"disconcert" poems
Warning: Use dis list in context.
You decide on which side you fall.
disappear
disregard
disaster
displace
disqualify
disrepair
disturb
dissipate
disability
dispose
dismal
distribute
distrust
disturb
discriminate
discuss
disdain
disguise
dishearten
disinherit
disown
disparage
disagree
disgruntle
disclose
discolour
dispute
disarm
discover
disassemble
disadvantage
disallow
dispossess
discontent
discontinue
disrespect
disincline
discomfort
disrepute
dishonest
disillusion
dishonor
dismiss
disobey
disjoin
disappoint
discipline
discord
discern
discrete
disfigure
disconnect
disapprove
discharge
disbar
disease
discord
disfavor
disengage
disassociate
discipline
discount
disembody
displace
dissaray
disembowel
discombobulate
discredit
discourse
disentangle
disenfranchise
disembark
discard
disburse
disbelief
discover
disable
disagree
disintegrate
dismay
dispense
dislodge
disclaimer
disapprove
dissatisfy
disrupt
dispel
dislike
dismantle
disloyal
disbatch
disrobe
disperse
display
disaprove
disciple
disavow
disconcert
disinfect
disorder
dismal
dismember
displease
dissemble
disunity
dislocate
distort
distrust
distress
dissolute
disassociate
distill
discect (?)
distemper
distain
distasteful
distraught
dissolve
dissonant
dissuade
And dis isn't de end.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
Contemptuous of his home beyond
The village and the village pond,
A large-souled Frog who spurned each byeway,
Hopped along the imperial highway.
Nor grunting pig nor barking dog
Could disconcert so great a frog.
The morning dew was lingering yet
His sides to cool, his tongue to wet;
The night dew when the night should come
A travelled frog would send him home.
Not so, alas! the wayside grass
Sees him no more:--not so, alas!
A broadwheeled waggon unawares
Ran him down, his joys, his cares.
From dying choke one feeble croak
The Frog's perpetual silence broke:
"Ye buoyant Frogs, ye great and small,
Even I am mortal after all.
My road to Fame turns out a wry way:
I perish on this hideous highway,-
Oh for my old familiar byeway!"
The choking Frog sobbed and was gone:
The waggoner strode whistling on.
Unconscious of the carnage done,
Whistling that waggoner strode on,
Whistling (it may have happened so)
"A Froggy would a-wooing go:"
A hypothetic frog trolled he
Obtuse to a reality.
O rich and poor, O great and small,
Such oversights beset us all:
The mangled frog abides incog,
The uninteresting actual frog;
The hypothetic frog alone
Is the one frog we dwell upon.
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He was the brightest star the world had ever seen,
but no star can burn bright forever, although that was unforeseen.
He was a man who brought joy to all those around him,
so that he never had to show them how his life was grim.
He made them laugh until their stomachs hurt,
even though inside he was full of despair, sadness and disconcert.
Like a clown, his smile was painted on,
only when he removed it did you see the wretchedness in his deep blue eyes; that’s when it dawned
that he was a slow dying flower,
fading petal by petal and losing power
until the day he’d been poisoned enough by this ghastly world,
and he died once and for all by his own hand – that’s when the truth of his life really unfurled.
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
In department store foyers, free samples sprayed,
A collision of cosmetics muddle the air.
The olfactory overpowered by such obvious odours,
Why do natural notes disconcert you?
Not the gym heavy sodden or overworked,
Recognition of an individual, whilst eyes remain shut.
Faint trace of the familiar or frenzied pheromones,
A headiness misplaced by the cologne wearing clones
Preference for the perfumed, the artificial sweetener.
Marketed meticulously
Musk manufactured yet not made by man
Of flowers dear, of oils and compounds.
Fresh, fruity, citrus or spiced
Artificial aromas keep your own scent disguised
Society simulates this sophistication of the senses,
Masking yourself from me as you are wooed,
Accustomed to this attraction, till you let down your defences
How shall I know you when you are ****
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 6:10 PM UTC
In a world of laughter
I was apart of at a time
Now glides with sadness
As the refugees shine
And there in the darkness
I can see someone's face
Wholesome with fear
In deliberate disgrace
Find the world's end
And summon the flees
Through the fires and cries
Lies this appealing disease
Of rotten flesh
And from human, to be born
Crucified, embodied, concealed
And still so adorn
Notify the states
Address them assured
To be swept with the scars
In a world unsecured
With the memories of a beast
White flesh and teeth
In written disconcert
And so, whom would I bequeath?
Of decayed discontent
In a black path of a rose filled garden
Hides the wishes of a ******
Broken by the pervading Janardhan
And where the blood may spill
I may not be for real
And in this nightmare I place myself
But where I stand my eyes congeal
Broken faces, smiles depart
So much love, ruled by lust
So much hate, driven by anger
Asphyxiate my disgust
My repel of this utter evil
Where a ****** proclaims
The absence of virtues
And the murderer of William James
For the only unseen
And the utterly disturbed
Comes a vision alive
And they're truly perturbed
Where their own flesh dilapidate
With their minds running amuck
And at everyone they will berate
And in my cage of silent betrayal
I will commence to cleanse my soul
My solid trust, broken, forever damaged
I can only hope for extol
And yet my own deceit
Will lead me to my fall
I still await this day
And truly bury my appall
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 5:19 PM UTC
What a beautiful girl to marry so young,
to waste so young.
She resorts to pencil thin features,
embracing that which is better.
Something stirs inside which she cannot comprehend,
something eventually will give.
There are things that she would never tell her husband,
the thoughts that disconcert her moral.
Something is about to give.
"Oh, Henry Miller!",
She bellows with a sigh,
what a terrifying man to break her.
"Henry Miller, Henry Miller!"
This will be what wakes her.
With bare teachings, he shook her perceptions.
He taught her of dominating aggression.
Anais Nin,
a lovely French flower,
with fair features;
She withholds power to ****** any man or women to their very knees,
"May I slip into someone more comfortable?"
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
..[O]..
:::::::and
:::::::::::::::::shy
some moths dare
hang around a light,
dim, peeping....a lone
terra cotta lamp........not
bright enough....to guide a
journeying mind.....through
some dark paths......one....two
more lamps could help stop the
tripping..... .on life's many humps,
it makes the air....stale......with sighs,
uncomfortably moist, with cold sweat
the window curtains are a shield, a weak
wall, pregnant with longing
and apprehension.......soon
it will collapse, more moths
will fly free........the fleeing
the healing.......could make
nights longer...........the air
staler...............in this dark
conquering.............silence
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Evening rain showers merge with the
humid air.......the strong scent of the
growing pine tree...the scarce light
the aroma of chicken, simmering
in a mix of vinegar, soy sauce
...............garlic and spices
penetrate my nostrils and
infuse the atmosphere,
and.....disconcert me
i'm taken back, i gulp
i salivate...a late solo
dinner awaits...glass
of wine.......beckons
i give in....i sit by the
garden table.......raise
my wine glass.......i say
"Cheers!"...........tonight's
.................not so full moon
..........is shy............and hazy
as i hum....Patsy Cline's, "Crazy."
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::Sunday moon, May 1, 2016:::::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Sally
Copyright May 1, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 8:14 PM UTC
Himself it was who wrote
His rank, and quartered his own coat.
There is no king nor sovereign state
That can fix a hero's rate;
Each to all is venerable,
Cap-a-pie invulnerable,
Until he write, where all eyes rest,
Slave or master on his breast.
I saw men go up and down
In the country and the town,
With this prayer upon their neck,
"Judgment and a judge we seek."
Not to monarchs they repair,
Nor to learned jurist's chair,
But they hurry to their peers,
To their kinsfolk and their dears,
Louder than with speech they pray,
What am I? companion; say.
And the friend not hesitates
To assign just place and mates,
Answers not in word or letter,
Yet is understood the better;—
Is to his friend a looking-glass,
Reflects his figure that doth pass.
Every wayfarer he meets
What himself declared, repeats;
What himself confessed, records;
Sentences him in his words,
The form is his own corporal form,
And his thought the penal worm.
Yet shine for ever ****** minds,
Loved by stars and purest winds,
Which, o'er passion throned sedate,
Have not hazarded their state,
Disconcert the searching spy,
Rendering to a curious eye
The durance of a granite ledge
To those who gaze from the sea's edge.
It is there for benefit,
It is there for purging light,
There for purifying storms,
And its depths reflect all forms;
It cannot parley with the mean,
Pure by impure is not seen.
For there's no sequestered grot,
Lone mountain tam, or isle forgot,
But justice journeying in the sphere
Daily stoops to harbor there.
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Apprehended in the moonlit night,
Of the silhouette of a mystery,
The clenched fist hesitated to show might,
Stared at the wall hangings of tapestry.
Curiosity crept in and courage whispered to his ears, "Go Leonard, go."
His feet trembled, but bravery ruled his heart.
He reached for the lamp, as the fear, he forgo,
He walked, to find the cause of disconcert.
He stood, astonished, at the sight of a black cat.
It meowed, as slowly, it vanished behind the trees.
he heaved a sigh of relief, and laughed, at ease.
What was he so afraid of?-
The answer lay in the breeze.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Since when did she become
A ***** expert?
Her Facebook comments
Only served to hurt
She talked about us
Just like we were dirt
She lacks the knowledge
But her opinions remain inert
As an anchor of the nightly news
We thought she was objective
Despite her personal views
Which have proven quite subjective
Fortunately her employer’s
Action was corrective
And she was immediately fired
Once her comments were detected
How can she talk about
People she doesn’t know
That just goes to show you
How deep racism can go
Now she no longer has
Her own TV news show
And Pittsburgh’s better for it
As the fair-minded know
Tell me what qualified her
To be a ***** expert
With no ***** experience
For her to assert
Yet she chose a stereotype
To place us on alert
It had to be her own bias
She used to disconcert
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 10:15 AM UTC
Her mind was closed, a flesh prison cell
For years there, she served
All of those years undeserved
Blind to freedom ringing like a fresh liberty bell
She was not guilty of any crime
All the same, she was locked away
Left a prisoner in disarray
The laws of her mind gave her time
Alone & distraught gave her monstrous thoughts
Instead of helped, she was hurt
Then those thoughts happened more often than not
Soon people forgot, & that hit her soft spot
This caused her disconcert
She was lost, but her memory was not.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
(Ego as fragile as the gossamer wings of a fairy
I stood nose to nose with a child, quite contrary)
Everything I do is in fear of him and her
Stick up my chin
To prove to them I’m not so immature
slinking beneath shimmery skin
Aching and breaking
I’m overwhelmed by these emotions
One at a time and they each consume me
Body so small, when they run through me
All my hate
And this fear
Bitterness, despair, and distress
All my love, my ecstasy
All of my happiness
I can only really feel the one.
You say I’m a[censored] and to[redacted]
Then you say
I deserve it cause the way that I’ve acted
Hate to know myself when disconcert
It’s too much (I’m in pain!)
I’m tired of this needless, childish hurt
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 5:13 PM UTC
I always thought that I was over you
Maybe my heart was not so exposed
Or my mind, with other things, was overload
But my feelings were truly on cue
Just an approach was enough to put myself on alert
A few words from you turned my imagination on
And you lied to me when I was near drowned
Now my soul lives full in disconcert
You left on me a very special mark
I have never loved someone so much
But although I know that we will be on touch
I can not love you in the dark
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
All throughout the darkened day
A little boy limps with a scar
From a fire that burned his body gray
As kids started to gossip and bray
While Billy hobbles to class that was afar
A **** came and shoved him to the ground
Billy was stunned like a helpless Tsar
Which everyone saw was bizarre
Sadly enough he was never astound
And wondered why his friends were so cruel
He would rather go to a pool and drown
Until the discovery of hatred was found
Meanwhile a girl by the name of Jewel
Noticed all the comments towards Billy were curt
She decided to tell him during school
As she waited for her crush at the newel
Wanting to halt Billy from being disconcert
Jewel went to him to show she had care
As they stood together with tons of hurt
All the pain was lifted as they continued to flirt
Billy began starting to declare
That they were tighter than a bouquet
And Jewel was worth more than a gem so rare
As his limits was diminished in thin air
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
do your fingers try to get me high?
touches like heroine as you pull up my skirt
I know the bruises aren't meant to hurt
at the end of our affair, at the end of the night
all I have are imprints of your teeth on my thigh
how much energy I can continue to exert
with feelings in such disconcert?
if only you also wished to be mine...
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
One small shovel at a time
I'm gonna bury this life of mine
So the sorrow can be confind
I can not be committed for a crime
For I will bury it deep, it'll be hard to find
When it's gone
Will I be able to carry on
I dug the grave in the early twilight just before dawn
Upon my lips played a song
About how life had treated me wrong
But I'm gonna fix that and it won't take long
With shovel in hand I slung that dirt
Till every muscle screamed and hurt
Just when this wretched life I was about to insert
My eyes did divert
You tried to make me feel that old feeling of disconcert
I decided my grave should claim a pervert
You arrived at just the wrong /right time
Now instead of being your's your mine
So I brought my shovel down
Right there on your crown
There was a crack, one small grunt after that no more sound
My face wore a smile instead of a frown
As I buried you deep underground
I filled it all in
You couldn't even tell where you'd been
Now you can not create any more monsters or any more sin
I consider that a win
I couldn't help but grin
Now I'll always know where you are
No more stalking me from a far
Never again will you **** me in your car
For I took to your head that cold steel bar
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 10:38 AM UTC
He met his Dad for the first time when
His father came marching home,
After the war to end all wars
From London through to Rome.
He’d never seen him before he stooped
As if to pluck out a thorn,
And asked his Ma in his army suit,
‘Just when was the young one born?’
He hadn’t been home for five long years
And Jeremy then was four,
He constantly seemed to be adding up
The years that he’d been at war,
His Ma would say, ‘He’s a miracle,
Young Jeremy went full term,
I carried him for a year,’ she said,
‘It must have been wartime *****
Then his father growled, and his mother howled
As he placed her on his knee,
And running his hand on sacred ground
Said, ‘all this belongs to me!’
His mother cried when he said she lied
In the years of his growing up,
And treated him, apart from the rest
When he called him a ‘scoundrel’s pup.’
His father clung to his Khaki suit
It was washed and pressed each week,
‘You never know when they’ll call me up
If this treaty doesn’t keep.’
He worked back down in the coal mines where
He’d emerged to answer the call,
Black from coal like a demon’s soul
But he’d gone, to fight for them all.
But Jeremy never saw him smile,
He never could do enough,
The others would go on trips the while
But Jeremy got a cuff,
‘What have I done,’ he’d often say
As his father sat and yawned,
‘Don’t come bothering me today,’
And mutter of ‘wartime spawn.’
The years went on and the son had gone
To live on his own, nearby,
But always came to visit his folks
Each month, till the one July
He came around to the house and found
That the dust his father choked,
Was sat so deep in his lungs that he
Had suffered a massive stroke.
‘Your father’s down in the hospital,
He might not ever come out,’
His mother cried, while his brother, Clyde,
‘He’s all washed up,’ he’d shout.
The others wouldn’t go visit him
They had much too much to do,
So Jeremy took his favourite book
To visit him in Ward 2.
His father sat in a wheelchair there
And he looked up in surprise,
‘Nobody’s come to see me, lad,’
He said, with tears in his eyes.
‘Why, of all people, would you come,’
As he helped him into his cot,
‘What do you think, you silly old man,
You’re the only Dad I’ve got!’
And he read to him from his favourite book
And he sat and held his hand,
And the years of hurt that disconcert
Lay buried in No Man’s Land,
For the feeling came back in his limbs
As the father did atone,
And Jeremy came, the spawn of war,
‘Come on, I’m taking you home!’
David Lewis Paget
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
The dots do I join, to rediscover
That which was forgotten, remembered through continuation
Naivety had my youth shown plenty
Lines of love, professed lies
My aspirations stemmed, by a being not noticing.
Time has it stopped not for my admiration
Its progression I cannot prevent
But my mind's reversion, has already occurred
That which had been lived, is lived again
Her entrance I appreciate once more; the essence unfound.
Events are offered no change, by memories
Questions unthought than, asked now
The height of my feelings, a hyperbole
A chance doomed by an evasive reality
Her beauty existent; I chose a figment.
Each confidant, hearing more passion than the last
If doubts were raised, my words were shown
A destiny I sought, with a name with no letters
My stare, affording no return glance
Her interactions echoing no friendship; my ignorance deflated.
A work I had begun ardently, not knowing
My return home , a return to future synonymy
Pages torn, to drown in cliches
Her rejection, could not disconcert
The dots I made, do I join to know.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC