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Lin Lane Poem
I relinquish my pen before the storm
of her tears falling upon my bare arm
her gentle whispering breathed in my ear
Muse of mine, adieu to your wit and charm
With piqued reasons I have come to deduce
It's time to say fond farewell to my muse
She should seek a new poet and lay claim
for my words have grown utterly abstruse
Spare me sullen eyes, from cries in refrain
I shall not weep in sadness nor disdain
Bitterness does not become a recluse
My poet's heart weakens, I dare not feign
Time's drawn the shades in darkness of night
No candle flame shall glimmer enough light
in which I may be tempted before morn
to doubt seclusion and attempt to write
Cloistered without pen, I shall ever be
From thinking in rhyme I shall be set free
Poems half written on bits of scrap paper
I shall lock away and then toss the key
My hand has retired, this last poem now penned
No more idyll thoughts of mind will transcend
Bereft of rhymes and abandoned of verse
This poet knows her time has reached an end
Ink no longer flows through my tunneled veins
Expressed emotions in poetry wanes
And when interred, on my stone I shall read,
"Reclusive poet" over my remains
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017
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Lin Lane Poem
I walked in darkness along the shore
seeking only solitude and nothing more
Thunder drummed from somewhere far away
like foreboding timpani as clouds began to play
They competed with the roar of bally waves
crashing to the beach in rhythmic laves
Everything was out of reach for me
the moon, the stars, the depth of the sea
Echoes of a nocturne were swirling in my head
Lyrics left unsung, but spoken instead
My soprano continued; the falsetto stopped
Too weak to stand, on my knees I dropped
My footprints had been erased by an ebbing tide
No longer able to run. I chose not to hide
Blind in the darkness, my loneliness daunting
a flash of lightning, then another more taunting
I lifted my eyes to the sky, to the falling rain
its sting delivered in a medley, staccatos of pain
On the edge of the sea, I waited for the end of me
My tears an ensemble, an elegy in requiem plea
I ignored the orchestra when I heard the ocean call
louder than kettle drums or the storm's howling squall
No encore would this night be able to reprise
When the flowing tide encroached, I closed weary eyes
A chorus of waves crashed like cymbals in concerto
stealing the baton from the hand of the Maestro
The moon and stars were out of reach for me
I wept as I was swept into the depth of the sea
August 28, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 13 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017
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Lin Lane Poem
What beauty reflected in love's fair eyes,
a passion treasured beyond all measure.
As ardor stirred flames, I failed to disguise
the need in my loins ere want of pleasure.
As sweet the music I discern profound,
tis more honeyed your lips when touching mine.
Oh! My pained heart shall beckon love resound,
my moonstruck maiden, unearthly divine.
Mute, I cannot be, so near your soft breasts.
This besotted man has but scant more breath.
Grant me your pure love, not in mere request,
but with an angelic kiss 'fore my death.
I beg thee allow the stars remain bright.
Give yourself to me ere the end of night.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
January 9th 2016
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2016
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Lin Lane Poem
She wept as they buried her one true love.
Each day thereafter she brought him a rose,
the flower she knew he was fondest of.
Her grief unbearable, beyond repose.
What pain and suffering his death bestows.
Nothing prevented her daily visit.
She didn't want him to feel all alone.
When beside him her face was exquisite.
When weary she would sigh and then lay prone,
weeping for her love in soft languished moan.
There, in restless sleep, flames of love still burned
'til the twilight hour, when she felt a chill
as the gentle warmth of sunlight adjourned.
She heard a dove singing a mourning trill,
begetting heartache's tears to flow and spill.
November 3, 2022 ~ 2022 Marathon Mile 19 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally written on 23rd of July 2016
Three Stanzas of English Quintain, 10 syllables per line
with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-b
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2016
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Lin Lane Poem
I have deleted the 2 poems I posted earlier today, and instead I offer what will be my final write. I have read the comments on T.J's blog, written in defense of all poets who have been mistreated by what T.J. called bullies and trolls. For far too long many on site poets have ignored and/or blocked the culprits. I did, too, but it didn't work for me. One such person has taken the opportunity to reach me through my comments on the poetry of others. The time has come to bid a final farewell to those of you I admire and hold dear. In so doing, I'm posting what I really feel about those who think their sarcasm is clever. They seek attention, but will not get another moment of my time or thoughts. Perhaps I'll be banned, and that would be fine with me because there is not much left to this site that I would recommend to anyone. To be clear, please don't tell me to stay and ignore the bullies and trolls. I'm not leaving BECAUSE of them, but for many other reasons. I would never allow such people to be the reason I no longer write for PS.
It Will Remain Untitled
I've been hearing rumors that are easy to believe
about some of you who give poets a reason to grieve
With poisoned pens, your ink flows in fetid flux
feigning righteousness. In reality, you're schmucks
What arrogance is revealed in your masquerade
You're not accredited to critique, slam, or degrade
The absolute truth is that no one gives a ripe fig
You're nothing more than a cocky, egotistical prig
How dare you disparage the works of any poet
You're considered 'rude' in case you didn't know it
Disgusting are your slurs and each bitter assault
If the truth hurts your feelings, it's your own fault
You assail with sharp words, then usually delete
How cowardly the deed, from which you retreat
Many think your attitude should be taken to task
You seem to crave attention and in it you bask
If a survey of poets, someone would undertake
the results would find you guilty of being a fake
Stop pointing your finger and retract your claws
If you want to leave, there'd be rousing applause
There'd be no plaintive tears from eyes of many
of those you've insulted, and there's been plenty
Don't make the mistake of thinking poets are weak
It's an end to your barbed sarcasm that we seek
Your actions cannot be brushed off or be ignored
Poets should be in harmony and of a single accord
Animosity is rampant. It's abhorrent and offensive
You give innocent poets a reason to be defensive
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2020
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Lin Lane Poem
Dedicated, a second time, to our beloved Connie.
At twilight, prismed skies unfold
Painting Earth in roseate light
Pastel hues brushed on clouds in flight
Pink threads woven with rays of gold
Marmalade fingers fade to peach
Sinking low, out of human reach
A sanguine sun nears dusk's threshold
Waves ripple with his last shimmer
Dazzling beams of sunset glimmer
'tween sea and sky, since ages old
He sleeps 'til each new day is born
And flowers sip the dew of morn
Earth is veiled by night and grows cold
Moon of pearl glows and stars glisten
Nightingales sweetly sing ~ listen
At twilight, prismed skies unfold
Pink threads woven with rays of gold
A sanguine sun nears dusk's threshold
'tween sea and sky, since ages old
Earth is veiled by night and grows cold
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Connie, your Constanza form is a gift to us all.
Not written for a contest, but to honor Connie Wong.
Submitted on 9/14/2022 To Mark Toney's Marathon Mile 14
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017
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Lin Lane Poem
Soon, sunlight will yawn on the edge of dawn
and I'll welcome the warmth of his morning rays,
but never could I liken them to the great love born
when I feel your sensuous touch that sets me ablaze.
Impatiently, I wait while my heart is yearning
for daylight's journey to cast shadows over me.
Restlessly, I watch the hands of the clock turning
until the hour when the sun surrenders into the sea.
When skies are awash with an amber glow
I become eager to touch the breast of twilight.
Watching as grains of sand in the hourglass flow,
knowing when comes the moon, dreams take flight.
A pearlescent gem, she lulls me to sleep
when gracefully ascending upon her throne.
It's then my reverie descends in slumber deep,
and ardor's silken threads are passionately sewn.
With our hearts ignited by a stellar flare,
we circled the moon on diaphanous wings.
In Luna's lair we made love with savoir-faire
while starlight dreams caressed my heartstrings.
It's no wonder impatience is mounting
before the moon rises to her zenith height.
Hours move much too slowly as I'm counting
the hours when I can touch the breast of twilight.
2022 Poetry Marathon - Mile 22 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally posted on 12/23/2019
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2019
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Lin Lane Poem
These trembling lips cannot bear to remain mute
when their quivering begins in my deepest root
Surf upon the wave's crest of a stimulating ride,
Enter my secluded orchard upon a flowing tide
Saunter into my arbor and taste my honeyed fruit
Allow each nibble to entice with unbridled pursuit
Warm yourself in the sun as we sensually collide
Ripen with me until temptation is languidly descried
Inhale the fragrance of my skin on fleshly curves
Embrace the throbbing titillation of tingling nerves
Unshackle your heart, and have it not be denied
Caress every part of me as your fingertips glide
Hold my blossoms as they call to your heartstrings
Drink deeply of my nectar; flit your pinioned wings
Pluck me for your pleasure, with hands that shake
I await your touch; to relieve my heart of its ache
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2018
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Lin Lane Poem
Aloft, the gem was mounted in black velvet skies
A refulgent pearl, surrounded by glistening stars
Cradled in the arms of midnight, it hung as a prize,
as exquisite as a painting, credited as one of Renoir's
Framed by arching branches of a leafless oak,
a sultry mist bowed before the majestic moon
She was partly veiled by clouds serving as a cloak
Her beauty serenaded by the somber song of a loon
Its tune a haunting trill, a funeral chant of death,
for Luna was wounded, splattered in crimson blood
like that spilled by Duncan in Act 5 of Macbeth,
or a rose pricked by its thorns, a hemorrhaging bud
A sudden stillness enshrouded the atmosphere
Swift currents of reticence flowed in a cryptic river
Pensively I gazed, transfixed on the moon in fear
Impressions of her demise gave me cause to shiver
Such nebulous notions clouded my brooding mind,
for the moon was merely blushing while in eclipse
As dusk darkens shadows of night's morrow, I'll find
a golden orb on high, without sign of an apocalypse
July 22, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 9 Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2018
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Lin Lane Poem
Beyond the sun's celestial dominion,
past purple shimmers of twilight,
I delve far beyond moonlight's golden glow
into the darkness of pilloried memories,
continually searching for answers but fail to find
those that keep my heart fettered in chains.
Within my restless sleep reveries trespass,
flowing through saturnine channels of my mind,
flooding my heart until only sorrow remains
with pensive images I thought I'd left behind.
I'm blinded, not by the bloom of starlight,
but by bewildering moments in time.
Dismal are the murky shadows looming
in the corners of these cavernous hollows.
They hover over my drubbing heart,
whispering taunts in descending echoes.
I grow impatient to end their clamor.
High is the morning's rushing tide,
reaching its frothy fingers out for me.
I rest on grains of moist ochre sand,
winnowing far beyond the limits
of disconsolate bereavement.
It's here that Autumn's demise
wears a shroud of withered leaves.
I lie quietly, waiting to close my eyes,
my tormented heart lingering in grief
that has haunted me since long ago.
As the sun begins its ascent from the sea,
dawn disturbs my quest for eternal peace.
October 8, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 16 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
~~~~~~~~~
Originally posted on 10~20~2016
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2016
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