"convenes" poems
The tightrope expires
And the skyscraper hollows out.
This hate is vicious and repeated,
Repeated; repeated on the news reel,
And in a Hollywood romance.
We’re skipping generations
Through faded vinyl sound
Of dust mite and crack;
I’m folding digits over chords,
Extinguishing lovers
By turning them to songs.
Oh, reality convenes, convenes
On the mind, and on the consciousness
Of fact. Don’t steal my job,
Don’t **** my land,
And never fall asleep
Under the sun.
There is poetry to mathematics,
Scaling the harmonics of the sound,
Some universal language;
Some bottled message to our brothers
Who are looking back at us
From the distance of the stars.
And, terror is called from every side,
Until we’re terrified to eat or breathe,
In the tremor of a terror
That can never come to be.
The tightrope fell down with the buildings,
But its idea, it still lives on.
We could be on the precipice of better times,
Or under the shadow of a nuclear bomb.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
My butte shall pry wood today
That she's barely enchanted by egress and
Will grant a peaceful way.
As veracity comes so nigh in her ancients
That now convenes with her in paradise
But her love is banally tragic
Round haunts she's claimed forthright
Yet she is newly aplomb in nature
And her love is a dement today
That cast a circle upon the great day.
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
To love
you must find
where light convenes at daybreak
brooding
You must search
beyond impending greenery
assertive lace and pirate flower
Below the clouds of spring
that can’t—
be seriously taken
Behind time’s betrayal
where vined lattice
cages fragments of a smile
Why sophisticate such sense?
Far more to the extent
of will and heart extended
taste is answered
unaware
of when the sweet was gone
For presence is!
when savored sources—linger
...in their endings
known—and not resigned
Melted...quiescent...priestly moment
It’s not Zenith!
but Twilight
who drops her eyes!
To love
you must—
must love
beyond...below...behind
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
The Judge, me, walks in, settles down on the bench,
a cue for the jury, me, the accused, me,
and the defendant, you, to sit down.
It's a special kind of case at the Court of Conscience today.
No representation. No witnesses. No audience. Just
the parties affected and those who arbitrate. You and me.
Crime, Falling Out of Love! Walking away, leading you on,
not giving us a second chance, wasting your time, taking you
for granted and ripping your soul apart.
The accused, Pleads Guilty. As the law requires to discount
a third of the maximum sentence, the judge and the jury,
decide that the court will recess for three days.
I'm on bail but I cannot come within eye contact of you.
My guilty heart is tagged so each time I feel your pain,
sadness or anger, it alerts my brain and shocks it!
The court convenes. The judge clears her throat.
Because she's too emotional, along with the jury,
to even talk, let alone think clearly or decide.
"We find the defendant Guilty!". Guilty of
involuntarily man-slaughtering this relationship.
I sigh! Justice does not mean fair, not in law nor life.
The judge goes on. "However in this particular case
the sentence is to be decided by the defendant."
Because the ball is in fact in Your court!
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
Thoughts fester and wallow in retrospection
Regret reclines upon your left shoulder
Gloom unforgiving sits upon your right
Prodigious and ever bolder
Attired in the colors of the night
Vacant is the once brilliant soul
It's path freely chosen
Ah unwelcoming heart bloodless and morose
Once pulsating with love and life now infinitely frozen
Indeed it becomes you
As glittering tomorrows metamorphose into yesterdays
Anger devours the futile effort
To unburden one's self of taunting shades
No words of this world shall relay to that which awaits
The unwavering constant confusion
When the moon grows dark on the wane
When Regret at leisure sits upon your left hand
Gloom hushed and brooding
Convenes with melancholy upon your right
Come the watching murmuring somber shadows
Provoking madness in the mind.
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby July 27, 2017.
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 7:47 PM UTC
(the reconvening of my mind)
It's always the extremes
that bring me back to center,
but it's the trips I take on purpose
that remind me its time to go home.
Today it was the thought of blood.
I cannot stand the sight of it,
and neither would I brave a plunge
in icy depths this time of year.
I’d rather gather sunlight
and convince myself there are
no ghost revivals,
only blood reprisals from
daddy's DNA.
I tell myself
I need to get away
to where I can pray
again, to quit giving in,
to stay and fight wars,
the black, the white,
the gray fluttering darkness that
comes out of nowhere swooping
past my ear, scaring the **** out of me
as if it never happened before
but it has, its just been a while.
So I call for a council of angels,
then prepare for the riptide
of demons that join the fun when
my cranial convention convenes.
The left against the right,
The east against the west,
The pros against the cons,
all the ups and downs,
I don’t give a **** what it is
just give me back my wars.
Give me back my reasons to live.
Give me Nietzsche
Give me Brennan Manning
Give me Sam Harris
Give me Frederick Buechner
Give me Bertrand Russell
Give me Henri Nouwen
Give me Daniel Dennett
Give me Gerald May
Give me M Scott Peck
Give me Pia Mellody
Give me Dante
Give me Jane Kenyon
Give me the Marquis de Sade
Give me Dostoyevsky
and that should just about do it.
Within these names exist
enough controversy,
enough conflicting views
on life, on love, on God,
enough heresy,
enough truth,
enough lies,
enough knowledge,
enough beauty
to keep me waging wars
inside my head until the day I die.
Give me back my wars.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
*and I am fine..
she speaks first
this her report
each Monday noon
when our group
Soup Salad Scripture
convenes to her
weekly de-light..
Visiting her home we
met precision and grace..
a white decor reflects
her sun-lightened hair..
in her elevated space
we imagined the Peak
closer than before..
her walls portray
her art fascination
a loving life partner
all in this Moment
times in Alaska
and the wide world..
with all this
she served us wine..
we know now
she is Bette
and she is fine...*
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
Not so sure it's good
For me to be alone
Gives me time to think
Of the things I know
And the things I know
Never are quite right
The way I think I may
The way I know I might
Not so sure it's good
In the choosing of the sides
Where my brain convenes
With the left and right
While one stands up for yes
The other sits for no
Never can you tell
Which way this mind will go
Not so sure it's good
To let it out to play
Where in its adolescence gets lost
Or just ups and runs away
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 7:37 AM UTC
She always thought about him.
Every waking moment of every single day she thought.
His absolute perfection cherished her heart,
Lavishing her with faultless hugs, kisses, and affection.
She was saturated within the tenderness of his touch,
The desire that convenes within the obscure dimensions of her heart,
Her soul,
Her entity.
The entity that was brightened into a stream of gratitude and indulgence. Emanated from what seemed to be an eternal hell, he was
Salvation.
A deliverance of palliation,
Easing her with his captivating influence,
And relieving her of her poignant past.
She looks at him and his blemishes are blurred.
Admiring his frayed edges and his vial mistakes
They celebrate each other.
Lacking the sour stink of irritability.
Their love drowns in certainty without a single drop of ambivalence.
He heals her with his rigid fingers,
caressing her petite frame.
Reviving her from the depths of her severed self-esteem.
He is her,
Salvation.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
The custodian association convenes for the final time
The final time
They started on Earth
A fearful bunch
Frightened into competence
Clinging together
To clean and maintain the systems
First of the Earth, then of the other planets, then of the Sun, then of the Galaxies
And now, they must realize their most important purpose
(As everything they ever did was the most important)
These beings made of the material of the Universe
These beings emotionally reflecting the concern of the Universe
The One
Now it is happening
The outer edges of the One have drifted so far
Entropy has gone so far.
The beings ready the Gravity Loop sequence
All the information of this epoch
Lies in the Akashic record
Time for the material to be recollected
Reshuffled
The Custodians embrace, sing,
And they throw the switch.
Time for
Absolute Gravity
Triggering a Big Bang
The cycle runs healthy
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 5:22 AM UTC
A moment's acquaintance with the scintilla convenes as a gallant trail blaze through a dilation of the universe.
A dismantling into compulsion and magnetics.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
Excuse me please while I indulge
naughtiness born of lust
a restlessness I’ll cater to
revel in full latitude
to which ends I can’t admit
suffice to say it was obscene
in the eyes of proper folk
not admitting to the same
this tag is made on judgment's tongue
admitting more by the unsaid
when jealousy may be implied
as virtue struggles to stay alive
freedom lives beyond these taunts
devilry on personal terms
though the actions may seem *****
compared to those who push all curves
a derivation of what’s fun
sourced in consent between two souls
or maybe more if the crowd
convenes to play in carefulness
in private spaces away from most
not advertising except to say
fellow travelers may apply
leave convention at the door.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181208.
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 10:14 PM UTC
Say what
Say what was that you said?
So glib, so sure, so true.
Sweet talking you.
Hey, money talks
Ted Talks
Pep talks
Heart Talks
Talk, talk, talk
He talks strategic arms
And limitations talks
He talks the talk
And walks the walk
She’ll talk strategic arms
And limitations talks
If you want to
If it pleases you
If it keeps you safe
Makes you comfortable
She knows
He knows
Well, no one quite knows what he knows
Say what?
What was that you just said
Between strategic arms and limitation talks
I heard you say
“The preliminary party of your subsequent and diplomatic arrangement of the nuclear accord.”
“Say what?
What was that you just said”
He continued with the thread.
“the inspirational and endless table talk of the North Korean faction is out of their minds”
“Say what?
What was that you just said.”
Oh!
Between you and me
I completely agree
As preposterous as that can be
Let’s call an ace an ace
And get out of the race
No argument from me
I completely agree.
Encouraged he continued.
“Yeah, well the weekly fourth coming and regular meeting of the extraordinary bicentennial convenes.”
You don’t say
They’ll likely have it their way.
But, I don’t quite understand.
Do you think you could elaborate on the plan?
He continued:
“The unemployment rate is up and production is down, but we're about to turn everything around.”
Say What?
Is that what you mean?
He continued to be explainful.
But it was so painful
That I tuned him out
Losing my cool
And began to shout.
Say what
Say what the ****
What does it all mean.
I began to scream
Nothing, nothing at all
But congratulations
You said it so well
That no one could tell
What more do you need
It was pretty indeed
And you said it so well.
That no one could tell.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 10:23 AM UTC
*The dark coatings
of our lives
serve as does
black paint
found on glass..
A mirror formed
seen on rising
facing our day..
As our mirror
convenes both
dark and light
Our greater Eye
convenes the same..
Now we see
our dark coatings
form the Mirror
for our Eye
to see…*
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
She sits there by the window
Her coffee keeps her warm,
With her books and study papers
Sheltered from the storm.
Dressed in winter colors
Sweatshirt dark and denim jeans,
Comfort found in simple threads
Where complexity convenes.
Steam rising from her coffee cup
Casts a shadow on the glass,
It shades the pure reflection
Of such a pretty lass.
She sits there by the window
Gazing out beyond the storm,
Her coffee cup is empty now
Her body finally warm.
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 12:23 AM UTC
The grinding of espresso beans
Intensifies with each tap of the keyboard,
Students eyeing the clock
As the deadline draws near.
The corner girl convenes with her tutor,
Listening intently as he, enthusiastically,
Teaches the Pythagorean Theorem
At $125 an hour.
“Decaf-non-fat-sugar-free-tall-caramel-latte,
With an extra shot of caramel, please.”
The bemused barista smiles
As she eyes the empty tips jar.
Every small square table is occupied
With souls sipping on overpriced coffee:
Who knew one could find such thrill
Observing others like it's a hobby.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 6:05 PM UTC
Once again I'm sailing alone at dusk,
No companion to help rig the mast;
So much pain accrued in my solitude,
The lonely hour approaches fast
Gathering clouds conceal the moon's bright glow,
Now I know all too well what this means,
The dark shadows fall, then I hear the call ......
The Court of Loneliness convenes
I see the stars lighting the firmament,
Yet, where I dwell, all is bleak and dour;
With my heartstrings torn, and my life forlorn,
No beacon lights my lonely hour
Was ever a chain of woe forged so strong .....
How did loneliness acquire such power?
The clock chimes, but how strange - time does not change,
Once again it's the lonely hour
I'm lost in a forest of broken dreams,
Searching for Love's enchanted bower;
Then, in the distance, with dark persistence,
A bell tolls the lonely hour
Is there no escape, no place I can hide!
Why do bells toll from every tower?
How can I forget what comes at sunset ......
The torment of the lonely hour!
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 12:24 PM UTC