In early spring some years ago,
I awoke to a shocking scene,
for angry winds chose to blow
across my lovely lawn of green.
Through the window I did see,
scattered across my whole front lawn,
my gutter covers had been freed,
from the gutters that they'd been on.
Then I looked at the neighborhood,
scanned all up and down my road,
boxes, plastic, pieces of wood,
geez, did someone's garbage explode?
It was a spring tempest that trashed our hood;
someone's soccer goal hung from my dogwood.
2-8-2023
Spring Is Not All Poetry Contest
Michelle Faulkner
A drug crazed world spins on ever faster.
Bodies tumble out of that carousel
never to be seen again.
Once whirling dervishes twirled
now they stagger and fall drunkenly.
Molestation hangs in the air
drooling its perilous lava.
All control is folly,
and yet...
this morning
I sip at a mug of Columbian
one hand to pick up a casino bought fob watch,
I let its fake gold chain run threw my fingers,
feel the weight of the colored glass jewel
set within its case
This simple tactility rests my mind
I am at peace with myself.
if all the lithium cell batteries were to cease
this instant,
I would still have this moment to live within,
the taste of rich coffee and this non-working $10 watch
to treasure.
You begin to see yourself
as being shaped by oceanic-waves.
Dressed in the muscle and fiber of restless storms.
A swish of a garment,
the high hem of a skirt pulls you into her flesh.
Sex remakes you into something you do not recognize.
A storm propels you,
a womb once pushed you,
into a tabular rasa, just so all the elements
of fire, air and earth could produce this creature-self
you now are.
Even mere words can madden your mind.
You wonder where and when you will set,
when you will be only the mold and not the molded,
suspect even, that you are but a sail for the wind.
Meanwhile a hermit crab leaves its shell once more
seeking the hunting cries of tempestuous seagulls.
Why must I beg pardon?
Has been our great question;
When you and I battle,
Vessels at home rattle;
I say yes; you say no,
Matters so silly though;
I swear; you swear; sourly,
Dogs and cats laugh wholly...
You are old; I am old,
Our looks have turned ice-cold;
Ego, yet, like a spring,
In us, plays monarch-swing...
When we ask each other,
At end of each whether;
We find the same reason,
Yet pour the same treason...
In the end, it's a jest,
Our true love, dear, does quest,
To explicitly test,
Whose love is best of best...!
08 April 2022
We ride the waves of innocence
on the ocean of The Now
From the depths of dank
the evil stalks our bow
It's little that we can do
to keep all our decks so clear
For in our minds as we list each way
the demons are right here
Storms rage from time to time,
yes they come and go
When the next one pops up dear Captain,
one will never know
That's the fateful tale for those
who go off to sail the sea
For all of us that's the truth
that's forever meant to be
Tempests That Eat Upon Stony Shores
There lay hidden- shadows in a great storm
tempest that eats upon this stony shore.
Night hiding devils wrecking such great harm
destroying in our hearts we most adore!
Waves crash into massive rocks that so shield
playgrounds of ivory sanded beaches.
Harsh winds beating the flowers in bright field
all are savaged as its darkness reaches!
Memories hold that we pray remains safe
glow of beauty existing hours before.
Fast stormy missiles blast all as they strafe
wrecking hell and destruction ever more!
Save our souls, we deeply, earnestly pray.
Give this gift, so we can see light of day!
Robert J. Lindley, 09-16-2015
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 101
Note-This poem was written by me back in early 90's.
I decided to bring it from my private journal and
present it here with a very minor edit.
In the last verse, I changed the word "joy" to --"gift"..
I'm weaker than you
And just as frightened.
I have cowed and hoarded
While you braved harsh years
Holding back nothing.
Your pilgrimage cannot be appropriated or diluted
You journey to please No One but your Gods.
You understood from fledgling human connaissance
Your body and extended Body are but vessels
That They may guide your soul.
I don't know how to help you
And in my cowardice
Believe I can't
Sail ye on, you are the glory that They dream.
Destructiveness is what was left for me
To pick through the pieces of misery, love, and fear
You led me astray to that path
Where your arches opened under a veil of disguises
Where darkness took me far away from myself
Left, was an empty shell of a beautiful soul
A serene spirit in the eye of a storm
Who succumbed and weathered
Instead of being comforted by a peaceful rain.
Verbose crystalled tears bestride
Flaring high on ornately veined clouds
Racking thunderclaps fracture the horizon
Protesting the abdication of daylight
Here the morose summer showers weep
In heavy erosion washing yesterdays pains
An ascending dusk pursues the mislay moon
Lost in the felled bodies chafing the steely skies
Phantoms murmur atop flamed winged steeds
Dancing on the peaks of the worlds rooftop
Tombs satiated in truth opening with echoes
Are purified by the banks of rolled morning mists
And the harmonious stillness of dawn
Drones out the silence of innocence