Best Concretely Poems
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Concretely Amazing
"everything I do, I do it for you"
New form "ABC-Concrete-LyricQuote" form
Notes: To laugh is not to cry, to make someone else smile, heals old wounds, to feed someone, fills you, to remember the suffering of others makes your own much less, and if you cry, that's ok too, just remember the many who cry with you. After the dark, there is the light...
on his deathbed
he stares up at the ceiling---
a stale, supposedly calming
light blue, basks down upon
his now disease ridden body &
with all the tubes pumping
painkillers & poisons into him,
he’s finally fallen into submission,
giving up the last remnants of
resistance to the belief that the
doctor’s have been right all along &
that this thing is a final determinant---
this thing is going to be what
does him in,
probably much sooner than he had
anticipated.
for him, there will be no more trips
home, for him, no faces of family or
friends will be seen---unless they come
to visit of their own accord,
rather, these are the pondering hours,
possibly days,
in which even the gentle clicks & beeps
of the machines beside him
send his fuzzy mind into a series of
stream of consciousness memory waves
which connect pieces of his life
that he could have swore he had forgotten
up until now.
each one is burnt on the wall inside his
skull, each one comes up like brail neath’
the fingers---translating the minute details
of the rising glaring images appearing in
his barely awake state, the whole while
reminding him of the eons which seemed
to stretch themselves out into the years
that now have been rolled up into a bundle
of fleeting, flashing, seconds.
while not all the memories are positive,
as the darkness still creeps in, the fact
remains that an overall peace takes hold
convincing him concretely that there is
no more reason at all whatsoever to
dwell on those places in his head, those
nether regions which brought anguish in
the past & dragged on throughout his
life, bringing up new pain like the enduring
side-effects of a drug---instead, now, the
calming blue above begins to morph into
a gorgeous lake, one which he went fishing
with his father up in the Adirondacks,
when the green canoe was filled with
the essentials of the day (the bait, cokes,
sandwiches & of course, Lay’s sour cream &
onion potato chips) & time seemed to stop
completely, whilst the two of them shared
an afternoon coasting along the quiet waters
of a lake which they solely occupied, taking
turns rowing & casting out in hopes of a
big return.
What is love ?
Concretely,
it's a wave that
wet the body
completely
without using
a drop of water...
is a fire of
a million of
degrees, that
warm up
an ocean
of sensations,
and does not burn
a single thread of
hair...!
Biochemically
equivalent in flavor,
one ton
of chocolate,
but causes
no harm
if consumed...
just spasm
of gluttony,
and the feeling
be satiated...!
In my room
I saw my fingers
That I have never thought of
It were all together
But it were different to each others
I looked at and
My other hand burnished each one
I checked one by one
I wanted to know
The best one and
The hate one
Abstractly and concretely
I compared with
hopefully and hopelessly
It was difficult to find
An answer for both
Best and hate
I need all and love for all
Without anyone
It is a vacant to be called
Hand of right or left
The use and the beauty
The movement and feeling
My heart and mind will reject
If one deviate from the other
I looked back the past
That already passed
I could not
What I today attained
I wanted to write and to call
To my friends who are in silence
To my enemies to whom I closed
It was too late for past
But tomorrow is for all
Udaya R. Tennakoon
bewildered, i try to find a chapter in which a comforting compromise is inevitable
awestruck, i seek the majestic bookmark that restores that definitvive warmth to my hypothermiated soul
i need your warm hand on my heart until forever becomes a limited mute
i need the central base of your reassuring vibrations until endlessness develops bruises due to multiple bumps, slams, and crashes
a virgin in the dark sitting under the medicinal consumption of a streetlight, i revisit the merciless deluge of parking lot depression
i recall your absence leading to a dizzying constipation and a nauseating compression
the stubborn tears unfallen still produces a pain obstructing my 20/20 view of the actual reality
i once thought that this was how it USED TO BE
i used to think that letting you go would prevent you from becoming reduced to me
then....all....of....a....sud....den....i....re....be....gin....to....m....m....m....miss....you.......
i cannot believe that i see reflections of the tantalizing technicolor i feel when i would kiss you
now all i have is my invisible itch request....and....all....i....can....do....is....sadly....and sim...ply....list....you.....
in vain and shame for my personal survival to concretely remain my must MYSELF take a frigid dip in Truth and properly....place....the....blame.....
Free from me, this gnawing Aggression;
To soften my Heart, concretely hard
Trampled under the Wheels of Progression-
Which have left me disfigured- scarred!
Via vox, I vow a pox,
Pour my hatred in unwav'ring Will
Mark my words, I shan't be stopped!
(But oft' my Hopes fall unfulfilled...)
A flower sprouts in the middle
on hard concrete...
Concretely, it's a miracle !
How can a house be cold in summer's love
Yet gardens grow and puddles disappear
Inside the walls of frost which I speak of
I live unconscious of the month and year
As nature speaks in tongues unclear to hear
Infected with no memory of time
My memory the victim or the crime
Moreso, methinks my real estate is haunted
Seemingly not a rodent coy and stranded
Can raise a dish and break it when confronted
Oh Lord, I cry to thee as if abandoned
Weak of fatigue, or fear and heavy handed
Be it wizardry woeful through conception
Or be thine eyes figments of false perception
Cabinets close and open quite sporadic
And tablecloths remove themselves completely
Unwearied are the footsteps in the attic
If thou art dither, dost dither discreetly
Thine wish would be for thou to dry concretely
If death adores the soul to be at peace
Why hast thou abandoned thy coffin's lease?
Whispers attract my force untoward a prism
And memories forgotten fast awaken
Now voices blare a tune of exorcism
Myself the ghost, causing thy to be shaken
Oh Lord, I cry to thee a soul forsaken
Forgive me for my soul, non-fiction juror
As I'm the ghastly figure in the mirror
here i am struggling with my imagination's running shoes
they have gotten me on this four lane highway
my mind is blank and immune, at the moment, to all sounds period
here i am struggling with my imagination's running shoes
they have gotten me at this unfamiliar exit
my mind is concretely focused, at the moment, on all thoughts of her
here i am struggling with my imagination's running shoes
they have gotten me every degree from all emotional sides of my car
my mind is spinning dizzily, at the moment, when i brake slowly at the sight of her house
here i am struggling with my imagination's running shoes
they have gotten me circling around her neighborhood like a reluctant husband after work
my mind is on cruise control overdrive, at the moment, with selfish visions of 'what could have been'
here i am struggling with my imagination's running shoes
they have gotten me returning home to my Unexpected Dream Come True
my mind is on nothing as i rejoice while thinking about the rigid circle of circumstances that lead me to You....via the Lord....AMEN....
heeding the worst; lips
he would rehearse; kiss
purpose would hurt his-
heart it immersed; drips-
sweat and a forced breath
the words that his mouth bled-
loud and dispersed; head;
nose; can’t be reversed; dread;
rose; slurred and dispersed; face-
burns slow and they turn; red; prose;
skin; skirt; eyebrows;
nails; bangs; tied blouse;
face; flushed; dry mouths-
gasp at the air with a slight growl
sun’s hold eased by the low ground
still on the roof but the air drowns
neither can breathe but they hear sounds;
seeking concretely to cry bounds
leaking not speaking; their hearts pound;
peak in, the bleak slims are feet from the brink-
hymns now pink from the lean in, their ink-
now strings linked- end to end, so in synch-
resonant resin-drink leaking pen-head, a sea-
of red flesh entity, now they rest as they heave-
moving chest, shaking teeth, throats compress, then release;
rosy mesh;
feign retreat;
sewn in flesh;
aching bleat;
A sneaky girl in the
tiptoe, look over
the window ... a disheveled doll
almost loses everything in a wash ...
Phenomenal music goes through
my spine and my vibrations
silent strings ...
An astonishing scream from a
powerful throat announces:
the fruit seller ...
A pet kitten protests
in painful meow by heat
and shelter ... evil men
they do the ball ...
A light cut makes the street hell ...
Everyone seeks sailing, light ...
but not the clarity ....
Scandalous and sassy garbage
crosses the sidewalk causing
my anger and overshadowing my
joy ... Things that touch
any sensitivity ...
The sun is sort of cold,
after the stupendous gale ...
I manage to arrange blankets
of clouds for him ...!
A plant sprouts in the middle
to solid concrete ...
concretely, it is a miracle!
I look at the sky and I feel dizzy
with such greatness ...
it's God's wonder ...
C H R I S T S
S O D
U N L
S
E R
J
O
S W F
A E G
V H O
I T D
O
U R O F
To have the formula
from the sweet word , I have honey
of poetry, every day ...
I lay in my crystal bed
and I fall asleep
in the purest alchemy ...
My poetic dreams
they are concretely
ethereal ... are colorful thoughts,
live particles
from Heaven ...
I notice people as
worked jewelry,
sculpted works,
recent flowers,
lights sent ...!
My dear friend,
You ask about self-perception—about the simple music of saying who we are, what we dream, what small joys we cradle in our hands. It seems such an easy question, as gentle as asking the sky to name its favorite shade of blue, and yet for some souls it becomes a mirror too bright to look into.
There are those who cannot answer concretely, not because they are empty, but because they are afraid to be known.
They have worn masks so long that their own features blur; they have mistaken admiration for love, and control for safety.
To speak honestly of oneself requires a tenderness they once learned to fear.
But still, I believe every person carries a quiet truth—something like a lantern trembling in the dark.
A dream remembered from childhood, a hobby that once soothed their wounds, a longing they dare not name.
To coax these truths into the open is an act of compassion, not accusation.
If we ask gently, and listen without judgment, even the most guarded heart may find the courage to answer:
“This is who I am, and this is what I have hoped for.”
With warmth and understanding, I am.
Silence is dressed in emptiness,
walk the opened paths
of further silences and absences...
Does not produce smells, and neither
spreads visions...
But it felt concretely
by the most thinking minds
and suffering creatures...
Noble but strange circumstance
this is the existence of silence
in all worlds... !