LET ME THANK YOU

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

I want to take
the celebration of
Thanksgiving Day
here in America
to thank those
all across the
whole wide world
for taking your time
to read my words,

THE SEDUCTIVE DELUSIONS OF SOMEDAY

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Wisdom
Is Knowledge
Appropriately
Applied
To The Correct
Conditions

Are We Wise?
I Wonder,
But Have
My Doubts

It Seems
That Humanity
Is Quite Susceptible
To Herd Mentality

Leaving The Thinking
And Logical Reasoning
To Others And Then
Waiting For Them
To Explain What To Do

We All Know
Time Flies
And That Life
Is Short

But That Doesn’t
Seem To Stop Us
From Putting
Things Off
To Another Time,
‘Til Someday

We Believe
Since We Woke Up
This Morning
We Will Tomorrow

No Need To Worry
Or Rush Things
All In Due Time,
Someday!

There Is No Someday!
We Only Have Now!
Someday Is The Seductive
Delusion Of Fools
Who Won’t Ever
Turn Their Dreams
Into Reality

Copyright © 2019 Charles Robert Lindholm, The Reluctant Poet – All Rights Reserved  04.08.2019 @4:30 p.m.

A THIEF IN THE NIGHT

By Jeanne Marie – Women Who Think Too Much.Wordpress.Com
And Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet

Sleep Eats My Hours
Like A Starving,
Desert Demon,
It Swiftly Steals
And Devours
My Most Precious
Moments In Seconds

I Awaken Each Morning
To Find Years And Years
Have Slowly
Slipped Away
In A Silent,
Unconscious
And Addictive State
Of Amnesia

A Bite of Moon

doors melt in my eyes
fishes shiver in fright
if rabbits could count ducks
leaves would spread smiles

Homes

time is water
taped on an unbending light
these pages stand
high eyed frogs
nights hemmed on verdana

Time passing

So the sun sets on the month of May
and June is almost here
already we have seen pass by
not far off half a year
Unsure where that time has gone
it’s happened quite so fast
and life has changed dramatically
and looks quite set to last

Cosmos

the clever skies come soft
from cocoons of my words
the Sun has its coat aloft
in thick seas of thoughts

THE GIFT OF YOUR TIME

By Charles Robert Lindholm

The Year Is Ending
And I Want To Give Thanks
To Each Of You
As Readers And Followers

WHY DOES TIME FLY?

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Time
Runs Slowly
‘Til The Workweek’s Done
But Like A Shooting Star
Once You’re Having Fun

The Seconds
Tick By,
One By One
Measured All The Same

So Why Does Work Time
Feel So Slow
Yet Fly On By
When You’re
Having Fun

I’d Really
Like To Know
Wouldn’t You?

Copyright © 2019 Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet
All Rights Reserved – Please Come View My Archives!!

Time and the starlet

Deep in space-time, she awakes
throws off her mantle of gas

Curtain Call

Once more, the roar of applause thaws his heart and makes him wish he didn’t have to depart this stage. Where had the years gone? He wonders. How did each day, so long, become faint flashes of memory? An ambling trajectory of wasteful debauchery, his life has passed him by like a distant plane in the sky. And now, as he clocks out of consciousness and stares across an endless necropolis, the clapping masses have gone silent. His heart is no longer raging and defiant. Overhead, the black curtain is falling and the blissful escape of the void is calling.

Reflection Haiku

five long years ahead

vibrant, Doppler-blue future

five red years long gone

---

Fences of Time

he dug them straight
fences of time
with granite hands
fences of time
no shadows to bend
no stars to spare

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.

Time

yellow in swirl, whisper in blue
when silence wears new folds
eyes in green, row over stars
flash a dream for the orange

HE HELD MY HEART IN HIS HAND

By Charles Robert Lindholm

My Heart
Had Been Shattered
With Pieces
Scattered
Everywhere
In My Life

Shapes

then he waxed those roses
till they lit the crooked shades

pruned stories, oiled memories
painted distances in neat vials

Autumn

    Autumn

 

So many things

are vulnerable to cold—

the cucumber’s crisp

and my sweet basil’s toes,

Butterfly Cinquain: 2018-09-04

Syllable pattern : 2-4-6-8-2-8-6-4-2

sparrows
truth on their feet
a bed of chirps to dream
home where legs be, legs where heart sings

sparrows

Butterfly Cinquain: 2018-08-22

Syllable pattern : 2-4-6-8-2-8-6-4-2

time turns
cotton to yarn
smoke to fire, fire to smoke
fingers to guns, guns to fingers

turns time

Haiku: 2018-08-18

time a crooked glass
mirrors love, on hands of dirt
stained, for spotless ones

image: eyesforglass.wordpress.com

Guidelines for Confession

“Wait for that wisest of all counselores, Time.” 
― Pericles

They say confessions
can absolve you
They can make you pure.
You will be pristine
as the seraphic soul.

Diamante + Alliteration: 2018-07-28

time
tames, twists
twigs, threads, tales
tresspasses, tussles, makes
molten, mountains
mellows, moves
memory

image: pinterest.com

Summer Wars

The dust of Summer,
rubber, barbecue and
mT air that I beg might bring the rains, Neruda’s
gold ghost, Las Manos del Dia under an umbrella say
do I comprehend, how much it may mean
to meet a grizzled old tree
hale and green
after the many deaths
of teething Winter,
hollow poems
no justice
they cannot say,
Longfellow is out walking
my cautious light around the park.

Lament (a Cento)

Our one forever,

when it stole through the red gates of sunset
left over from autumn, and the dead brown grass
is yet vibrant with the cadence of the song you might have been.

No longer mired in waiting to begin.

They tell us the night means nothing,
and the candles their light the light.

Twitch

twitch not this silence, my owl
I hear the waves in your eyes
rock not this dark, my owl
I see time gallop down your gaze

POETRY AS THERAPY

By Lesley Kluchin and Charles Robert Lindholm

A Broken Heart Needs

Poetry as therapy

Yesterday

yesterday, a leaf broken
by hands I know not
found its stairs
on silver feet
to distances I dare not