A Sign
War, atrocities, corruption, crime,
Hatred, murder.
Where can I go to escape
This pall?
God, show me a sign that there is still hope.
I find no virtue living in a world devoid
Of beauty.
Then, consciousness lifting me
Above despondency,
I saw a hummingbird bathe in the dew-filled cup
Of a blooming yellow petaled
Rose they call
Peace.
(Free Verse)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Grieve Not
Grieve not for me that I, have stepped outside the pale.
Man's death is not a void, a thick congeal of night.
The ground whereon I stand, is just beyond the veil;
A firmament of soul, illumined by the Light.
Grieve not for me that, I transcend this human dream,
For I ascend above, the tumult, din and blare.
Come visit my gravesite, as often as you deem,
You'll visit my remains, but I will be elsewhere.
Death is disunion, a spiritual flight, of soul from sense.
(An Alexandrine)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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The Evolution of Belief
When I was just a child
I knelt and prayed, without question,
to a god as distant and, as meaningless
To me as any far-off star.
When I was young,
There was no need for God,
Since I thought I was undefeatable.
I held within my grasp the world,
And challenged all of life.
As I grew more toward middle-age,
I saw in almost everything,
A Reality, an inexplicable Correctness,
The essence of all being as One.
When I became an elder, it was then
I recognized the essence of Reality,
And Correctness, as nothing else but
God.
[...] Read more
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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A Glint of Gold
'Object in the water dead ahead, sir'
Came the bow-watch report.
'Right rudder one degree'
'Right rudder one degree, aye, sir.'
'Stop all engines.'
'All engines stopped, Captain.'
By momentum, we glided past an object
On the portside.
Floating faceless, dressed in navy dungarees,
His torn body drifted by.
I had seen death before.
I gave little wonder, until
Between the fish feeding on his flesh,
I saw a glint of gold reflecting from
His wedding ring.
'All engines ahead two.'
'All engines ahead two, aye, Sir.'
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poem by Lynn W. Petty
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The Grand Scheme of Things
How important I feel, invincible!
Then, I read they found a nebula; a white illuminate;
An interfuse of gaseous light, hung from the galatic ceiling.
Deep within the deepest dark of darkest night is the forming
Of a new star, seven thousand light years away,
Its gas-cloud formation towering six trillion miles.
I, with an average weight of one-hundred-seventy-five pounds;
Standing five feet ten and one-half inches tall; a life span of
Approximatly seventy-five year, have suddenly been struck
With the realization of how supercilious I am in the grand scheme
of things.
(Free Verse)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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This Noble Child
What consecrated thought; divine intent
Was there to cause this noble child to die?
To what avail to take what heaven sent;
This gift, how could the gods so justify?
Why probe the cosmic sea of mystery,
When answers to such questions are not found?
Seek, rather, what she left to memory,
All else is just conjecture to confound.
Her work accomplished on this conscious plane,
Fulfilling destiny, her purpose, life.
The knot was cleaved in two, this human skein.
She saw upon the dawn relief from strife.
She was to us as spirit weaves with mind,
As Self is earth and, heaven intertwined.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Two Gifts has Man
Beneath this old oak tree, I pondered why
The primal gloom of pain on faces passed.
What is the answer to the question asked?
'It is within, ' came chilling words nearby.
It was the Angle Death who made reply.
'It's soul asleep that causes man his cast.
The image of himself has held him fast.
To say the fault is his he will deny.'
'Two gifts has man; a shaft of golden light,
A two-edged sword that cuts the bonds of mind.
The other gift, the knowledge that 'I AM.'
Identity holds man within his plight,
Forgetting his creation, he is blind.
It's man who daily crucifies the Lamb.'
(Italian Sonnet Form)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Golf
I have concluded golf is but a whore.
One day she will embrace me for a fee.
The next, she will rebuff me without thought
Of what my love for her may mean to us.
And, still she takes my money even though
Consistency is far from her cruel mind.
She is the solace of my restive day,
I show her so by my fidelity.
She teases me with faith of better times,
Then, leaves me in the state of my lost hope.
I find that I am gripped within her will.
Unable to extract myself from her
Beguiling charm, though I am aware
Of her abuse, I cannot seem to leave.
I try, but I return each day,
Trapped in the web of her adulterous self.
(Blank Verse)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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How Deep Our Memory Lies
How deep our memories lie,
Beneath the silt and sediment of mind,
Deposited by the turbid stream of life.
Each succeeding springtime thaw swells
The stream of living, burying deeper still,
That memory matter of past forgotten years.
Quietly it lies beneath the strata of time.
It is only when we reach an age of questionable duration
That it seems to rise with haunting recollection, caused
By some stimulation to our senses,
Flooding our apprehending mind with remembrances.
Sound, smell, taste, touch, sight prompts
Those some things long lost in the still deeps of thought,
Overwhelming us in a deluge of emotional reminiscences.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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The Furor of Friendly Fire
The eye of day was closing.
It was dusk at Leyte Bay.
Twenty ships lay at anchor.
A low marine layer covered
The entire bay.
It was that time of evening
When it is difficult to discern
The difference between a wolf
and a dog, as the French say.
A Zero broke through:
Pulled back, up and out, Before
Any ship's guns could fire.
All gunner crews were taunt and tense,
Waiting.
Then, through the cover came
Another plane. This time,
A furor of fire broke loose.
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poem by Lynn W. Petty
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