From my most recent poetry blog......

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Current blog listing as of today..
I have 5 blogs listed as -HOT...
Although one blog by my good friend , Panagiota Romios
is not my blog. It is a blog of birthday wishes given me.
My other blog, titled--
"The magnificence of the Romanticism Era in British Poetry" 2/10/ 2021
having just fallen off the list due to its length as presented on the site.

1. Hot Blog-
Mythology and Humanity, Literature Once Read In High School 3/12/2021 Robert Lindley

2. Hot Blog-
Happy Birthday Robert Lindley From Your Many Admirers 3/9/2021 Panagiota Romios

3. Hot Blog-
Blog On The Genius Of Rudyard Kipling 2/28/2021 Robert Lindley

4. Hot Blog
Blog on The Great Poet-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 2/18/2021 Robert Lindley

5. Hot Blog
Blog on
The magnificence of the Romanticism Era in American Poetry 2/13/2021 Robert Lindley

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

This new blog honoring Edgar Allan Poe , went to the --HOT-- LEVEL faster than any previous blog I have presented at my home poetry site.
Took it only a couple hours to go --HOT...
I could not be more pleased. --Tyr

[icansayit]

How much more rewarding can it be to have such a talented POET so close?

Congrats Robert (TYR). Well done.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

How much more rewarding can it be to have such a talented POET so close?

Congrats Robert (TYR). Well done.

Thank you my friend.
But reality is that fewer and fewer Americans are liking and understanding enough to appreciate poetry.
And that is from the deep decay within the American education system.
Especially so, in its liberal reduction in the teachings of Literature, etc..
With the sad added reality that modern poetry has been deliberately morphed into a lesser state by the so-called progressives /critics that simply abhor the classical, golden poets of old- because they can not touch the level those famous men and women created/wrote at......
Yet another example wherein liberalism destroyed what it could never hope to match or excel at...--Tyr

[icansayit]

Thank you my friend.
But reality is that fewer and fewer Americans are liking and understanding enough to appreciate poetry.
And that is from the deep decay within the American education system.
Especially so, in its liberal reduction in the teachings of Literature, etc..
With the sad added reality that modern poetry has been deliberately morphed into a lesser state by the so-called progressives /critics that simply abhor the classical, golden poets of old- because they can not touch the level those famous men and women created/wrote at......
Yet another example wherein liberalism destroyed what it could never hope to match or excel at...--Tyr

The mentality of decay in the entire World today is caused by poor education, which comes from poor Personal Responsibility that has been avoided in order to maintain the INSTANT GRATIFICATION of the UN-EDUCATED, EASILY-LED, FOLLOWERS of the EASIEST PATH TO "SELF-GRATIFICATION".
I can foresee YOU writing a poem that explains it more than I can. Great Luck. Jim

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Blog, On The Importance Of Seeking And Maintaining A Higher Level Of Creativity- ( A New Poetry Form Included)
Blog Posted:1/10/2022 6:50:00 AM
Blog, On The Importance Of Seeking And Maintaining

A Higher Level Of Creativity- ( A New Poetry Form Included)

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

Blog, Creativity is a must for any poet.

This new poetry form was an idea I had

and first wrote poems in- back in 1984,

When I was 30 years old. I started this blog

in January of 2017. Decided to finish it this

New Year of 2022. Five years from start to

finish, yes I am oft slow about completing

tasks. RJL…



Subject- new poetry form- ( " Lind30 " )

7,7,7, 9

Either form be in number of syllables -or match in number of words-

Rhymed or unrhymed. New form Lind30…..



First three examples are in syllable count-plus rhyme



(1.)

Within Beauty, Oft Lies Cold Hard Truth



Within morn's breathe a reprieve

Sweet breeze and understanding

Does not this world deep deceive

Nature serves up its reprimanding.



Robert J. Lindley, 1-09-2022

Lind30 Rhyme- (7,7,7,9)





(2.)



We That Obey The Ticking Of The Clock



Time's call, we try to defeat

Morning's notice 'oft a pain

Rush, rush to cold breakfast eat

Good God, Sally's cat has gone insane!



Robert J. Lindley, 1-09-2022

Lind30 Rhyme- (7,7,7,9)



(3.)



When Love Enters An Eager, Willing Heart



Romantic heart I adore

Her kisses, blessings divine

Pray I this, always for more

Ravishing desserts, taste of her wine.



Robert J. Lindley, 1-09-2022

Lind30 Rhyme- (7,7,7,9)





( Next two examples are in word count and rhyme )



(1.)



A Small Bit Of Philosophy And Wit



Life, a great mystery to be sure

Existence a true nod to our dreams

Light and Truth, both are set pure

To oppose breadth and depths of mankind's dark schemes.



Robert J. Lindley, 1-09-2022

Lind30 Wordcount and Rhyme





(2.)



Oh No, Not Another High Unpaid Bill



He said, dear Katy bar the door

This bill has me so hopping mad

I cannot stand this robbery any more

Give me another shot of whiskey, just a tad!



Robert J. Lindley, 1-09-2022

Lind30 Wordcount and Rhyme

*********

Note 1 -

This blog and this my new poetry form was begun back

in Jan of 2017, I have only now returned to finish it up

The number 30 applies as in syllable count or else in

the number of words…. Either one may be used thus

giving the poet far more leeway into creativity. Using

the rhymed version, whether it be ABAB OR AABB is

a far higher degree of difficulty imho.

Give it a try, even as a diversion or on a mere whim-

Creativity being the foundation upon which a poet must

live, breath-exist, imho. RJL

Note 2-

If any questions, feel free to soupmail me here.

I hope this new form may give to poets another

way.avenue to pursue in their poetry journey.

Comments are welcomed on this new blog.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Blog,

( Ancient Times, Some Fragments And Poetic Memories )

*******



I Was In The Ocean, Man It Was Dark And Green



I was in the ocean, man it was dark and green

Man it was all nasty, a deep horror filled scene

Sky was a'bleeding, on my tacky new shoes

And Mother Nature crying because she had no clues

Trees were cursing, world its heart a-eating

Rivers stopped flowing, rocks took their beatings*

Life a'sleeping, snakes a moating, two by two

That was when hope and dreams both said, I do.



I was in the ocean, man it was dark and green.

Man it was all nasty, a deep horror filled scene.



R.J. Lindley ,July 15th 1974

Fragment… NOW COMPLETED

*******

Sad, Sad, Echoes That Bounce From Dying Stone



Sad, sad, echoes that bounce from dying stone

Nobody a'searching, here this soul sits all alone

Dawn its weeping, crying out to beat the band

Woke me from a'sleeping, that I cannot stand

Folks here dancing, barefoot without any shoes

Beauties silently prancing, nobody paying dues*

Life was a'moaning, but closed was the old door

My spirit was a'seeping, through holes in the floor.



Sad, sad, echoes that bounce from dying stone.

Nobody a'searching, here this soul sits all alone.



R. Lindley , July 27th 1974

Fragment… NOW COMPLETED

*******

Saw Her, Dutiful, Beautiful In That Blue Dress



Restless, motionless, oceanless, confessionless

Alone, seeking to atone, heart like a frozen stone

Saw her, dutiful, beautiful in that blue dress

And I a staring fool, just sitting there alone

Like a hungry dog that had lost its juicy bone.



Hopeless, useless, flightless, then cautionless

Blind, I wept for illumination to arrive*

Sorrows were my bread, falling tears I do confess

Love-cast dreams, I ate greedily to stay alive

In youth's vigor, worry I not how to survive.



Restless, motionless, oceanless, confessionless.

Saw her, dutiful, beautiful in that blue dress.



R. Lindley ,July 27th 1974

Fragment,-- NOW COMPLETED



********

( New poem, not a fragment )


But Time Came To Your Side, Saying, Now I Insist



Fate, know this far deeper thought- stay alive I must

For one shallow day, die I become bone and dust

Silent, so calmly asleep, turn I into stone

Beneath green pastures, weeping I for her alone

As fleeing winds, moan when hearing my futile cries

I that so deeply weep, beneath Nature's blue skies.



Fate, know this- your awesome powers, I did resist.

But Time came to your side, saying --now I insist.



Robert J. Lindley, 4-21-2022

Rhyme

*******

Blog Note:

(*)- after the verse, notes last verse of the fragments, that was completed..

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

A Blog, On Poetic Contrasting, Between Dark And Light, 11-28-2021


A Blog, On Poetic Contrasting, Between Dark And Light, 11-28-2021
Blog Posted:11/28/2021 6:24:00 AM
Blog, On Poetic Contrast, Between Dark And Light

My two poems composed -one of dark, one of Light.-Tyr

(1.)

The Horrid Night, The Terrible Nightmare



In a dance of serpents the long fangs drip

poison falling from needle sharp fang tips

chained here in this dark cavern of doom

with just one bite this will become my tomb

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



Seems a dream, ghastly nightmare to endure

I think, tis true my heart is not so pure

but that proves what a weak mortal I be

one like all other, too blinded to see

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



I cringe, three snakes slither over to me

in their cold serpent eyes hunger I see

agonizing with my shivers I wait

powerless, now cast into hands of dark Fate

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



As minutes pass like weeks or painful days

aching brain conjures up some fleeing ways

If I sincerely pray maybe I live

I do, I think what treasures may I give

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



Then from the dark a voice begins to speak

you are man, and man is evil and weak

I the master of fear reign in this dark

here you are like a bare tree with no bark

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



I fought the strong urge to give a reply

I wanted to ask the hidden voice, why

on earth was I in this place brought and bound

in this frightening dark, deep underground

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



How I do not know, the voice heard my mind

saying, I brought you because you are blind

in this cavern, a lesson you must learn

recalling life's warnings you once did spurn

I ponder deep how did I end up here,

as my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



It was then I cried, God forgive me

I was truly a lost fool, now I see

Please rescue me from this dark abode

I know now it was my soul I then sold

I now know how I ended up down here,

where my sweat oozes out buckets of fear !



I give thanks, that this lost soul you now save!

With your mercy, I leave this self-made grave!



Robert J. Lindley, 11-28-2021

Rhyme (Dark)

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

(2.)

From Seed A Promise, Treasures To Flourish On Earth



Seed waits not only for Spring's first shower

but for glorious rays of dawn's first hour

resting 'neath in its comfortable hidden bed

far away from cries of earth's ancient dead!



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.



As world represents its raging black-seas

man exist, victim uttering sad pleas

battles fought, sacrificing flowing red

Alas! But vanity that gifts more dead!



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.



Spring arrives, O' glory- of rising seeds

earthen harvests that many billions feeds

fruits of man's labors, Nature's blessed soil

does soul and body well, labor's hard toil.



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.



Mankind walks onward in its blinded way

amidst darkness, victims to set to pay

forgetting divine gifts, walking dead roads

increasing chained hands, life's heavy loads.



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.



Why mankind seeks sadden hearts, weary hands

one must embrace light's truth to understand

for that is the source of those waiting seeds

healing balm that stops black-rivers that bleed.



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.



Seed waits not only for Spring's first shower

but for glorious rays of dawn's first hour

resting 'neath in its comfortable hidden bed

far away from cries of earth's ancient dead!



From seed a promise- treasures to flourish on earth.

Tis reminder, measures of life and love's true worth.

Robert J. Lindley
Rhyme, 11-28-2021



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



https://interestingliterature.com/20...bout-darkness/





LITERATURE

10 of the Best Poems about Darkness



Interesting Literature



LITERATURE

10 of the Best Poems about Darkness



The greatest dark poems selected by Dr Oliver Tearle



LATEST VIDEOS

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(Error Code: 100013)

Poetry isn’t all sweetness and light, of course. In fact, much of it is concerned with the darker aspects of the natural world, whether it’s the mystery or solemnity of night-time darkness or some other, more abstract or metaphorical kind of darkness (‘O dark dark dark’, as T. S. Eliot put it in Four Quartets). Here, we offer ten of the best poems about darkness of various kinds.



1. Charlotte Smith, ‘Written near a Port on a Dark Evening’.



All is black shadow but the lucid line

Marked by the light surf on the level sand,

Or where afar the ship-lights faintly shine

Like wandering fairy fires, that oft on land

Misled the pilgrim …





This sonnet was written by one of the great proto-Romantic poets of the second half of the eighteenth century. Smith’s sonnets anticipate Romanticism partly because nature in her poetry is so often feared with an awesome power that verges on the terrifying: ‘life’s long darkling way’ is brooding and full of menace here.



2. Lord Byron, ‘Darkness’.



I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars

Did wander darkling in the eternal space,

Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;

Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day …





This poem was inspired by a curious incident: the eruption of Mount Tambora in Indonesia, which drastically altered the weather conditions across the world and led to 1816 being branded ‘the Year without a Summer’. The same event also led to Byron’s trip to Lake Geneva and his ghost-story writing competition, which produced Mary Shelley’s masterpiece Frankenstein.



For Byron, the extermination of the sun seemed like a dream, yet it was ‘no dream’ but a strange and almost sublimely terrifying reality.



3. Robert Browning, ‘Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came’.



If at his counsel I should turn aside

Into that ominous tract which, all agree,

Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly

I did turn as he pointed: neither pride

Nor hope rekindling at the end descried,

So much as gladness that some end might be …





A grotesque quasi-medieval dramatic monologue detailing the quest of the titular Roland, this poem was produced in an attempt to overcome writer’s block: in 1852 Browning had set himself the New Year’s Resolution to write a new poem every day, and this vivid dreamscape is what arose from his fevered imagination.





Browning borrowed the title from a line in Shakespeare’s King Lear; the character of Roland as he appears in Browning’s poem has in turn inspired Stephen King to write his Dark Tower series, while J. K. Rowling borrowed the word ‘slughorn’ from the poem when creating the name of her character Horace Slughorn.



4. Emily Dickinson, ‘We grow accustomed to the Dark’.



We grow accustomed to the Dark –

When Light is put away –

As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp

To witness her Good bye –





A Moment – We Uncertain step

For newness of the night –

Then – fit our Vision to the Dark –

And meet the Road – erect …



The first line of this poem also provides the poem with its main theme: the way our eyes adjust to the darkness, just as our minds adapt to the bleakness of life and contemplation of the ‘night’ that is death.



5. Thomas Hardy, ‘The Darkling Thrush’.



At once a voice arose among

The bleak twigs overhead,

In a full-hearted evensong

Of joy illimited.

An aged thrush, frail, gaunt and small,

With blast-beruffled plume,

Had chosen thus to fling his soul

Upon the growing gloom …





This classic Hardy poem captures the mood of a winter evening as the sun, ‘the weakening eye of day’, sets below the horizon and gives way to dusk on New Year’s Eve. Hardy hears a thrush singing, and wonders whether the thrush is aware of some reason to be hopeful for the coming new year, some reason of which Hardy himself is unaware.



In ‘The Darkling Thrush’ itself we are given clues that religion is on the speaker’s mind. In the third stanza, when the thrush of the title appears (‘darkling’ is an old poetic word for ‘in darkness’ – it also, incidentally, echoes Matthew Arnold‘s use of the word in his famous poem about declining faith, ‘Dover Beach’, published in 1867), its song is described as ‘evensong’, suggesting the church service, while the use of the word ‘soul’ also suggests the spiritual. (Such a religiously inflected analysis of Hardy’s poem is reinforced by ‘carolings’ in the next stanza.)





6. Gerard Manley Hopkins, ‘I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day’.



I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.

What hours, O what black hours we have spent

This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!

And more must, in yet longer light’s delay …



One of Hopkins’s ‘Terrible Sonnets’, this poem is one of the finest evocations of a sleepless night that English poetry has produced. When we wake to find that it’s not yet morning but we are still surrounded by darkness, and undergo some sort of ‘dark night of the soul’, we often feel as Hopkins describes here. For him it is a spiritual battle as well as a mere case of insomnia.





As so often with Hopkins, the spiritual and psychological are experienced as a vivid visceral force that is physical as well as metaphysical: his depression and doubt weigh upon him like heartburn or indigestion (‘heartburn’ picking up on the poet’s more abstract address to his ‘heart’ in the third line of the poem, but also leading into the ‘blood’ mentioned a couple of lines later).



7. Carl Sandburg, ‘Moonset’.



This short poem is almost actively ‘unpoetical’ in its imagery, and offers a fresh look at the moon. The poem’s final image of ‘dark listening to dark’ is especially eye-catching.





8. Edward Thomas, ‘The Dark Forest’.



Dark is the forest and deep, and overhead

Hang stars like seeds of light

In vain, though not since they were sown was bred

Anything more bright …



This poem from the wonderful nature poet Edward Thomas (1878-1917) begins by describing a forest at night, above whose trees the stars shine like ‘seeds of light’.



9. Joseph Campbell, ‘Darkness’.





One of the first ‘modern’ poems written in English, this short lyric by the Irish-born poet Joseph Campbell (1879-1944) shares affinities with the poems of T. E. Hulme, and seems in some respects to prefigure the ‘bog’ poems of Seamus Heaney. You can read Campbell’s ‘Darkness’ by clicking on the link below, which will also take you to three other short poems by Campbell.



10. Philip Larkin, ‘Going’.



Philip Larkin never learned, in Sigmund Freud’s memorable phrase about King Lear, to make friends with the necessity of dying. ‘Going’ is an early example of Larkin’s mature engagement with the terrifying realization that death will come for us all.





In ten unrhymed lines, ‘Going’ explores death without ever mentioning it by name, instead referring to it, slightly elliptically, as ‘an evening’ that is ‘coming in’. Larkin uses the metaphor of the coming evening – an evening which ‘lights no lamps’ because there is no hope of staving off this darkness, the darkness of death.



Continue to explore classic poetry with these short poems about death and dying, our pick of the best poems about eyes, and these classic poems about secrets. We also recommend The Oxford Book of English Verse – perhaps the best poetry anthology on the market (we offer our pick of the best poetry anthologies here).



The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. He is the author of, among others, The Secret Library: A Book-Lovers’ Journey Through Curiosities of History and The Great War, The Waste Land and the Modernist Long Poem.



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

On Poetry- Coming from Light,

The desire to gift in poetic verse -- Love, Joy , Happiness, Greater Understanding in verse.-Robert



https://interestingliterature.com/20...out-happiness/



LITERATURE

10 of the Best Poems about Happiness





Previously we’ve offered ten of the most powerful poems about depression. Now, to complement that post, here are ten of the very best poems about being happy. Hurrah! If you’re after more classic poems about happiness, we recommend the wonderful anthology, Heaven on Earth: 101 Happy Poems, edited by Wendy Cope, which includes some of the poems listed below.



Anonymous, ‘Pangur Bán’. This Old Irish poem was written by a monk in the ninth century – about his cat. It features in our pick of the best cat poems, but it’s also a gloriously happy poem (well, cats bring so much happiness, after all), with its talk of delight, merriment, and bliss. (Pangur Bán is the name of the monk’s cat.) Describing the life of the monk in his study with his cat as his happy companion, ‘Pangur Bán’ has everything for the cat-lover and book-lover. Just as the scholar goes in search of knowledge, so his faithful companion goes in search of mice.





Edward Dyer, ‘My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is’.



My mind to me a kingdom is;

Such present joys therein I find,

That it excels all other bliss

That earth affords or grows by kind:

Though much I want that most would have,

Yet still my mind forbids to crave …



This poem by Sir Edward Dyer (1543-1607) might be regarded as the Elizabethan version of Rudyard Kipling’s ‘If’: the poem extols the virtues of a clean conscience and resisting the temptation to take delight on other people’s misfortune. Well, we say this poem is by Edward Dyer; it used to be unquestionably attributed to him, but doubt has been cast over Dyer’s authorship, with some instead crediting Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford.



Edmund Spenser, from Amoretti.



Oft, when my spirit doth spread her bolder wings,

In mind to mount up to the purest sky;

It down is weighed with thought of earthly things,

And clogged with burden of mortality;

Where, when that sovereign beauty it doth spy,

Resembling heaven’s glory in her light,

Drawn with sweet pleasure’s bait, it back doth fly,

And unto heaven forgets her former flight …



This poem, beginning ‘Oft when my spirit doth spread her bolder wings’, is part of Spenser’s sonnet sequence Amoretti. In summary, Spenser says that when he wishes to think of higher things, his mind is bogged down by thoughts of mortality; but he comes to the conclusion that the way to ensure happiness is to find heaven among earthly things.

William Wordsworth, ‘I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud’.



For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.



Given that the daffodils in this famous Wordsworth poem lift the poet’s spirits when he is feeling a little lost or thoughtful, and fill his heart with pleasure, we feel it deserves its place among this pick of the greatest happiness poems. On 15 April 1802, Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy were walking around Glencoyne Bay in Ullswater when they came upon a ‘long belt’ of daffodils, as Dorothy put it memorably in her journal. Dorothy Wordsworth wrote of the encounter with the daffodils, ‘we saw a few daffodils close to the water side, we fancied that the lake had floated the seed ashore & that the little colony had so sprung up – But as we went along there were more & yet more & at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about & about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness & the rest tossed and reeled and danced & seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the Lake, they looked so gay ever dancing ever changing.’ The influence of this passage from Dorothy’s journal, recalling this happy event, can be seen in Wordsworth’s poem.



Christina Rossetti, ‘A Birthday’.



My heart is like a singing bird

Whose nest is in a water’d shoot;

My heart is like an apple-tree

Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;

My heart is like a rainbow shell

That paddles in a halcyon sea;

My heart is gladder than all these

Because my love is come to me …

‘My heart is like a singing bird’: right from this poem’s opening line, the mood is joyful. One of the most famous happy poems to feature on this list, ‘A Birthday’ is about ‘the birthday of my life’ arriving to the speaker, because her ‘love is come to me’. A fine poem by one of the Victorian era’s greatest poets.

Emily Dickinson, ‘How Happy Is the Little Stone’. In this short poem, Emily Dickinson (1830-86) considers the simple life of the small things in nature – specifically, the little stone whose ‘coat of elemental brown / A passing universe put on’. Much like Wordsworth in his ‘Lines Written in Early Spring’, Dickinson ponders the simple happiness that we get from observing nature.



Robert Louis Stevenson, ‘Happy Thought’. This poem from Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses (1885) is only two lines long, so is worth quoting in full here:

The world is so full of a number of things,

I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.



E. E. Cummings, ‘i thank You God for this most amazing’. This idiosyncratic take on the Shakespearean sonnet form is the perfect poem to read on a day when you feel almost deliriously happy and glad to be alive, and your eyes and ears seem attuned to the world around you to an unusually high degree (something Cummings’ concluding couplet captures wonderfully).

Philip Larkin, ‘Coming’. One of Larkin’s earliest mature poems was called ‘Going’; this poem, written a few years later when the poet was still in his twenties, might be viewed as a companion piece to that other poem. Unusually for the lugubrious Larkin, ‘Coming’ is about how the coming of spring makes the poet feel almost inexplicably happy.

Jenny Joseph, ‘The Sun Has Burst the Sky’. ‘The sun has burst the sky / Because I love you’: so begins this wonderfully joyful poem about being in love, from the poet who also gave us ‘Warning’, about growing old and wearing purple. This poem doesn’t feature in the Heaven on Earth anthology, but is too joyous a happy poem to be omitted from this list.



The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. He is the author of, among others, The Secret Library: A Book-Lovers’ Journey Through Curiosities of History and The Great War, The Waste Land and the Modernist Long Poem



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

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Blog Posted:4/10/2022 8:20:00 AM
Blog,
A Menagerie Of Verse, Rhyme, And Meandering Thoughts



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


(1.)

And From Within, A Flow Of Ink Seeks Eager Paper



soft sifting into soft

castles old and hearts afire

hungry eyes

and towering skyscrapers

concrete stairways

echoes from bellowing steel

whispers and mysteries

from meandering alleyways

and a world seeding darkness

into the shadows of mankind

time's furies splurge

universe pays no heed

earth rotates and dreams

begging sun and moon to drop

into turbulent seas

to quench a raging thirst

a desire as yet unknown

for deep within

gathering fleeting swirls

ancient men ponder

morn's breath, life and hidden cries

far, far into the scurrying mist

broken chains announce

a split, a release

of spasms of fear

and the final act

the dreaded end

to loving, dreaming

and the final footsteps

across time

another

star

shines.



Robert J. Lindley 4-10-2021

Free verse

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

(2.)

A Dismay And Dark Dying Look At Life



Disillusionment, disenchantment, disconnected thought

O the decaying of life-cast embers, sorrows sad world has wrought

Despair assaulting senses, pale and peaked the cracks in broken heart

Only path to now be chosen, repair of falling soul's overturned cart.



Robert J. Lindley 4-10-2021

Quatrain

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

(3.)

Dismay And Dark Dying Look At The World



Cascade of light emitting from glow of new morn

Baskets of splinters, love from sweeter life thus torn

Once was love's nectar from a maiden's hand sipped

Now the hope, from a mind, a heart, a soul ripped.



Robert J. Lindley 4-10-2021

Quatrain

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

(4.)

A Dismay And Dark Dying Look At Pain



O deepest of pains, from decaying marrows seeps

Crumbling rocks line the lanes, nightmares pave needed sleep

Fathoms beyond, universe laughs and softly cries

Lonely surrounds, fallen eagles from dark-set skies.



Robert J. Lindley 4-10-2021

Quatrain



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

(5.)

And From Within, A Bounty Of Words Flow Forth



sailing into waters swirling towards the abyss

heedless of the consequence, the coming hurts

within, a soul crying without any tears

a spirit existing as fragments of broken chain

rain falling in splatterings of faded gray

from afar, echoes

from beyond this realm

a soft cry

see, see the rainbows that await

live

thrive

walk from the decaying woods

swim the clear river

into the eddies of love

and know

life

its treasures, fear not fate

land ashore

explore

dare

to accept the colors

the glow

the joy

of rainbows, love, memories and promise

dream again

see again, live again

kiss sadness and sorrows goodbye

stay

pray

and ask no more the why.



Robert J. Lindley 4-10-2021

Free verse

********



Note: 4-10- 2022,



Again found, the healing power of poetic ink

the sword that cuts away dark and opens avenues of light

yet reality says, the battle rages on,

for the foe is no weakling

and to live, to thrive, to find joy -vigilance is the call of the day.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

To my all of my many friends and fellow poets:
Blog Posted:11/6/2021 12:04:00 PM

To my all of my many friends and fellow poets:

Finally my wife is home from the hospital. Awaiting further medical treatment and a future bone marrow transplant. I want to thank all that have given their prayers and best wished on her recovery and my recent troubles for that great kindness and act of giving! This ordeal has been a grievous process to endure and those prayers and many well wishes such a wonderful gift! I am indeed blessed by having such kind friends and my gratitude can not be properly expressed in words. May God bless you , one and all.

This my first writings after my abscence, is indeed a treasured gift to be able to return to inking poetry and my deepest thoughts to share....

I believe such would never again occur but for the kindness of my many friends here. God bless.... I may be quite slow to get back into the race but bear with me.. The first step is this blog and hopefully the rest shall come as time begins to heal this old, tired soul...



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

'O That Morn's Reprieve Would But Stay, Ever The Live Long Day



As night devours its diminishing, stonewalling deep black-veils

And dawn whilst cascading forth vanquishes previous haze

Golden rays emerge to set roses to gift sweet, sweet smells

With presents from Nature's true beauty to counter world's craze



'O that morn's reprieve would but stay, ever the live long day.

With Hope, Life and Love, never again to be cast away.



If such rewarded treasure were to be man's constant gift

With such deep bounty that such love could never ones soul leave

Gone would be life's many vagaries and world's wicked shifts

And those heaping sorrows that come to set souls to so grieve.



'O that morn's reprieve would but stay, ever the live long day.

With Hope, Life and Love, never again to be cast away.



Thus plead I, soul in abject darkness that grieves each deep blow

With pierced and aching heart invaded by devouring pains

Beg dearest relief that seeds happiness to again grow

And from this dark void, emerge as whole from these sad remains!



'O that morn's reprieve would but stay, ever the live long day.

With Hope, Life and Love, never again to be cast away.



'O that Prayer and Love would this evil abyss destroy.

Reunited, my darling and I dance with sweetest joy.



Robert J. Lindley, 11-02-2021

Romanticism

( Born from the cherished promises that Hope gifts )



~~~~~~



'Neath Magic Waters Was Where Heart Belongs




From hazy image of the tallow light,

lapping waters cast forth a welcome glow

she would come, her moonlit song cried it so

to cast away dark world's hideous blight.



Through beastly wilderness I trekked far,

to this enchanted lake barely alive

into these murky depths this soul must dive

whilst having no fear of crossing the bar.



The promise, joyous treasured release

to be found in that realm far, far below

away from torment of deep falling blows

into world wherein evil horrors cease.



As her sweet siren song came to its end

Love's urgent pull become so very strong

'neath magic waters was where heart belongs

resting forever with my faithful friend.



With my one last look at heaven above

down, down to the gleaming bottom I sank

for this gift all the while giving my thanks

I departed this realm seeking true love.



From hazy image of the tallow light,

lapping waters cast forth a welcome glow

she would come, her moonlit song cried it so

to cast away dark world's hideous blight.



Robert J. Lindley, 11-03-2021

Rhyme



Note:

For three days now my darling wife has been home, out of that dreary hospital.

I have again found the power to wield my poetic and hopeful pen.

~~~~~~~~~



When Heart Beats To Make Its Mark



When there was pitch black dark

a solitary light spoke,

"poetry is alive in me!"



When there was grief, deep and stark

a single cry bellowed,

"poetry rests in my heart!"



Where sky meets streaming skylark

a yearning plea asked,

"can poetry survive?"



When heart beats to make its mark

a soul begged its release,

" will poetry sing in tune?"



Where great poetry lights the park

a heavenly voice boomed,

"poetry will set you free!"



Robert J. Lindley, 11-04-2021