Best Conclusively Poems
Losers
Do you waver. are you shy?
When they look at you
do their eyes imply:
"We'll have to make do"?
Do you doubt your reasons,
suspect your goals,
commit self-treason
defer to trolls?
Are you always too reflective?
Are all your victories retrospective?
Do you try to do what's right
and end up being too polite?
Take heart then, don't despair!
Remember losers, everywhere,
it's within the infinite power of thought
to prove conclusively the winners are not.
We are kenyan superstars,
That is what we are,
Kenya our mother land and pride,
Shines so bright that it cannot fade,
Today we hear,`Kenyan athletes bring home,
Bronze,Silver and Gold,'
Tomorrow,``The Kenya Rugby 7's defeat New zealand again.''
The Maasai culture came up with the Akala sandals,
Which are made out of rubber,
The luhya introduced Bull fighting,
The Kalenjin made `mursik' or fermented milk,
And to name but a few communities,
With their diverse cultures.
I believe that kenyans were born great,
To grow up and achieve greatness.
To become one of the most formidable
Intellects of our time,
Just like the late Mzee Jomo Kenyatta,Dedan Kimathi,
Tom Mboya,Kijana Wamalwa to name but a few,
To change people's reasoning conclusively,
And make them see reality and not building castle's in the air.
Kenyans were born great,
Because greatness was thrust upon them,
To change Africa's impoverished state,
And make it a better place,
For you and for me and the entire human race,
To raise heroes and heroines,
To conquer social evils in the society.
If we were born great,
Let us believe in ourselves,
Be contented with whatever we do in our lives,
Let us love one another, live in unity and work
together as a nation,
Let the past be a stepping stone for us to succeed in future,
And leave the rest, to the Almighty God.
If one mongoose is called a mongoose
Then can't we conclusively deduce
That two could be called mongeese
'Twould make a great discourse piece
Unless ye be dreadfully obtuse
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
bedecked golden bride
golden goose for gruntled groom
golden noose or life
~25 Jun 2016~
A commentary on the odious practice of demanding dowry from the bride's side in an arranged marriage still prevalent, though outlawed by law, which is often the cause of great harassment leading to suicide, or even murder of brides. The present Law in India provides for immediate arrest of the groom and his immediate relatives on complaint from the bride. Any death of the girl within 7 years for any reason is considered a dowry death unless conclusively proved otherwise. Cultural and societal pressures (including extra-judicial "kangaroo courts" often prevent or hide dowry related incidents. It is either a life of servitude and submission or death in cases of Dowry Deaths.
The practice of Dowry is on the decline in present times, but indirect demands are often made.
Overflowing like the sparkling spring from acerbity,
The emerald stones on the relieve peak
Causing welling up like stormy waves,
And breath taking halt, grunting
Roar as the thundering drums reverberating;
The window pout unfold a feature
As when open wide,
Spoilt by the joyful loudness of croaking;
Grief lips drawn taut
Drop spreading flow,
Drop to wash the ripe Apple cheeky, drop
And meandering through grooves and porous ream
Obstacles of pendants and pillars;
Conclusively arrived, making the jugular waterfall,
Cascading into sea of tears.
True, men do not weep
That bespeaks Hercules vaunting ego,
But, I thank you sir,
Often they sob now or before
Not for unfaithful heart breaks
For loves aplenty,
Not often loves for not excusing
In passing by to greater beyond,
But on lucrative dear deal that sore gone,
On capital fretted away
On good look in,
But crash without remorseful pity
The masculine effeminately swim in river of tears.
Strokes of wipes to back from savage master
The oppressive bully to hapless youth,
Which draws livid reddish lines picture
And rabid yell of agony on twisted mouth,
When puerile little lad yelp
Could be for appeasing breast
But, definitely not for help,
Could lustfully be warmth of mama’s arms,
Things we’re n't aware but peradventure leg to arms
Or nothing, whichever way,
Their stubborn screaming suggest
Ways of impuissant expressing unanswered request.
Tears of gladness
Moved to elevating joy,
To see again long time lost love,
Surely for ages and time agone
Surprising hugs with all kisses,
Dearest who aforethought cross beyond
But now you are prospering.
She holds her garment seductively
Charming her way into your heart
She poses with passion delightfully
She holds her garment seductively
A romantic honor conclusively
Any lonely heart would melt apart
She holds her garment seductively
Charming her way into your heart
Russell Sivey
Love is false to those like I
Whimsical enough to dip their feet in such dangerous waters
Confiding our faith in one presumed to hold our heart
Overlooking our indecisive nature
Intoxicated with, but oblivious to the ignorance
Of the concept of forever, with them
Holding close-fistedly onto the hand that only knocked you down
The desire for them painfully develops from craving into a longing urgency
A misguided belief gone amiss
Mutualism for the other nonexistent in their intangible eyes
Spiraling in a mutilated defeat seems fit the exclusive option
Once brought to consciousness of your now brutal reality
You were doubtless in your supposition
For a second you were conclusively unequivocal
That you were close enough to possess and proclaim…their Love
WD-40 resistant, cranky
mental gears no longer appraised,
honored, nor prized
as a precision crafted tool
never adequately utilized,
when eyes stared blankly
taking up space and
time (sigh hence) during
during twelve years
of public school
passively mute as a general rule
ambivalent, whether I sank or swam
during physical education
time in the pool
evincing being in
somnambulant state giving
top notch 40 ache curs and a mule
a run for his/her money,
plus also outwitting
any motley fool
nonetheless garnering huzzahs
if challenged to silent duel
despite implacable blackened
barbs didst unspool
assaulting me though
vicious and cruel
fast forward to
Matthew Scott Harris
at this present age
once feigned numbskull,
now deeply rutted,
pockmarked, cratered, asper
useful as fist size asteroid,
which post mortem will
not surprisingly, definitively,
and conclusively gauge
imagine dissecting my
fifty plus shades
of gray matter
revealing analogously glommed
together one severely
gunked up bacteriophage,
where once upon a time,
when a newborn babe
feeling warmth mother's chest,
she long since
passed away forced guest
to attend masquerade
hosted by grim reaper,
a most nefarious,
obnoxious, and pernicious pest
intricately, handsomely, genetically
her cremated remains
freed to the four corners
of the globe quest
inert particles integrated
within biosphere, she remains
perpetually in motion,
and never at rest
within infinite void
nonetheless...the spirit
of (the late) Harriet Harris
passed the electric
acid kool aid test,
and thus continues
to sprinkle the world
wide web with zest.
Some feel that Bible verse conclusively
Describes all life explained through liturgy.
Some feel that evolution holds the key
With science leading forth explicitly.
Positions juxtaposed perceptibly:
A purist view of Life's conformaties -
A prescient view of Life's complexities -
Could one more view assuage disparities?
What do papyrus texts in fact convey?
And, what does nature's yield expressly say?
Somewhere between these two compelling sides
The letter and the spirit both reside.
We take from texts enough to salve our minds,
And then from nature context-laden signs,
With each constrained by factors of its lot.
Questions for both - what is and what is not?
Yet, could these sides assemble what should be -
A pair of constancies through which we see
Two halves converging as to form the whole
Reach toward a common line that's not a goal?
This dictum for another day, but now
Enough for both conjointly to endow
A symbiotic sense of harmony
And hope - if our thoughts are inclined to be.
In Bleak reflection
I speak
I think
I write
I later day post
My problems then both
shared and doubled
And so to reflect my
bleak outlook onto
unsuspecting other's
Bleak House
Bleak Life
Bleak in tongues i speak
, i scribe , i script
Bleak i wretch and so to
in other's view broken
bits of me
Because Bleak is obviously
everything and all i know
For it is the only subject i
feel conclusively qualified
enough to commentate
verse and recount about
And if you we're me you
would know
Though i barely tell the truth
I do not lie about when it comes
to i
You were like the proud king lion,
Strong with thick main,
No hair out of place deliberately.
Constantly parading by your pack;
Commendation stood tall in there,
No questions, phraseology or rubs,
The podium harmonised plans,
To scrub up for an alighting,
Before medium light settled;
Hereward stood better than the rest,
And all needed to agree with you,
Then you roared at me with jesting jaws.
You were like a bird,
Not specifiable,
Except by the RSPB,
In a crowd which could only brake,
Under a focused eye,
One son too unstable,
Flying through the clouds,
In a flock,
Only falling for a reason.
You were like the hawk’s eye,
On me, all the time, relentlessly,
To see if I wanted to follow,
Or else love the arm amputee;
My friends were not yours,
Your mind was not mine,
I was your perusal,
but I was also your feed,
To sicken or to satisfy.
You were like the bear,
Dangerous because you swear,
Calling people skanks,
Just for walking able-bodied;
Separation has its faults,
And Hereward students,
Were only assisted anyway,
To love able-bodied people,
For their sameness to us,
In mind, body and fashion,
In heart, beliefs and views,
In vision and in choices.
You were like the sheep,
Most truly, conclusively,
With secrets and shyness,
Insecurities filled your vision,
Until the leader in you died:
You resided within your norm,
Of wheelchairs being normal,
Mounting the ewe in incest,
To your sacred inside.
But you were frightened inside really,
If the truth is to be told,
Of enrolling in Coventry University:
Your Hereward lane,
Of educated brains,
Of medical people and care staff,
Of other disabled students,
Who had been in physio like you,
Made you recline into your sleep,
Didn’t let you live or jirate.
But you were my sheep,
And you lost your white coat.
Life has surely broken me.
I’ve flunked out at Everything.
Why consider equally
When Options just desert Me?
Too grimed up, I cannot see
A single reason surfacing,
Hiding Places changing,
Constantly and arbitrarily,
Disappoint inevitably.
It only ends up baffle-ing
That the Ones who stuck by Me
Were No One and Nobody.
The Needed ones Abandoned me,
Never even wanted me.
Been let down by EveryOne
And 100% of Practically
All and and Every Single Thing,
Left for dead and wasting
To a husk of Me.
So what's the point,
Quite pointlessly,
When you will only
Start new things?
Old ones failing,
Interest lost and dropping,
Forcing hands repeatedly.
Home to pack a bag and leave,
All doors slammed resoundingly,
Locks all changed and shut to me.
Happy Endings Abruptly.
Don't care what you do to me.
Lost my sensitivity:
Burning hurts so painfully.
Once Angry scars
Protect My Heart
From all Hope,
Now lost to me.
It doesn’t hurt, just disappoints.
I have no mass, I’ve been disjoined,
Won’t shatter when you drop me.
All do eventually;
A mere eventuality,
Forgone Conclusively.
Once upon a tragic, forsaken love,
A wish miscued from somewhere above.
So incorrect,
I could not detect,
Nor should expect,
Our bond fit like hand to glove.
A sour lullaby, sang a love you couldn't feel,
Naive to believe in honesty,
Or a sense of dignity,
For this love was not real.
Our chance together,
Never! (Heart from my body severed!)
And so, the fate of our demise was sealed.
With help from His Grace,
Perfection put to face,
I delivered to you a precious child.
Eyes shed tears of rain,
Along side labor pain,
Our daughter's cries were mild.
Yet you cast me aside,
No guilt or pride,
Goading me to confide,
In my own gutt, wrenching exile.
Forced to swallow with discreet digestion,
Your lies,
Like flies,
Became an infestation,
Invaded my soul with demoralization.
Such avoidable, emotional harm!
With the destruction you create,
This heart did break,
From my mistake,
Of adoring your alluring charm.
So sure
And secure
You were my cure,
Now the source of my remorse, anger
And alarm.
Irking,
Jerking,
Ever Lurking.
Illusive,
Reclusive,
A devious disposition conclusive,
It was all but conclusively foretold.
No vision will ever compare,
To the bed you did share!
A nauseating display to behold!
Like an infection,
Visual unintentional confession,
My heart's rejection,
Plaques me like a committed cold.
Spreading like a disease,
Your amoral flees,
Crawl with ease,
On my back of discontent.
No more weeping,
From your creeping,
For I permit the deepening
Of my detestation to ferment.
No tear from my eye,
For I would not cry,
Nor utter a sigh,
If you fell off the face of this continent.
With all that I've gone through,
With you,
I let my body lie.
Once love dies,
Time will only revive,
But no renew,
Will ever be there for you.
I lay still for love...Until,
I'm ready to give love another try.
But this is my Vow,As of right now,
My heart is content not to fly.
Form:
What is it you have to answer
But before you ask someone
You have to know the answer
People call me ed, Edward, nygma or prince of puzzle
Conclusively it doesn’t matter
Cause I can make your mind a dimwit crippler
So you better call me THE RIDDLER
Riddle me this, riddle me that
Let’s recall who I am and
What am I good at.
I orchestrated every riddle
Make them look like a dancers
So please honey, don’t be hard on yourself.
Because soon you are out of answers.
Expertise in outwitting every living soul
Cryptic clues gonna make you howl
Try and try until you die,
It sounds so childish
As far as you trying to solve my riddles
Then I’m certain that it’ll be your death wish.
Batman thinks he can bring me down
Clueless fella thinks it’s untroublesome,
But I AM NO CLOWN.
My enigmatic persona make you a psycho
Allow me to tell you two rule for success
One is never reveal everything you know
Your Bestiality seems to
Become a reality
Fingertips....wet lips
I love it when you lick
Honey-dipped skin
I can do nothing
But comply to your
Every whim and appetite
Ohhhh...I love the way you bite
When I seem to entice
Your heightened itch
Yes I don’t mind being called your B....
The groans and moans
You want silenced
For all those who want to listen
To this kinky event
In this position I’m willing
To do anything....even pay the rent
I’m developing some type
Of anatomical monkey on my back
Yet your rhythm remains
Conclusively enacted
When I throw it back
I was inadequately prepared
For these moments of
Lascivious acquisitions
And animalistic demeanors
How I savor these junctures of carnality
And your monstrous bestiality