Poetry and Prose for any season

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Within The Mind, A Storm Blasts Out Flashes



Inside the head, the brain, the human mind
are passageways filtered in dark stains,
Thoughts deep, dark and so ravenously unkind
sit like waste stuck in kitchen drains.

Within the soul, longings await a new life
with love that is so rightly sealed,
Dreams of sweetest pleasure with no strife
and old wounds that have been healed.

Inside the heart, mists of soft dreaming love
yielding to the lusts of flesh so weak,
Stares out upon the sky filled with stars above
daring only to imagine but never speak.

Within the mind, a storm blasts out flashes
brilliance wrapped in hardened shells,
Fueled by great pain and bad emotional crashes
fear sounds out like loud warning bells.

Behind the eyes, sits a screen showing all
movies and plays of dreams not born,
Danger creeping down a darkened castle hall
bringing death some future winter morn.

Robert J. Lindley
Nov. 18th, 1986

Note: From my private journal, an old poem written during a very bad time in my life.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

I Will Rise, Above Heart's Weakness


Shall I bend, to your massive will
break chains of my aching heart
Or with infinite time wait until
life gives love's sweet restart

Shall I cry, into your bad heart
show pain dripping in blood
Or wait until we dare race apart
in a deluge waiting to flood

Should I weep, for your mistakes
eat truth to save your soul
Beg forever even more hard retakes
and love burning like a coal

Should I grovel, in abject shame
a man dying in his despair
A fool uncaring of his family name
begging again without a care

I will look, again into dark eyes
fight blackness that stares back
Choose to forget your very bad lies
seek deeper love that you lack

I will rise, above heart's weakness
cut out my longing love needs
Forget your sexy body and sleekness
which my dream forever feeds

Robert J. Lindley

Note: Written decades ago but edited
this morn to remove too many very personal verses.
The original stays private within my journal.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Introductory Note

THESE verses and brief pieces of prose, which one might call prose poems, are selected from the two books of his poems Ernest Dowson saw published in his short lifetime (1867-1900). First published was Verses (1896); second was Decorations in Verse and Prose (1899). The two longer prose selections included here are from his book Dilemmas: Stories and Studies in Sentiment (1895).

In presenting any considerable selection of Dowson’s work to readers familiar only with his few widely anthologized poems, or but slightly acquainted with his tragic life, one can hardly do better than to quote from the introduction to the biography researched and written by Mark Longaker:

“Although by no means a poet of the front rank,” Longaker wrote, “Ernest Dowson’s place in literature is secure. No anthologist who presumes to select the best poems in the language can possibly ignore him, and no literary historian who is concerned with true poetic values can identify him with a movement and pass on. That his verse profits by selection cannot be gainsaid, but there is more lyric beauty in his slender volumes than is generally believed. He is far more than a one-poem poet: exquisite as the ‘Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae’ is, it is by no means all of Dowson, or all we need to know.

“Nor is the view of the vexed and torn spirit, the refugee in cabmen’s shelters, East End dives, and dimly lighted cafes around les Halles a complete and balanced portrait of Dowson. It is true that his life was lived amongst shadows rather than light, but on occasion sunbeams filtered through the wall of cloud with which his heredity and environment surrounded him. His life and character cannot be called exemplary, but it can readily be shown that he was far from the wastrel that he is often pictured. Without laboring the point, one who has familiarized himself with the facts can readily conclude that Dowson was more a victim of circumstance than one who deliberately cultivated nostalgie de la boue and chose the path which led to evil and destruction. Of admiration for his character and life there can be little; but it is easy to like Ernest Dowson, and to wish that something might have been done to give him sanctuary from the world and from himself.”

And for a comprehensive, balanced account of the life of Dowson, one could hardly do better than to buy or borrow a copy of Professor Longaker’s Ernest Dowson, published by the University of Pennsylvania Press, Third Edition, April 1967.

—Wiley Clements
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He wrote so many truly great poems! I chose this one to present tonight. Very likely will feature much more of his work as I just found him last week and am now a huge fan.-Tyr
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Impenitentia Ultima

BEFORE my light goes out forever if God should give me a choice of graces,
I would not reck of length of days, nor crave for things to be;
But cry: "One day of the great lost days, one face of all the faces,
Grant me to see and touch once more and nothing more to see.

"For, Lord, I was free of all Thy flowers, but I chose the world’s sad roses,
And that is why my feet are torn and mine eyes are blind with sweat,
But at Thy terrible judgement-seat, when this my tired life closes,
I am ready to reap whereof I sowed, and pay my righteous debt.

"But once the sand is run and the silver thread is broken,
Give me a grace and cast aside the veil of dolorous years,
Grant me one hour of all mine hours, and let me see for a token
Her pure and pitiful eyes shine out, and bathe her feet with tears."

Her pitiful hands should calm, and her hair stream down and blind me,
Out of the sight of night, and out of the reach of fear,
And her eyes should be my light whilst the sun went out behind me,
And the viols in her voice be the last sound in mine ear.

Before the ruining waters fall and my life be carried under,
And Thine anger cleave me through as a child cuts down a flower,
I will praise Thee, Lord, in Hell while my limbs are racked asunder,
For the last sad sight of her face and the little grace of an hour.

Ernest Dowson

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Memories Of Crossing Fires And True Romance


Upon the deep waters of life long endured
are joys and pains of we that did dance
Testament that we did indeed live is assured
are memories of crossing fires and romance
Place and time of true living rightly secured

In the great divide, death's lonely separation
darkness and regret often loom so large
Our loved ones lost need no bold proclamation
made by we in great despair left in charge

Rather we hold onto sweet memories so dear
rainbow rays of love and celebrations
Yield not to the misery of many sad tears
dance gaily with thoughts of our consolations
Acknowledge happiness in the passing years

Songs bring memories we eternally cherish
a chorus of moments we joyfully shared
This our sacrament shall not ever perish
memories of those loved, that lived and dared!

Robert J. Lindley

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Heaven Reaching Down


Silence

Moment of gold

Holy majestic kiss

Heaven reaching down to save man

Rapture

by Robert J. Lindley

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A Modern Cinquain poem written for a contest:--Tyr

What to Submit?

One Cinquain Style Poem

Only one stanza, just one, 1, one, one stanza,

The theme is your choice but within the guidelines of the site..



There two types of Cinquain Poems this is what I want



An example of Modern Cinquain poem..



Author: Adelaide Crapsey



Title: Three Silent Things



These be

Three silent things

The falling snow...the hour

Before the dawn..the mouth of one

Just dead..



Take notice:

First line..two syllables or two single syllable words

Second line: Four syllables or four single syllable words

Third line: Six syllables or six singled syllable words

Fourth line: Eight syllables or eight single syllable words

Fifth line: Two syllables or two single syllable word

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

A Dream Within A Dream - Poem by Edgar Allan Poe


Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?


Edgar Allan Poe
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One of my favorite poems by Poe.
I relate strongly to this dream within a dream.
As I went far astray long ago and abandoned mine.
Only to return near the end to pursue one.-Tyr

[LongTermGuy]

A Dream Within A Dream - Poem by Edgar Allan Poe


Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?


Edgar Allan Poe
------------------------------------------------------
One of my favorite poems by Poe.
I relate strongly to this dream within a dream.
As I went far astray long ago and abandoned mine.
Only to return near the end to pursue one.-Tyr

....My friend....Check this out...

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

....My friend....Check this out...

..... Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Majesty Of The Bird Of Prey
(Eyes of the Hawk)



In wilderness flies the bird of prey
above the earthly fight and battle
Far from immense foaming ocean spray
far above pastures and the cattle
Gliding along spying for its meal
with those sharp all seeing eyes
Blessed with sharp claws of steel
marauder of the gentle blue skies
Soaring in wait for its coming kill
be it furry animal,fowl or fish
Nature blesses with awe, good or ill
such meaty meals,what a tasty dish

To its victims what a monster it may be
A wonder to we that can much further see.

Robert J. Lindley
Nov, 12 1981

Note: The splendor and beauty of Nature awes us but there is the savage side to be seen too.
And that savage side teaches us that sacrifices to survive require the ending of life of others.
Nowhere is that better seen or understood than in the actions of the earth's predators.
Those that fly interest me more, for as a young boy I dreamed of flying thousands of times.

This poem was entered in a poetry contest. Requirement was for old poems, the poet's favorite written in the past. Must be dated and not newly written just for the contest, any form 24 lines or less.
Contests results given this afternoon, this poem took 2nd place out of the 35 entered. -Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

A Song That Lives On Just To Thrive


Cling like the wild wind to a stormy night
as a child to a sweet mother's hem
Dare to step from safety , from the Light
into shadows dancing free but dim
Be bold in the whispers of a cooing dove
a song that lives on just to thrive
Willing angel flying down from far above
to find the meaning of being alive!

Ride the wild wind into a realm of delight
across broad waters sail or skim
Seeking promised land far from your sight
land of beauty, so sleek and trim
The perfect fit , like a custom made glove
loving grace in a swan-like dive
Sweet spirit of great magic of newfound Love
greatest music any man can contrive!

Cling like the wild wind to a stormy night
as a child to a sweet mother's hem
Dare to step from safety , from the Light
into shadows dancing free but dim
Be bold in the whispers of a cooing dove
a song that lives on just to thrive
Willing angel flying down from far above
to find the meaning of being alive!


Robert J. Lindley, March, 1984


Note: Written long ago , revised for another poetry contest.
28 lines or less, subject love and dreams.
Must be any form of rhyme. No names, must
be new poem , list date.

[Balu]

Dear Mr. Robert J. Lindley,
You made me a fan of your poetry!

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Dear Mr. Robert J. Lindley,
You made me a fan of your poetry!

Thanks. Any poet seeks to relate to and bring something to the readers of his/her poetry.
Is even better when the poet writes with the wish to help others understand this world, life, love , hope,
darkness, light, pain , sorrow death and /or any of human emotions and imaginations.--Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Awaiting The Great Mists Of Transcending Time



The last day of memories sits in spectacular splendor
awaiting the great mists of transcending time
Sailing along on dancing waves of love soft and tender
followed by loud echoing flames of the sublime

Deep into the many wide valleys of mystical moonbeams
rests soft bundles awaiting the longing burn
Glorious flower meadows banked by fast running streams
devoid of past cutting agonies our hearts spurn

Streams flowing out in pleasing songs of romantic past
with gentle kissed touches so rapidly hurled
Proof of unending Love wrapped in grace meant to last
blessings given lovers faithful in this world

The last day of memories sits in spectacular splendor
awaiting the great mists of transcending time
Sailing along on dancing waves of love soft and tender
followed by loud echoing flames of the sublime

Robert J. Lindley

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Great Love Lost, Truth Only Then Found


Where was I, journeying when I lost her heart,
a stranger to tragedy and great pain!
She that once healed me has now torn me apart,
wading wastelands of despair almost insane.

Where was I, when walking stone path so blind,
traveler seeking waste of lust and greed!
A damn fool devoid of care and looking to find,
that which I so stupidly thought I need.

While her faithful love battled to stay alive,
my desires raced onward into dark deeds!
She that gave all her love to help me survive,
watched me in error sow my wild seeds.

When did I, wake to this hell, long nightmare,
a cut beast all set to moan and bleed!
Crying out in misery how my life is so unfair,
still forgetting her pain and need.

When will, my soul lead me from my sad plight,
a victim of my own lusts and dark acts!
A beast screaming out for help in plain sight,
only now getting truth and the facts.

Where was I, journeying when I lost her heart,
a stranger to tragedy and great pain!
She that once healed me has now torn me apart,
wading wastelands of despair almost insane.

R.J. Lindley
April 9th, 1975

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Shining Gods Of Poisoned Seas

How utterly useless are the sincere Pleas
to the shining Gods of poisoned seas
Words sent forth on a great ray of Hope
find blank images in an empty scope
Longings so in tune to vanities of Man
greed and lusts in each wishful plan
Dark desires in each and every Request
selfish wants for only the very best

How vain are man's deepest dark Desires
evil wrapped in armor in raging fires
Deeds hidden from the scourging of Light
oft carried out by messengers at night
Evil that lingers as it eats the Host
preparing the victim for coming roast
Tortured cries that will only this Seal
sad food for a famished beast's meal

How utterly useless are the sincere Pleas
to the shining Gods of poisoned seas!

Robert J. Lindley