I’ll ALWAYS BE WITH YOU

By Charles Robert Lindholm

.

Darling, be still and stay with me

Please have a little faith in me

Easter’s Grace III

This year, last day of Easter - the crown up on the wall
paints a vivid picture which with whimsy I recall
That special time on bended knee humbled and contrite
a simple faith steadfast and true to which I still hold tight
Comfort and a solace true abiding in my heart
held firmly in a life-long hold from which I'll never part

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Footprints

3 of 12 in the ‘My very best’ series

In the sand we saw footprints that led to the sun
and we followed them true for a while
but then a distraction called from one side
so we scurried away with a smile

But the smile of distraction soon turned to a frown
and could never hold us for long
as we realised its shallow deception
and grew tired of its welcoming song

In Faith

Joint Poetry by Venkataraman L.N. and Joseph Kurian

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#69 POETRY =

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Poetry =

Easter’s Grace II

Once some several years ago
In hallowed ground near here
I bowed and offered humber prayer
the beach and sea quite near
A little chapel on the shore
at Easter time at home
with crown of thorns up on the wall
for people to atone
And now as then on Saturday
the sun becomes the son
as at Easter his forgiveness
is complete for everyone

Which journey..

Picture courtesy: internet. If this belongs to you, I am willing to give you credit or take this down.

I wonder if I would like to live the journey of the rain. There is a freedom in its fall, direction, unity and ends up moistening every form with its healing touch.

Or, would I like the journey of a road that bears the heat of the sun, the beat of the rain, the screeches and the weight of its passers by, but shares a glossy affection saved from a long time only to be spent away in a moment.

Or, would I like the journey of the street light that finds no onlooker through the day and whose existence remains overpowered, yet it finds no rest when it is the pitch black night just so that it can bring to life, everything that it surrounds.

Or, do I continue to be in my own journey that lets me be in awe of every other journey which I come across.

And the question drops…

Picture courtesy: Internet. If you own this, kindly let me know. I am willing to give you credit by adding name or link. Also, willing to take it down.

An empty seat awaits your presence and when you occupy it, I will be rowing you silently through an ancient route. You sit there on the other end of the boat and look around. As you will find me absorbed in rowing you choose not to ask me that one question and you keep it for later. Then when you gaze the grasslands and the infinite sky a shimmering golden breeze kisses your face and you feel strange. For you know this breeze and this recollection will make you feel like you know every pixel of what you see and you know every grain of your feeling.  Like you know everything about everything here for ages. Like something is speaking to you and waiting for you to break your silence. Yet, your silence is your only language, your only means to express. You look at me and I raise my head. In the moment, something in us knows that a word will be too much. Your question drops. And, a wordless journey on an ancient route goes on..

Of this world…

A face lay there in eternal sleep,
No smile.
No frown.
I wonder,
“After all, smiles and frowns are of this world”.

Flotsam

float flames, fastened fears
frittered frail, float falcons
flip fingers, flip fortunes

funneled faiths, fresh fabrics
floats freedom, forgone fears
firmament folds, follies found

A RAINBOW’S PROMISE

By Keza – Spiritedsoul and Charles Robert Lindholm

Resistance Is A Self Taught Way
A Means Of Self-Defense

To Stay True To Oneself
And What One Believes

A Wall, A Shield
Preventing Being
Caught Up In Messes Made By Others

My Mind Is Full Of Dreams,
Visions And Memories

Replaying Them
Over And Over Again
In My Head

What Once Was,
No Longer Exists,
There Is Only Ashes
Left Behind From Miserable Days

But I Resist
Lies And Hopelessness
Knowing Darkness Will End
When The Light Of Truth Shines
And Rainbows Promise
Better Days
And Hope

Copyright © 2021 Keza – Spiritedsoul And
Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet
All Rights Reserved – 03-04-2021 – 1:00 p.m.

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THE FIRST SUNRISE OF JANUARY

By Charles Robert Lindholm

The First Sunrise Of January
Always Leaves Me Wondering
What Lies Ahead
Just Out Of Sight
Over The Horizon
In My Tomorrows

And Then It Leads My
Mind Back Over The
Last Year And
Way Back When Too

Recalling
Moments And Memories
And What If’s And
Might Have Beens

Things That Never Were
But Could Have Been
And The Happiness
That Was And
The Blessings
That I Have

Regrets
And Bittersweet
Memories Escape
Their Cell

Deep In My Heart
On The First
Sunrise Of January
Before Being
Escorted Away

Sometimes The Heart
And Soul
Need To Reflect,
Remember And Wonder,
So They Will Be
More Grateful,
And Happy During
The Coming Year

The First Sunrise Of January
Is The Demarcation,
The Ending And Beginning,
One Year Passing Away Into History
As The New Year Is Born

The First Sunrise Of January
Is The “First Time”
You Get To Make An X
On The New Year’s Calendar

Copyright © 2020 Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet
All Rights Reserved – 12-31-2020 – 05:45 a.m.

Inspired By Sadje’s – One Liner Wednesday – Quote

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THE BUTTERFLY YOU WERE MEANT TO BE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Let The Hard Work You Did In Your Caterpillar Phase,

Let You Fulfill Your Dreams And Become

THE BUTTERFLY YOU WERE MEANT TO BE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Let The Hard Work You Did In Your Caterpillar Phase,

Let You Fulfill Your Dreams And Become

Thankful

I’m thankful for sunshine
and thankful for Spring
thankful for nature
with reason to sing
I’m thankful for music
and thankful for song
thankful for rhythm
to keep my soul strong

FAR AWAY – BUT ALWAYS BONDED

By Nichole Sulpizio And Charles Robert Lindholm

Far Away
He Was

Feeling Her Heart Break
Listening To Her Sobbing

Wondering How To Ease Her Pain
And Kiss Her Tears Away

The red and the gold

The sunset is over
the fading has passed
the evening slip-slides away
We’ve said our goodbyes
and shared in the peace
that we saw at the end of your day

The red and the gold
have flooded the sky
The evening of life is now done
We’ve each kissed your head
and held your sweet hand
as the end of your life has now come

Heaven for all

Let’s face it, its only
when we get there we’ll know
at the end of the race
who will get there to go

But I’m these days convinced
that there’ll be no exceptions
for that is a failing
of mankind’s perception

The Listener

For the third time this week
He decided to visit in the middle of the night
Like all the other times

The place

The place falls

The place calls

The place reminiscing

The ones with horns

The ones with holes

In the journey

Of the time.

 

The place sucks

The place chucks

The place twinning

With the ray of hopes

In the lost memories

Of the unheard notes.

Faith, Creation and Creator

First posted on http://www.fleetingmuse.wordpress.com on May 15,2018

Rose is a rose
By any other name
Creator, not sanctioned by
One’s own faith
Why is not the same

On a Hill in Wales, Father and Son

1.

To the beginning son, go back with me
Remember how I stood beside you when…

No, you only remember my absence.

Here we return with precision, an arrow
Fired by the great Tell who reveals us.
The apple on our heads, the gift of Eve
Who saw in us the beginning of Love.

The Four Chambered Heart

Now, where are the words
The heart needs?
Sort through its four chambers
To mix blood for the body to keep moving,
If not forward,
Any motion is better than none.

From chamber to chamber
Soft walls,
Trim dangles,
Ceiling cracked,
Windows frosted with dust.
These images attract hope.

HAIKU: I SURVIVE THE PAIN

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I Survive The Pain  

plea to renew – “Have faith in Him”

Image, Shutterstock

Hope ~ eternal fellowship

HAIKU: SILVER BELLS RINGING

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Silver Bells Ringing

Weeping Psychedelics

To those who weep when
laughter sleeps,

for those whose days
are stolen by black dogs –

and even to those who keep
sanity all to themselves,

HAIKU: DUST TO DUST

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I am made of dust