I may be older than most. I may say things not everybody will like.
But despite all of that. I will never lower myself to the level of Liars, Haters, Cheats, and Hypocrites.
Philippians 4:13 I Can Do All Things Through Christ Who Strengthens Me:
The thing is the blogs there can be read by anyone. That means non- members, non- paying readers can read the blogs. Anybody across the entire world that finds that site can read the blogs. So those at that site that have worked diligently to limit me (with their well groomed standing )there and my poetry can not stopppppppppppppppp those reads.
Thus the little firmly entrenched --cabal there-- can not hit me in that area.
Can not limit the reads, the appreciation for my writings/ works...
I concentrate on my poems and depths, message sent, and quality over that of --playing the popularity game that is so very prevalent there.
Seven years ago when I first joined and bought a lifetime membership--immediately I was viciously attacked by that little cabal of smug, egotistical and self-righteous sect of self-proclaimed great poets....Because I wrote the truth, composed in the old -style not in the new modern degraded crap style that modern poetry cites as magnicent and has now become, imho. Opposing idiocy and liberalism always brings on vicious attacks my friend. Such that Iweathered there for 7 years now.. Not to mention the same at certain other sites in the past , too.... --Tyr
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
I may be older than most. I may say things not everybody will like.
But despite all of that. I will never lower myself to the level of Liars, Haters, Cheats, and Hypocrites.
Philippians 4:13 I Can Do All Things Through Christ Who Strengthens Me:
Thanks, I will check that out. As I was not aware of that reality....
Have not research very deeply the modern day criticisms of poetry or poet laureates...
Only a very small, cursory bit of information I have seen over the years from my researchings of some modern poets. -Tyr
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
Congrats Robert!
If the freedom of speech is taken away
then dumb and silent we may be led,
like sheep to the slaughter.
George Washington (1732-1799) First President of the USA.
After years of ignoring them I finally got totally fed up with tHem and their antics. '
Within 3 months I and several others caused enough of a stir that administration decided to do something ABOUT THE GUILTY PARTY---THEM.
3 or 4 of them got banned and the other 7 or 8 piped right on down..
My guess is to bide their time and reengage after this blows over, I give it 6 or 7 months--maybe about Spring of 2022..
Because scum like that never give up... not as long as they think they can regain what justice took away from them......
That being the ability to be arrogant, and self-serving trolls..--Tyr
Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 09-19-2021 at 05:57 PM.
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
icansayit, I checked it out. You were dead on the money. So one-sided that it is truly embarrassing. A perfect leftist primarily/liberal set up to glorify only liberal faithful modern poets and the modern forms of poetry that the modern critics praise as golden--which damn sure isn't... Tyr
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
A Blog A Week, Honoring Each Week One Chosen Famous Poet , Second Week, ROBERT BRIDGES.
Blog Posted:9/27/2021 10:35:00 AM
A Blog A Week, Honoring Each Week One Chosen Famous Poet , Second Week, ROBERT BRIDGES.
(1.)
The Evening Darkens Over
---- BY ROBERT BRIDGES
The evening darkens over
After a day so bright
The wind capt waves discover
That wild will be the night.
There’s sound of distant thunder.
The latest sea-birds hover
Along the cliff’s sheer height;
As in the memory wander
Last flutterings of delight,
White wings lost on the white.
There’s not a ship in sight;
And as the sun goes under
Thick clouds conspire to cover
The moon that should rise yonder.
Thou art alone, fond lover.
*********
(2.)
I Love all Beauteous Things
---- BY ROBERT BRIDGES
I love all beauteous things,
I seek and adore them;
God hath no better praise,
And man in his hasty days
Is honoured for them.
I too will something make
And joy in the making;
Altho’ to-morrow it seem
Like the empty words of a dream
Remembered on waking.
**********
(3.)
To Catullus
----- BY ROBERT BRIDGES
Would that you were alive today, Catullus!
Truth ’tis, there is a filthy skunk amongst us,
A rank musk-idiot, the filthiest skunk,
Of no least sorry use on earth, but only
Fit in fancy to justify the outlay
Of your most horrible vocabulary.
My Muse, all innocent as Eve in Eden,
Would yet wear any skins of old pollution
Rather than celebrate the name detested.
Ev’n now might he rejoice at our attention,
Guess'd he this little ode were aiming at him.
O! were you but alive again, Catullus!
For see, not one among the bards of our time
With their flimsy tackle was out to strike him;
Not those two pretty Laureates of England,
Not Alfred Tennyson nor Alfred Austin.
**********
(4.)
London Snow
---- BY ROBERT BRIDGES
When men were all asleep the snow came flying,
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven;
And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness
Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:
The eye marvelled—marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;
The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;
No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,
And the busy morning cries came thin and spare.
Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling,
They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze
Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing;
Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees;
Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder,
‘O look at the trees!’ they cried, ‘O look at the trees!’
With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder,
Following along the white deserted way,
A country company long dispersed asunder:
When now already the sun, in pale display
Standing by Paul’s high dome, spread forth below
His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day.
For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow;
And trains of sombre men, past tale of number,
Tread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go:
But even for them awhile no cares encumber
Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken,
The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber
At the sight of the beauty that greets them, for the charm they have broken
*********************
Bio:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/robert-bridges
Robert Bridges
1844–1930
Side headshot of poet Robert Bridges.
Unknown author, public domain
A Victorian who, by choice, remained apart from the aesthetic movements of his day, Robert Bridges was a classicist. His experimentation with 18th-century classical forms culminated in The Testament of Beauty, generally acknowledged as his masterpiece. He succeeded Alfred Austin as Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom in 1913 and was active in the Society for Pure English, which was founded largely through his efforts. He had an important friendship and correspondence with Gerard Manley Hopkins; his edition of Hopkins's poems is considered a major contribution to English literature.
Bridges spent his early childhood in a house overlooking the anchoring ground of the British fleet in Walmer, Kent, England. His father's death in 1853 and his mother's remarriage a year later precipitated a move to Rochdale, where his stepfather was the vicar. Bridges attended Eton College from 1854 to 1863, where he met the poet Digby Mackworth Dolben and Lionel Muirhead, a lifelong friend. His acquaintance with Hopkins began at Corpus Christi College. Bridges had at one point intended to enter the religious life in the Church of England, but instead chose to become a physician and began his study of medicine at St. Bartholomew's Hospital in 1869. He received his degree in 1874 and worked at St. Bartholomew's and other hospitals until 1882, when he retired from practice after a bout with pneumonia and chose to devote himself to literature.
After his illness and a trip to Italy with Muirhead, Bridges moved with his mother to Yattendon in Berkshire, where he met and married Monica Waterhouse, daughter of the famous architect Alfred A. Waterhouse. Their children included the poet Elizabeth Daryush. It was during his residence in Yattendon, from 1882 to 1904, that Bridges wrote most of his best-known lyrics as well as eight plays and two masques, all in verse. In 1902 Bridges' wife Monica and daughter Margaret became seriously ill, and Bridges decided to move from Yattendon to a healthier climate. The family lived in several temporary homes, spent a year in Switzerland, and finally settled again in England at Chilswell House, which Bridges had designed and which was built on Boar's Hill overlooking Oxford University. Bridges lived there until his death in 1930.
The events of the first World War, including the wounding of his son, Edward, had a sobering effect on Bridges' poetry. He composed fiercely patriotic poems and letters, and in 1915 edited a volume of prose and poetry, The Spirit of Man, intended to appeal to readers living in war times. Bridges cofounded the Society for Pure English (SPE) in 1913; the group's intention was to establish "a sounder ideal of the purity of our language." Its work was interrupted by the war, but resumed in 1919 and continued until 1948, 18 years after Bridges' death. His work for the SPE led to Bridges' only trip to the United States in 1924, during which he increased interest in the group among American scholars.
Bridges began a long philosophical poem entitled The Testament of Beauty on Christmas Day, 1924, with 14 lines of what he referred to as "loose Alexandrines." He set the piece aside until 1926, when the death of his daughter Margaret prompted him to resume work as a way to ease his grief. The Testament of Beauty was published in October 1929, one day after his 85th birthday and six months before his death.
************
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Bridges
Robert Bridges
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
For the American critic, editor and writer, see Robert Bridges (critic).
Robert Bridges
Robert Bridges.jpg
Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom
In office
25 July 1913 – 21 April 1930
Monarch George V
Preceded by Alfred Austin
Succeeded by John Masefield
Personal details
Born Robert Seymour Bridges
23 October 1844
Walmer, Kent, England
Died 21 April 1930 (aged 85)
Boars Hill, Berkshire, England
Nationality British
Alma mater Corpus Christi College, Oxford
St Bartholomew's Hospital
Occupation Writer
Awards Poet Laureate
Robert Seymour Bridges OM (23 October 1844 – 21 April 1930) was an English poet who was Poet Laureate from 1913 to 1930. A doctor by training, he achieved literary fame only late in life. His poems reflect a deep Christian faith, and he is the author of many well-known hymns. It was through Bridges' efforts that Gerard Manley Hopkins achieved posthumous fame.
"The Evening Darkens Over"
The evening darkens over
After a day so bright,
The windcapt waves discover
That wild will be the night.
There's sound of distant thunder.
The latest sea-birds hover
Along the cliff's sheer height;
As in the memory wander
Last flutterings of delight,
White wings lost on the white.
There's not a ship in sight;
And as the sun goes under,
Thick clouds conspire to cover
The moon that should rise yonder.
Thou art alone, fond lover.
Bridges was born at Walmer, Kent, in England, the son of John Thomas Bridges (died 1853) and his wife Harriett Elizabeth, daughter of the Rev. Sir Robert Affleck, 4th Baronet. He was the fourth son and eighth child. After his father's death his mother married again, in 1854, to John Edward Nassau Molesworth, vicar of Rochdale, and the family moved there.[1]
Bridges was educated at Eton College and Corpus Christi College, Oxford.[2] He went on to study medicine in London at St Bartholomew's Hospital, intending to practise until the age of forty and then retire to write poetry. He practised as a casualty physician at his teaching hospital (where he made a series of highly critical remarks about the Victorian medical establishment) and subsequently as a full physician to the Great (later Royal) Northern Hospital. He was also a physician to the Hospital for Sick Children.
Lung disease forced Bridges to retire in 1882, and from that point on he devoted himself to writing and literary research. However, Bridges' literary work started long before his retirement, his first collection of poems having been published in 1873. In 1884 he married Mary Monica Waterhouse, daughter of the architect Alfred Waterhouse R.A., and spent the rest of his life in rural seclusion, first at Yattendon, then at Boars Hill, Berkshire (close to Oxford), where he died.
He was elected to the Fellowship of the Royal College of Physicians of London in 1900. He was appointed Poet Laureate in 1913, the only medical graduate to have held the office.
He was the father of poet Elizabeth Daryush and of the cabinet secretary Edward Bridges.
Memorial to Robert Bridges and Edward Bridges, 1st Baron Bridges, in St Nicholas-at-Wade, Kent
Literary work
As a poet Bridges stands rather apart from the current of modern English verse, but his work has had great influence in a select circle, by its restraint, purity, precision and delicacy yet strength of expression. It embodies a distinct theory of prosody. Bridges' faith underpinned much of his work.[3]
In the book Milton's Prosody, he took an empirical approach to examining Milton's use of blank verse, and developed the controversial theory that Milton's practice was essentially syllabic. He considered free verse to be too limiting, and explained his position in the essay "Humdrum and Harum-Scarum". His own efforts to "free" verse resulted in the poems he called "Neo-Miltonic Syllabics", which were collected in New Verse (1925). The metre of these poems was based on syllables rather than accents, and he used the principle again in the long philosophical poem The Testament of Beauty (1929), for which he was appointed to the Order of Merit in that year.[4] His best-known poems, however, are to be found in the two earlier volumes of Shorter Poems (1890, 1894). He also wrote verse plays, with limited success, and literary criticism, including a study of the work of John Keats.
"Melancholia"
The sickness of desire, that in dark days
Looks on the imagination of despair,
Forgetteth man, and stinteth God his praise;
Nor but in sleep findeth a cure for care.
Incertainty that once gave scope to dream
Of laughing enterprise and glory untold,
Is now a blackness that no stars redeem,
A wall of terror in a night of cold.
Fool! thou that hast impossibly desired
And now impatiently despairest, see
How nought is changed: Joy's wisdom is attired
Splended for others' eyes if not for thee:
Not love or beauty or youth from earth is fled:
If they delite thee not, 'tis thou art dead.
Bridges' poetry was privately printed in the first instance, and was slow in making its way beyond a comparatively small circle of his admirers. His best work is to be found in his Shorter Poems (1890), and a complete edition (to date) of his Poetical Works (6 vols.) was published in 1898–1905.
Despite being made poet laureate in 1913, Bridges was never a very well-known poet and only achieved his great popularity shortly before his death with The Testament of Beauty. However, his verse evoked response in many great British composers of the time. Among those to set his poems to music were Hubert Parry, Gustav Holst and later Gerald Finzi.[5]
During the First World War, Bridges joined the group of writers assembled by Charles Masterman as part of Britain's War Propaganda Bureau at Wellington House.[6]
At Oxford, Bridges befriended Gerard Manley Hopkins, who is now considered a superior poet but who owes his present fame to Bridges' efforts in arranging the posthumous publication (1918) of his verse.
Bridges received advice from the young phonetician David Abercrombie on the reformed spelling system he was devising for the publication of his collected essays (later published in seven volumes by Oxford University Press, with the help of the distinguished typographer Stanley Morison, who designed the new letters). Thus Robert Bridges contributed to phonetics and he was also a founder member of the Society for Pure English.[7]
Hymnody
Bridges made an important contribution to hymnody with the publication in 1899 of his Yattendon Hymnal, which he created specifically for musical reasons. This collection of hymns, although not a financial success, became a bridge between the Victorian hymnody of the last half of the 19th century and the modern hymnody of the early 20th century.
Bridges wrote and also translated historic hymns, and many of these were included in Songs of Syon (1904) and the later English Hymnal (1906). Several of Bridges' hymns and translations are still in use today:
"Thee will I love, my God and King"
"Happy are they that love God"
"Rejoice, O land, in God thy might"
The Baptist Hymn Book, University Press, Oxford 1962
"Ah, Holy Jesus" (Johann Heermann, 1630)
"All my hope on God is founded" (Joachim Neander, c. 1680)
"Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" (Martin Jahn, 1661)
"O Gladsome Light" (Phos Hilaron)
"O Sacred Head, sore wounded" (Paulus Gerhardt, 1656)
"O Splendour of God's Glory Bright" (Ambrose, 4th century)
"When morning gilds the skies" (stanza 3; Katholisches Gesangbuch, 1744)
Major works
Dates given are of first publication and significant revisions.
Poetry collections
The Growth of Love (1876; 1889; 1898), a sequence of (24; 79; 69) sonnets
Prometheus the Firegiver: A Mask in the Greek Manner (1883)
Eros and Psyche: A Narrative Poem in Twelve Measures (1885; 1894), a story from the Latin of Apuleius
Shorter Poems, Books I–IV (1890)
Shorter Poems, Books I–V (1894)
New Poems (1899)
Demeter: A Mask (1905), performed in 1904 at the opening of the Somerville College Library
Ibant Obscuri: An Experiment in the Classical Hexameter (1916), with reprint of summary of Stone's Prosody, accompanied by 'later observations & modifications'
October and Other Poems (1920)
The Tapestry: Poems (1925), in neo-Miltonic syllabics
New Verse (1926), includes verse of The Tapestry
The Testament of Beauty (1929)
Verse drama
Nero (1885), an historical tragedy; called The First Part of Nero subsequent to the publication of Nero: Part II
The Feast of Bacchus (1889); partly translated from the Heauton-Timoroumenos of Terence
Achilles in Scyros (1890), a drama in a mixed manner
Palicio (1890), a romantic drama in five acts in the Elizabethan manner
The Return of Ulysses (1890), a drama in five acts in a mixed manner
The Christian Captives (1890), a tragedy in five acts in a mixed manner; on the same subject as Calderón's El Principe Constante
The Humours of the Court (1893), a comedy in three acts; founded on Calderón's El secreto á voces and on Lope de Vega's El Perro del hortelano
Nero, Part II (1894)
Prose
Milton's Prosody, With a Chapter on Accentual Verse (1893; 1901; 1921), based on essays published in 1887 and 1889
Keats (1895)
Hymns from the Yattendon Hymnal (1899)
The Spirit of Man (1916)
Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins (1918), edited with notes by R.B.
The Necessity of Poetry (1918)
Collected Essays, Papers, Etc. (1927–36
*************
My Two Tribute Poems
(1.)
Pity, We Keep Much Of Our Lives Deeply Hidden
What can anybody truly know of me, real me
The truth that we keep hidden in heart's secret place
Beautiful flower gardens we just cannot grow
The sad aching memories we cannot erase
Treasured delight rejoicing in falling snow?
Pity, we keep much of our lives deeply hidden.
Much of it, things we were taught to be forbidden.
What can anybody truly know of me, my ink
Constant worries we poets always fret over
Will this deep, heartfelt offering be accepted
Could I much better describe that field of clover
Did magic fly forth or was it intercepted?
Pity, we keep much of our lives deeply hidden.
Much of it, things we were taught to be forbidden.
What can anybody truly know of me, my verse
That my youth was wild and so full of sad mistakes
That Love so often stabbed an innocent heart
Woe-some fact, that I rarely ever hit the brakes
Or the many times my life was blasted apart?
Pity, we keep much of our lives deeply hidden.
Much of it, things we were taught to be forbidden.
What can anybody truly know of me, my mind
Can they feel the oft intense depths of poems thus cast
Or with intuition, cipher unwritten words
Know I truly seek to ink poetry that lasts
Or hear singing from life's invisible songbirds?
Pity, we keep much of our lives deeply hidden.
Much of it, things we were taught to be forbidden.
What can anybody truly know of me, my heart
The magnificent times it felt true love was found
Romance that cheered and soothed an aching soul
Or will they come to see that by chains I am bound
And my all, scarred by pains from life's heavy toll?
Pity, we keep much of our lives deeply hidden.
Much of it, things we were taught to be forbidden.
Robert J. Lindley,
Rhyme,
( Born from life that was in wild-youth carelessly lived )
Note:
Can one present anything but heart's truest truth???
And still be a honorable and true poet???
**********
(2.)
Thoughts, Back When I Left Childhood In The Ancient Dust
Decades ago I stepped forth leaving childhood behind
Right into a world wherein for survival fight is a must
Leading onto pathetic pathways were the end is a bind
Like a bright shiny penny deep coated with green rust
But as happens, somehow that first couple decades I lived on
With those hidden cancers firmly entrenched in flesh and bone!
Well golly, you may say, same bull-hockey exists for us all.
And in innocent blindness, beg we for that promised fall!
I feel that life and this evil world 'oft promises too much
Hold on, perhaps truth is my jaded past sorely interferes
If greater wisdom was ever gained I would not think such
But hat my sad-cast summation is laced with epic fears
My deep scars and forever aches this life forever hold firm
And my desperate disease tis born from that unholy germ!
Well golly, you may say, same bull-hockey exists for us all.
And in innocent blindness, beg we for that promised fall!
My friends, 'tis not that I cry my woes in a false foolish sense
As my great blindness may just be a heart that accepts not Fate
That I should perhaps wash my old brain repeatedly and then rinse
For built up anger and loss -too oft leads to staggering hate
And I splash poetic ink, doing so out of blinded rage
While I foolishly bemoan my lot and my advancing age!
Well golly, you may say, same bull-hockey exists for us all.
And in innocent blindness, beg we for that promised fall!
Robert J. Lindley,
Rhyme,
( Born from life that was in wild-youth carelessly lived )
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
NEW SECOND WEEK BLOG HAS ALREADY WENT TO THE " HOT BLOG" STAGE..------Tyr
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
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
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
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
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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
****************
Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 11-28-2021 at 09:30 AM.
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
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.
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
My new blog has now just went-- HOT-- in less than two hours after it was posted..-- --Tyr
Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 01-10-2022 at 11:46 AM.
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
My new poetry form, Lind30 has been used by over a dozen poets in these last few days since I presented the new form.
It has now scored not one but -TWO- POEM OF THE DAY AWARDS in the last 3 days.
Jan 15, 2022 "Grip Of Autumn" harry horsman Verse
Jan 12, 2022 "Winter Barns" Paulette Calasibetta Free verse
********
Grip Of Autumn
Summer's passed on to meltdown
Nature sways in winds of change
A flowing cascade hastens
Woodland stage waits another dawn breaks.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
Emulating Robert Lindley's new form, 'Lind30'
********
Winter Barns
Silos stand like sentinels
Weathered barn doors creak, cows moo
The snow dances with delight
Birds find shelter in the arms of eaves
Poem is written in "Lind30" form. A form developed by Robert Lindley
7/7/7/9 syllable or word count; poets choice.
For: Winter Wonders Within Nature Contest
Sponsored by: M.L. Kiser
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2022
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.
Our collaboration poem has been awarded Poem Of The Day this morning at our poetry site.
This makes 3 Poems Of The Day in three days that are a part of my poetry composing.
I am a bit shocked myself. I guess Cassai is smiling upon me this month. -Tyr
Memories Of Youth And Nature, Were A True Blast
In collaboration with Robert Lindley
Beautiful dawn a Nature walk would do one good
Across the flower filled pond, into the woods
With hearty breakfast, soul could be truly blessed
This truth, with faith love must be truly confessed
Nature has its always wonders awed this eager soul
Youth my favourite poet was always Thoreau
His wondrous verses to this happy heart did sing
And Nature's beauty, its marvellous gem did bring!
My human soul blessed to be brought to this earth
By a youth whose Mother Nature the land of birth
Summer our host along with granny and grandad
Much love and sweet nature added to what we had
With daily sun walked paths till his face would fade
Flooding memories into my heart, so much weighed
“Trees are poems that dear earth writes upon the sky”
Shall we strive to embrace love letting our souls fly?
First for me was in my childhood our old farm pond
There croaking brightly the frogs which I was so fond
Game trails across flowering meadows to the hills
When I remember, I get such delightful chills
That summer morn, with golden sun gleaming so bright
And oh my, flashing fireflies we caught that sweet night
My first little green turtle what a wondrous catch
And wild ducks how I watched their batch of eggs hatch.
I still recall the wake of dawn and cockcrowing
The sight of early bird granny her goat milking
The taste of butter and ghee from the sheep skin
My great glee shaking shookwa as my head would spin
The echo of giggles when my head did dangle
Against the far end of well, laughter would jangle
How can I forget prickly pears harvest season
Despite the stinging glochid, that was my Eden.
In June, the small critters really got to going
Down by the farm's little creek, its clear stream flowing
Days I spent going across that woody terrain
I sputter trying its grand beauty to explain
That July, I read how to a forest explore
Heart and soul set to venture to another shore
That God gave us Nature's treasures, blessing indeed
Spring its colourful flowers came from Nature's seeds.
On sunny days grandpa reaped by hand wealth of land
His back bent for hours, no whine for what he could stand
Feeding and herding sheep, one other blessing and grace
Weary were his bones gratitude wearing his face
For long serving Mother Earth reaping its treasure
A forged nature and an insight beyond measure
Glory be to God recited on prayer beads
Divine favour to an offspring of beauty seeds.
Memories Of Youth And Nature, Were A True Blast
In collaboration with Robert Lindley
shookwa : a container of sheep skin we fill with milk then we shake for a while right and left to produce fresh butter.
"The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows...”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Poet's note :
Dear Robert, so deep my gratitude to you for having kindled my soul and set the spark of your inspiring artistry..
You humbly allowed me to own the precious gems you carved out of a rich life, sharp mind, sensitive heart and devout soul..
I deeply acknowledge the beauty added to my poetic soul as I am tremendously blessed and honoured to commune with you, a highly gifted poet of remarkable humility whose enlightening and inspiring poetry never ceases to stir the mind and the heart..
Belonging to the world of words and the realm of poetry.. walking the path of great poets of inner wonder and true feelings, a deep joy and an immense honour I aspire to and you, Robert, make it true..
18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.