Linda

POETRY IS WHAT THE SOULS OF THE ANCIENTS SPEAK TO THOSE STILL SEEKING WHAT IS MOST BEAUTIFUL IN THE WORLD. FROM: LINDA

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Thank you very much to Editor Lanning Russell of Event Horizon for publishing my 5 poems.






https://eventhorizonmagazinecom.files.wordpress.com/2018/09/free-pdf-download-issue-51.pdf



A Street Prayer

I lay this rose
above you.
I leave my prayer
for you.
I ask the angels
to guide you.
I will write
all manner of pen
that those who threaten
your brothers and sisters
will choose
to lay down
their weapons
and take up
the arms of righteousness,
and find valiant deeds
better suited to their days
than blind hatred
of different colored scarves and shirts.




Tilting
He carries oblique remarks upon the canvas of his lips.
He paints them as disordered fact. 
He paints them as distorted fact.

He slants the truth; as reckless as concert crowds
after the last note is played.


To meet the artist as a truthful man has long been my wish.

If art is meant to be beautiful, let it dwell safely in his mouth.




A Groovy Life

I want a groovy life,
one not filled with ransom demands or imaginary slights, 

or plots disguised as needy pleas.

But, one with:
Hope for gifts given freely,
with reciprocity never demanded,
instead, each given according to one’s heart. Music - pure, innocent
lyrics both beautiful
and deep in their meanings.
A seat from which to watch
the loveliness of nature unfold,
early or late in the day,
letting imagination name the colors.


Lastly, time in which to fulfill these desires. 
All I can do is ask.


Gunnar, the Rooster

The boastful braggart
looking for triumph.
Mr. Big Talk preening so loudly, 

singing his own praises,
shooting off his mouth
with swank and swagger.
He gained attention, but lost respect, 

what else did he really expect?


Welcome Mat

I came to see you,
at the place where you stay, 

but you did not talk to me.

If I have done something to upset you, I am sorry.
Or maybe it's because of the six foot distance between us.


The next time I arrive,
perhaps you can greet me,
as a moaning sigh on the wind,
or the howl of a distant dog,
or a fence rattling in the background.


Or even as a flitting butterfly, 
newly escaped from the cocoon.

The next time I arrive,
please, lay out your welcome mat,
and I promise to wipe the sin from my feet 

before we close the gap.

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