They walked into the crowded room;
Spotlight hot; it made them sweat,
The crowd was cautious, curious,
Yet they had no regret.
For they were open, honest,
Wore their feelings on their sleeve,
And while the world was watching,
Professed what they believe.

We are equal. We are worthy,
Of your tolerance and love,
There is but One should judge us,
They are in Heaven, up above.
Should a God that loves us equally,
Be considered gender queer?
Can future generations
Be rid of prejudice and fear?

We only ask you give us,
A chance, an equal shot.
You will find that we will give you
Everything we’ve got.
We will make a difference in this world,
We will find our place among the rest
Some strive for mediocrity,
We will strive to be the best!
Phil Lindsey 1/9/17

Cobblestone streets in the middle of a city,
Testament to a generation past.
In addition to the fact that they are quaint and they are pretty,
Its amazing to us now, how long they last!
Phil Lindsey 1/8/17

If someone says, “And time stood still,”
Consider him an imbecile.
Time creeps, it flies, it disappears,
It changes seconds into years,
Consumes our life,
Each passing day,
And woe the soul
That’s in its way.

Time marches on, as if to war
Countless battles fought before
Why do we refuse to yield?
Lay down our helmet, sword, and shield
Is it so hard
For us to see
That time will claim
The victory?

Time overpowers the strongest men,
And laughs at those who try in vain,
To conquer time, for they will die
Not knowing when, or how, or why
Yes, we will die
While time endures
Time mourns no life
Not mine, not yours.

Time humbles strong, and kills the weak,
It laughs at those who dare to speak,
As if they understand its goal,
Time will extract its rightful toll.
No money spent
Can slow time down.
Time will have
The rich King’s crown.
Phil Lindsey 4/23/15

I’m a hypocrite,
I’m full of
Wit?
I’m harmless
But I’m proud,
So I won’t sell my lemonade
To a whisky-drinking crowd.
For those who order
Sweet ice tea -
I say let them drink!
But New Yorkers drink Long Islands
And are more like me, I think.
I know I’m not an Atheist
But me and God don’t talk.
I think he built his watches
And then went for a walk. (4)
The armies go on fighting
Until the reaper wins
Or Armageddon’s curtain falls
Before Act III of the play begins.
The question asked by Hamlet
So many years ago
Today still asked by many,
Still the answer we can’t know:
“To be or not to be?” he asked.
To suffer or to die?  And
“Shuffle off this mortal coil”
Leave our loved ones here to cry.
There is beauty all around us
Inside us too, if we but look.
Though we might not like every cake
We can’t crucify the cook.
So eat when you are hungry
And drink when parched and dry.
Live life, for life’s worth living,
You’ll have eternity to die.
Phil Lindsey 6/2/15

I know all I need to know. And
All I need to know is that I know I
Told you so. I know I told you so,
But I don’t know what you told me, so,
Tell me all you think you know so I
Can say I told you so.
pwl 6/1/15

A poem ran away from me
To catch, I tried in vain
It was swift and fleeting
I caught but the refrain.

I struggled with it mightily
And fought the best I could,
But the poem got the best of me
As I somehow knew it would.

For I am mortally infirm
And my poems, too, are ill,
A Doctor’s bedside manner
Requires he be still.

And listen to the patient’s voice
No matter what the words
For often, dying is the choice
When one cannot be heard.

“I’m fine, I’m fine”, the patient says.
I must go back to work.
But the X-rays show a shadow
Where the lethal cancer lurks.

And all the while I sing. I sing.
I commiserate my fate.
For I showed up at the finish line
A hundred years too late.

PwL 5/15/15

What tragedy rings loud enough to silence all the land?
What misfortune melds a Nation as no politician can?
Misfortune? Ah, too lame described.  Misfortune is spilled salt.
A tragedy then so defined, must be a villain’s fault.
A villain with intent to harm, to seek revenge, destroy;
Taking credit for the chaos, some morbid short-lived joy
For there will be retribution, if not on Earth then in the End
When a Power greater than ourself will mightily descend
And with a sword of righteousness, cut out the villain’s tongue,
Match the silence of the villain to our Nation's own.

For each assassination, does not a man destroy
But adds glory to the legend, for all history to enjoy.
Lincoln, King and Kennedy all giv’n eternal voice
Julias Caesar, Jesus Christ just cause for our rejoice!
Pearl Harbor, Boston Bombing,, and vicious Nine-One-One
Left silent Nation galvanized when the heartless acts were done.
Silent? For an instant.  But an instant and no more.
And a Nation then united, rise as one with mighty roar!
Transcending gender, race and creed in a common song
The villain will surrender, to our victorious throng!

What apocalypse rings loud enough to silence all the World?
What vengeful God draws mighty sword, his banner thus unfurled
For all to see and fear and weep, beg forgiveness much too late
As we answer for the cruelty, the torment, and the hate.
Will He cut our tongues? thus end the need for power and control?
And by muting interference, a single voice extol?
And with that voice of silence, bring the World to our knees,
To praise the World together, and pray for World peace.
Phil Lindsey, Easter Sunday, April 5, 2015

I did not know that poetry has rules.
‘Tis not a craft for ordinary fools.
Those, that form and meter never master,
Are ever doomed; they are the poetasters.
As opera singers, out of tune, do make
Discerning listeners do a double-take,
And chefs, who sprinkle salt instead of sweet,
Serve meals that connoisseurs would never eat;
A writer with a wretched poet’s curse
Will never craft a great Heroic Verse.

So as I count my syllables and feet,
And wonder if my metaphors will meet,
I pray that hypermetrics are okay,
(For I have used a few of them today,)
I’ll leave the verdict, reader, up to you,
Affirm that to my mission, I’ve been true,
Or if the ending to my verse bathetic
Christen me a poet most pathetic.
Heroic Lines in Couplets, I intended;
Judge me, reader, now this verse has ended.

Phil Lindsey 12/24/15

One tree frog singing
A thousand join the chorus
Soon silence returns

Oh to be trending with
Praise never ending
For poems I’ve shared on this site.

Likes and reposts give me
Reason to boast -
Justify staying up through the night.

Notifications are
Cause for elation;
The judges DO like what I write!

But a poem too plain
Causes heartache and pain, and
Is often my poor poet’s plight.

No comments, no hearts,
Silence tears me apart
As the view numbers start to get high.

Doesn’t anyone care?
Is it cause for despair?
Don’t they know how hard that I try?

And who really can blame us?
Our desire to be famous
Is a standard set forth at our birth.

Though it’s narcissistic,
We allow some statistics
To define the extent of our worth.

When I group words together
My soul is the tether;
I am sharing a part of myself.

The peril I fear
Is that no one will hear
As the words gather dust on a shelf.

So when the words are ‘bout right
I choose to quit for the night,
Add some tags, then I hit save and send,

‘Cuz when all’s said and done
We’re just writing for fun,  
Who cares if the **** thing will trend!
PwL   March, 2015

Garage: A keeper and protector of things past and present. A time capsule for future generations.

Rows of expired license plates, tacked to the wall as a memorial to cars long since traded in.

Matching bicycles, hanging on hooks from the ceiling, together
have less total miles than last year’s Boston Marathon runner-up.

The obligatory 4 x 8 sheet of pegboard, with brackets for tools bought just to fill up the space. Only a few, borrowed by neighbors years ago, are missing.

A lawn mower, and a half-full, red gas can, tucked neatly in the corner.

Brown five-gallon plastic buckets, filled with rock salt, oil dry, golf *****, and the remnants of a spilled bag of bird seed.

Garbage cans, resting up for the weekly trip to the end of the drive. One is for recycling.

A snow shovel, a *****, and a ***, guard the front corner in back of the garbage cans. The garden was at the first house.

A plastic Wal-Mart storage cabinet, locked shut by spider webs and two old spare tires stacked in front of it.

On the bottom shelf, should anyone care to look, are a number of one-gallon paint cans, left by the previous owner, twelve years ago. The brushes, rigor mortis having set in to the bristles, are hanging on the 4 x 8 sheet of pegboard.

Martin:
Stuff on the walls
Stuff on the floor
Hanging from rafters
No room for more

Kim:
Children's playthings long forgotten
Planks of wood almost rotten
Not a car in sight nor much light
It's a dank dark memory dungeon!

Thomas P. Owens, Sr.:
The old Dodge Dart there
long in need of a ******
back and forth to the A&P;
once a week by my Granny

The shore, compelling from a distance, looks lush and green and warm.
From closer up not so inviting,
Remnant driftwood from a storm
Covers beaches, sea grass, shells,
And secrets kept she never tells,
Of all the travelers that have tried
To harbor there, and all that died,
And still more come and try each day,
Though some give up and sail away,
Some, persistent, wreck their ships
Windblown into coral, rips
Gashes in their hulls and heart -
Remains lie broken far apart.

The sunswept skies and gentle breezes push and pull the wispy clouds.
Yet darkness hovers
Ever closer; rapidly approaching shrouds
Soon will join with lightning, thunder
Mortal winds will blow asunder
Bow from stern and sail from mast,
Weary windblown sailors last
As long as able, choose to fight.
Can they endure till morning light?
When early hues of pink and teal
Dark night’s destruction then reveal.
Carnage strewn about the beach
Like dreams of many; out of reach.
PwL 3/26/15

On Valentine's Day
Cards red with hearts and flowers
Cards read with love.

I’m a shadow in the blackest night
You won’t see me walking by
A whisper where there is no light
Under dark and moonless sky.

A graveyard after midnight
An alley off a silent street
A universe devoid of light
Where truth and darkness meet.

Come with me, friend, and lover
Hear the blackness all around
Together we’ll discover
How to cry without a sound.

I will walk you through the dangers
And through years of deathless void
Let us kiss the necks of strangers
Thus more human life destroyed.
Phil Lindsey  8/9/15

The foe now lying at your feet
Your goal in sight,
The taste is sweet,
You survived the ****** war
Bury your foe with one stroke more
He will not cry out in pain
He suffers blows, does not complain
But his revenge, his sword’s sharp cut
Goes to your heart – as you miss the putt.
pwl - 8/14/15

An infant, eyes wide open, stares into the world and sees nothing. An adult narrows his vision and sees what he wants. An old man closes his eyes and sees everything.
Phil Lindsey, August 10, 2016

A candidate from Springfield town
Confused, was wandering all around
He addressed the voters with a grin,
“I do not know what state I’m in,
But we're headed toward election day
And here's a game you all can play!"
The game is "Voting Booth Roulette"
Spin the wheel and place a bet
Put all your money down on me
I think as voters you'll agree
That a vote for me is a **** good bet
Here’s a list of what you’ll get:
Fewer jobs and
Higher taxes
Shredded emails, notes and faxes
Promises
That I won’t keep
Longer work hours
Much less sleep
Construction work on every road
Less money for the schools
More politician pensions, yes
Vote for me, my betting fools."
PwL  5/26/15

Could be hangin’ ‘round a church,
Although it’s sin, it’s not embarrassed, it is
Red and it’s a rule.  We all use them everyday;
Doesn’t have to be in school.
It is most important, but it’s just a
Number
Afterall.
Let me know your answer, with a message.  Not a call.
pwl 1/9/16

He left the bases loaded
He left a lot of par putts short
He left friends laughing at his tales
Of how he failed at every sport.
He left a girlfriend at the altar
He left an ex-wife home in tears
He left his brother on a barstool,
Paying for his beers.
He left money on the table
He left well enough alone
He left his job before the quitting time
Told his boss, “I’m headed home.”
He left a scrap of paper,
With a short conclusive note
It said, “I think we’ve got it wrong,
But I am just one vote.”
He left some pictures on the table,
Arranged in a collage
He left his pick up running
That night in his garage.
PwL 3/20/2018

When you find her love her
Hold her real tight
Get her coffee in the morning
Keep her warm at night
The last thing that you ever want
Is to drive that girl away
So when you find her love her and
She will always stay.

Might take lots of lookin’
Good woman’s hard to find
Admit it man,
You and me, we ain’t no prize of any kind.
We’re rough around the edges
Ain’t got no smooth lines
So when you find her love her
And she will treat you fine.

Yeah, when you find her love her
Hold her real tight
Get her coffee in the morning
Keep her warm at night
The last thing that you ever want
Is to drive that girl away
So when you find her love her and
She will always stay.

See women they are wary
Far as menfolk are concerned
Seems somewhere in their lifetime
Most all of them’s been burned.
She’s gonna look right through you
Deep into your soul,
So when you find her love her
And she will make you whole.

Yeah, when you find her love her
Hold her real tight
Get her coffee in the morning
Keep her warm at night
The last thing that you ever want
Is to drive that girl away
So when you find her love her and
She will always stay.

She might have some baggage
Made a wrong turn or two
Better look into the rearview mirror
King of baggage might be you!
Then both you go and pack those bags
In the trunk of that used car
And read the map together
So you both know where you are.

Yeah, when you find her love her
Hold her real tight
Get her coffee in the morning
Keep her warm at night
The last thing that you ever want
Is to drive that girl away
So when you find her love her and
She will always stay.

Last thing that you ever want
Is to drive that girl away
So when you find her love her
And she will always stay.

Yeah drive away together
Bags packed and stored away
When you find her love her
And she will always stay.
Phil Lindsey 4/24/15

Mom was watching from the window as I
Left the safety of my house, and my yard and
Started walking to my friend’s house.  It was
Only two doors away, and she figured even a
Four year old could go that far without getting into
Trouble.  Trouble is, I had to sit down halfway there.  Maybe
To tie my shoe, maybe to pull on my boot, maybe
I was just tired.
Trouble is, Grampa Ulrich (Ninety years old, preacher, retired)
Chose just that instant to back his car out of his driveway.
But I was sitting in his driveway.  Mom watched.

I can’t imagine her horror as he backed his car over me.
Grampa Ulrich, feeling the proverbial “Bump in the Road” – pulled
Forward again.  My leg broke in two places.  Mom watched.
How tall is a four year old?  What separates his leg from his life?
Mom watched.  Who else was watching?
Mom died last year.  Who is watching me now?
Phil Lindsey  7/18/15

Yesterday is gone.
Your actions can’t be undone,
Why not learn and teach?

Ahh, shady lady says she’s shy
And insecure
As it were,
I say sure,
Sure, she’s a bit demure,
But that’s only part
Of  her
Allure,
I too am shy and raconteur.
Ahh, I always worry
Cuz faces are blurry
I never remember the names;
I hide behind a graffiti covered wall
Standing tall
Feeling small
I guess I’m just part of the games
People play
All day, they
Deep freeze you,
Mess with you, then
Bless You when
You sneeze,
Ahh, get down on your knees
Please, and
Beg for mercy
Beg for pain,
Scarecrow needs a brain,
I’m begging cuz I got nothing to gain
Ahh, let me explain,
Nothing to gain, nothing to lose
Wouldn’t refuse,
A new pair of shoes
Mine are old,
Have a hole in the toe
The laces are broke
And tied in a knot,
What you got,
In your store,
You can give to the poor?
Or for a switch,
You can give to the rich,
Ahh, relax,
They pay the tax,
But, I ain’t no Robin Hood, or
William Tell, whose
Overture to the pits of Hell,
Didn’t sell,
Until he licensed it to the Lone Ranger,
Hi ** Silver, ask a stranger
If it takes a silver bullet,
To **** the wicked witch,
*****,
Lies underneath the house,
Curling toes and ruby slippers,
Dreaming of all the zippers
She unzipped, then walked away,
Ahh, it’s a brand new day.
So if the IRS calls
Tell ‘em I’m dead
Or went to bed
I’ll sleep it off till noon,
Now you got the name of this tune
I’m howlin’ at the moon!
I’m crazy as a loon,
See you soon.
See you soon,
See ya,
Soon,
I’m leavin’ in a hot air balloon,
Ahh, there’s no place like home.
Or Rome,
If you get the chance
To dance,
With the Pope,
Or if you want to see the lions
In the Coliseum,
You can see’em,
Having lunch,
Captain Crunch,
The Tin Man needs a heart,
Tear me up,
Tear me apart,
Ahh, you were all there,
You, and You, and You,
For certain,
You were all behind the curtain,
Ahh, MGM,
And the lion roars,
The End
Phil Lindsey 1/13/17

One foggy morning I went walking
Down the pathway to the sea
Cool and dreary
Very eery,
Something, Someone followed me.
I hurried forward never turning
Was I afraid my past I’d see?
I stopped and looked and she was there -
The Woman with the windblown hair.

Standing still, just like a statue
Windblown hair was all that moved
Cool and wary
Very scary
Truth, or something she must prove?
She turned around and bid me follow
To a clearing in a hollow
Soon I knew why I was there,
The Woman with the windblown hair.

Long years ago; forgotten summer
I met a woman with long hair
Very ****
Apoplexy
Caused me stand quite still and stare
To my surprise she then approached me
I stared, but she did not reproach me
Her beauty was without compare -
The Woman with the windblown hair.

She took my hand and bid me follow
To a clearing in a hollow, on that steamy summer day
Sun resplendent
Very pleasant
The grassy spot where we did lay
I loved her then, and tried to hold her,
The evening and her voice got colder
“We’ve had this afternoon to share,”
The Woman with the windblown hair.

“But I’ve a husband; he’ll soon be home.
You’re young, with life in front of you
I was only
Very lonely
I’ll ask forgiveness when it’s due”
She left me, with a final kiss,
“Respect me; Never speak of this."
She left, and left me standing there
The Woman with the windblown hair.

As I recalled those ancient memories
She turned and stared with eyes that burned
Both eyes teary
Very weary
“My husband never did return”
Suddenly the wind was shifting
The sun came out, the fog was lifting,
The Woman with the windblown hair
Was no longer standing there.

I stood alone for what seemed hours
What had happened? How was I supposed to feel?
Ghostly meeting
Very fleeting
Yet it seemed to me quite real.
I felt that I’d been taken there, and
The Woman with the windblown hair
Had spared a young boy’s future life
The boy who loved another’s wife.
PwL  5/16/15

She smiled, looked up at him, and quickly kissed his cheek.
Then turned and walked away from the turmoil of the week,
Her crystal blue eyes moistened as she neared the airline gate,
And an inner pain engulfed her as she struggled with her fate.

He stood still, surprised, and wondered what she meant to say,
Her kiss was sweet but melted like the springtime snow in May.
Was it beginning? Was it ending? What future lies ahead?
He said 'Goodbye' and turned away.  Words better left unsaid.

Both home to their own islands, alone with thoughts and doubt.
Nobody they can talk to - No way to work it out.
What will she say? What will he think? My God, what have we done?
And maybe out of Darkness a single ray of sun.

Her resolve much stronger than his lust, her drive to do what's right,
Prevailed and gave her judgement (though she didn't sleep that night.)
And life goes on, and snowfalls come - Young children play on sleds,
And both can dream what might have been. Dreams better left unsaid.
PwL  2005

A wordsmith from way far away
Convinced the crowd he had something to say;
“My current work does not show it,
But I would be a great poet
If my words would get out of my way.”

I once had a dream,
Turned into a nightmare
Thought I was livin’,
Found out I had died.
Heard all of the jokes,
But I just kept laughin’,
Told a couple myself,
And somebody cried.

World keeps on turnin’,
We keep getting’ older,
Mirrors and reflections,
Are foggy today.
All of our children
Are livin’ their own lives,
Sendin’ us emails,
“Hope you’re doin’ OK.”

I know that they mean well,
I did much the same,
Life’s movin’ faster
It’s a young person’s game.
Pushing the edges, and
Paintin’ new pictures
No room for old folks,
Nobody’s to blame.

Friend me on Facebook,
Post pictures of grandkids
I’ll know what you’re doing,
I’ll know where you are.
Enjoy all the hours
You have with your children
Your chips earned as parents
Only get you so far.
PwL 4/15/06