Best Concur Poems
Introducing: Casarah Nance & Poet Destroyer
Scars of empty promises are darkened by your kiss.
Torturous touches are meant to soothe my pain.
It is without gain, without pleasure, beyond measure,
You are the puppet master, strung on dark days, a haze.
Specter of solitude, you confine me with your magnitude,
What purpose do I serve, is slavery what I deserve?
Tell me your intention, sate me with your perfection.
Shed a light into this soul starved sanctuary,
Come, whisper your words in my ear, complete me…
A sweet surrender to your call, a will of solitude
I lead the way, cutting strings attached to the light
Touching every breathing strand stressing yesterday
Giving you room to fall into my designated despair,
Adding, to your creeping gloom, I give and lend pouring pain,
the kind of pain, that begs for blades
Abhorring the taste of life, your flesh empowers my darkness
My intentions are nothing more, than a shadow bearing strength,
Smiling at your tears, caressing your lips,
Taking from the closure your soul seeks tonight
Blind! You will become to the misery, in this barren place
The pain of rigor mortise will blend against your pale skin
A slave without shackles,
I concur with pleasure to feed the hunger, you give
Forever, I am DARKNESS
~A Poet Destroyer collaboration~
Dark hour of morning green and jealous sun.
Flag’s red, white, and blue leans over the porch.
Oak branches, bored, and skeleton but wood.
The leaves too still, no breath of life, no sigh.
M a h o g a n y - s a t u r a t e d f l o w e r s
in frame with inky stems, ebonic blend.
The missing link between Winter and Spring
does spread its wings, still life below the clouds.
Oh! I hear it! Oh! I knew it! The rain
o b s i d i a n does wake - the s h a t t e r i n g,
a m e l a n c h o l y roar, a s i l e n t pour.
There is hope fulness, hope lessness in it.
A tediousness-grace, beside next day.
A full out vortex burst of rosy cheeks,
this day tempers. The birds concur with me.
5/12/2023
She’s always been a friendly sort
With kindness that I truly adore
With her pen, she never falls short
Always sincere and giving more
I love her verses, filled with wit
My words can’t possibly compare
She has humor that produces a fit
Of laughter that is, oh, so rare
She’s gives out the sweetest comments
Forever filled with gentle compliments
Her poetry is entered in many contests
She is surely filled with competence
I love her words, penned with such ease
She seems so talented that I admire her
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to always please?
So many words that cause me to concur
This wonderfully, talented, enlightening
Heart.. is the kind and inspiring Jan Allison
September 20, 2019
Pick a Friend on Soup Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Bobby May
"Still Born"
Shh!! Mommy, quiet, quiet she is still sleeping
Shh!! Mommy, quiet, quiet she is off dreaming
Shh!! Mommy, before you wake her: “My baby sister!”
Now look what you have done, you gone and woke her!
Please, mommy do not tell her what you expect and will concur.
She is silently listening to the unique secret found in every waking minute.
Making movements, imposing that her dreams come with no limit.
Shh!! Mommy, she is dreaming again,
Waiting for another day to end,
Hasting the way you count every minute before she arrives.
Shh!! Mommy, she is not ready yet.
She told me a secret when I press my ear near your nest.
She is hesitating the moment for you to hear her newborn cries.
She is not ready for you to count her fingers and look into her eyes.
She likes it in your womb where it is nice and warm.
She is in a dream protected by a place where angels swarm.
~
Dear:
Mommy I fell asleep when you sang that beautiful lullaby..
Mommy, mommy, I’m ready to see her: “My baby sister!”
I want to play with her- Is she everything we dreamed of.
~
I’m sorry mommy, I do not understand why you cry!
I was not there when the angels woke her without saying goodbye.
Mommy, why did God call and take her home?
Mommy, I am still here, please do not feel alone.
Shh!! Mommy, do not cry no more.
Mommy, please wipe those tears and show me how to be brave.
Mommy, stop, listen, and feel her smile and wave.
She will always listen, when you visit her grave.
Hi, mommy, why don't you stand by her grave anymore?
Mommy, I see you weep no more.
Mommy is she no longer asleep nor in dreams?
Is she in a better land with no trials and deems?
Mommy, now I see everyone’s heart is clear, and no longer stillborn.
Mommy, now life must go on, and in it, we will always have time to mourn.
**
One more thing, mommy thank you for holding my hand,
I am just a sibling, who needed time to understand.
by;PD
((for contest))
She thought by marrying an older man
She would forever look young in his eyes
He led the way, ‘twas a child that held his hand
Until he met with an early demise
Older now, she finds herself attracted
To young men more likely to outlive her
But my, oh my, how her peers reacted
With choices she made, they could not concur
Fiftyish gal with a thirtyish mate
He showers her with such great affection
And he doesn’t mind she can’t procreate
But from old friends she's scorned by rejection
These friends have husbands who are cheating now
For men have desires to feel young as well
Their marriages hang from a fragile bough
As these men fire blanks at much younger belles
*Entry for Dr. Ram’s “Cougar Effect” contest
By Carolyn Devonshire
Life is but a fleeting mist.
What is now, will soon be missed.
Seize the moment, say in words:
God’s greatest to you, was her.
Days of ordinary passing,
Too soon leave for nothing’s lasting.
Take the time to cherish her,
All widowers surely concur.
For when death’s door is finally closed,
No words or sonnets you’ve composed
Can reach the ears that once desired,
Your Love and words to lift; inspire.
Nothing in this world can bring
What you alone have offering.
Make the call, write the letter
Let her know you won’t forget her.
Death’s toll rings and she is gone
A vacuum fills and a fullness drawn.
While you can, express your heart
Before too soon, she will depart.
Professor Abdul Kalam the luminous brilliant star
I pay homage to you from here in Dar
Great brill scientist in the field of Aerospace
A noble man with an intellectual mien and grace
Aeronautics and more were his speciality wow!
He's referred to as India's best known nucleur Scientist.
An inventive mind has passed away now
Lets celebrate and commemorate a great catalyst
He did India proud and did a lot for her
All Indians who know him will concur
Elected as her great President as well
Sad now to bid him adieus and farewell
Yay, the Indian soil has now a brilliant hero in her bosom indeed
I adoringly salute this great man of my race and my creed.
When a scientist dies it is a great loss for us all
May God raise more like him after his inevitable fall
But he can now repose in heaven's lap
On earth though he has left a mighty gap.
God I believe, loves those who utilise His gift of brains
Meditation releases us from earthly fetters and chains
Science and learning works your mind ; the brain needs exercise too
So I thank God for scientists , for scientific minds
That help to illuminate and enlighten this world, for me and you.
Sitting beneath the stellar awning
Humbly, shall I comemmorate
Before the sun, creeps in crawling
Every star shall I dedicate
To you, My Love; Look at the skies
For you, My Love, I most despise.
To you, I say, in subtle north
Go tell him how my heart did bleed
When he did scowl, as I put forth
The ways I cared and loved indeed
You'd kiss my wounds - control, condole
Then skew them deeper, slaying my soul.
In far east, you, so bright yet blank
Have you not seen how hard i wept?
When flowed his eyes, his tears I drank
Did you not count my nights unslept?
And blind, was I, to your disguise
Gaze up, My Love, go find your lies!
Weep not, My friend, most close-knit
For you did taste deception bitter
Dazzled like queen, down south you sit
Mere a pawn now of waning glitter
Concur I, My Love, all pretence is sweet!
Until falls the cloak, and truth does greet.
Toppled, as I, did west monarch shiver
Warned of haste; but he'd cried my name
Limits, leaped I, not a blink's quiver
For cared I not, if world did blame
In pain, My Love, at me, you mocked
Alone, My Love, left me, you debauched!
Sorrow, the sacrifice, you did witness
O! Glazing Moon! Make haste and tell
How profound is hatred, beneath this breast
Where, drenched in love, a heart did dwell
Upon you, My heart, I swear, I proclaim
Sha'n't ever bleed in eye, sha'n't ever take his name.
Lo! Behold! Last thing, I wish to confess
If I say unto you, shall I be relieved
For you know me, my heart at best
If I say unto you, shall I be believed
No matter how high may hatred soar
I own, my love shall weigh ever more!
Simple Poverty
I think that I was maybe three
When memories started following me
They called us poor and, I guess, we were -
These things will tell if you concur.
Birthday cakes with not enough candles –
Coffee cups with broken handles -
Flat irons on a cast iron stove -
Mama’s button jar – a treasure trove.
Watching Daddy choppin’ wood -
Workin’ as hard as any man could -
Times were hard, but it was said -
We kids were never underfed.
Daddy was an honest, hard workin’ man -
When there was no work we lived off the land.
Seven children were spread o’er a twenty year span –
Hard work and love walked hand in hand.
Mondays were the wash days
That kept our clothes so clean
To see them drying in a summer breeze
Was such an awesome scene.
Working in the sunshine was, sometimes, a real chore
And hands that used a rub board often became sore.
Mama made all our own Lye soap
And against that stuff no germ could cope.
And Mama was a seamstress,
The best I’ve ever seen
She would fashion all our clothing
On that pedal sewing machine.
Many things were always there
With which we had to cope
But with hard work and a faith in God
There was always hope.
Mama and Daddy didn’t have much
So, when I write my song
I’ll tell of their priceless legacy –
To know what’s right and what is wrong.
Written by John Posey
10/30/13
You said you wanted a slam
So here it goes
You're going to feel it stinging
from your head to toes
A wham, bam, thank you ma'am
A sinister soul I am
I took to you
and quite so soon
I gotta make you unglued.
You're famous, you're a PS tart
and I do mean that
from the bottom of my heart-
But it's about time you got a taste
of your own medicine and male hitting disgrace
And I will scream this in your face!
Oh how right you were
and I must concur-
That this slamming crap is fun-
but your words will all be a blur.
So tap -tap you're next,
Don't worry, I like you too much to hex
but not enough to have...
So get with it, little bit-
waiting on you to get a clue
Send me your slam-
And we'll see who wins the GLAM!
From the Freak
That mammogram! That mammogram!
I do not like that mammogram!
Would you like it on a couch?
I think that I would still say ouch!
Would you like it with champagne?
I think that I would still complain.
I do not like that mammogram.
I’d rather eat green eggs and ham.
Would you like it with no squeeze?
I think I’d still be ill at ease.
Would you like it fully dressed?
That I think would be the best.
That mammogram! That mammogram!
I do not like that mammogram!
What, then, would you most prefer?
Maybe others would concur.
If I could have a cute masseuse
Who sounded just like Dr. Seuss,
Perhaps that yearly mammogram
Would not be such a cruel exam.
Then I would like it on a couch
And wouldn’t act like such a grouch;
And I would like it with champagne,
Ignoring that annoying pain.
I would enjoy my mammogram.
I’d be as happy as a clam;
But ‘til that time, I will protest
Each time that tech does squish my breast!
Slovenly sorrows cause a blur,
Shameful shallows seep and stir.
He whimpers; a cowering cur,
Deathbed's deals, give-take, now occur.
Soul dried, bunched ball of prickly burr
Waste-of-time tears, goad like a spur.
Apologies, are but a slur,
Regrets besmirch like rancid myrrh.
Slanderers’ stooge, no amateur,
Souls sold, Evil’s entrepreneur.
Atropos to cut; F A T E S concur
Time to let loose this saboteur!
“Burn in H E L L”, said the whisperer…
Susan Ashley
July 28, 2017
~ Third Place ~
Contest: Early August Standard
Sponsor: Brian Strand
The thoughts she have
The things she does
Don’t always concur
There are times
When all she wants
Is to be held by you
Feel the comfort of your love
But all she gets is your silence
Like a repetitive drum beat
Deafening
Pushing her away
Confusing and hurtful
When your words dried up
What does it mean?
What should she do?
Move on or cling to a past
That held so much promise
Until that day
Your words got replaced
By a deafening silence
©050720151825
Follow me and walk down an avenue of Firs
To my Log Cabin you'll view, I'm sure you'll concur
Overlooking Loch Ness, look in the fields you'll see
A herd of beautiful Reindeer roaming so free
But it's when you look around, my world glistens
It started by walking to here, footsteps to listen
Crunching, crunching, crunching, white virgin snow
Where here it's normally dark, now it's all aglow
As we turn the corner many colours in radiate
Glistening amidst the white kaleidoscopic drape
Then to the cabin we view, lanterns of every colour
Hanging in joyful sway never outdoing each other
As we draw nearer through the arched window I see
So beautiful in adorn, a most lovely Christmas Tree
Through the door we enter, Sleigh Bells in the Snow
It's at this time of year, so many many smiles show
.
I 'spose there are many religious tenets open to interpretation.
Old John Calvin proposed another upon receiving inspiration,
When he propounded the ticklish matter of predestination,
Thereby, causing more angst concerning one's eternal salvation!
Most folks blithely saunter along live's treacherous path,
Trying their best to behave and avoid their Maker's wrath,
At times straying from the route the Creator has planned,
Assuming by good works they'll reach the Promised Land!
I reckon folks will seldom concur on spiritual potpourri,
And 'specially on predestination, theologians will disagree.
We can only plod the straight and narrow e'er doing His will.
Be it predestination or faith, only He our fate will fulfill!
We among the quick will never know how He judges our fate,
'Til we pass thro' that mysterious veil and enter Peter's gate!
Is it predestination that determines who draws the short straw,
Or does He use other methods for administering Divine Law?
'Tis a profound homily that John Calvin did compose.
As for my stone this epitaph I would humbly propose:
"If predestination it be, eons ago I pray Thou has destined me,
To enter Thy heavenly abode to be at eternal rest with Thee!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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