"concomitant" poems
1581
The farthest Thunder that I heard
Was nearer than the Sky
And rumbles still, though torrid Noons
Have lain their missiles by—
The Lightning that preceded it
Struck no one but myself—
But I would not exchange the Bolt
For all the rest of Life—
Indebtedness to Oxygen
The Happy may repay,
But not the obligation
To Electricity—
It founds the Homes and decks the Days
And every clamor bright
Is but the gleam concomitant
Of that waylaying Light—
The Thought is quiet as a Flake—
A Crash without a Sound,
How Life’s reverberation
Its Explanation found—
2.6k
i can see
your soft footprints
in and around
the green, the yellow woods
and that blue turquoise
offering you a ride
fluttering his wings
the white, black, green birds
holding stars in their beaks
in clouds you can walk;
it makes me envious
so ingenuous you are
as ye know not,
a Pandora box
is just an allegory
for your own
fulgent eyes
for through string of hopes
and wave of dreams,
for upon cloud floors
and blinking realms,
when you take your walk,
the earth's dear lady,
the whole universe
wants to keek and see
the sparkling wonder
that originates upon your eyes,
such is the moment of
ecstasy that, let alone us,
even all non-human forms
realize from you,
and your concomitant smile,
what true joy looks like
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 2:40 AM UTC
Some say she’s a maverick. She refuses to play by the rule, she’d rather create her own rule. Not that much of a rebel, just a bit free-spirited by heart.
Some say she’s a square peg in a round hole. A black dress amidst a wedding party. Ripped jeans among trousers. A pair of sneakers among pairs of high heels. A cup of tequila between white wines. But really, she’s only a misfit. She has always been one. An unorthodox individual living in a world where people must be the same in order to be freed of scrutiny. She isn’t afraid to cross the line of conformity. Even ever since she was little, she has always frowned upon the game of pretentious act that people around her have been playing. She often finds herself in question, for she is non-adhering to the idea of being a sheep flocking to the herd.
Some say she’s the epitome of late night shots taken by the distressed. Not as the last, desperate resort, but as the first aid.
Some say she’s the embodiment of the bitter aftertaste when you sip a cup of coffee that you got from a store stood on the roadside during your impromptu midnight road trip. She shows up by chance, looking plain as ever. But really, she’s a mild surprise once she gets her way into you. One that you might not expect.
Some say she’s a thorn wire disguised in vineyard. It isn’t quite easy to strip away of her self-defense. But once she’s provoked, she’s provoked.
Some say she’s a train wreck. And boy, weren’t they right. Her life might be a mess, but it is one hell of a beautiful mess she’s proudly living. If anything, she has mastered the art of living in perpetual, concomitant tragedies.
Some say she’s more of a goodbye than a hello. A bittersweet memory than a sugarcoated present. She’s never one of a dreamer, but she puts her hopes in the beauty of imperfections – of the feeling of loss. Experience has taught her not to make people her happiness, for they are but a fleeting moment of enchantment.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC
Blazing bold bravery,
********* catechism;
A girl stands strongly alone;
Her life, society’s atavism.
Quick quiet quelling,
Demonic agapism;
A girl and her sword stay unknown;
Her dreams are those of meliorism.
All acts agathusia,
Concomitant heroism;
A girl who will **** to atone;
Her objectives and body in schism.
Hard headed heartfelt,
Quick with an aphorism;
A woman searching for home;
Her true enemy nihilism.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
so juxtaposed
I feel, I feel
concomitant
on a fulcrum
in a stasis
at the nadir
and the return
and I demur
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 11:07 PM UTC
You come home late at night
After a tiring day;
Wash up, bathe and rinse.
Ate that left over dinner
Your mother prepared for you.
Go on your bed
Preparing to sleep.
Wanting to sleep.
Couldn't sleep.
She's keeping you awake isn't she?
Strolling through your thoughts;
Her laughter echoes and wavers.
Your thoughts are emptied,
Except for her.
Took a few shots of that old bottle of whiskey
You had stored for better days.
Hoping for her to disappear
From your thoughts;
As well as in reality.
It's 4am yet you're wide awake.
Emotions are still firing.
You feel heavy;
Wanting her,
Missing her.
You can't ever be with her...
5am drowsiness gets the upper hand
You fall asleep
Only to wake up the next morning
You see her again
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 8:37 AM UTC
an au revoir here penned,
man on a cliff doing a spring, fall over cleaning
a few rusty drafts still needy for completely
but you know times up when tide rushing out
and on your leg is a big red rash that wasn’t there
when you waded in a few minutes earlier
tastes changes, like seasonal entrees on a restaurant menu,
seasons come and go, reappearing, but last years dish,
out of style, except for the occasional recalling
the body and the work must together concert,
poetry like a lifetime of lovers, you leave them behind
for loving them too well, using up the verses left inside,
then comes the time when love dries up and the words concomitant
the nighttime scraps will still be kept in that sewing box,
that storage space rented on a 99 year lease
but now for my eyes lonely only, this nub is stubbed,
this last one, at last, succinct
au revoir mes amis
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 1:02 PM UTC
Demurring dreams
In solitude,
A feeling came.
It came too soon,
Concomitant
With feeling due.
Annex the black
To white to blue,
Diaphanous,
And dormant truths.
Convivial
To ones "forsooth".
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 1:02 AM UTC
*O, insanity,
Beautiful calamity,
What fine lines etched thin.
Spark with me a fire,
Strike in me a tier,
Concomitant fear-
Vade mecum Desire.*
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 9:14 PM UTC
In March 2001, Melania granted green card
asper elite EB-1 program
intended for renowned academic researchers,
multinational business executives
(linkedin with Uncle SAM)
or those in other fields, such as
Olympic athletes and Oscar-winning actors,
who demonstrated
“sustained national and international acclaim”
until...now, when (FAKE trophy wife)...
besieged with WHAM!
The Don whips to defense of
(legal residency status),
sans his third wife
imbroglio finds the president flat footed
regarding spouses' granted citizenry permission rife,
where details concerning former
in vogue Slovak model now cushy life
challenging her right to live in The United States,
the most Democratic nation
plus concomitant abrogation
afforded robber Baroness admission
dispensing hot button issue of CHAIN MIGRATION,
where sentiment underscored verbatim
"Some people come in,
and they bring their whole family with them,
who can be truly evil. NOT ACCEPTABLE!”
The above on record as authentic Trumpian tweet,
hence quoted with poetic license,
a prime example how two
(or more faced) president didst react to un seat
fairness, which November twitter
allowing parents with bearhug he did greet
legal residency of her parents,
Viktor and Amalija Knavs, as Elite
who received figurative green light
despite riding piggyback
Nsync with military beat
ting back pesky atop flimsy green card,
the freedom appetite got whet
scrutiny, and now a ironic Gordian Knot set
tilled and solved making mincemeat to pet
files, particularly equality
for those skeined alive in the DACA net
ready to boot innocent offspring
of supposed illegal aliens on the next departing jet!
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 5:55 PM UTC
I stand alone,
entranced by the sun
confined by my own resistance
Infinite love and hate concomitant
adhere to my bones,
trickle from my pores.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 1:21 PM UTC
A few words before a nap
In the heat of the midsummer radiance
In the heavy air of a string of rainless days
When our lawn with its broad diversity of weeds
Sits green without our help
Before succumbing to the mid-afternoon weight
Of eyelids commanding me to put tools down
I will select from the firmament
A few choice combinations of letters
And their concomitant meanings
They will say 'I am alive'
In a landscape of life and death and struggle
I am an organism that works to move forward
Though some days I'll move less than others
And sometimes I will rest.
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 4:11 PM UTC
The adage goes. "Where there's a winner, thus must also be a loser." No, that's incorrect. There are never any losers in life, only winners. This false dichotomy has been with us for millennia and has been the flaw that has resulted in countess man-made disasters and concomitant losses of untold lives. Out superficial values in all sectors are fraught with this erroneous assumption from grade-school play ground games to runs for the presidency, and everything in between. Winners only have to be true to themselves. Whether they come in first or last is immaterial; the important point is they ran the race They tried their best. That's what winners do. Never forget it.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 9:01 AM UTC
“She was beautiful in a stoic sense,
As if she was not aware of the beauty,
She did not have fancy clothes or jewelry,
However her eyes struck of such beauty,
As the color of the deep blue sea,
When she smiled it was a gasp of crisp air,
Her lips matched the rest of her natural beauty,
She spoke with a soft modest voice,
She was extremely exhilarating and splendid,
The wind wisp in her hair shown a radiant fiber,
How one could love this stoic beauty amidst,
She suffocated beauty out of the fore deep sea,
Her eyes and face poignantly melancholy,
Yet she radiated beauty as not aware,
At that point egress mercurial joy between us,
Than show her she was with such artistry grace,
It was than a prodigious billow of hunger,
For this woman before us ensued,
As lightning flashed exaltingly trembling we kissed,
And neither of us would feel hunger again now as one,
A concomitant glass of my Stoic BEAUTY”
By AG 06/10/2018 ©
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 4:48 PM UTC
I’m taking control, making changes.
Some for the worst, others for the best.
I don’t like to evade or retreat.
My secrets are inconsequential.
I’m taking things into my own hands
- I kissed my therapist. On the lips.
Life is but a game of ‘Smash or pass’
and I hate waiting for ice cream.
“I like the way you move,” he said, “I like your skin.”
“It’s what people notice first” I admitted, “want to see it?”
Or maybe I dreamed that - I dream about him, sometimes. shrug
I think the helpless, astringent, professional intimacy fires me.
I want him to ask me about my jerkwater *** life, he has a concomitant
passport, but he never does. Isn’t that important - what about Freud?
What do you think you inherited from your parents? He asked.
“What a question!” I observed, “You mean genetically?”
“Come on,” he prompted, and I thought for a long minute.
“I have my mother’s impatience, her drive to succeed
and her thick blonde hair that seems to dry instantly.”
He nodded, indicating he liked where I was going.
“I have my father’s eyes, his flashing temper and flat chest.”
He chuckled, but I could tell he wanted me to stay serious.
“Then there’s my Stepfather (Step), he taught me humor,
patience and self-control - oh, and how to drive.”
He ****** on his pencil eraser and nodded.
He always blurs the line between performance and approval.
.
.
Songs for this:
Secrets (Your Fire) by Magdalena Bay
The Spot by Your Smith
Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 8:48 PM UTC
I don’t want to clear my mind. I
want it to be muddled with all sorts
of feelings and desire
garish and overbearing
denying
Compelling me to-
from it;
my thoughts moving until my body lurches forth
pacing the packets,
to race against the latency of being alive
make me weigh a thousand tons
a thousand thousand tons
so that I fall concomitant
with them
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
those who wash in and wash out with tides of
their lives, peaking into ours
for a poem, a cider & doughnut,
a quick hit of a script,
like a rush of fresh ****
that comes all the ways from states that end in A,
(ex: newyorkcitaaa baaaaaba)
but they, don't stick around,
they, in possess and possess
other multi~typical addictions,
than just word flow,
tho artistic in temperament,
but lacking
the concomitant commitment of pleasuring others,
above and themselves.
with the musicality of their owned
alphabetical notes, rhyme, chime,
whipping, driving, yes, even chiming,
to their internal soul's baton,
a familiar friendly conductor,
who bids them greetings,
with a piecemeal peace,
a quick bite, lightly chewed,
sometimes not even swallowed,
with a greeting
of Peace,
welcoming them and wishing them well
on their no staying way
to the next diversional
entertainment
postscript
~~~
creativity,
tho sometimes fast, even easy,
is never
cheap,
always come at a cost
Aug 30, 2025
Aug 30, 2025 at 6:08 AM UTC
From Pradip:
”The place you occupy in my heart leads me to worry. Please take good care.”
<>
the wonderful mystery of loving art,
which is shorthand for loving the
artist’s soul
which, a revelation and a relevation
of one’s humanity, and character, is essential “essence” of poetry,
the true power of the written word
this man I likely will never meet, offers me
a place in his heart, which is concomitant
with responsibility of giving loving, obligatory!
the one and only commandment
within his incredible simple unintended poem on the power of
giving love, or giving life
through each other’s scribing, we each worked, wormed
into the others heart, the repository of the energizing,
acts of loving, so,powerful that they cross
approximately 7300 miles as the crows flies
perhaps my pessimism is unfounded, overdone,
and we will yet embrace and I will (gently) bounce
his granddaughter upon my knees, something,
with which I possess a modicum of experience
yes, I think I’ve changed,
in a subtle ways;
in my new heart are thousands of rooms
eager awaiting roomers and boarders
who need pay their voluntarily rental
with simple words and even simpler
acts
yeah, you understand…
Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 2:47 PM UTC
So juxtaposed,
I feel, I feel
Concomitant
On a fulcrum
In a stasis
At the nadir
And the return
And I demur
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 4:36 PM UTC
Clouds Of Gloom
Loud groans can be heard as the sun begins to disappear,
And many turn on the waterworks as the tears reach the ground near,
Sometimes it is concomitant by snow, hail and leaves,
Other times it’s just tremendously extravagant with a cool breeze,
But when the clouds of goom are gone and a rainbow shines then each soul cheer.
The Birds Fly Home
When the amber leaves fly in the skies,
The orange ball of light shines.
When the birds fly home for the day,
Then the sky turns pink or orange or red, its mood, its way.
And this is where the object of virtue lies.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:31 AM UTC
Like a fly without his/her buzz
even popping a guarana (caffeine) does
not shake the feeling
like brain covered with fuzz
no matter how hard I try eyelids claps
shut nor how many hours of sleep elapse
offers nary reprieve folds
welded tightly shut
feel like they weigh
much as a ton mud covered *****
thus thought to summon
meager energy reserves perhaps
generating poetic lines
interrupted by taking constant naps
but no matter eyelids
weigh heavy as a ton steel traps
narcolepsy not ruled out since
tired body struggles as if grasping for air,
yet such fatigued state uncommon for me,
though bothersome to grin and bear
this bout of sleepiness, where this
white knight chess sleeps
trouble free aye declare
quality deep rapid eye
movement marked noticed
since medication taken
to treat debilitating anxiety e'er
concomitant panic attacks, where psyche
got rent asunder send
ding this atheist to hell
episodes pained me
forked flaming tongues flare
ling, immobilizing, paralyzing
and stinging entire body,
hence methinks primary cerebral gear
and cog glommed
like a drain clogged with hair
nonetheless, no alarmist worry,
nor "worst case scenarios" betray
my ordinarily mellow emotional state,
thus any task I must delay
thoughts unstoppably captivated
by snoozing upon
a bed of freshly mown hay,
and then hours later
diminishing fatigue in catchy rye
ming verse aye re: lay
relishing being awake,
the mine true valued self I kin portray.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
You never wanted anyone for
Yourself, so you jumped from
One relationship to another
like Asian carp in a lake.
You never bothered about who was
In your bed, provided you had
Pleasure, with no strings attached.
You never thought love and
Companionship; their concomitant is the
Killer of spinsterhood and bachelorhood.
You fought hard against love
And pleasure but you knew
You were fighting a lost cause
just like a sailor fighting
the weather at sea.
The heart wants him,
And is fond of him,
And is set on matrimony.
The heart wants what the
Heart wants; it won’t rest
Till it wins.
Jun 19, 2019
Jun 19, 2019 at 1:49 PM UTC
“Have you ever conjectured what it’s like to be obscured?
Like a rain drop in the ocean a fish without water,
That blackbird above the sea that can no longer sing,
As that of a tree with no branches beneath thee,
Like walking straight and winding in curves,
And not even a terminus harbor afore me,
How I suffered with her love as not equal,
A love that was devoted with complete kinesthesia,
And how my love never seemed to bring comfort,
How sad my love was to subsistence in pain!
Love was nothing but a sizzling desert and no deluge
A love that made me realize you were adrift,
One need not love if love is not had hinder,
Always something missing as I gave my all to thee,
Your love for me I know now has been foiled,
I was like a knight that hadn’t been dubbed,
Left to a cloistered life with no concomitant”
By AG 06/14/2018 ©
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC