Poetry and Prose for any season

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

For Roy Jerden's contest, theme --Makeover.
Basically the sponsor wants old poems improved by the author and presented both versions.
Judging will be on the poems most improved and the judge lists in his contest rules the nature and emphasis on those types of improvements. Shortening or lengthening poems was included in the rules but due to my choice being a sonnet I can do neither.

My choice is a very limited type of poem, a sonnet, which can only be 14 verses and 140 syllables.
Yet I chose this poem because I wrote it about my wife when we first met(3 years before we married).
And already knew I had not cared to worry about syllable count etc when writing this poem.
Notice that I did not change even one end word rhyme. Thats because
I view those as exceptional and the most important part of story being told.
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Original version ( 03/21/2001)

As Midnight Moon Shines Upon Her Eyes

In a dream world where fantasies abound
shall be where my princess is found
Wrapped in her vision an angelic choir
cherubs singing her heart's desire

Her voice soothes every hearing soul
spreading happiness her daily goal
As midnight moon shines upon her eyes
a thought comes to me so very wise

Surely she could come to me down here
easing my hurt, wash away my fear
A soft gentle touch to my spirit renew
help me find a love any man is due

In a dream world such fantasies exist
your heart's desire, anything on your list

Robert Lindley March 21, 2001

Syllables Per Line: 10 8 10 8 0 8 9 9 10 0 9 9 12 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 132
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 98

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Revised version below.......(Greatly improved!)



As Midnight Moon Shines Upon Her Eyes


In a dream world where fantasies abound
in this fantasy my princess is found
Wrapped in her vision an angelic choir
cherubs singing her sweetest heart's desire

Beautiful voice soothes every hurting soul
spreading happiness, is her daily goal
A midnight moon shining upon her eyes
this thought comes to me so very wise

Heaven is her coming to me down here
easing my hurt, washing away my fear
Softest touch my heart it does renew
helping me find love any man is due

Lovely dream world such fantasies exist
her heart's desire, anything on her list

Robert Lindley, 04-04-2015

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: 97
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Note-- Had my goal been placing high in the contest I'd not chosen a sonnet to improve!
My goal was to improve this poem I wrote for and about my wife.....
An exercise in learning and yes even humility , as upon close examination I saw
much to be reworded. -Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

I slaved for an hour writing this poem for a contest.
First version was great but met not the syllable count, there went 40 minutes.
Took me another 20 minutes to change to met perfect ten syllables per verse.
And to do so without changing the message and spirit of the write!

I think this will place very, very high.. A sonnet is a much harder poetry form to write.
Simply because one must limit the words/syllables used.
Often a hard task when trying to convey a complicated or intensively deep or emotional
message! I was tempted to tweak it to hit the 100 word mark but 101 words is ok....
Here she be, hope you may enjoy this one...

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

When I Slumber Where Rushing Waters Play


As my worries invade my tortured mind
I wake to find another place to be
Misery and despair both so unkind
sending me racing to be gone and free

I run to the nearest water flowing
soothing sounds blast into inner spirit
Even better if soft breeze a blowing
comfort abounds whenever I hear it

Soft waves of time ebb and begin to stop
gurgling sounds grab onto wings of my soul
All my loves racing upward to the top
like waters rushing out of gaping hole

Man's spirit latches on to such great gifts
Racing waters sends treasure that uplifts

Robert J. Lindley, 04-06-2015


Poem Syllable Counter Results

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: 101

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

I slaved for an hour writing this poem for a contest.
First version was great but met not the syllable count, there went 40 minutes.
Took me another 20 minutes to change to met perfect ten syllables per verse.
And to do so without changing the message and spirit of the write!

I think this will place very, very high.. A sonnet is a much harder poetry form to write.
Simply because one must limit the words/syllables used.
Often a hard task when trying to convey a complicated or intensively deep or emotional
message! I was tempted to tweak it to hit the 100 word mark but 101 words is ok....
Here she be, hope you may enjoy this one...

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

When I Slumber Where Rushing Waters Play


As my worries invade my tortured mind
I wake to find another place to be
Misery and despair both so unkind
sending me racing to be gone and free

I run to the nearest water flowing
soothing sounds blast into inner spirit
Even better if soft breeze a blowing
comfort abounds whenever I hear it

Soft waves of time ebb and begin to stop
gurgling sounds grab onto wings of my soul
All my loves racing upward to the top
like waters rushing out of gaping hole

Man's spirit latches on to such great gifts
Racing waters sends treasure that uplifts

Robert J. Lindley, 04-06-2015


Poem Syllable Counter Results

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: 101

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

Here is the original poem before the tweaking..-Tyr


When I Slumber Where Rushing Waters Play

As worries invade my tortured mind
I wake to find another place to be
Misery and despair both so unkind
send me racing to be gone and free

I run to the nearest water flowing
the sound soothes my inner spirit
Even better if soft breeze a blowing
comfort abounds whenever I hear it

Waves of time slowly begin to stop
nature sounds grab wings of my soul
All my loves race forth to the top
like waters rushing out a gaping hole

Man's spirit latches on to such gifts
Racing waters sends treasure that uplifts

Robert J. Lindley

Note, see the uniformity of the verses in the original?
That was sacrificed to meet the syllable count...
Modern sonnet does not have to meet the ten syllable count but its best when entering a contest to do so.. -Tyr

[LongTermGuy]

~ "As my worries invade my tortured mind
I wake to find another place to be
Misery and despair both so unkind
sending me racing to be gone and free..............." ~

....can relate ...Nice...!

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Creatures All Lost In Arrogant Vanity


Many have tried but all have failed
yet even these losers are often hailed
Mortal man trying a utopia to make
only succeeds in getting lives to take

All the deaths caused by these men
tens of millions murdered in the end
Hitler, Stalin and Mao all did fail
surely those evil three rot in Hell

Creatures all lost in arrogant vanity
destroying worlds with their insanity
There can be no true paradise here
man operates on greed, lust and fear

Man's imperfections invades all he builds
rots bountiful harvests in fertile fields

Robert Lindley, 04-07-2015

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Body And Soul Had To Part


Call out my true name
friend of my long life
I touch you these years
We found not sweet fame
felt cuts from a knife
bled our hot sad tears

You joined my epic pains
as our heart sadly wept
this life ate its fill
We danced into soft rains
sang happily as we slept
each dream sent a thrill

Why did you ever leave
this body was your home
a state you found sane
Our life did so weave
love that had to roam
seeking joy not so plain

Body and Soul had to part
Death broke this shared heart

Robert Lindley, 04-07-2015

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
by William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
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The Second Coming
by William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
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September 1913
by William Butler Yeats

What need you, being come to sense,
But fumble in a greasy till
And add the halfpence to the pence
And prayer to shivering prayer, until
You have dried the marrow from the bone?
For men were born to pray and save:
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.

Yet they were of a different kind,
The names that stilled your childish play,
They have gone about the world like wind,
But little time had they to pray
For whom the hangman's rope was spun,
And what, God help us, could they save?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.

Was it for this the wild geese spread
The grey wing upon every tide;
For this that all that blood was shed,
For this Edward Fitzgerald died,
And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone,
All that delirium of the brave?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.

Yet could we turn the years again,
And call those exiles as they were
In all their loneliness and pain,
You'd cry, 'Some woman's yellow hair
Has maddened every mother's son':
They weighed so lightly what they gave.
But let them be, they're dead and gone,
They're with O'Leary in the grave.

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Sonnet 10 - Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning


Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright,
Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light
Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed:
And love is fire. And when I say at need
I love thee . . . mark! . . . I love thee—in thy sight
I stand transfigured, glorified aright,
With conscience of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thine. There's nothing low
In love, when love the lowest: meanest creatures
Who love God, God accepts while loving so.
And what I feel, across the inferior features
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show
How that great work of Love enhances Nature's.
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Forget Maya Angelou, the grossly over rated choice by modern day liberal fools.
Read, study, enjoy truly great poets, she is not one of them IMHO..
If she were white she'd not have the undeserved fame that she has. A fact... ----TYR

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

On Lord Byron


Far away from thistle and thorn
a genius and great poet was born
Lord Byron was his great name
making love with words his game

The world had him not very long
his verses danced like a song
Women swoon at his written charms
those chosen loved in his arms

He was born to many a woman bed
excesses raced in his wild head
Often crazy and without any cares
he juggled many hot love affairs

Fate lusted to grab him too soon
as he shown like the August moon
Sadness invaded his hectic life
in dying, he left his poor wife

Far away from thistle and thorn
a genius and great poet was born
Lord Byron was his great name
making love with words his game

Robert J. Lindley
06, 22, 1970

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Naomi Shihab Nye, what you never heard of or read this poet?
Me neither until this morn but found this jewel she wrote.
Usually these modern writes do nothing or very little for me but this one, this one is special.
The concluding verse ties it all together nicely. A snapshot in time of a different place and peoples!

Even the title is genius IMHO. And this is in spite of the fact that I am not a big fan of writing poetry in couplets. -Tyr
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Time Ask More Questions

Before jumping, remember
the span of time is long and gracious.

No one perches dangerously on any cliff
till you reply. Is there a pouch of rain

desperately thirsty people wait to drink from
when you say yes or no? I don’t think so.

Hold that thought. Hold everything.
When they say “crucial”—well, maybe for them?

Hold your horses and your minutes and
your Hong Kong dollar coins in your pocket,

you are not a corner or a critical turning page.
Wait. I’ll think about it.

This pressure you share is a misplaced hinge, a fantasy.
I am exactly where I wanted to be.

Naomi Shihab Nye, 1952

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Next Time Ask More Questions

Before jumping, remember
the span of time is long and gracious.

No one perches dangerously on any cliff
till you reply. Is there a pouch of rain

desperately thirsty people wait to drink from
when you say yes or no? I don’t think so.

Hold that thought. Hold everything.
When they say “crucial”—well, maybe for them?

Hold your horses and your minutes and
your Hong Kong dollar coins in your pocket,

you are not a corner or a critical turning page.
Wait. I’ll think about it.

This pressure you share is a misplaced hinge, a fantasy.
I am exactly where I wanted to be.

Naomi Shihab Nye, 1952
-----------------------------------------------------------------

My tribute to this gem by Nye....
Written moments ago and with the same spirit and message in mind..



Grains Of Sand, Pretending To Be Boulders


After winning, do try to be a real winner
your moment may make or break another.

Nobody lives in the glory their mind conjures
except those that that think in fantasy.

Starving people want more food to eat
not words and praise of your feats.

Think again, consider life is a mystery
the importance of you, lives only a moment.

Cross another bridge and look at the water
did the long, sad look down hurt?

If not you are sailing a slow, doomed ship
truly a barge filled with massive waste.

No mortal man is an island of salvation
yet any could be a saving god to others.

Robert J. Lindley, 04-09-2015

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Unpacking a Globe


I gaze at the Pacific and don’t expect
to ever see the heads on Easter Island,

though I guess at sunlight rippling
the yellow grasses sloping to shore;

yesterday a doe ate grass in the orchard:
it lifted its ears and stopped eating

when it sensed us watching from
a glass hallway—in his sleep, a veteran

sweats, defusing a land mine.
On the globe, I mark the Battle of

the Coral Sea—no one frets at that now.
A poem can never be too dark,

I nod and, staring at the Kenai, hear
ice breaking up along an inlet;

yesterday a coyote trotted across
my headlights and turned his head

but didn’t break stride; that’s how
I want to live on this planet:

alive to a rabbit at a glass door—
and flower where there is no flower.

Arthur Sze, 1950
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Love this poem , especially this part--


"yesterday a coyote trotted across
my headlights and turned his head
but didn’t break stride; that’s how
I want to live on this planet:"

To me that represents living without letting fear rule your life. I fear no man but have and do fear forces unseen. Should I not? When such forces can harm those I love.. Those forces can not harm me because my life here all but spent and I value it not as highly as I once did..

Yet fear always finds a way. You see, my family--those I dearly love-- thats where fear gets me!
No man is an Island and no man can protect ALL that he holds dear...

This poem conveys a lot and is great for a number of reasons IMHO.
Not the least of which is it reminds us that we are always vulnerable to fear and its consequences.
For only way not to be is --not to care a damn whit about anything or anybody.. and who wants to be that miserable creature??? Certainly not I.. --Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Decided to bite the bullet and do a major rewrite of my Acheron poem...

Now that I've done this I can go on to do the Second part..




The Tumid River of Acheron -(The Journey, Part One) , -Revised (04-10-2015)




Father of evil waters from which sprang
the river Styx of which man's curses rang
Flowing stream holding back evil so foul
where agonizing spirits scream and howl
Acheron, seething lake of scorching heat
where demons slash into the souls they eat

Delivered shadows fall onto prayers cast
vanity briefly soothes, forever lasts
Prayers sinking quickly like river cast stones
dreams forming into ghastly skin and bones
Waters that wrap around Haides evil realm
with Daimon, evil dark Lord at the helm

Gushing forth from solid bowels of rock
rushing blackened waters rising to shock
Upon its moving mass of wretched stink
poison lethal no mortal man may drink
Kharon, the ferryman stands at the oars
delivering the lost upon dark shores

Far below the Mariandyni coast
Acheron ferries victims to its host
Loaded within spirits of cries and moans
Kharon laughs at all the misery groans
Set upon southern shore of the black sea
in sun's light never again will they be

Many dark tales of Acheron's fame
fallen victims weeping in sin and shame
Moans rising as dark waters deliver
the wretched lost to painfully quiver
In this dark abhorrent , torturing Hell
lost souls living in lustful sin had fell

Darkly, the tumid rushing waters flow
where any man most wisely fears to go
Liquid blackness singing in epic pain
torture, misery and cries of insane
Echoes of Eperius in the West
shadow realm wherein evil never rests

Black ship of Kharon eternally sail
into the sunless land of a dark hell
Land of those lost , family and dear friend
exists for all wicked women and men
Black abyss where Apollo never walks
lost souls ripped apart by screeching hawks

Forever filled and by rowboat conveyed
miserable, crying souls are relayed
Crossing the tarn of Acheron then
cursing future torments for all lost men
Seething waters that ever separate
those so damn lost to future tortured Fate

Robert J. Lindley, (revised) - 04-10-2015

Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 480
Total # Lines: 48
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 321
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: This is part One. The journey into HAIDES
by way of crossing the Styx. The river Styx is
actually an off shoot of Acheron that splits into
the Styx and the Cocytus.

Part Two now has two lines written. It will be titled ,
Haides and Tormented Souls (the Dwelling)..
I have no preset limit to the second part, may be
longer or shorter. I suspect it will be even longer.
I hope the readers enjoy this write. I wanted to do
something dark and move away from all my love, romance
and Nature writes. A bit of variety to stir my
imagination...
Due to recent major duties in my family( caring for very sick mother and etc.)
I've had to put on indefinite hold writing the second part.
As part Two is a bit more ambitious in scope and depth.. -Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Walking Streets Paved With Nameless Stones


I walk a street paved with nameless stones
shadows of racing strangers I often meet
are empty suits covering faceless bones
Dark spirits that never dare to greet
my hello with anything but angry tones

Perhaps upon seeing my face filled with grief
they remember harm they too have caused
and lives they ended agonizingly brief
Yet once one of them slowed and paused
then danced a jolly jig to my great relief

Who can fathom the mysteries so deep
or lost souls wandering endless streets
with the many dark secrets they keep
Was not I racing on with soulless beats
seeking reprieve while too scared to weep

Robert J. Lindley 04-06-2015

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Honey For The Rose Says A Wizened Sage

I fancy a moment of quietest delight
nothing great, just deep silent bliss
times like this, my mind takes flight

Day breaks with a softest little glow
crack of dawn I often so dearly miss
the lady that put on last night's show

Pausing next to reflect, life slaps me
why do you so often fail to see this
the kinder, softer man you should be

I reply, spare me the moral outrage
yes, I once stole many a sweet kiss
honey for the rose says a wizened sage

I fancy a moment of quietest delight
nothing great, just deep silent bliss
times like this, my mind takes flight

Robert J. Lindley. 04-12-2015

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Consider The Moment You Wake This Coming Morn


Once visiting angel spoke this to me as I slept
deep knowledge comes when, where and how it may
Life, be it long or short is only another earthly step
love's light is brighter upon death of the day!

A child's innocence can be so much more profound
than that of any sage's wisdom bequeathed to man
For just as death is so fertile to awaiting ground
victory is not he that merely wishes but he who can!

Consider the moment you wake up this coming morn
did not those gifted words stir deep in your soul
Life races to end the moment you are first born
should not the next life rewards be your first goal!

Bright yellow sun crept up on me that coming dawn
out my window I saw the prettiest white speckled fawn!

Robert J. Lindley, 04-12-2015