Best Conception Poems
Whats at your center?
Where is your peace?
Is it puppies or the season, maybe color.
For me, you see, it must be the sky, the trees, the way they meet.
The way they vary but always stay the same.
Blue by day, yellow then night.
Watch the fragments of time bring about true change.
Knowing when to, how long it might take.
Prepared for this long observation.
When instinct takes over and you no longer need to think about it.
There's a cool breeze in the air leading to transformation.
We all do. Everyone. Goes through daily modification that effects perception.
Will it make you into something different, or is there consistency to your variations?
Conception
There
In seconds words birth
A phrase laboring me to pen
Anticipation of a perfect offspring
Contraction squint the mind for me
That shudders a intent, until
It flops on the page, kicking
Father critic oversee sternly
At times pushing me to the side
I separate from a creator
A witness as it breathes
The air is a touch of Intellect, soft
It’s a raindrop in my lover eye
Or sharp carom in the back
Pain echoes for immortality
Joy wanting the freedoms lounge
Clarity in the pitch black
Or the divine shine,
Like the lamp beside me.
We are each
a “Little Light Beloved”
so told to me in a dream~
each a blessed spark
released – far greater
than any Devil would
have man consider, let alone~
righteously seem!
far more connected than
Dark's Original Thief
would want children of The
Almighty to attempt to light
and beam....
each of us, “A Little Light Beloved”
our combined spirits, one Divine
Unconquerable Christ-team!
Transforming man's first fruits of
infamy – the human spirit snatched
back, away from claws of evil deception
by our Holy Mother's Blessed,
Immaculate Conception!
Declaration of Conception:
(Books are life)
Syringe of knowledge
Injected into my vein
Before birth
In the womb
After death
In the tomb.
Page after page
Read into memory
Of adventure,
Of emotion
Of history
Of devotion.
Some cryptic
A few are elliptic
Tis an affliction
Cannot be stopped
Literary addiction
A high not topped.
Any concept dabblers’ Magnum Opus
A. Green
The day is conceived,
tossed bedsheets birth landscapes.
Apelike, a grin gawps.
In the backroom of a slow thought
I dress for breakfast -
recall the tropics,
sticky rice, coconut milk and
one huge river prawn,
all wrapped in a banana leaf.
Slipshod I slip away from that world
adjusting my internal optics.
A blueberry muffin with honey
on a checkered tablecloth,
lashings of watery sunshine.
That was yesterday or last year.
time can be as allusive
as a bottomless eggcup.
This absolute and irrevocable morning,
my gut burns from cheap Canadian whisky.
A mirror implanted into a watching mind
reflects only my belly flop
as I leg crawl into pants.
Less feral creatures than we castaway suburbanites,
gather to forage as the sky climbs
over the hedgerow.
I had a strange dream,
It could have been last night
or a faraway fear
returning from a place no-where near.
Maybe it was only a shadowland
cast upon a cranial wall,
a peeling mural
upon which sermons and bibles
were hung like bats
from dead apple trees.
The kitchen counter
has a note on it:
“Gone to church, there’s
bread in the toaster
we have run out of butter – love you.”
There is an over-ripe banana
by the coffeemaker.
I eat it.
Standing
as in a dream
bemused
in my private world
alone
and yet surrounded
by others
thoughts
read
digested
and considered
waiting
listening then
writing
my verse
I awake,content
until the next
time
rock bottom
buried under heavy layers
of stones and gravel
a dangerous liaison with melancholy
breathing in poisonous dust from crushed impact
a heavy weight rests on the mind
has made itself too settled for comfort
but there must be a shifting of the light
inconceivable at first
gradual until life
becomes bearable once more
21st November 2023
As the church celebrates your feast day
known as the Immaculate Conception,
we're grateful for your intercession,
to be part of your Son's redemption.
Preserved from original sin,
a grace and privilege you've attained.
You're the new Eve, our Blessed Mother,
who'll define us through your apparitions.
Your litany of titles draws us closer
to many situations of our sanctification.
Faced with the trials and tribulations,
we call upon you and be our intercessor.
Hail to thee, dear Mother Mary!
with our prayers and sons we raise to thee
be a reflection of our great love for thee
as we venerate thee in our community.
As the prophecy unfolds in the Genesis
"I will put enmity between you and the woman,
between your offspring and hers.
He will strike at your head while you will strike at his heel (Gen 3:15).
Dear Immaculate Conception, our mother!
being deeply involved in your devotion,
we pledge ourselves to be shared and broken to others
like the gift of the Eucharist, our life and sacrament.
re-post inspired by Constance contest
footle-CHINESE WHISPER
low voice
no choice
Note A footle-2 lines,2 syllbles with a title-Ligh verse form,witty,pertinent,topical etc with an integral title
(technically a trochaic monometer)hence I label the form as a footle best exampled by the
famous FLEAS
Adam
had'em.
Ah for the love of our Lord. Many folks don't understand
what is meant by the "Immaculate Conception".
I too at one time thought the title referred to the
Virgin birth of Our Lord Christ. That it was as said in the bible
that the Holy Spirit came down on Mary and she conceived
our Lord Jesus Christ.
Well, for those of us still not quite up
on that term, it simply means that the Blessed Virgin Mary herself,
( when she was conceived in the womb of St Ann, her mother,)
was conceived without original sin. A specific honor given to Mary
by God so that Christ could be born of Mary who by God's grace
was conceived sinless-that is to say without original sin-
and "full of Grace".
I hope that helps some who were as confused
about this feast day as I used t be.
God bless us all and Have a
happy feast day.
May the Blessed Mother put a kind word
in to Jesus for each of us.
My eyes
they saw you
fine as can be
with features a
goddess would own
I tried to
compare you
with others I see
but naturally you
stood alone
I scattered
your picture well
in my heart so
your face was all
it could see
I later
discovered that
this was the
start of a wonderful
feeling in me
I’ve pondered
the thought of
being forever with
you the one I
endear
I strongly
believe we can
be together with
something deep
and sincere
I feel at
home when in
your arms, I
never want to
leave
For wrapped
up in your
alluring charm,
I’ll always want
to be
Written in Queens, New York -Circa 1995
You asked me for a poem today.
I raised the roof of my skull
like the hood of a jalopy,
I replaced the sparkplugs and
Revved my six cylinders, smoking
Choking an unbreathable cloud,
My tarnished shroud.
You asked me for a poem today,
And here I am full of meager
Moments where I once savored
Modest madness. Where I neglected
Love and paid up with hungry longing,
All my regrets for reckless crimes.
You ask me for a poem today.
Just one day, a poem!
But all poems are made somewhere in the stars,
Carrying ships of perfumes and refracted prisms,
They know no start or end,
They violate all clocks and calendars.
I won’t know when the words stop flowing.
You might catch it if they do.
An Orwellian Conception
As long as they see what you assume they see, and they agree,
then, that’ll be the reality we’ll assume you want to live in.
If this makes sense, then be at peace among friends.
You can sleep innocently; no-one will mete out punishment!
The past can’t be erased, but we can mitigate the consequences.
There'll be no misunderstanding unless you fail to define yourself,
without definition, we’d disagree and that would be unfortunate;
Co-operate so others will live, deep sleep is wonderful.
We (your brothers and sisters) are watching everywhere you tread
(There is no umbrella of protection for a protagonist).
Our duty and purpose is to ensure survival of our genes;
So follow the rules and be rewarded with peaceful sleep.
“I am a sojourner pilgrimaging in a foreign land;
When my name is drawn, I will step aside and let others go on.”
Silence is the safehouse of the most sincere lies
just as teardrops sweetly sleep in our eyes.
When we tell the truth with a bad intention...
we become the custodian of an evil invention.
A half-truth is a complete package of lies...
even truthful fools often appear to be wise.
A naked truth is safe, sound and sacred
but a fully robed lie hides hurt and hatred.
The conception of deception is not difficult...
yes, false foundations will one day somersault.
The intention of a liar may be honourable
but the tools of his action makes them culpable.
Politicians polish lies and call it civil right;
magicians make darkness brighter than light.
Pains may force an innocent man to lie;
no pain or pressure can force the truth to die
We are those things we always try to hide;
the works which in dark minds we confide.
Mortals are not what they think they are
just as celestial distance shrinks a star.
At night when we lay content
at the conclusion of our day,
wearied from labor
but glad in our endeavors,
I will inevitably say,
something of inconsequence,
while our barrier’s down
to feel your laughter,
slide inside my soul
and curl in my womb.
Our re-enactment of
Loves conception.
The sound of your laughter
echoes in my mind
long days after
our moment of joy repast,
like the trill of a bell
beneath a fairy mound,
who rings in the wonder
an infant’s first cry rebounds.