Best Concurs Poems
At the center of the hurricane blast, within the lightning
Flash lies the wicked eye of the calming storm, a weeping
Echoing of a widow maker’s somber moment, stilled by
Frozen remembrance lost beneath the traitorous waves
Of a broken heart!
Lantern lights cast an eerie shadow across the desolate
Sand dunes, in silences isolation this prisoner of passions
Tempest refuses to admit loves vanquished flame, yelling
Against the howling storms hellish rage, I’ll not give him up,
You’ll not taketh my beloved’s spirit away!
Rolling is the tides of forget-me-knots folly, a crushed
Rose crumpling beneath the harsh torrents lash!
Rushing at accelerations cyclone speed the clouds
Of destructions malice, charge at she, yet loves
Devotional stands strong, held by the anchor rooted
Within cherishes everlasting spiritual longing!
The grappling fingers of an angry aquatic under sea lord,
Thrashes unmerciful at the rocky edges of death’s
Blackened hand slamming, hammering against destiny’s
Grave stone of reality’s forsaken!
The lanterns light flickers for a seconds hushed pause,
Here in that momentary lull passion faces vengeance,
In a war of the faded roses, no one wins except the
Tears of the storm!
Bitter flowery petals cling onto the rocks of desires
Sheltering cove beyond, as two faded shades
Silhouettes meet amongst the waves of the vanquished!
But in loves torrential rain united, no power on earth
Or in hell’s feverish pitch, shall separate these spirits forever Bound within the human heart, for true love concurs
All!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Lifes backroads, have left my halo....A little dusty
And there's scars on my heart, I'll carry...To my grave
Every Sunday, I see her, two pews away
I refer to her, as my saving grace
And I give thanks, knowing she prays for me
I don't know what I've done to deserve her
I'm not sure what her heart can see
Cause I'm not worthy of her blessings
And in all honesty
I can't give back what she's given
Without her where would I be
I'm blessed, just knowing.....
Knowing she prays for me
She lifts up her words.... to Heaven
And In silence, I believe she asks
If the Lord, will watch over
And straighten all our paths
She sends her blessings on high
And I hope she truly believes
It's an honor, in knowing......
Knowing she prays for me
I don't know what I've done to deserve her
I'm not sure what her heart can see
I'm not worthy of her blessings
And in all honesty
I can't give back what she's given
Without her where would I be
I'm blessed, with just knowing.....
Knowing she prays for me
It's my honor to do life with her
I'm not sure why, but I believe that she concurs
Its a blessing to know
Know she prays for me........
Self respect. Where did it go?
This generation just don't know.
Like the present of a past known all too well.
"So many dying, in the air the bodies I smell".
"One man killed, one sitting in jail".
Already too many burning In hell.
Sons and daughters in holding cells.
Life without parole, with no bail.
Mommas asking God where did she fail.
Self respect. Where did it go?
This generation just don't know.
Devils knocking on Heavens door.
Looking for more falling Angels to store.
Already enough rich people looking down at the poor.
The Armor Of God is what you should have wore.
People who care, we need more.
I mean more of the rich to bless the poor.
Love concurs all for sure.
Self respect. Where did it go?
This generation just don't know.
The wicked don't care. Their just cruel and mean.
That brother died. He had dreams.
Set up by them feans.
Children left behind, without a father.
Momma standing strong, the Lord gave her the power.
Self respect, where did it go?
This generation just don't know.
Self respect. Where did it go ?
This generation just don't know.
Self respect, where did it go?
This generation, just don't know.
Coffee, it is evident, is not Sherry's cup of tea;
She likes spirits like sherry and brandy
and knows the ropes of winemaking to a tee;
An oenologist by profession, like her pal Brandy,
found her niche in viticulture. Numbers of spirits
she's tasted, as a sommelier whose forté is wine
tasting. Oddly enough, she will actually whine
if I try to talk her out of dealing with other spirits.
She's involved in paranormal practices
and that chills me to the bone. She will lock up
in her tiny cubicle for hours to "communicate
with the beyond" and claims to have connected
with certain famous individuals after their
departures and says they are doing fine.
At least she says my "poems" blow her socks
off but I ought to massage her ducky feet
so that she read my verse. If I don't, she socks
me right in the gob! I feel I accomplish a feat
without an oxygen mask. It's not easy to bear
whatsoever the task of massaging her bare
dogs though I'm glad I don't have to polish
her toenails. She never paints 'em. Her Polish
friend concurs that Sherry is a little cracked
in the upper storey.
Dating a 146 IQ girl isn't all it's cracked
up to be. End of story.
I'm wondering: If we were in the North Pole
would she be barefoot so often? The Pole
thinks so and misses the golden days
when they both made money doing pole
dancing. "Boy we would definitely daze
the men at the club. They voted each night
for the best dancer. Most times the polls,
I have to admit, were in Sherry's favor.
Jolly times. But don't you dare have the gall
to say a word. She helps folks lose weight
today and loves it. Be kind to my half-Gaul
half-Brit friend and don't have her wait
when she wants foot massage. You would
be putting your foot in your mouth. Now go
put your feet up." Well, knock on wood,
the Pole's words made me feel lucky. Yo!
I hope we all at least aspire to become adept caregivers and receivers,
as these two directions seem to be nondualist,
mutually symbiotic;
to give care is neither better nor worse than to receive,
as optimal healthy care giving is also receiving--
these interactions mutually feed and enrich each other.
We call this healthy and growing love.
The best care giving comes out of love and nurturance,
not merely the exterior forms of ego discipline,
the ego-control of negative emotions and thoughts.
Love sublimates negativity,
often with humor at our own ecoconsciously mindful deep learning expense,
co-investment,
looking even deeper at this relationship in this time,
and learning to share this Basic Attendance
in a nondual spirit of co-mentorship.
Put another more therapeutic way,
health care professional training has invested in attorneys
and insurance bottom-line profit-seeking,
risk-management corporations,
to articulate how to defend oneself,
one's practice,
one's relationships,
from inappropriate touch and language and aggressive behavior.
This is not a bad thing in our WinLose ecopolitical economy,
but it is the less compelling side of our WinWin opportunity-optimization potential
for both caregiving and receiving
which is all about how to therapeutically touch and speak
and derive maturing empathic consciousness.
Both strict conservatives and progress-nurturers can agree
that our GoldenRule caregiving-receiving journey
within this health v pathology Earth climate,
through both internal and external landscapes of ecotherapeutic touch and language,
is how we further evolve together
toward optimizing WinWin health,
regenerative caregiving-receiving,
communicating with hands and feet and mouth from within mutually cooperative empathic trust.
As this conversion occurs and re-occurs and concurs,
then life becomes all about WinWin optimizing appropriate touch.
Too long enduring issues of inappropriate touch
become artifacts of a prior benighted millennium,
a former age and stage and life,
our progress-conserving regenerate Elders would not wish stuck upon us
or our great-grandchildren of all Earth's species.
Never known such an obedient dog
Our Annie, understands our human dialogue
We often have to tell her
“Stop biting”, she concurs
The flesh wounds are usually superficial, thank God
© Jack Ellison 2015
The catalyst of two faces, his and hers,
bookends with pleasure dais in between.
Faithfully compacted on canvas, concurs,
never turning ones back, remains clean.
Sharp brush of Chagall, floats lovers.
Their passion, a cloud in lala land, hovers.
Circus performer on ochre horse forbids
openness and honesty of their lofty eyelids.
Marc’s pallet red and black succinctly
paints an inseparable couple, for better;
worse, flower-veins glory and pain distinctly
shady, married-hair worn romantic with fetters.
Poet decides his circus lacks an idyllic affinity .
With pain, questions whether to smoke or abstain.
A satisfied artist, elongates his masculinity —
triad of instruments, hard lines against grain.
11/25/2020
Now that I think of it; what do I live for? No eternal love for a beloved. No ever-lasting friends to count on; what do I fight for then? What do I long everyday to see? I’m just a person, who once had something and now lays here with nothing.
I remember the days, and the years, I so joyfully laughed, so beautifully lived; those were the things that made me, and raised me.
Now and what’s worst than ever? Is the present that haunts me, concurs to strip me, of all the things that made me? Who am I? What have I done? And what will I ever be?
Nothing... As the fatal silence kills me, I just lay here, with an empty heart, stripped from ambitions, from goals, from friends and family, I lay here with a heart that continues to pump blood to smother and deceive me. Convincing me once I had everything, convincing me I had everything I needed to live, to grow stronger, and to survive this brutal process called living.
Again and again, over and over, I have thought, I have prayed, I have begged. But how could I have not have known? How could I not see? All this laughter, these days, these false friends I thought I trusted, these disguised lies, were to asphyxiate me once I uncovered them.
What was I to become, if each day slays me deeper? Each heartbeat smothers me tighter? How could I breathe again? How could I be? How could I be the person I once was? That living, loving, life-praising person?
This is just too much… I close my eyes, would I not be spared?
Strap ya helmet on
and while you at it
pass the keys, we'll
ride and eat on
words for dinner,
homie pass the
peas,
I don't do this on
purpose, it's the
way things have to
be, I'll smack these
kids without a
daddy, little
bastards please.
Expand your mind a
bit and you can
comprehend the
flow, there's no
amor for garden
tools cause we
don't love them
hoes,
let William foot the
Bill that Matt can
wipe his feet on
quick, my potna
Rich concurs the
other Richard's just
a Dick.
These words can
read like any book,
don't be afraid to
look, goodfellas root
for guys in movies
living life like
shnooks,
you'll never freeze in
coal that people
use to feed the
heat, I spank on my
filet mignon
therefore I beat my
meat.
Go 'head and make
a pizza out of $100
notes, cause all
you need is sauce
and cheese with
lots of flattened
dough,
your car breaks
down in traffic?
Lose your shoes
and get a tow, and
whilst you wait get
stoned with lots of
dro that rock ya
dome.
They call me Mr.
Heinz cause you're
in back and can't
catch up, you'll get
the FICA treatment
when I'm taxin
that's whasup,
and that's no
homosexual, I'm
happy cause I'm
gay, my pounds are
like my methods so
it's 2-8-0 my weigh.
I hope y'all get the
message how
it's 'sposed to come
across, I clean my
teeth with currency
so yes indeed I
floss,
the doctor wants to
rush and send the
people to their day,
I guess it's safe to
say he has no
patience either way.
My wordplay is a
blessing like the
other side of sin,
when makin love it's
guaranteed I will
arrive again,
so come and join
the sideshow 'cept
the magic isn't blue,
I wear my t-shirts
circle necked when
rollin with my crew.
To read is
fundamental but to
not is dumb as hell,
some people love
stupidity, I wish the
others well,
my word'll slide
inside a chick and
keep her tunnel hot,
it's verbal
intercourse
vernacully I've
touched the spot.
Written By: D. Collins 3/29/16
Time heals the heart and concurs the blues.
It gets us through all the woo, woo, woos.
Never dissipating but only giving us strength.
Getting up when we've fallen down off the fence.
Time heals everything. Wounds become scars.
Look back upon it to find out who you are.
It's what makes a person become unique.
And, makes a grown man stand on his feet.
There is nothing better at reinforcing drive.
There's no better healer than "Old Father Time".
If we can be patient, he will handle our "Biz".
Give credence to the reason we actually live.
Its not for another person, or how they raise the bar.
Just be consistent in knowing just who you are.
Because, later than sooner, he'll put pep in our bounce.
He'll make us forget whatever we went through, once.
Strap ya helmet on and while you at it pass the keys,
we'll ride and eat on words for dinner, homie pass
the peas,
I don't do this on purpose, it's the way things have to
be, I'll smack these kids without a daddy, little
b@st@rds please.
Expand your mind a bit and you can comprehend the
flow, there's no amor for garden tools cause we
don't love them h03s,
let William foot the Bill that Matt can wipe his feet on
quick, my homie Rich concurs the other Richard's
just a D1ck.
These words can read like any book, don't be afraid
to look, goodfellas root for guys in movies living life
like shnooks,
you'll never freeze in coal that people use to feed the
heat, I spank on my filet mignon therefore I beat my
meat.
Go 'head and make a pizza out of $100 notes, cause
all you need is sauce and cheese with lots of
flattened dough,
your car breaks down in traffic? Lose your shoes
and get a tow, and while you wait get stoned with
lots of dro that rock ya dome.
They call me Mr. Heinz cause you're in back and
can't catch up, you'll get the FICA treatment when I
tax you thas whasup,
and that's no homosexual, I'm happy cause I'm gay,
my pounds are like my methods so it's 2-8-0 my
weigh.
I hope y'all get the message how it's 'sposed to
come across, I clean my teeth with dollars so indeed
ya homie floss,
the doctor wants to rush and send the people to their
day, I guess it's safe to say he has no patience
either way.
My wordplay is a blessing like the other side of sin,
when makin love it's guaranteed I will arrive again,
so come and join the sideshow 'cept the magic isn't
blue, I wear my t-shirts circle necked when rollin with
my crew.
To read is fundamental but to not is dumb as h31l,
some people love stupidity, I wish those people well,
my word'll slide inside the spot and keep the tunnel
hot, it's verbal intercourse vernacully I touch the spot.
Dismiss it, erase it from memory
let it wash away like a river and a waterfall
but the question still hanging in the air
like the air going into a balloon until it pops: Why
There is no announcement, just stoic silence, speechless
a moment for a sneak attack and another to provoke a reaction
The face of evil, the face of disgust, the face bearing all the hate I can muster
the menace who plotted destruction, the menace who threatened to kill the coward to cause immense grief appeared like a ghost yet tangible
but nothing occurred, nothing happened
not a fight, not a war of words, not a fiery explosion
just a heavy weighted stare and a long exhaled breath signifying a stalemate
The rage, justified rage and hate admittingly raised a red flag
but with a shake of the head, it was solemnly dismissed
like I turned out to be the better man, false
The will to unleash a barrage of heavy weighted fists and words like boulders
still consumes the muscles clenching but yet...
would it really matter in the end, an epiphany? possibly
though the issue is like a hurricane lying in wait
to lay seige to the happiness Anastasia desperately wants me to obtain
one I slowly want to sink in...
Anastasia...the touch of her lips still feels as if I've fallen into slumber upon a cloud...
The fight in me, drained like water in a sink
The struggle to remain a tank, subsided; I am but a man once again
Threat level diminished, nonexistent; transition though undeserved is well...whatever...whatever...
She was worth the melee, at least it's what I tell myself
She was worth the wounds, at least it's what my healing heart concurs
The reason, is she to why I am the shadow in the spotlight
unable to claim victor nor defeated
Time has a lot of time...!
Time has a lot of time,
in this expanse all around!
No pause in its attempts to gross,
prevailing glory abound!
Gathered wisdom of generations,
from the first speck emerged!
Mind and intellect vying for a place,
so that - the truth stay submerged!
You and I just drift around,
in the boundless ocean of time!
Assuming doer-ship on events along,
till our final ring chime!
Neither you nor I have a say,
but the little I in me never concurs!
Takes onus on itself and titles,
on self, as all event occurs!
All around the known and further
beyond the unknown worlds;
pregnant consciousness do sport
'Stoicism' yet, all the way it moulds!
End of our days as the inevitable unfolds,
will reality ever dawn?
That Time alone has 'Time' - l have none,
and am played as a mere Pawn!
But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children
come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God
belongs to such as these.”
—Luke 18:16 NIV
WHAT’S HAPPENED TO JORDAN
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that a kid with sideways horns, pawing hoof,
saw the masses using imperfect tongues
with elbow grease, praising God with their lungs.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that letting the children come, is no goof…
that glancing behind, the aisles were well lit
with eyes and ears saint-bright; faithful, tight-knit.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof.
He pounds on the drums. He’s raising the roof.
He concurs with youth. Ears incline to him.
He married Wisdom. They’re verve is a hymn.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof -
though he stumbled, God made him shatterproof.
And as the saying goes, “God don’t make junk.”
No whiskey in hand - only Spirit-drunk.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that his progeny, raised right - not aloof.
He’s raising young men with Christian morals.
Hero, on white horse, unsung with laurels.
the end nears with Jesus and witches
let us hope there are no more glitches
little baby wears a mask in the manger
conceived socially distant without danger
no Golgotha crowd but liked tweeted clips
zoom calls for blurring out the Lords hips
immaculate censorship under lockdown
Amazon send the Saviour a virtual crown
due to panic buying there is no shortfall
of hygienic wipes for disinfecting our wall
by divine fortune rusty nails are also on offer
only the blood of Christ is scarce to proffer
Netflix shows reruns of a sound-bitten tale
a broker insists Christmas must be for sale
Wall Street continues with arms as a treasure
delivers lost lives and legs for good measure
conspiracy theorists say the Messiah was real
Wikileaks concurs but is brought to heel
by purveyors of halos spiked rosaries and zeal
as smoke cries for free ashes for dispersal
on graves boneyards and rotten rehearsal
a cat pees on the tree and needs to be spayed
Sigmund Freud calls for complex castration
of subconscious death wishes and propagation
in need for seeds to be neutered for creation
reality caves in and we must remove the stone
together we’re united Sisyphus is never alone
video calls remind us that the virus lives on
crosses borders without passports to and from
no visa required no customs only free trade
for hypocrisy bigotry Egos not easily slayed
what I would give for rewinding the legend
and attend carol singing and school’s pageant
in person not be stuck with oversized meals
walk freely to food banks attempting to heal
falsity ingratitude injustice entitlement schism
the infant itself may not be above criticism
but glitter and presents wrapped in blindness
are no substitute for love and true kindness
compassion does not require an opulent mall
no masses no pining nor spruce ever so tall
It’s time for reflection faith reason emotion
not notional piety and once yearly devotion
for Christ’s sake let’s stop moaning and start
to share from a warm and good-natured heart
24th December 2020