"conciseness" poems
Purifying bath Katmandu Nepal
Yes come to these purifying waters join these ladies it will not perform the greater spiritual cleansing
But it provides a picture of glory with her lying on her back she is just slightly submerged in this grey
Clear water her face is beaming her shoulders are bare her hair flows around her neck on one side one
Arm is freely laid over her chest the other extends upward as a friend holds her by the wrist we all know
The bliss that water enriches us with her brown skin is truly purified and her personnel glory again
Beams with such peace soon the elements will converge to change her thoughts and feelings but they
Will not touch the conciseness that was altered in the river Baghmati during Reshi Panchmi a purifying
And Atonement day for women they bare extra burdens in foreign lands how great to see them
Experience such joy countless burdens are washed away at least momentarily water the friend and
Blessed comfort to matrons it provides one of the most picture perfect sights of a soul in repose you lie
Without care a dear friend holds you by the wrist they bottled water if only they could capture this
Special reality and provide it on demand there is nothing stopping anyone from acting this out it would
Change your day your whole perspective it would truly reenergize body and soul I thought I would just
Share a place in time a rite that provides concepts that ever so briefly will take you out of time fill you
With rapture make you devoid of care allow you to play in the courts of the extravagantly rich with out
Price or responsibility they say nothing is free it doesn’t get any more free or freeing than this I guess it
Cost nature the clouds way up in the Himalayas release the moist weight it falls as abundant rain the
River swells and flows gravity pulls it down to the lower valley and when you enter you luxuriate in
Water’s gift tell the tale Katmandu alone is renown but it has even greater layers of reward than the
normal expectations hope you enjoyed a refreshing
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 6:41 PM UTC
mouth syncing up digital brain,
electrically bounding the physical
with the ethereal analog bond
bound up and wrapped,
in fiber optic blankets,
secrets passing layer to layer
heard only by quadraphonic
receivers echoing out
into a singularity of conciseness,
confirmed by units of two
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC
Purifying bath Katmandu Nepal
Yes come to these purifying waters join these ladies it will not perform the greater spiritual cleansing
But it provides a picture of glory with her lying on her back she is just slightly submerged in this grey
Clear water her face is beaming her shoulders are bare her hair flows around her neck on one side one
Arm is freely laid over her chest the other extends upward as a friend holds her by the wrist we all know
The bliss that water enriches us with her brown skin is truly purified and her personnel glory again
Beams with such peace soon the elements will converge to change her thoughts and feelings but they
Will not touch the conciseness that was altered in the river Baghmati during Reshi Panchmi a purifying
And Atonement day for women they bare extra burdens in foreign lands how great to see them
Experience such joy countless burdens are washed away at least momentarily water the friend and
Blessed comfort to matrons it provides one of the most picture perfect sights of a soul in repose you lie
Without care a dear friend holds you by the wrist they bottled water if only they could capture this
Special reality and provide it on demand there is nothing stopping anyone from acting this out it would
Change your day your whole perspective it would truly reenergize body and soul I thought I would just
Share a place in time a rite that provides concepts that ever so briefly will take you out of time fill you
With rapture make you devoid of care allow you to play in the courts of the extravagantly rich with out
Price or responsibility they say nothing is free it doesn’t get any more free or freeing than this I guess it
Cost nature the clouds way up in the Himalayas release the moist weight it falls as abundant rain the
River swells and flows gravity pulls it down to the lower valley and when you enter you luxuriate in
Water’s gift tell the tale Katmandu alone is renown but it has even greater layers of reward than the
normal expectations hope you enjoyed a refreshing
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 6:41 PM UTC
I take off my coat and stomp the snow off my shoes.
Trip over the rug and instantly bruise.
Glance up at the stack of medical bills, next to the various bottles of pills.
Crawl into bed to drift away.
Ready to escape another horrid day.
and right when conciseness started to vanish.
There's a knock on the door,
A little Spanish girl I'd never seen before.
"Sorry, wrong house."
She says in a heavy accent.
I notice her knit gloves are frozen
On her hands, made perfectly for imprints in cement.
And I wonder
If she ever made art with her hand prints when she was a kid,
I don't know, maybe she was better than that.
But for some reason, I want her to make me one of those hand print crafts.
So I say, "But this house has a fireplace, come on in."
She steps inside and laughs.
I pull the frozen knit gloves off her tiny cold hands. and breath into them to make them warm.
My stomachs butterflies are flying in swarms.
Then she sees the the pills and asks "what are all these?"
My heart sinks
"Don't worry about it, just forget it...please"
Her eyes drop and get wide when she sees the bruise on my knee.
And for the first time she really sees me.
I know how she must feel.
getting in on the short end of a sick deal.
Or maybe she can't believe that it's real.
she just pulls up her sleeve, and shows me her wrist.
A hospital bracelet with bold type reading flight risk
I start to tell her she needs to go back.
And feel my cheek turning red from her slap
she says "I'm sorry, Just don't make me go..Nobody want's to die alone."
I don't know if it was the needy look in her eye,
Or the helplessness in her tone.
But you should know that
She didn't die alone.
© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
By any normally accepted standard
three words are scarcely sufficient
to be considered a poem.
The Japanese, who have a gift for conciseness,
might be sympathetic.
(Haiku, after all,
at seventeen syllables,
are pretty compact.)
But three words! It's not so much concise as,
to put it bluntly, short.
If I say that, when I try to write a poem for you,
"I love you" is all I can think of,
that is no excuse.
And the fact that my meaning is new and unique
(for me and for you)
makes no difference either.
If only there were some way out of my difficulty.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
There, that's nine words.
Will that do?
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
He creeps into your vision with a slight smile
When you're almost least expecting him
Sometimes you don't even know he's there
Sometimes he's just a shadow with a knife
"Hold on you need that" he whispers as your mind starts to spin
To a point where you can't think about anything else
"You know you need it" the echo in the back of your mind
Not sure of who's making the sound
Sometimes you see him in others
When their eyes light up with malice
Sometimes he's not as strong
He plays nice, for the few that are worthy and in that moment he helps
"Such a pretty little thing" the voice creeps across you're mind but you're unaware someone else is speaking.
"Don't you need her?"
He's there but some don't notice
Some don't even worry about it they just take what he whispers in mistake it's their own voice speaking
He's a cute little pesky demon
Clouding your vision in all types of form
The need, the desire, the yearning
It's a game you see played by someone else just below the threshold of conciseness
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
My words do splits, therefore they do gymnastic flips
this acid pit drips sick masses of glass and ink
Brain **** call it massive **** pinpointed so accurate
I'm going to a place with no conciseness
I write with my arms Then drop legs and abstract kicks
My abstractions are the thrills of a ride or several attractions
My mental is monumental to some by a fraction
I'm an empty thought that lies in a Casket
Surprise with my habits That's applied to the madness is tragic...
Slithering satisfaction supported strongly surpasses idiots by the masses.
Monumental mysteries mesmerizes men in misery...
I live life to amaze while in a maze of symmetry
I hope what I say Is riveting, Imagery will then cascade into a blaze of remedies
instantly sparking a chain reaction of positive energy...
The negative turns away...along with its enemies...
Ears evolve into eyes then spot their demise
I hope I never get lost in these times.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
Observant misconstrued glances weaving conclusions
of what is above your paygrade of perceptiveness.
imperfections of what you glance upon.
A child in the confinement of misunderstanding,
Only the turbulence of reality like ocean waves.
Solitude of emotions then surges of confusion crash.
Lost in the tall trees of emotions as the leafs of
disorientation venture to cloud a mind of needed calm.
The conciseness needs the rhyme of routine to balance.
Heed this thought those of ill-conceived notions that
when this little miracle has a moment of uncontained
emotion, it is not for your misconceived wordings.
"My little one mummy is here, daddy too,
"Hear our voices like a calm ocean over you,
A mother embraces the worries of your thoughts,
easing the confusion of the world away..
Others may stare in ignorant stances.
*"But nothing is wrong with you, you're our baby
cuddling the confusion of your surroundings away.*
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 7:09 PM UTC
Dark - Dark - Dark -
Lost within the dark;
Riding on a steed of the darkest velvet -
Of the darkest emotion.
Deep - Deep - Deep -
Swirling into the deep oblivion;
Twisting deeper down under -
Deep down to the lowest level of cyanide.
Fly - Fly - Fly -
Fly away to a season of bliss;
Flutter into the wind of uncertainty -
Tear the pages of fate and destiny then flush, flutter, fly.
Away - Away - Away -
Far away to a majestic paradise of warranty;
Away to a night of desolation -
Never to wander any farther than away.
Writing - Writing - Writing -
Scribbling a melody of peace and warfare;
Sending a written requiem -
Hoping the perished write back.
Trust - Trust - Trust -
Sleep inside a swollen state of trustworthiness;
Don’t trust a nymph who lies beneath their lips -
Don’t trust your self-conciseness.
Fly Away from the Deep, Dark, Trust of Writing.
Dark - Deep - Fly - Away - Write - Trust:
Live.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
Behold my face, so serene, I'm every part of the scene;
the crucified, the prosecutor as well the chorus.
When I breath my chests cage shows gaps ,the focus.
Here you are again my parade of pestilence my imbalanced state showing as ailments.
My sides tearing, stress penetrating my skin. Tragic,
Oh how the spear of reproach entangles and dives deep,
Piercing my belly and lets it noxious poison seep.
I beg 'No please do not twist', he then spoke of my dying dreams and loses to the soul.
The knots bind my thought and any move in conciseness has it toll.
The darkness strives for my sight but he knows how to not give it room.
The poisoned tip barley nearly missed my heart , I thought it the end, I relaxed too soon.
The tincture of doubt burns my open sensitive soft non-flesh.
Am I not one of the blessed, where is my place of rest?
The jury spectate from its pedestal, good for nothin but blaming.
His aim was never my life only that which makes it worth living.
His aim was the spark, my soul, the light at the end of the tunnel showing it all, so you don't stay down when you fall.
The earth knows me from My hands, feet and knees.
I rarely pray only spoke if it preceded an action, I fell a lot you see.
Now I walk with caution but my legs can barely take the weight.
My breathing and steps were heavy. you wouldn't have know my pain by my face
This has been my truth I believed it fate.
Early I realized wherever I sat was a throne.
Hubris led me to take on the woes and faults of the world as if they were my own.
The jury clamor great hollow truths, to lessen the sentences existence.
As much as they are valid and grand I see them only as excuses
"You will pain those who you love and love you"
"You will forsake the hopes and dreams in your view"
"You are good, only want the best for everyone "
Was it that ambiguity that lead to my current "wrong"
Seems if you aim to give others happiness you will never win
I know this but I still hurt: it's all starts and ends within.
Woe is me
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:50 PM UTC
We survived progress
The three of us
Secluded high on Mt. Ararat
Safe from radioactive fog
We have all we need
More than we could ever want
We have everything
What kind of bees gather in such masses?
You're raining and then you're clear again
They'll pay to hear you babble such nonsense
You're surfing in near perfection
You're ruined by the pure maybe
After the loss, In the shadows
Fly fly fly fly fly
Float
I'll throw this to the ones watching
See just how hungry they are
On Ararat we long for a new language
To express the confusion of loneliness
Knowing that nothing will change a thing
But still, to talk
We must remind each other of who we are
Once in a while
It's not easy being the world
What did you come for?
A soliloquy?
A sonnet from a madman?
Madmen, true madmen don't do sonnets
They assault and jar
They resent being toyed with
In no uncertain terms will they tell you
What they think of you
In the guise of a poem
But chances are you won't get it
I sat in front of a wood burning stove
Feeding pages from a spiral notebook
To the fire
Leaves and more leaves sparsely scribbled on
Because there was a conciseness and brevity
To my poetry that conveyed the stark nature
The rudimentary nature of my state of mind
The flames ate it up
I apologize
I haven't smiled in such a long time
It's hurting my face
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
Love is the blond on the corner of the street
Love is the brunette you never thought youd meet
Love is the Red head living down the rode
Love is her green eyes that make you explode
Love is the radiant blue in her eyes that makes you melt
That hazel color that mystifies is love
That feeling when your weary head raises from bed in the pit of an already churning stomach is love
A momentary loss of conciseness when she steels your breath away is love
Love is the reason you get up in the morning because you feel rite
Love is that little blind fool in the back of your mind that has you doing something you wouldnt otherwise do
Love is the whisper on the rain
Love is the shadow of the wind Love is the light in the sail that keeps you aloft, love is the sail
Love is the time you spent thinking about what you would do when yo got out
Love is the reason you were in there in first place
The reason the insane become again sane is love
The reason you go to the grocer at three in the morning and went back because you got the wrong flavor ice-cream is love
If you reading this right now and laughing and shaking your head because you understand this thats love
Not for me the paltry author of this simple poem or for the words contained herein but for the fact that youve been thinking about love and the one you love since you started reading this, thats love
Love conkers all things if you give it a chance to
Love crosses all boundaries if yo let it
Yet for all of this love is easily bound if you dont nurture it, if you dont feed it, if you dont take care of it, if you dont let it grow
If you dont do any of these things love dies like all things
Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 8:04 AM UTC
Within a casket of echoes
does the mirage of
truth become stained
into a conciseness of delusions.
But still they are slaves..
Altercations of past inclinations
that merit, reflection of
misguided minds.
But with no morals they digress,
standing on illusions of nothingness.
Where another doesn't tread,
fed to others delusions
of negativities prompting lies upon
lie with no merit only golden goblets
drinking upon the weakness of others.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 8:20 AM UTC
The Quiet Time
Setting on the evening tide in the silent void you will hear more than you did in the volumes’ day more
Truth untainted without deluded aspects just pure raw gorgeous plain knowing words wingless with out
Guile they speak of there own content no more or nothing less be barraged by this contagion regal
Unadulterated without vile tampering you feel exhilaration the sweetness the fragrance that innocence
Gives behold the garden and the flowers speaking the night air is one of the greatest calls you can hear
As the tear speaks of sorrow and its need of silence then but let the heart rest and peaceful knowing and
Rich stirring will reach you with tenderness the same as a baby’s touch you fall inward to blessings that
Are flowing by you streams that cradle dreams delight a voyager who seeks a passage and finds it and
It surpasses their expectation and nestles in the heart as honey when it touches your tongue what
Pleasure a thrill that rolls smoothly onward restful you touch peaks and valleys that lie in the depths of
The soul a broadening occurs enlargement of conciseness it is imperceptible in many ways but the sigh
Might be mysterious but it waits for visitors then it flashes through a brilliant smile it divides and
Conquers in a world of division harmony closes tensions gates the still prevails like the silent wind
Made heavy by moisture on this the harvest of thoughts and words march to instill in your world
You have been by yourself and at length you have unknowingly decreased so as to make room for
Wisdom that seeks stillness always its intent is to evade the world fraught with ignorance build
Bridges that crosses divides making connections drawing forth alliances that cheer you and others to
New heights of achievement just as this writing has tried to do God bless you
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
Boundless thought in a space of immeasurable
Conciseness, suns of reflection burn bright.
Stars in distance attention, so far but nevertheless
Still a twinkling in the cognitive awakening.
Traversing the distance to light up a moment
All that was a vast unlimited space of thought.
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 10:06 AM UTC
Permission to exhale the air
Flashing Through clouds
The sentence began sharpen his senses,
An obvious desolation seeking the joy
Of the night.
An excavation of thoughts
Hanging in the balance of her soul.
Death is upon the guilty
Close your eyes, bended your knees
Plead for forgiveness
Even when there is no tomorrow
Borrow time lost in the wind.
I saw the rainbow crying
On a pedestal of rendition
Seek a way out
Punishment unveil the tears of
A father losing his mind.
A seldom blink of eyelid remind
The coldness of the streets corners
Sell your ambition to the highest biter
A portrait capture by conciseness
The sensationalism of love
Derailed on the tracks of seduction
The pollination of roses brought
Ecstasy in the air.
Fantasy of bodies intertwined with a ritual
Underneath a dream
See the stars, kiss
In the waterfall love is much brighter.
The muse of my existence
Love shadow shine, fear.
When I move the adrenaline
Soars thought the roof
Your life be tossed over the riff
Broken and forsaken
The sympathy of a secret
Holding the stars for a ransom
Moving closer as the Moon-tides
A dark little eye…
Rony Joseph all rights reserved 2010
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 12:06 PM UTC
-Life-
Was the cruellest of gifts It gave us
Hope, but it is a coin tossed too often,
For within moments
Breath,
Beats,
Blood
Coursing through this vessel
To keep it upright, motions of every fibre
Never one without the other. But breath is
Fleeting, one stops then another moments
Now becoming less time life now evicted stops.
-Reaper-
That exhalation that signalled the end, taken
From you, stolen by this hand of bone
And kept like a trinket, something
That he has held to many times,
Lost,
Forgotten,
Dammed
Ones who he misplaced in that darkened place.
He was just one of the keepers charged with
But the flow from their to here. but all
Things have a purpose and so
This existence now claimed by another.
-Soul Keeper-
Was the cleaner of what was before,
Life's distractions, deaths fingerprints,
Where cleansed from this orb of
Thought,
Conciseness,
Essence
Of what was, two shades spiral,
One white one like a smear, some where
More of one, never one purest
Pearl or charcoal . There was always a
Hint of light or dark in every orb held.
-Scales Of Judgement-
We are weighted not by the flesh or the bone,
As they are nothing once the soul is gone
Life,
Death,
Rebirth,
Are the ever moving cogs, but some
Are broken to be put in a place
Where the broken things
Live,
Rot,
Decay,
In that place never to be reborn, this is
There end place of limbos playground.
All are judged on the scales showing
the aura of there lifes deeds
Be they heaven worthy or to the pit
There moments burn, but some are
To far gone, and in limbo they stay.
The scales are the defining moment of four stages
Life,
Death,
Energy,
Judgment
On this final journey, are you worthy, to be
In the light or darkness, to be reborn or
To the nether place of broken toys.
Live your life, but remember judgement
Is only three steps from life away.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
Flies crept on cremated wounds
that had healed untidy..
stitches were never removed
they just descended within
suffocating the scars..
Scratching at there depth
within.
The conciseness
that caused the cuts to linger.
But still they bled internally.
Your scheming of false fears
will be actioned upon...
Your just a canary in a coal mine,
not realizing your already dead.
suffocated within a dark place..
I'm never going to heal,
but I'm never going to
suffocate on my ego.
Yours will just sing
till no one listens, sing silently little bird.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
Somewhere in this world
someone will be writing
this down, word for word.
"A doppelganger of thought,
Wondering what the other looks
like as they expel this on to white.
Words mirroring conciseness.
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 7:07 AM UTC
Deliberations are a veil of pigmentation
as I see the transparency of every thought.
a nebula of ideas woven in view, can you
see the curvatures that expand outwards.
Bright moments illuminate the surroundings,
as reflections are seen as the weave of conciseness
exhales in majestic colours.
A tapestry of interpretations which is visualized
differently by everyone. All is vivid in the lucidity
of all ideas that form and coalesce. I could almost
reach out and touch this moment of reflection.
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 5:37 PM UTC
Your fingers like petals that fall upon my skin,
the aroma fluctuates on the membrane of
that which alternates between the
vessels
of what tells me to
gravitate
between the consequences of conciseness
and consideration. I'm whispered upon
to accept both realities..
But innuendos are the motions
that make me linger
on the words you weave within my heart.
Can you taste my smiles when I look at you
when your not observing.
They are a confectionary that is only visualized
when I steal an embrace when least expecting
my lips to collect candy from your thoughts.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 4:28 PM UTC
My ink is a repetition of thought
concealed within a secluded place.
Needing release before fading in obscurity.
But then it is released on to the pool
of white, an echo of conciseness
choreographed in motion on the page.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
Every sunset is one that bleeds within
my perception, I don't no why its
just like seeing my syllables dissipate
into a hue of clarity. I'm a pill away from
ending it, to find its different in my mind.
My collected conciseness that rises luminous,
but then dissolving as its brightness
falls into a void of white stones descending
into the nothingness inside of me.
I'm close to something beyond my perception.
I'm not linguistically challenged,
but I'm one pill away from ending
it. I've collected my memories upon
this discoloured white, and its just
a button from fading to nullity.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 7:37 AM UTC