poems | Books | The Guardian [https://www.theguardian.com/books/20...hy_hackersafe]
https://www.theguardian.com › Arts › Books › Poetry
Jul 30, 2014 - This week marks a century since the outbreak of the first world war. ... So long as warrior met warrior in equal combat with sword or lance, poets could ... set into the belly of a bomber and contained two machine guns and one ...
Warrior Writers: Poetry and Prose of the First World War Tickets, Wed ... [https://www.eventbrite.com/e/warrior...9009245_green]
https://www.eventbrite.com › Things to do in Philadelphia, PA › Class › Community
One hundred years ago, the First World War represented a departure from previous ... With assistance from Toni Topps of the Warrior Writers, small groups of attendees ... This program is part of World War I and America, a two-year national ...
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Historical Society of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia ... [https://www.eventbrite.com/e/warrior...9009245_green]
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War poet - Wikipedia [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/war_poet_hackersafe]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_poet
A war poet is usually defined as a poet who participates in a war and writes about his experiences. While the term is applied especially to those who served during World War I, ... However, Tennyson wrote probably one of the most famous war poems of the ... 1 American Civil War; 2 Crimean War; 3 Boer War; 4 World War I.
Remembrance Day poems: 10 poems for the fallen - The Telegraph [http://www.telegraph.co.uk/books/wha...-poems/_green]
www.telegraph.co.uk › Culture › Books › What to Read
Nov 11, 2016 - During the First World War, Brooke joined the British Mediterranean ... It has become one of the defining war poems, capturing the thrill of battle ...
The Age of the Warrior Poet | Standpoint [http://www.standpointmag.co.uk/books...gremont_green]
www.standpointmag.co.uk › Civilisation › Books
It is a remarkable fact that the First World War produced a distinctive brand of ... One or two others, such as Robert Graves, turned their back upon war poetry.
BBC Two - War of Words: Soldier-Poets of the Somme [http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b04pw01r_green]
www.bbc.co.uk › Factual › Arts, Culture & the Media
Nov 15, 2014 - Exploring the experiences of the writers who served in the Battle of the ... The 1916 Battle of the Somme remains the most famous battle of World War I, ... "Using virtual reality to explore one of the most hard-hitting poems to ...

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

http://www.history.com/news/history-...of-world-war-i

8 Battlefield Poets of World War I
February 16, 2016 By Evan Andrews

The One Thing You Should Know About WWI

The story of World War I is vast and intricate, but if you had to know just one thing about World War I, what would it be?

Perhaps more than any other conflict, World War I is responsible for having spawned its own genre of battlefield literature and poetry. Life in the trenches was bleak and often brutal, and many soldiers turned their experiences into heartbreaking verse that touched on themes of mortality, brotherhood and the futility of war. While some of these warrior poets were killed in action before their work was ever published, their stirring words transformed literature and continue to shape our view of the war a century later. Find out more about eight of the most famous chroniclers of the “War to End All Wars.”
Wilfred Owen
Portrait of Wilfred Owen. (Credit: Fotosearch/Getty Images)
Portrait of Wilfred Owen. (Credit: Fotosearch/Getty Images)

Wilfred Owen only published five poems during his lifetime, but his harrowing descriptions of combat have since made him into one of the towering figures of World War I literature. Just 21 years old when the war broke out, he enlisted in the British army in 1915 and later took part in heavy fighting in France. “I have not been at the front,” he wrote his mother. “I have been in front of it.” After being diagnosed with shellshock in 1917, Owen was sent to convalesce at a hospital in Scotland. He soon began writing about his experiences at the urging of fellow poet Siegfried Sassoon, and by 1918 he had produced several now-famous works including “Anthem for Doomed Youth,” “Strange Meeting” and “Dulce et Decorum Est,” which describes a gas attack in grim detail. Despite his increased opposition to the war—he described soldiers being sent to “die as cattle”—Owen returned to the front lines in August 1918 and was later killed while leading men across a canal in France. His mother received notice of his death on November 11, 1918—the same day that World War I finally came to an end.
John McCrae
John McCrae in uniform. (Credit: Public Domain)
John McCrae in uniform. (Credit: Public Domain)

A doctor by trade, Canada’s John McCrae volunteered for World War I in 1914 and served as a brigade surgeon for an artillery unit. The following year, he had a front row seat to the horrors of the Second Battle of Ypres, where the Germans launched an assault that included the war’s first use of poisonous chlorine gas. While tending to the wounded and mourning the dead—who included his good friend, Alexis Helmer—McCrae put pen to paper on “In Flanders Fields,” a poem written from the point of view of fallen soldiers whose graves are overgrown with wild poppy flowers. “In Flanders fields the poppies blow,” it reads, “Between the crosses, row on row.” John McCrae died from pneumonia and meningitis in 1918, but not before the poem became one of World War I’s most popular and widely quoted works of literature. Among other things, it inspired the use of the poppy as the “flower of remembrance” for the war dead.
Siegfried Sassoon
English poet, novelist and soldier, Siegfried Sassoon. (Credit: George C. Beresford/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
English poet, novelist and soldier, Siegfried Sassoon. (Credit: George C. Beresford/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

Soldier-poet Siegfried Sassoon was twice decorated for heroism and earned the nickname “Mad Jack” for his suicidal courage on the battlefield, but he was also one of the most impassioned critics of the savagery and waste of World War I. In popular works such as “Attack,” “The General” and “Atrocities,” the British-born aristocrat satirized the conflict’s leaders and described his combat experiences in searing detail. He even flirted with a court-martial by publishing a 1917 letter in which he branded the war “evil and unjust,” but avoided punishment after fellow poet Robert Graves argued that he was suffering from shellshock. Sassoon would eventually write some 100 antiwar poems before being wounded in the head and removed from active duty in 1918. After surviving the war, he went on to a long career as a poet, novelist and lecturer.
Alan Seeger
Portrait of Alan Seeger. (Credit: Public Domain)
Portrait of Alan Seeger. (Credit: Public Domain)

In August 1914, more than two and a half years before the United States entered World War I, poet Alan Seeger joined the French Foreign Legion and took up a post on the Western Front. The New York native wrote several works over the next two years including “Ode in Memory of the American Volunteers Fallen for France,” but he is best known for “I Have a Rendezvous With Death,” a haunting poem that describes a meeting with a personified Death, “At some disputed barricade / When Spring comes back with rustling shade.” Seeger’s own rendezvous with death came on July 4, 1916, when he was mortally wounded in the stomach during an assault on the French village of Belloy-en-Santerre. His only collections of poems debuted the following year, and he’s since become one of the war’s most widely quoted American writers. One notable admirer was President John F. Kennedy, who supposedly listed “Rendezvous” among his favorite poems.
Guillaume Apollinaire
Guillaume Apollinaire pictured with an iron circle to protect his head. (Credit: Apic/Getty Images)
Guillaume Apollinaire pictured with an iron circle to protect his head. (Credit: Apic/Getty Images)

While most World War I versifiers dwelled on the misery and toil of life in the trenches, avant-garde poet Guillaume Apollinaire often portrayed it as an intoxicating feast for the senses. A bohemian artist with a mysterious past—he was once jailed on suspicion of having stolen the “Mona Lisa”—Apollinaire enlisted in the French army in 1914 despite being older than the age of conscription. He took to the life of a soldier with gusto, and later turned his experiences into a collection of experimental verse titled “Calligrammes.” “How lovely these flares are that light up the dark,” he wrote in a poem titled “Wonder of War.” “They climb their own peak and lean down to look / They are dancing ladies whose glances become eyes arms and hearts.” Apollinaire’s battlefield reveries were cut short in 1916, when he suffered a severe head wound from a piece of shrapnel. He survived the injury, but later became one of the millions to perish in the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918. He’s now considered a founding figure in the Surrealist movement that flourished in the 1920s.
Vera Brittain
Vera Brittain in her nurse uniform. (Credit: Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
Vera Brittain in her nurse uniform. (Credit: Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

Though not a soldier, Vera Brittain had a firsthand glimpse of the carnage of World War I through three years as a British Voluntary Aid Detachment nurse in France and Malta. During that time she suffered several personal tragedies including the deaths of her brother and fiancé, both of whom were killed in action. Brittain captured her anguish in 1919’s “Verses of a V.A.D,” a collection of poems that describes the war from a female perspective. “Poets praise the soldiers’ might and deeds of war,” she wrote in one poem about nurses who died during the Gallipoli Campaign. “But few exalt the Sisters, and the glory / Of Women dead beneath a distant star.” Brittain continued her literary career in the years after the war and later became a leader in the pacifist and feminist movements. She also penned the famous 1933 memoir “Testament of Youth,” which chronicled her experiences as a wartime nurse.
August Stramm

strampor (1)
Most of the best-known World War I poets fought for Allies, but there were also several talented writers who served with the Central Powers nations. Perhaps the most influential was August Stramm, a German officer who is now considered a pioneer in the Expressionist movement. Stramm fought in dozens of battles across both the Eastern and Western fronts, and he captured the primal nature of warfare in short, staccato poems that often feature abstract imagery and one or two-word lines. “A star frightens the steeple cross,” reads one work titled “Guard-Duty.” “A horse grasps smoke / iron clanks drowsily/ mists spread / fears / staring shivering / shivering.” Stramm’s courage under fire won him the Iron Cross in early 1915, but he was killed later that year during hand-to-hand fighting in Eastern Europe. His war poetry was published posthumously in 1919 under the title “Dripping Blood.”
Rupert Brooke
Portrait of Rupert Brooke. (Credit: The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images)
Portrait of Rupert Brooke. (Credit: The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images)

Unlike many of his contemporaries, Rupert Brooke was already an established literary figure before he took up arms in World War I. The handsome, sandy-haired writer had traveled the world and published several acclaimed poems, and he counted Virginia Woolf and William Butler Yeats among his friends and acquaintances. After enlisting in Britain’s Royal Naval Division in 1914, Brooke won national attention for a string of sonnets that expressed the patriotic fervor of a young man at war. Most famous of all was “The Soldier,” which included the verse, “If I should die, think only this of me: / That there’s some corner of a foreign field / That is for ever England.” The lines proved to be prophetic. When he later shipped out for the Allied invasion of Gallipoli in 1915, Brooke died from blood poisoning caused by a mosquito bite and was buried on a Greek island. His untimely demise was widely reported in England. In an obituary penned by Winston Churchill, the young poet was hailed as having epitomized the sacrifice of “the hardest, the cruelest, and the least-rewarded of all the wars that men have fought.”

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Bright Sunny Rays, Sent This Soul Into Glee

I woke that clear morn in dew laden grass,
Still dreaming, of night's paradise before.
Our Love had flown away, from its impasse,
I was broken deeply within my core.
Yet new dawn and hope grabbed me by the hand
Cried out, do not let her just slip away
You're worthless, unless you now take a stand
Seek her, else bear pain til your dying day

Bright sunny rays, sent this soul into glee
I am hers, and she is meant for me

Off to her distant place my new-heart raced
Soon would be joy, sweet dreams there born anew
Let die, angry words that had her disgraced
For Love, she must give mercy that was due
Love, can not falter if its heart is right
She saw me coming, raced forth with a grin
Her dancing glow, such a heavenly sight
Saying again, our Love vows til the end

Bright sunny rays, sent this soul into glee
I am hers, and she is meant for me

Robert J. Lindley, 3-15-2017

Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 200
Total # Words: 162

Note- Old poem from the mid-70's.
Heavily edited today and now presented.


I was too tired to write today, so heavily edited this old poem and presented it..
Hope to be better tomorrow..-Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

In Dark Valleys Of Lost Hope's Aching Wounds

Life has too often, vexed my enchanted heart
With it's dastardly little traps and falling stones
To its malevolent dirty dogs and swollen fleas
With deteriorating fruit in rotten apple cart

Love has far too often, cut to watch me bleed
With it's pies full of anticipating tones
To it's magnificent treasure vaults locked with no keys
Hidden in it's malignant towers full of mortgaged deeds

Dreams have too often, vanished with weeping wind
Left behind, land mines to explode and devastate
In black oceans filled with massive turmoil and lost hope
monsters, slashing and biting until eternity's end

Life has too often, vexed my enchanted heart
With it's dastardly little traps and falling stones
To its malevolent dirty dogs and swollen fleas
With deteriorating fruit in rotten apple cart

Robert J. Lindley, 2-11-2017
Form- Lin200, 11/12/13/14
sixteen verses, repeated first stanza as ending.
Rhyme form, at author's pleasure(semi-open)


Syllables Per Line: 11 12 13 14 0 11 12 13 14 0 11 12 13 14 0 11 12 13 14
Total # Syllables: 200
Total # Words: 130

Old Note- I felt the need to pen to paper and record my deepest torments.
Tentacles reaching into my mind and aching heart.
Death and its aftermath, has crushed my soul into a ball and now puncture it hourly.
Yet something in me --demands that I never yield....... never walk into the valley of oblivion with open arms...
This dark poem, created in new form -- is my shot back at an enemy beseeching
to surrender into it's dark abode.. For private write only..


New Note- Decided to present this dark poem written when I was lost and trying to claw my way out of death's advancing dark clouds invading my soul.
Writing poetry saved me and my recovery now advances more every day..

I want to thank my good friends here, for their kindness and concerns expressed in many ways. All is now and has been greatly appreciated..

[jimnyc]

New Note- Decided to present this dark poem written when I was lost and trying to claw my way out of death's advancing dark clouds invading my soul.
Writing poetry saved me and my recovery now advances more every day..

I want to thank my good friends here, for their kindness and concerns expressed in many ways. All is now and has been greatly appreciated..

As usual, Robert, pretty dang great!!

While my writing sucks, I find myself finding words through emotion as well, but never in this manner. I find it through sadness of course. Sometimes via happiness. Sometimes out of anger, but not much. But I DEFINITELY know the feeling you speak of, but at those times I can't find the words. It's at those times that I can't focus as much and find myself staring at the walls. LOL

In addition to fantastic writing, these can all serve as a diary of sorts as well. Something to look back at with a chain of events.

But I do find writing to be a release of sorts. Not much different than speaking with a shrink or whatever, but much cheaper, and much better.

You got a way with words buddy. Some have that gift, but not many. I sure as hell don't. But I do truly believe if you continue to write about what ails you the most, what is deep within you, that it will help you through the roughest of times. Sometimes me even reading such things helps.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

He Found The Quest Was The Greatest Reward

Old man woke to find his nightmare was real
his time so short he had none left to kill
In horror, wondered where had it all gone
soon to become dust from rotted, white bones
With his heart thus struck deeply sad and numb
questioned he, why in youth he'd been so dumb
Tears dropping from hurt and deepest regrets
he admitted past sins filled his dark nets
Then thoughts turned to how to truly atone
miracle he must seek and find alone
His quest sent him looking for many years
to find truth and love that stopped his great fears

Old man woke finding, time Fate was giving
He had spent four decades truly living.

Robert J. Lindley, 3-19-2017
Sonnet

Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 116

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Save Me, That I May Rise Again To Stand

Where it that good-morrow brought thee again
save my broken soul from love-lust in sin!
Heal my heart, stop my nights of great sorrows
offer thy hand, promise of tomorrows.

Thinking back to love-nights we never slept
agony, I fell and viciously wept.
O' my love, allow me one more soft kiss
grant mercy, giveth this saddest soul bliss.

Remember vows, we swore to never break
in this dear Hope my life, I gladly stake.
My daily prayer, sends pleas for thy hand
Save me, that I may rise again to stand.

Where it that good-morrow brought thee again
save my broken soul from love-lust in sin!

R.J. Lindley
NOV.17TH 1975

Note- This poem was written while in a fallen state of despair
from a lost love, and broken soul laid bare.
A youth that raced to drown sorrows, only to find more and deeper misery in the drowning.

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Twixt Immense Powers Of Love And Dark Hates

Twixt' immense powers of Love and dark Hates
rests blackest void that in sad sorrow awaits

For love bringeth deepest joys of moonlit dreams
emerging Light, epic truth it always brings
Shining dawns that wrap souls into warm fires
rose-red colors, graced by hope that so inspires

Yet seeds of dark hate cleaveth to such high cliffs
oft seen images Egyptian hieroglyphs
Dark webs wickedly woven to lost souls trap
birthing false paths upon each deceiving map

Twixt' immense powers of Love and dark Hates
rests blackest void that in sad sorrow awaits

Colossal powers battle to control gain
one storm's wrecking wrath, other Spring's giving rain
Betwixt that eternal realm, Darkness and Light
man but mere pawn in that never ending fight

Should thee seeketh with truth and warm open hearts
Light gifteth joy and as wisdom it imparts
Saileth thy vessel, blue waters of calm seas
without direst fears, need of sad prayer pleas

Twixt' immense powers of Love and dark Hates
rests blackest void that in sad sorrow awaits

Robert J. Lindley, 3-22-2017
Form-Classicism

Syllables Per Line:
11 11 0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11
Total # Syllables: 242
Total # Words: 172

Note: Decided early this morn, to write something other than a sonnet.
This came flowing forth and only need a few edits after its first draft....
I hope you may deem this to be a finished piece with enough to make it worthy of presenting here my friends.-Tyr