"conceives" poems
I had as lief be embraced by the portier of the hotel
As to get no more from the moonlight
Than your moist hand.
Be the voice of the night and Florida in my ear.
Use dasky words and dusky images.
Darken your speech.
Speak, even, as if I did not hear you speaking,
But spoke for you perfectly in my thoughts,
Conceiving words,
As the night conceives the sea-sound in silence,
And out of the droning sibilants makes
A serenade.
Say, puerile, that the buzzards crouch on the ridge-pole
and sleep with one eye watching the stars fall
Beyond Key West.
Say that the palms are clear in the total blue.
Are clear and are obscure; that it is night;
That the moon shines.
7.8k
Hormones raging...for what I'm told not to engage in, even if we're engaged, if it's not official than its still revealed as...fornication. There's a disturbing underestimation of the result given for this particular sinful demonstration, society has taught us that we test the car before we drive it, but the 1st issue with this analogy told is that we're comparing human sin to...driving a vehicle? But if we're going to establish analogies on this subject , then, well, why don’t we also consider these: do we begin eating Thanksgiving dinner before were done saying grace? Do they hand out diplomas and degrees for classes you haven't passed yet? Do they give Super Bowl trophies to teams expected to win? So how do we justify receiving the prize of an unmet process? Far too many have allowed marriage to become an afterthought or not even a passing idea our better judgment caught because man had rather receive a temporary pleasure that sin conceives birthed in disobedience, deceptive grip around your conscience until your choked by the demands of a lustful flesh that wants to be fed in continual expedience. Or...Maybe, I’m just being a hater, fighting not to be twistedly envious and curious of a world that I’m forbidden to embrace. Or Maybe I’m fighting...the temptation and frustration of being a single man patiently searching for that good thing and the favor my Father blesses along with her. Maybe I’m fighting...not to nosedive into the bottomless trap laid for human souls, lured in by lack, of self-control. It troubles me in just how simple... he brags and boasts then plots and plans his next victim in the desecration of his and her Creator’s Temple. But It’s not all his fault, because it was up to her to give him the key to this priceless location better known as her body.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
A philosopher thinks
A writer expresses
A planner makes plans
A poet feels, conceives and reflects with emotions
To reshape the world using a mortar of love of nature
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
I am wild, my akushla,
a solivigant.
But you are a cynefin.
Your kalon conceives resfeber in me.
Beasts rumble within like brontide,
they chant of redamancy, my trouvaille.
The dragoman drew me to you
Speaking of yugen
the susurruss mountains
they cured my atelphobia
Submontane caves
where our lights baltered among the selcouth crystals
Reminding me of basorexic spoondrift
breaking the moonglades you adore,
my fellow parallian.
Perhaps it was boyish werifesteria
or maybe I was selenotropic
to fall in love with a gentle boobook
ever so finifugal when we speak
But I feel filipendulous when abendrot bows for advesperacit
You sometimes consider it sphalolaliah,
my words, going ever on and on,
But I’ll learn your lagom, if you give me time
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
I had as lief be embraced by the portier of the hotel
As to get no more from the moonlight
Than your moist hand.
Be the voice of the night and Florida in my ear.
Use dasky words and dusky images.
Darken your speech.
Speak, even, as if I did not hear you speaking,
But spoke for you perfectly in my thoughts,
Conceiving words,
As the night conceives the sea-sound in silence,
And out of the droning sibilants makes
A serenade.
Say, puerile, that the buzzards crouch on the ridge-pole
and sleep with one eye watching the stars fall
Beyond Key West.
Say that the palms are clear in the total blue.
Are clear and are obscure; that it is night;
That the moon shines.
3.1k
There comes the disbelief
and the day
when a daughter comes to tell
the matter
And she knows you can't help
She knows there's no way
to convince
that afternoon to think about it....
No way to stop the fire in the leaves
of the driest April in twenty years
as it blackens the acres
and blurs the eyes
to all but its own emergency
Before it
the hay of last year's weeds
and all those buds that hope conceives
the flight of all that lives...
The plight before...
...The fire-line...
forces every hand
to the pure product of heat and light--
then to ash
and not to ask "This once was living?"
A senior class wrote their friend good-byes
...could not bring herself to...
...bring herself there....
She had to bring the mourning home
to make alive
to raise the sun--
"He slammed the medicine chest
And saw....
walked through the kitchen
opened the frig for the zillionth time...
Then walked a mile
in the woods behind his house."
Warm for April
short-sleeve warm
"...And I keep thinking
how the sun must've felt on his face and arms
He must've been swinging the jug
and--
WHAT WAS HE THINKING?
They found the empty amber
a hundred yards behind....
I keep seein' 'im put the handful to 'is mouth...
...Then the jug...
He must've had to swallow hard
They say you could tell
...where he stumbled...
...by the leaves...
...found 'im on 'is side with the jug
...just beyond 'is hand...
Oh Ma!
I CAN'T! I CAN'T!"
...So I--
"Maybe he was mouthing the words to a song.
...anyway the birds went on
and he was still warmed by the April sun
when they found him."
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
***Book One
(∞The Psalm of The Star Child∞)
The Precursor's Psalm I-V
To the Child of The Empyrean. For ye valleity stars shine.
(I) ―En Fortissimo
1 Tender with sentimentality,
I fathom you,
2 That you draw closer, nigh’ with every waking moment,
Closer to ensconce ‘twixt my embrace,
3 That your towering arms
May aegis these benighted bones.
4 The Vestibule of Our Souls shall be
Assoiled by an Arcadian Eternity,
5 Shall scintillate in my every blooded tear, shed garnetiferously,
―Upon my crucifix, our crucifix:
6 A penance, pardoning our transgressions prognostically
Before by romance, we touched erringly.
(Se'lah)
(II) Celestial Communion
1 O, Star Child,
May your beckoning
2 Sow the Seeds of Somnus upon the sanctimony
Festering in my faith,
3 (A besmirched hope)
Tarnished by my reverenc’d doubt.
4 O Minstrel of Manumission,
Will ye sing unto me ye SoulSong?
5 The Womb’d Aethers bleed,
The Terraqueous Mother conceives, Gaian a dream,
6 Her Luminous Brethren yearn
For the Arbiter of Fates.
(Se'lah)
(III) Song of Wishes
1 Velleity speaks,
It whispers,
2 In the twinkling of the stars.
When shall it end,
3 When
It has yet to begin?
4 Be still― and become one with all things,
As time fades, consciousness begins,
5 The Experiential Cascade:
All that was, all that is, & all that shall be,
6 Circular & Cycling,
Forevermore.
7 Know that there is a reason,
Know that there is a place,
8 Know that there is a person,
In this world for you.
9 Open up your heart and see,
All you were meant to see.
(Se'lah).
(IV) Spiritus de Tempus (Zeitgeist of the Future)
1 ―Blooming in Reminiscence
The Dreamscape glistens,
2 A Redolent Reverie wafts
The Tenuous Air amidst
3 Her Zephry'd Lightwaves
& Crystalline Pulsations.
4 Ardently I pine,
For thine visage, groping for a rhyme,
5 Whence I can gaze once more upon thine
Countenance sublime,
6 All desperations been defied,
For thee I reverberate Love, The Spirit of the Times.
(Se'lah)
(V) Bastion Heart
1 The agony in existentiality
Unravels undying piety
2 And
Cloistered in cadence of solitude,
3 I, the Somnolent One,
Am roused by The Heart’s Resonance.
4 In wanting, there is life,
In desirelessness, wanting still,
5 Know thine Power,
Indomitable Will:
6 The Couer & The Amour of the Spirit
Are immortal.
(Se'lah)***
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 8:05 AM UTC
A plucked and crushed flower
Emits the fragrance
and goes to the last mile
With a smiling and dashing face
At last!
It leaves rosy scars, behind.
As the victims do
With the message
"Do and Die for others"
"As the inner soul of a good one is always the good"
"There is no change coming
whether you oppose or appreciate
"As tears often turn into morning dews
and the morning star is the witness
The message chases the killer till his last breath
In such a way
When one conceives and feels
Neve can forgive his self
"As the impossible task in the world is
Forgiving own self."
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
My poetry is the embodiment
of the creator's fore knowledge of my existence.
My birth to my death are in each line
that I've laid down to lay with.
With a power my speech can not equal
my writings demand I "let there be."
Now, she's calling for me to sacrifice it
as Abraham was told to sacrifice his Seed.
Yet his requester provided a replacement
once loyalty was shown in the raised knife.
A trapped sacrifice to spare the son
from a blade raised to honor the All Mighty.
You know that I would give you anything
yet nothing has pulled my fingers away
from the plunging of blades into my eternity
with each completed writing's lifting away.
Where is my ram struggling in strong vegetation?
Where is your voice stating firmly
that I've done enough to show my heart
and that my lineage has been spared by mercy?
Inspiration tells me its receptive desires
so God must know my divine purpose in creation
is the reception of initiating penetrations
that conceives fillers of the gap between our separation.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 3:57 PM UTC
oh what a darkness of consistency
grows around this silence
that of a lonely sentence
fallen to earth by itself
offering hesitated thought
that which conceives, yet conceals
a deep misery
an unhappiness that blinds the eyes
that does in its silence circle like poisoned incense
around a badly carved pentangle
squeezing tears from the corners of clenched eyes
forming a violent trembling
from neck to ankles
its silent translation a feeeling
of immence tension vibrating through the body
Ah, this fallen silence
is the beauty that Isaw, I see
the change incredible that brings
this silenece to me rather that someone else
where bliss does come down
and envelope in a mist of passionate lips embrace
imersining itself in a liberating tumultious emotonal experiance
resurfing as internsified passion
intricate in its dipiction
dazzling in its dencely textured matrex
of intimacy in its silence; its fallen silence
the silence of a kiss
that kiss
his kiss
my first kiss with another boy
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
All this lifeless air created from migrated diverted array
Shot from wasted uneventful deep rooted motionless fatigue
Squeezed beneath a realm of misguided beliefs
Things mixed and shattered, confused mistaken repeats
Dug from a soul that never eats
All this lifeless air was created by total dismay
From thoughts that creep without light often in the calmest state
Shaking the essence of what purgatory seeks to infiltrate
With masks that always intolerably penetrate
The gateway to a subtle overactive mind grenade
It hits like a brick, it comes out of nowhere
Breathtakingly taking you into its mystical embrace
To another space in a place where nothing feels the same
Only discombobulation and facades of an erratic charade
Leaving your thoughts confused and in an melancholic state
Calmness in your spirit is a lantern burned from the light inside you
It seeps from your pours and glows intensely within your core
Unmasking horrific ramifications that you justified in the past
Leaving your mind free to disseminate thoughts that usually trespass
Recognizing feelings can be often obsolete
The lurking and self loathing of being stuck in between
a domain of migrated air and empathetic domains
Dragging your lifeless air into migrated array
Only erratic melancholy conceives and births total dismay
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
Qualified Abstinence
I’ve decided - though not wholly -
As of morning’s bath - to put on hold
The daily custom, habit’s viewing -
NCIS, Dr Phil - suspecting as I do
That they are doing me some harm
Engaging, charming
as they are.
Mind as thought and mind as stomach,
Turn to worry, churn with fear
As states of things in world and home,
Play out the clearer,
Signs maturing in their chaos,
Ever growing, ever baiting;
Making brilliant, analytical dear Phil
Ever more mouth-watering.
Well-loved NCIS plays its part,
Portraying nations torn apart
With ever cleverer technologies
And cleverer–type baddies
Getting ‘theirs’ from even smarter good guys.
If then, strong enough to not back off,
The morning TV staying off,
Then maybe, only maybe
This old belly
Can restore its tranquil peristalsis,
Family squabbles turning babble to a kiss.
Phil, dear Phil, continue to be wise and kind!
NCIS’ cast: brave, cuddly and seasoned -
Flag unfurled, continue to engage yourselves
In world salvation!
Stationing my thoughts in action,
I must leave you both
To carry myself into truth
As cellular Arlene conceives, perceives,
Inherently achieves it.
(If, of course, l don’t fall back into the -
(crude, ill-mannered rude word) shit!
Qualified Abstinence 7.20.2014
Pure Nakedness; Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
arlene corwin poetry.com
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
Mirror reflects light,
Mind reflects actions.
Wavering thoughts eclipse -
Peace of mind.
Thoughts converged -
Into an idea,
Conceives an art.
Creation becomes possible -
When two merge into one;
Mind and intellect -
When merge together,
Impression takes birth.
Thoughts, words, deeds -
If line-up perpendicular,
Integrity reflects Divinity.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
Animal Human
He creates
What he conceives
Once Created appears
Before him
He knows not where it came from
He believes it to be him
He who can witness
He who can reach the realm of the spirits,
Beyond all created,
Beyond all conceived,
Is not animal
But divine
Divine's realms only seen
When creation the illusion understood
The layer of color and caste must go
The layer of status must go
The layer of religion must go
The layer of riches must go
The layer of politics must go
For the All-encompassing Divine Needs None
All-encompassing Divine IS
Where all created a thin layer
Where color and caste thinner than thin layers
Where religion thinner than thin layer
Where riches thinner than thin layer
Where politics thinner than thin layer
Where Divine the Essence
Where Divine the Majesty
Where Divine the Immeasurable
Where Divine the Timeless
Where Divine the Stillness
Retracted Within
Rested Within
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
A young woman stands on the corner of the street.
She leans slightly to the left,
and wholly places her body against the brick wall.
An unlit cigarette is caressed beneath her gloved hands.
Snow falls and brushes itself against her black boots
as if it were a cat asking to be scratched behind the ear.
Her warm breath conceives a chilled cloud of smoke with the frigid air.
A man walks from behind her right shoulder.
He holds a collection of daisies and moves slowly.
His oxfords progress as if they are reaching a bus stop.
His black coat reaches his knees and matches the young woman's -
it fits tighter on her.
He places a hand in his pocket,
removes a sterling silver lighter,
and places it in the palm of her hand.
He rests his freezing fingers inside her embrace -
the leather feels like his armchair at home -
his only escape from anything other than solitude.
The young woman smiles,
lights her cigarette,
and allows the nicotine to coat the inside of her body.
A red lipstick shaded deeper by violets
stains itself on the cigarette.
The man holds his hand open and aloof.
The young woman dances her thin fingers around his stout ones.
The cigarette finds its new home.
The young woman smiles.
The man walks away,
carrying her bouquet.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
Don't wait
For a reason
That may never come
Be kind regardless--
It conceives love
© JL Smith
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC
The Life of a Work of Art
The life of a work of art
Begins with an idea,
Just like any mother conceives the idea
Of new life inside her swelling tummy.
Conception; the piece is put together in one’s mind
Detail by detail, until it is formed enough to meet its body; a canvas.
Through rough pencil outlines,
The art is born
From the first touch of pencil to canvas.
The soul and body of the art become welded together.
But, life has begun since the moment of conception.
The piece is fragile and easily destructible;
A newborn.
It must be touched gently, as its lines grow darker and thicker
And the picture begins to change.
An infant, the general outlines are visible.
As a toddler, the artwork is growing from a skeletal sketch
To a generally-shaded drawing.
A child, the piece is maturing quickly.
Paint brush strokes define basic colors and shapes.
A pubescent teen, the art is nearly finished.
Matted, it becomes a young adult.
Signed, framed, and mounted,
The photo is an adult.
It remains on its mount ‘til the paint cracks and yellows
And deceases after a natural disaster
Extinguishes the life of a work of art.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 1:38 PM UTC
Everytime she conceives,
Their joys know no bounds,
But this overdue term,
Will end in tearful frustration.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
I've dreamt of lands,
far and beyond,
Where mourning doves
do sing a song
that is absent of the sadness
which has plagued the one's I've known.
And, here, the days
are longer, so,
In night there's peace
I've never known,
Where little children do not sleep
in fear of monsters perched below -
Their little beds
are filled with naught
but the sounds of restful sleep,
As imagination takes them on a trek
through gallant dreams.
And the nighttime gives to day
a long awaited,
sweet,
reprieve
in which the day may take admiring
all the beauties night conceives.
And, here, the stars shine brighter so
than any star I've ever known,
and, too, behind each twinkling light
there lies a promise in the night:
it's one which speaks of greater lands,
which we can't present envisage,
for anything we might conceive
would, so, fall short from where its come
And, so, they come to us in form of,
ephemeral, night-time, dreams.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
A String Pull Away
Do we cry a thousand tears
or die a thousand deaths?
Do we live in shadows
and bury our hearts in sand?
Do we control the heart that beats
or the blood that rushes through?
Do we live in fiction worlds
that only a mass of fiber conceives?
and forget a bigger world
that longs for our eyes to see?
The blinds are only a string pull away.
Allison Ashton©
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 11:05 PM UTC
tranquilize the heat
my body conceives
i am a sacred human being
not a functional machine
made up of cogs
and dependent body parts
i am more than someone
to just disregard
n.j.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 6:31 PM UTC
With beauty comes pain.
Pain conceives the creatively beautiful.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
In so much as my mind allow,
Shall time flow here and now,
Perception perceives involving dissection,
Correction conceives excluding deception.
Learn to burn,
Fight to yearn,
Creative churn,
Inverted urn,
Ashes swept,
Instead of kept,
Forgotten forever,
Pointless Endeavor.
Think for me,
The activity,
The situation,
Concentration,
To be or not to be.
The will to power,
secrets lost,
or maybe never known,
gravity controls us all,
more solid than stone.
Your god is there,
Deep in your head,
Personal agenda disguised,
My mind, no god,
Practical thought,
There nothing you will find.
My mind, wander,
lost in sunlight,
Confined longer,
Than most can handle,
By most, mostly,
I mean the others,
For we are all but normal.
Forget your life you had before,
For it is long buried,
If you wish to discover more,
This much, you will not carry.
Consider briefly,
Your inner value,
altered; slightly?
Roughly handled?
Maybe reversed,
destroyed or mangled,
replaced and conversed,
No longer tangled.
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 11:38 PM UTC
Nothing belongs
to you or me.
Teach me O Master
to live like a mirror
that
speaks not
conceives not
rejects not
contains not
Break all moulds
the ones I know not
especially ones I know.
Take away things
what I need not
especially ones I need.
*Nothing to lose
no life to cling to.
No doing, no undoing
You call, You consume
i wait to dissolve.*
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 7:12 AM UTC