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Robert Lindley Poem
Courage of Youth, Battle of Ypres, Flanders Field
(A Tribute)
Tough as nails young man with a red right hand
red-fire and whiskey ran in his blood.
Courageous seed of vast and cold hard land
quick temper, power of a surging flood.
Seeker of life, its promised mysteries
rash gambler with all he would ever own.
Born on ship in high wind swept, roaring seas
toughest warrior his town had ever grown.
Met his fate by volley of red-hot lead
buried on ground scared and battle blasted.
Aye boys, fodder that machine guns were fed
fools marching to death, long as it lasted.
Now flowers cover up and Time denies
scenes of battle torn soil and blood-red skies.
R.J. Lindley
April 23rd, 1975
SONNET-(DEATH AND WAR'S FUTILITY)
Tribute to Courage of Youth-- Second Battle of Ypres, April 22nd 1915 .
Note- added - 8-26-2017
Wiki-
The name Flanders Fields is particularly associated with battles that took place in the Ypres Salient, including the Second Battle of Ypres and the Battle of Passchendaele. For most of the war, the front line ran continuously from south of Zeebrugge on the Belgian coast, across Flanders Fields into the centre of Northern France before moving eastwards — and it was known as the Western Front.
The phrase originates from a poem titled In Flanders Fields by Canadian Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, inspired by his service during the Second Battle of Ypres. The fields were not maintained for years before they were made into a memorial. Today Flanders Fields is home to thousands of poppies.
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Found this while rummaging through some of my old poems. Decided not to edit it. Leave it as it was composed over 42 years ago..
Added the note for those not familiar with that battle and its horrific carnage, primarily from the insanity of large bodies of troops marching into direct machine gun fire.
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Note:
This poem was selected and requested for teaching purposes at Cambridge University. Permission was granted for educational use.... RJL
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017
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Robert Lindley Poem
In A Sad Blindness, One May Yet Find Hope
(The Solemn Prayer)
Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.
On this day, life should see past these looming black-storms
Find solace in love, hope and my loving wife's arms
Yet that stone wall, yields to nothing but great power
Far more than this broken soul can muster this hour
When thus lost, can one ever find again that Light
Healer of dagger stabbed wounds, found on a dark night
I pray, gift wisdom to walk that one true-lit path
Release this sad soul from, this evil, wicked wrath.
Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.
Robert J. Lindley, 2-07-2017
Syllables Per Line:
12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12
Total # Syllables: 288
Total # Words: 225
Note- I decided to write this poem, this morn. About half had already been composed in my head yesterday afternoon and I finally sat down now to put pen to paper.
Believe me, in that it was not an easy task to finish this and be satisfied with the results.
Maybe I am just tired and stopped because of that.
I don't know. Maybe on another day, I could have and would have thought this lacking and rewritten it..
But today, I have only enough to say, this is as it is(and thus it may stay), hope you may find it agreeable and not fault me too much .......
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017
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Robert Lindley Poem
American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf
Thirsty for red moon, its sacred beams and eternal pull
howling-out to speak to this dark and blind world, without fear;
Your echoes enter, soulful bones of insightful red man
birthing growing urges to return and run truly free,
falling upon ancient trails, foraging for lean red meat
race with red-heart's deepest desires into widest abyss,
embrace our mother earth, unified into one body.
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
Standing proud, atop very high and lonesome mountain crag
winds caressing one of Nature's most beautiful creatures;
Notes calling loud, that give night's resplendent moon pregnant pause
in that silent and golden moment, where man so trembles,
for it is then knowledge comes, therein sings of true freedom
having no need for dreams of blind men or dark worldly lusts,
speaking to pack below, mirroring its deep felt tones.
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
Alas! Fate and Fury- rage combine and oft delivers
soul-crushing, black-handed cuts from darkened realms far below;
Wherein has justice overcame Fate's most savage attacks
when hatred and greed both conspired to not be defeated,
in infliction of war's sorrows and deadly destruction
while parading under banner of Light and compassion,
tales of malevolent beasts, benevolently destroyed!
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
R. J. Lindley,
Feb 2nd, 1973
Poetry-- Subject Nature, Wolf, Amerian Indian And Injustice...
Old note: My mother's father was Native American. I gained
great insight into the life of Native Americans from words
he spoke to me. Since his death, I have read many books that
gave even more historical knowledge on the subject. Finding
the ones that did not deliberately cover up the savage acts
carried out by "whites" against Native Americans.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018
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Robert Lindley Poem
In Dreams, Her Spirit Sallied Forth: with Lin Lane
Through frigid months, she waited for Spring rains
to give relief and ease heartbroken pains,
Nature will award that which Life commands
placing her true love, in its gentle hands.
O'sweet promise of passion's fine delights,
candlelight dinners and intimate nights.
With eager dreams her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, in the far North.
Countless, were the eventides spent in dread
Praying he'd stay safe 'fore lying abed
She wished on stars in darkened Winter skies
as tears pooled in her melancholy eyes
Arctic winds blustered; through tall pines they'd blow,
layers of oceans, in white waves of snow
In Wintry dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, of the far North.
Pictures sent from her beau, her Southern man
whose dashing looks, deep blue eyes and bronzed tan,
had her heart remembering their first kiss
Without regret, love said, "Hold onto this!"
To wake with dawn's sweet warmth, upon her face
would ease her sorrow and heartache erase.
In ardent dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Beyond the frosty chill of the far North.
She brushed her hair, raven tresses fell
Her firelight shadow evidenced the swell
Softly, she hummed, cradling her unborn child
A motherly instinct that brought forth a smile
Having a babe, they had both long revered
That he'd be back in time, she deeply feared.
With anxious dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Further from winter's chill of the far North.
She was haunted by his voice in a dream
and awoke with the sound of her own scream
Rain, her companion, on an April morn
Pains let her know their child would soon be born
Alone, she prayed that she'd know what to do
In the door strode a man; eyes of deep blue.
No longer a dream, her man had come forth
To deliver their child in the far North.
11-01- 2018
Thank you for writing with me yet again after such a long break my friend. Your invitation to do another collaboration was a great gift and a blessing given to me. I sincerely appreciate such great kindness as well as your great advice given on poetry/editing. As such shows great talent and true poetic heart. You magnificent verses makes this a truly golden poem.
God bless always..
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018
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Robert Lindley Poem
Hope, A Little Remained
She walked the creaking floors of the rat-infested room,
trying to remember what tragedy had sent her to this shabby place.
Her heart felt the desperate pains, that lost love sends in aching waves,
praying her sleeping infant does not wake and cry out from its feverish thirst.
He paced the cold cell, languishing in deep misery, heart shattered,
each step an eternity echoing curses, a testament to his broken pride.
Although thousands of miles apart, he felt her loss, never-ending sorrows,
dawn would come, priest would take his last confession, yet Hope remained.
7-03-2018
For Silent One's, eight lines of fate, when you wonder if it is too late.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018
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Robert Lindley Poem
Yet My Mind Holds Invincible Summer Hues
Bitter cold, ice ravages red-cliffs in my veins
Yet my mind holds invincible summer hues
O' Darkness thy black-hand my spirit restrains
Tho' thy power rages from thy dark Lord's pews
Flee thee far back into thy dark Lord's abode
Plead thy master, at Byrnhilda's rock for aid
Summer's warmth, my fiery embers sent explode
My Viking blood, proves I am iron made
With such power I banish thee with one breath
Tho' thy great wealth of evil is fierce and strong
Birthright, I draw residues from Odin's death
Epic strength and power from Valkyries's song
Bitter cold, ice ravages red-cliffs in my veins
Yet my mind holds invincible summer hues
O' Darkness thy black-hand my spirit restrains
Tho' thy power rages from thy dark Lord's pews
Carry thy dark master this warning I send
With shields of truth, and armored Nordic powers
And with soul's all, and all my strength I defend
Against stones thrown from Dark Lord's brimstone towers
When Valhalla's halls open for my passing
And Odin sits with mighty Thor at his side
Few will have entered in this pledge surpassing
Held firm, courage, loyalty and Viking pride
Bitter cold, ice ravages red-cliffs in my veins
Yet my mind holds invincible summer hues
O' Darkness thy black-hand my spirit restrains
Tho' thy power rages from thy dark Lord's pews
Robert J. Lindley, 8-19-2016
Syllables Per Line:
11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11 11
0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11 11
Total # Syllables: 308
Total # Words: 221
Note: I was bored this afternoon, decided to finish last 12 verses to this poem.
Begun as a tribute to my Viking heritage..
Hope you may enjoy it my friends..
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017
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Robert Lindley Poem
Achilles, The Journey To Troy,
(Part Two) of (Part One-titled, Achilles, His Heart and Soul Were Mortal)
Achilles, The Journey To Troy
Woe! wretched horrors Olympic gods sent that day
mighty king suffered, his treasure stolen away,
power of Troy against very strongest of Grecian might
testing magnificent force of fantastic Spartan fight!
Saving proud Greek honor was the summoning call
an arrogant king demanded Troy's suffering fall,
swift as Hermes, to mighty warriors, messengers sent
his request soon answered, as they came in flooding torrents.
As Grecian phalanx were boarding its warring ships
strong was the question upon the warriors lips,
Achilles! Achilles! Will our fight he now we brave join
he answering not to king's selfish whims or golden coins.
Roaring loud happy cheers as his ship sails were seen
warriors, certain victories plunders they'd glean,
his godlike bearing seen forward, warship soft splashing prow
for not even Troy's massive walls, could ever stop them now!
Soon Troy's riches they would gather with bloody hands
slaughter its haughty citizens, burn its rich lands,
steal its power and gold, take its pretty women as slaves
for its massive sins, cast its rabble into early graves!
Sacrifices made to Ares they could not fail
their gods had sent favoring winds filling their sails,
Poseidon. rewarded faithful kings, had given their dues
they sailed on with courage, pride of warriors and ships crews.
Eager to land and fight battles for glory's sake
to Olympic gods they prayed, their lives not to take,
gift them courage and hone razor sharp their slashing sharp blades
allow the sweet pleasures of victor's homecoming parades.
Dawn's rays saw Achilles ship surging far ahead
he had his prowess and dark blood-lust to be fed,
in his heart he knowing, this great battle would be his last
glory and fame taken, would forever set world aghast!
As night fell, they knew new day's light, would blood-lust sate
they each sought to placate dark master of their Fate,
with prayers and incense to burning throughout dark fog of night
each prepared for this, the greatest of all their warring fights!
Robert J. Lindley, 8-12-2018
(Part Two) - The Journey To Troy
Syllables Per Line:
0 12 12 14 14 0 12 12 14 14
0 12 12 14 14 0 12 12 14 14
0 12 12 14 14 0 12 12 14 14
0 12 12 14 14 0 12 12 14 14
0 12 12 14 14
Total # Syllables: 468
Total # Words: 340
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018
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Robert Lindley Poem
Dead Men Do Tell Tales
I saw, the rot of sad, deep selfish desires,
burning endlessly in clever fires
Piles of cash a tall mountain high
stolen by those that cleverly steal and lie
six lying days every week ,
while they race into church pretending
to be ever so mild and meek
The preacher crying all to give so much more
while he lives in a mansion with a golden door
drunks living with no other life
have sacrificed family and wife
naked women on the the street,
selling their pride and body like meat
hustlers getting rich selling poisonous dope
as they hang themselves with an evil rope
I looked for solace and found there was none
just endless cowards crying on the run
A world teaching wrong is so damn right
blind monkeys never seeing the light
dancing in fruitless trees,
tree-rats eating with relish their rotting cheese
Looking for Spring to bring life anew
I too am blind and without a damn clue
a fool holding onto a false hope
on a tight leash and even shorter rope
Where is the miracle we each think can come
we see it shining there for some
A treasure glaring in the glimmering Sun
gifted not stolen by guile and a gun
So I finally turned to family for relief
ease my Soul, winter in my long lost belief
that Life must give us all a saving line
other than more food when we sit to dine
R.J. Lindley
Nov 9th, 1984
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Lindley Poem
Floccinaucinihilipilification And Very Little Bread
( First of Three Poem Trilogy )
I
I've no problem with bardolatry fans
their barmecide and oft humorous rants.
Give me golden words not found in empty cans,
not bawbee's from those with sad, empty pants.
Truly I enjoy, bright golden attic wit,
creators of canorous verse that soars.
Those I may share bumbo and be a big hit
not with callithumpians that so sorely bores.
Nor do I fancy to become a bichon frise,
beholding to those with comminatory ways.
Finding some will cut you off at the knees
as a criticaster dariole for fugacious pay.
Floccinaucinihilipilification,
judged by Flews that chatter in morbid tune.
Give me saudade and a sandy beach vacation
with very little scrippage in the month of June.
Aye, no snollygoster soucouyant will do,
for my heart and soul begs sun-grazing songs.
Not a superbious umbriferous critic or two,
with the poet's soul this body truly belongs.
Seeking no uroboros legacy my ink doth stain
as a soulcatcher with a selkie as a muse.
Alone, in this rawky terrain my life will remain
for solitude and honor my poet's heart doth choose.
I've no problem with bardolatry fans
their barmecide and oft humorous rants.
Give me golden words not found in empty cans,
not bawbee's from those with sad, empty pants.
Truly I enjoy, bright golden attic wit,
creators of canorous verse that soars.
Those I may share bumbo and be a big hit,
not with callithumpians that so sorely bores.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-21-2018
Rhyme
Note:
Make of this what you will,
I give thus and surely shall send no bill
Yet in my poet's heart my soul oft grieves
for the Autumn colors not the decaying leaves
For the heart that yearns to write and truly give
and the mortal soul that writes to live
With inked symbols and a mind tired of toil
wading through worlds filled with pride and hidden turmoil
I write with purpose to give to others, not to take
tho' oft my poet's heart over burning coals some gladly rake.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018
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Robert Lindley Poem
Probabilities
fallen fruit exists
earthen harvest and ground meet
jars in the pantry
Robert J. Lindley ,07-24-2014
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014
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