"conjoining" poems
Chance
is being in the right place
at the right time,
coinciding with the orbit
of another searching
the aspirations that you to seek.
A connection needs attention,
a compliment, a smile,
an enquiry of mutual interest
that engages instantly.
The abdication of convenient norms,
a shift in behaviour,
adopting a new travel direction.
It requires no discrimination,
but an open welcoming mind,
conjoining parallel convergence,
Meeting.
© Pagan Paul (2018)
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 6:27 AM UTC
I saw two lines running beside each other
on a converging course.
To avoid conjoining before the proper time had come,
I sought to make them parallel;
but now it feels like they are moving
in opposite directions and
I don't know what to do.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
Reaching out for what delivers its existence
The thirsty tree extends its limbs further to the sun
An encounter craved, but still valuing its bestowment
Forever longing anxiously for that connection
The summer winds carrying this hopeful firefly
Emitting the lonely light that calls out for another
Releasing these signals in hopes of discovering you
Again a flicker and finally the mate is matched
Sprinting to the sea, the relentless river runs
Passionately carving its way through the slighted landscape
Obviously enraptured by its desirous charge
Awaiting the second its frenzied rush reaches home
Like the sun now churning our eager energy
Overthrowing senses with this rampantly raging need
Overwhelming magnetism lures us toward temptation
Inescapably mesmerized by this sensation
Profound in nature, driven by this timeless dance
Sophisticatedly conjoining into fulfillment
A base for these unbridled electrical impulses
The quintessence of our fusion now realized
We are the union of two wandering forces
Ignition progresses affectionate meditations
Quietly absorbing the synthesizing of segments
Once unrelated, now entangled eternally
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC
The tiny flurries
Glide, shimmy down from the sky,
Their snowy bodies intertwining,
Rhythmically conjoining into a wintery waltz,
One two three
Together they step,
Sweeping against the buildings and the trees,
Resting their feet at last
As they gracefully come to a halt
Atop the pavement.
The first snow of the season
Blows its frosty breath against
My nose,
The wind catching my hair,
Whipping it against my scarf.
The cold feels
Jagged against my exposed face
And fingertips,
My lips splitting open from the air's
Bitterness.
I stop the snowflakes' strides short
As they get stuck to my coat,
My hat,
My long black lashes.
Winter is upon me.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
Conjunction:
a small class of words distinguished in many languages by their function as connectors between words, phrases, clauses, sentences
- the act of conjoining; combination; the state of being conjoined; union; association:
- a compound proposition that is true if and only if all of its component propositions are true.
- the coincidence of two or more heavenly bodies at the same celestial longitude.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am in a relationship.
a colorless word
a word of no clarity
a good one? a bad one?
a professional deal,
or one that makes you squeal
with pleasure or despair
without context or content,
a description of a status,
not a state,
but a quid pro quo
I prefer
I am in a conjunction
*well recall the day
our orbits
more than crossed,
but synchronized,
when two bodies
began to travel
upon the same longitude
one direction
in conjunction
t'was the day we coordinated
on our mobile phone,
co-configured our future,
our calendars*
*nowadays,
I answer her questions
while she is commencing to think,
when her foolishness prevails,
she questions, "did you remember to..."
my answer, a question returned,
connected, constant and conjunctive,*
"and what's my name?"
an answer conveying constancy
*relationship
oft the farthest place from logical,
but you know that,
say I am in a conjunction
and the logicians will celebrate
the end of your lonely celibacy,
well they understand the truth
inherent in and of and about
your compounded proposition*
*what unimaginative creatures we be,
dispensing with beauty for factuality,
but facts are easily misread,
your fact and my fact, relationship,
the exact same fact, conveys neither
an agreement as to what that means
are we unionized, associated, or conjoined
what is the quality of
our related ships?*
so
Dear Mr. Zuckerberg,
amend my status please,
post me
as being in a state of:
a) conductivity b) connectivity c) concoctive
no, none of those
capture
what we have
captured,
so let create a new state,
a new world,
using a very old world word
post us as follows,
"Nat is in a conjunction"
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
This empty ***** bottle,
has been cuddled and swaddled and squandered.
In my ***** it seeps to every dame between,
a dad and not knowing her own preponderance.
I **** I **** by the ****** of my hilt,
of the sword of unrighteous, self help,
and filling their wombs with guilt.
I've never helped anyone all of my life.
Though they would tell you different mistruths,
of their positional view, so skewed by proof,
undo, that I sent them through.
It's a fun house of lies and mirrors shaping figures,
of veneers, so botched that plastic surgeon quacks wouldn't own up to
the scars.
I ferment peoples living.
I turn drunk ****** into angels.
I mask charlatan as queens,
and poison my own gut with the fakes in my head.
Crops die.
Crust subdues verdance.
Chronos rhymes the days and night.
Course subjugation to penance.
But now I seethe my own head into my throat,
and end in ink wrote as prose.
Killing beauty. Art.
**** Art.
Today is.
Death.
Tomorrow's not life,
nor living,
breathing nor breath,
oxygen's just a molecule,
it causes no spark,
except in molecules charged,
with dividing and subdividing,
and rejoining and conjoining into something that can use it.
happy flights :)
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
My Poet:
*tho evening draws nigh,
on this our wedding day,
the stars, guardians of our canopy,
reminder twinkle it can never be
fully complete, for you always make
a moment in time for me,
today we wait, synchronizing seconds
until both pronounce,
I do
let my hands,
in my tenderest embracing grasp,
perforce, when I hold you face,
still cannot hold your entirety,
for you always make and leave a space
for me to seal our universe
today, you need me to fill you,
so together, ever forward,
we will define and explore
the edges of our redrawn,
now, single unified line,
our ever expanding contiguous boundary
our blood is not commingled
but when our bodies unified,
the physics of our conjoining,
illustrates that those in our
surround of time and space,
in the aura we create,
not so very great,
and yet our oneness
'tis a shining upon the countenance of our place,
a luminous emittance upon this earth
when you write your poetry,
it always finishes with me,
I am the native child of thy words,
I am the filament webbing
illuminating the spaces between each line
but more than this,
I am your beginning,
you are my destination,
together we make,
The End
they ask me to vow,
demand I swear, make promises,
certify, preserve, record and store
the solemnity of this marriage born,
in ledgers of the city,
before an invisible god
I eschew all this
for nothing in life
ever guaranteed by words secured,
but this I know true*
My Poet:
*what I shall give to you,
and you to us,
cannot be spoke,
the words, not yet,
have we originated
for each day
will we compose anew,
each day, shall be
a new combination
under new stars,
our canopy unfolded,
our joining sanctified,
by the simple truth of us*
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
Like rivulets of rain on a window
Conjoining into pools on the sill,
Or like lines of cement between housebricks
Converging at corners,
These two families, separated by an aisle,
At the point between two softly shaking hands
Are colliding.
We of the confetti and white roses,
We of the jewellery and pressed trousers,
We of the suppressed tears and aching smiles
Are considering
The beauty of a moment when gold envelops finger:
The signal that an uncertain journey through love
Is concluding.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
on the margin
the paraphernalia
employed to obtain
the sweated inspirations
to tell these lies randomized
stories, factuelle (feminine)
pestle and mortar martyrs,
crushed together, drink in
her form, the S curves
of her shape, my fav
place, on a long list
of favs,
and she says;
hey poetry man!
which renders my
100 or so
senses,
that radiate,
congregate,
infantuate
rendering moi
delightfully attentive,
and I think:
Solitude:
Be All well and good,
wells and veins awaiting
for spelunking & mining for the
nexus of the
next line, but when she summons me,
with a cherished honorific I am
sundered by words deep felt,
and the next line forgotten,
disappeared and
for multiples,of poems,
that
die
heart busted broke
when she call poet, come,
it is like living in a gearbox
Stuck in Fifth,
that message of multiplex pixels,
so engaging and so many container conceptual structures,
those poetic burst and bust out,,
gnawing to be released free,
***** solitude, it’s her
attitude that gives
more than I can
handle…
and the poems are about the conjoining
of
the mutuality of our:
soliciting solitude attitude
Aug 4, 2024
Aug 4, 2024 at 11:03 AM UTC
a half moon rises
as the sun sets over
a golden Charles
the Fens
luminescence
guide scullers
chasing the days
ebbing light
shimmering
upon near
stillness,
as dancing
black ripples
push silver
splashes of
floating sheens
toward the
gentle slopes of
grassy banks
fisherman cast
the day’s final
hopes upon
gracious waters
as shad fry
breech to
proclaim
a promise
of a dutiful
return to fulfill
a future bounty
this accessible
river, the pulsing
heart conjoining
two cities;
flows as a
democratic spirit
drawing all to its
hospitable shores
my eyes remain
transfixed on
the glowing ember
of a twilight Charles
drifting under darkened
portals of the
Harvard Bridge,
while the rise
of a sunset breeze
whispers a cool
end to the
summers day
I imagine
Luna blowing
a goodnight
kiss to a
yawning Sol,
as she winks to
young *****
lovers embracing
the long shadows
and sweet fragrance
of tall bulrushes
a slight puff of wind
anoints my minds eye
as lazy water rolls
toward me, lapping
my feet, lollygagging
along, slowly strolling
towards the bay
as I salute pilots
navigating this
most friendly
course
Music Selection:
Grant Green, Moon River
Cambridge MA
7/7/91
jbm
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 1:33 AM UTC
Illuminated by a dream.
Drawings on the wall
Writings on your back
Hiding away in abstract thought.
Pastel colors and vintage photographs and Levi Jeans ads.
Dusty records on the floor of your room with the slanted walls
Hibernating on the roof
Looking over the city
Like the hero of Gotham
See the world through someone else’s eyes.
See the way you live.
Merge. Connection.
Binnocularing into the future.
Bird watching peeping tomming.
Conjoining what’s real and what is just what it seems.
Edgar, it is just a dream.
Earth, Moon and global Pangaea.
The world is my canvas and now so are you.
Why do you look at me like that?
You make me want to write.
I can’t stop looking at you too.
You have rendered me useless
All I’m focused on is those blue eyes
Staring so intently at me
Fixated on me and only me
Hey, I’m talking to you,
Cowbell tamboureen percussion section cowboy.
You burn with a fire from the sun.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
I tend to forget to tend to my wounds, forever failure in focus
Self-improvement is out of scope.
You make me feel as if I should have succeeded, that the happiness came under false pretenses.
I tend to forget that laughter cannot be measured, neither the grounds on which they occur,
Nor the amount in which they are manifested.
All the happy times are irrelevant, because the ends don't justify the means.
I tend to forget that everyone, including the mentally disabled, desire to advertise their strength,
Their resolve in the face of the adversity between two people who
Claim to love each other, long after the love is gone.
I tend to forget that no one is as naive as either of us make them out to be, that none will
Absorb the previous problems at face value, and
That there are two sides to every coin, as all life suffers from the conflicts of dualities.
I tend to forget that your constant quest for social acceptance is what
Has made you a person uglier than you truly know.
I see through your act; an addiction to be validated, and your pretty portrayal to the spectators.
I tend to forget the analogies between dirt and flower, but no one stops to think that perhaps
The soil from which nature grows is more beautiful than what it blooms,
As it is the foundation, the core, the element, which is hidden from the pretension of the colorful.
I tend to forget how much I once desired to be the voice of reason, now the voice of rhyme.
Forever cursed to be well-versed in poetry. And I know the reason why,
It is just a hypothesis, but I truly feel that there is method to my madness.
I tend to forget the discipline involved in making dual voices similar, one in sound,
Other in beat. Like two hearts in conjoining cadence. Reason
Does not do it all justice. This is my way of making sense of it all.
I tend to forget that anything that grows together, flows together, such as the written words in verse.
The flowers may distance themselves from the dirt from which they arose,
I will remain below the sunlight, hidden in obscurity, watching the Heavens of your lies from the Hell of reality.
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 5:04 AM UTC
detail & light would be lost
without the dichotomy around grey
the way ‘&’ illuminates value
on both sides, conjoining the two into one
spectrum blends the extremes
into a clear image—light
highlights the subtitles
—the deaf are not the only ones
who cannot hear the absurdity
of absolute separation
black & white turns back
time into intervals of past
in a world of color
the absence strips away the present
caricature is transparent without color
in the lawless old western plains
good is easily found through
the black mask and white hat
bad is easily found through
white face-paint and black hair
even though ‘and’ does not
hold accountable, as one,
what it surrounds itself by
but rather as two distinct values
separation by ‘and’ becomes absurd
when the color has been stripped
down to the bare where ‘&’ allows
grey to highlight the similarities
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 6:04 PM UTC
flyin’ back to the candle
gem inside us
light provide us
with our purpose
With our purpose
we will find
the white rabbit faces
which have graced us
guiding us providing us clues
clean vibrant blues and whites
moonlight laughter
sunlight sentiments
silently flyin’ Back
to the candle
Back back to the candle
fire dances
hippy gypsy twirling
twisting in the wind
winding spirals
burning warmth
inside each of us
reaching dusk-light
dawn smiles
warmth conjoining
circulating navigating
through our bloodstream
like peaceful campfire melodies
Everybody’s hugging
loving
Rising
RISE-ING
RISING RISING!!
RISING TO FLY BACK
TO THE CANDLE
BACK TO THE CANDLE!!
BACK
BACK inside,
inside the BACK
inside the gem….
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 7:14 PM UTC
Dusk descends across the west
as our yellow dwarf star
surrenders its daily reign -
washing the horizon
in a diadem of refracted light.
Prismatic clouds blaze
like a wondrous skycape
brushed by an impressionist deity
-
conjoining the passing day
with the emerging veil of night.
The first stars have arrived
to escort the silvery moon
along its nocturnal journey.
The season of sleep is upon us.
A few tilts of the hour glass
will transport our circling furnace
just below the eastern peaks -
a harbinger of the coming day.
Dawn and twilight
framed in luminous Alpenglow.
July, 2014
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
These wyrms
Stand shorter than placing
Feet.
Her oaken hair bristles
With autumn's hues
And conker cues.
Founding flickers of
Bloodwine tears speaking
Avalanche glances.
We are wintering clouds
Conjoining summer strangers.
Doting flares; icicle years.
Finding you
A ghost on all their faces.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
I think, therefore I am.
(5) the possible poems lurk about, here a title,
there a verse without a home, and, despite
cogitating brings no fusion, no unity or home
heading, where the sigh of conjoining both
brings mental ******** organic relief, worth.
(6) the temperature now cool regularity, enough that
a distinctive line crossed, setting from Cool to Heat,
an inflection point of persona, weather, aging,
daytime whispers can no long be avoided,
a choral crescendo, delayed by lazy summer illusions
that permitted us to put off abnormal life as normal.
(7) I think, therefore I am, but I do not feel,
sufficiently, therefore I write a title here,
verse there, but no poem completes because,
as I update my list of people I worry about, I am,
ineffectively yours, lacking answers for you, in all
our present tenses, some of you are on it, even if no notification
sent, selfishly pondering if my name appears on someones list
*ah, these miscarriages of miscellaneous mumbles don’t
qualify as worthwhile, so I pre-apologize for wasting your time
trying, pushing myself to go from thinking, of you, so, therefore
you exist, but if I cannot give you the feelings deserved, then,
what good am I?*
conundrum.
11:26 AM Sat Oct 10
2020
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 11:39 AM UTC
Left is right... ...Because right is left... Except how does one or the other directional scenarios fair against the opposing opposites (that is themselves when conjoining as one "unifying whole")? Both directional options are just supposed to detour (each other) one way or the other (while seemingly going around each other again and again through countless twists and turns operable for success)! While also maximizing a different route, altogether! It's what makes paving a simulated pathway (so too speak) in order to free up space for the simulated pathway to give a better instruction manual about which way to properly (the next time around) carve my "simulated pathway"?!
PS... ("Which way"...) ...Is NO truer stated governing way!
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 7:36 PM UTC
These half written stories
And half written goodbyes
And without the missing chapters
I'm just a lost stanza
A pretty flute solo
With a robust cello
Conjoining factors and hazardous laws
The pain and your breath falling together
If only it were as simple as a lone wolf
One times zero equals nothing
Wouldn't you know
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
And I realised all this time I had been listening to your pathetic excuses and I bought them because I couldn't bear to take on board the implication.
Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but it's this same ignorance that's the death of me and I can't rationalise it.
Clinging onto a word that rhymed because I thought it better to believe the majority were simply polite and not the ghastly cruel beasts I felt them to be.
You saying your mother had a speech impediment in the form of a lisp was what really broke my heart, and I could have hurled the whole set of dinner plates across the room and it would have seemingly been a gross over-exaggeration -but my heart doesn't measure pain in levels like that.
I know the police would have been called and I'd collapse in a heap on the ground and they'd demand to know what happened?! and they'd all disclose they'd never seen anger like that.
That time you invited me to dinner I wore my best shirt and sat opposite them.
I tore down our conjoining road, feeling the thud in my heart, the lump form in my throat.
Because I knew this was only the start.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 1:54 PM UTC
Incompossible
<>
not mutually possible:
INCONSISTENT, INCOMPATIBLE
<>
inconsistent, yes,
incompatible, never
*we have lived and loved
each other since
a singular moment
in grade school
profound!
(what a perfect compositional word!)
friendship, intuitively embraced,
circumstances dictated an
on/off interspersed
coexistence decades in length,
a hit or miss geographical
distancing,
thst technology overcame
with no evaporative loss
of
sensational connectivity
across great times and
greater distances
we trialed and
errored our landlines,
for a time,
we lived together,
then nearby,
with other spouses, who knew
and tolerated, our exceptional
to the rules of coexistences,
we were closer than close,
the space between us was of wafer size, nearly invisible to the naked eyes of others, but unchanging
as much as it was unique and
uncharted
periods of absence of years measurable
and the first conversation
began exactly where the long ago prior had ceased
never fully accepted,
surely not ever
fully
tolerated + understood,
we stumbled upon a word,
incompossible
that captured the
drama, the hopefulness,
the hopelessness of
our separated conjoining
as a summary perfect
of us
a true tale,
a novel of pro-found
loss and gain
that cannot be be told
or totaled,
a sum of summary,
an unavowed marriage of
souls with no legality,
and yet
by its very in-completed nature,
it was perfected by it's very unending undefinable defiance
of definition:
we made the
incompossible,
possible,
the incompatible,
patible,
unfounded by circumstances,
unbounded in our intuition,
we yet live in a hopeful
state of unfulfilled totality of*
almost fufillment
May 30, 2025
May 30, 2025 at 2:23 PM UTC
there is a river that flows
through the fabric of our being,
vitality within.
a convergence of convulsing capillaries
reinforced with life,
delicate like a spider's web,
glistening like a galaxy of stars;
the shimmering dewdrops that make up the moments we never forget.
there is a maelstrom in my mind,
that stirs the tranquil waters
of my soul.
the river meanders, forever wondering;
where is the sea,
but it's waters cannot swell without
a thousand conjoining trickles.
so the river runs,
its course never set,
a tear on moisture-stricken skin,
never losing momentum.
so run river,
get to the sea.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC
They told me I’m a rainbow but
I feel more like the technicolor gas leak
conjoining with the sludge beneath the shiny city streets
I'm not proud that
I wave that flag for everyone
but myself
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
still tasting nicotine
(nothing like the stench
of addiction on the breath)
--nature's aphrodisiac
I writhe in the madness
of pleasure
of conjoining pain
from an unknown source
(known
yet pushed aside)
the breath in my ear
sends pangs
throughout the joints
while the pants
equal mine
now.
I understand.
completely.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 9:53 PM UTC