Assembles Poems | Examples

The Veranda Congregation

It is five o'clock somewhere
And the porch is still there
There are cocktails, and the a swing that still sways
With the wind and the whispers
We will all meet here
With our memories of those yesterdays
At the end of West Road
We watch fireworks explode
From the porch on the Fourth of July
Now our children are grown
We thank God for His gift of new life
We share pictures and days tell
Of memories we won't sell
On the porch until the middle of night
From two months to ninety
The stories get mighty
On the porch that assembles the time
Through our lives and our eyes
We had a guide in the porch light
That shines on and through each passing year
On Sunny Hillside Farm this day
Family takes their place
For another photo on the porch wresting time

The doorbell rings less

The doorbell rings less
As dust assembles
On once polished seats
The old coffee pot
Misses a few beats
As cups gather hopefully
Voices linger
Held by the silence
Seeking a response
The phone chimes
A face time visitor
Fulfilling a duty
Soon they will share
Unvalidated memories
Speak of love
Their words will be lost
In the silence

Dreamer And The Dreamed

The turning wheel of time 
stirs up the dust of disarray,
that settles in the crumbling cauldron
of disordered life of illusion.
In the maiming moments 
of disdained dejection,
truth tumbles in the mélange 
of disorientation chaos. 

Under the fantasy firmament
psyche in desertic isolation,
embedded in mindscape imagery,
suffering desiccated and lonely,
searches for a novel niche 
in self-constructed reverie
to get a spellbound shelter 
of captivating hope in frustration.

Dormant notion then invents dream,
steers mind into domain of delusion.
A thing made is destined to break,
but not by the will of the creator,
for whom the sense of time collapses,
making the frame of timeless trance,
where the dreamer assembles relentless   
the shifting scenes of desire dreams.

The montage etched by the trail of mirage, 
migrating in dunes of desolation,
makes collage of dream in deluded mind 
against backdrop of nocturnal oasis.
The dreamer doesn’t see the dawn,
for the soul sleeps entranced deep within,
can’t escape self-built illusory maze,
until divine consciousness makes wake-up call.

reconnection

like Icarus choking on his wing’s wax
Phoenix too laden with ashes to rise
Sisyphus stoned by rock bottom
an Angel suffocating on its halo

the witch seeks to be a Fairy Queen
assembles the mirror of Self and
seeks solace in prayer and meditation

one cannot give what has not been received
Janus will have to gather a third face for the present
looking backward and forward does not suffice
to overcome the deluded nature of an illusion

the only permanent matter is impermanence
either one honestly grasps nascent reality
or corporeality strangles immanent awakening

the Buddha can transcend without fig tree or rice bowl
not every robe has to shine in bright orange
and yet a rainbow needs sunshine as well as dark clouds

tantra means woven together and providence
patchwork for the mosaic and tapestry of life
no more threadbare rags nor shards of broken magic

in wonder and marvel lie imagination and miracles
wisdom is knowing what can and cannot be changed
humility and serenity require arduous work
to achieve some degree of spiritual connection

The Mystery of Before

The morning comes slowly,
first with a faint glow growing
in the sky above the fence,
then lifting to prod the feet
of clouds as if to wake them 
and raise their rain heavy weight 
up off the horizon.

My body fills the contours
of an old chair, positioned to catch
the first rays coming through 
the window to see off the long night.
There are times when I feel
that the darkness will never end,
a thick black pall falling
across all thought,

but it goes and I begin
to take in the day. Some trick
of memory assembles me again,
puts me in a familiar place where
I know where the cups 
and the coffee beans are kept
and somewhere
in my mind a gallery opens
with wall after wall
of familiar faces

and pictures of the past, 
time stamped and strung out 
way back to where all becomes
an impenetrable blur, nothing more
than a dreamless sleep out of which 
I emerged as me 
from the mystery of ‘before’.

Heartbroken

She never seemed shattered; to me, she was a breathtaking mosaic of the battles she’s won. – Matt Baker



One single teardrop trembles
On the edge of my lashes
Darkest despair assembles

Rising from smoking ashes
Emotions driven by light
On the edge of my lashes

Quiet faith, souls will ignite
Despite the heart whose broken
Emotions driven by light

Once prayers go unspoken
Souls despair of praise rising
Despite the heart whose broken

Pain that is so surprising
Mourning love that’s forgotten
Souls despair of praise rising

When heartbroken, life’s rotten
One single teardrop trembles
Mourning love that’s forgotten
Darkest despair assembles

Lost Without You

You pretend I am a dream 
Worthless as a crooked seam

Love you are in my heart
A patient delved from the start

So easy to pretend I am fake
Your heart assembles when I wake

But truly I feel and envy you 
You swallow my heart like you do

I am you you are me
Stop lying my soul and set us free

What power you have 
Only you must know 

Love conquers all
A heartfelt blow

It is your fault I dare say 
Emptiness will be my drain

I free you my heart 
Will all my love

A godsent blessing 
So high above 

Entangled we are as one
Until are life is fully done.

Biblelot

Bibelot 
When — ever I peep into my heart
Who frightens me with Ego Skirt
Humbly, humbly whispers in me
Catch the Bibelot, seeing in me
Awakens me to vitalize mine passions
Slowly, slowly assembles the new relations
Humbly, humbly whispers in me
Catch the Bibelot, seeing in me
Sense then rings the facts bell
Gain my vine which I sell
Humbly, humbly whispers in me
Catch the Bibelot, seeing in me
Shed your blood for humanity strong
Sacrify thine self for lasting long
Humbly, humbly whispers in me
Catch the Bibelot, seeing in me

A Day In the Life - Act 5

Fleas, ticks, and parasites are the bane of pets and pet owners.  They require medications.  It is a well know veterinary fact that to administer medications to a dog is simple: “wrap it in bacon and toss it to the dog”.  Cats, however, are much more medication savvy and resist the idea that descendants of Cleopatra’s litters need any.  Thus, the dilemma, send the cat back to Pharaoh or battle the ferocious Fang and Claw Master.  He assembles the towels, the eye droppers, the welding gloves, sends out a prayer request, and proceeds.  To date he believes he has been successful as the cat is still stalking the neighborhood.  He understands the cat as he will take no medication “willingly” and is a complete “joy” when visiting his doctor's offices.  He also understands the dog as he too loves bacon.

John G. Lawless
©4/29/2023

Violin

"Daydreams, let the music play on as dreams come true." Quote by poet

Beautiful young girl
Listens to a violin playing 
As she embraces her loving instrument,
Dreams of playing in an orchestra
The soothing, warm, rich, clear, and relaxing sounds of the violin
While in concerts discipline.
The slow, dips, and peaks pitch sounds reverberate,
As the bow dances around the strings and filtrates
Playing SONG ESCALA - CHI MAI as it escapes
An image of a couple unites,
In her mine Listening to the violin play
Waltzing with the soothing sound as it assembles
As a floating feather touches down,
On the veranda
She is in her finest long flowing gown,
He is in black tails, white ties and gloves,
Under the splendor of the brightness full moon and stars.
Listening to a violin playing
As she embraces her loving instrument
And dreams of the day she will be the one playing
And waltz Under the splendor of the full brightness of the moon and stars.


4/20/2023
Rewrite 12/26/2014

Scalloped

Enamel finger-smeared thick with butter
Yellow onions, yellow butter, floured and browned
Just add cream
From roux to dream
Now spice to glue that hold my world together

The team assembles for its tasty mission
Cheddar, gouda, mozz and more
Thick sheets of ham
Tubers sliced translucent
Layered, latticed, clothed in white bliss
Sealed deep into my black Dutch Oven

Four hundred twenty-five degrees, twice boiling
Every five minutes, I keep checking
Time warps
seconds are hours
Only half done, removing the covering

Top comes off, melting marbarella muck
Gilded golden gruyere
Splattering over spuds
Swirling cheese seas
Miasmic fragrant fromage tauntingly teased air

Beep! Beep! Beep! It's done!
Don't waste a moment
Too hot to taste
Bubbling lava lake
Slowly crusting cheesy skin emerging from the oven

Finally, the soup solidified, gooey cultured cream
Ready for the fork and spoon
Potatoes caked
Ham baked
Reality as gastro-goodness manifested dream

Onto my plate, my fork, my palette, my bliss

Unified Chant

Cipher audible as morning treetop cacophony 
         Each other's cheer-leading decree 
Sunami strength help brought forth deafening
         Viewed issues dealt cooperatively 

Delighted audience dearest hears undisguised 
        Beesech spilt blood raw recognised
Army of protection brings emergency supplies 
        Intuition expands in habitual confide 

Huddled low to headland in stiff salt onslaught
          Storm's approach old debri fraught 
Terror never treads on mesh combined support 
          Methods of secure recovery taught

Hummed as one, togetherness tune assembles 
          Outcomes emerging remain pliable 
Dual pillars bear burden, widened weight gentle
         Tandem virile, vehicle indestructible



      
       9th December 
      Divinely United

At Eighty-Four Years Old

it caught me this time. my luck rode away and i am here. it possesses many mansions. fine and prepared. i cannot witness him. i perceive he is here. i breathe from my walk, rest next to a throne with the markings of all nations. past and present. evil hearts cannot pass here. they throw different tongues swaying in a breeze.

the triumph of entry is calm with palm branches. salvation of mind, vested. i raise to view the feature. my soul is intact. i sold nothing. the tears stopped. brilliant waters flow. no thirst. i hear ten-thousand-year-old songs. i want to write them. no need.

a company assembles. white dress. he is here. the one with blood smears draws the order. i can feel his light expressed in the gems of the walls. no limit. forever upward, elegant. an outline steps the golden avenue towards me.

—- He watched you, my brother. He knows you are here. Walk with me.

Tragedy Spun Into Greatness Strategy

Tarry not, worry not, hurry not
When fountains of fears
Overwhelm the dot and clot
Congealing in tears

That rain rivers
On your serene court
As hope shivers and quivers
At the prospect rot

Decomposes the serenity
For which you long
As sagacity and unity
Sound a garrulous gong

Whose register at Easter
Diminishes and swishes
Gallumphs in the toaster
That processes dishes

Whose meal and deal
In a dead letter
Feel empty as the seal
Of clutter and slaughter

Draw nigh
Breathing hard on the dream
To fly you high
Not on the surface of a saline stream

But on wings of glory
To implement God’s plan
Spelling and telling the story
Injected in the clan

God assembles
In readiness
To turn your brambles
Into a feast of happiness and witness

As God metamorphoses the tragedy
You undergo
Into the strategy
That realizes your greatness goal.

Big Sea

Big sea exists not on its own.
It assembles rivers from various sources.
Rivers run kilometres to only end up
In a bigger river that callously swallows them all.

Dirty or clean, big sea never cares about colours, 
For it is a careless and colourless loss, like death.
Queens and Kings, men and children,
Animals and trees both contritely swallows.

Death is as unpredictable as a vulture
Who, date and place never warns of.
Big sea and death are both similar,
As they are never satisfied.

Poem by Mugisho N Theophile

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