Best Congregating Poems
Adrift upon the ocean
bob a bunch of resting birds.
What is it that they call themselves?
A flock or school or herd?
Could it be this feathered colony
is a band or horde at best
No screeches, calls or gaggling,
they don’t brood or crowd or nest
Spread out like black freckles,
birds are shuffled by default.
Flavoring the ocean
dash of pepper to sea’s salt
Not gliding like mighty albatross
with wingspan strong and wide.
Or dancing with the currents
right by the dolphins side
Just floating in the middle
between the blue and green
Neither soaring in the heavens
or a coral dance routine
And there, what’s that beneath them,
beyond their paddling feet
Just some strange attraction?
Or friends they’re yet to greet.
A sudden splash of water!
Could it be a pod of whales?
Or the giggle of a baby seal,
nipping at their tails.
Will they look right through the jellyfish,
that flash and throb and group
to the gathering bunch of mackerel
congregating in the soup
But no, they’re not much bothered
by the party in full swing.
They just gossip amongst each other
While cleaning weathered wings
Waiting for the wind to change
On the ocean they sit tight
Regaining all that energy
needed to take flight
So what's its name, this party?
Of primp and craning necks.
In the skies they flock together
On the ocean, they’re a wreck!
Categories:
congregating, bird, children, nature,
Form:
Quatrain
Dug deep down inside
and pulled out the memory file
about being a child
with my family for
a rare outing at Jones Beach,
we were all there with
my Moms picnic basket,
just in case we got hungry,
we'd eat one of her special treats,
My Mom didn't like the water
and especially the ocean,
so she sat on her beach towel,
applying suntan lotion,
the rest of us going for
a swim for some cool relief,
my Dad diving in first
to show his swimming techniques,
from how to tread water
if we couldn't land on our feet,
to how to cup our hands,
and stroke with our arms
in a nice easy rhythm,
I could tell my Dad was on
a teaching how to swim mission,
then some of us took a leisurely
stroll on the beach shore,
while some of us ran when
we noticed horseshoe crabs
eerily congregating,
my Dad picked a couple of them
up by their tail,
and after inspecting them
threw them way up in the air,
where they'd land somewhere
in one of the waves,
landing precariously with
a very loud splash,
I thought to my 7 year old self,
with pride and love in my heart,
my Dad is so very brave,
when were on the beach
he is my hero because
he makes me feel so safe!
Addendum: My deceased Dad was a terrific swimmer who worked as a police officer on a police boat for the Marine Bureau on Long Island, N.Y. from 1955-1985…rest in peace Dad. We love and miss you...
Categories:
congregating, beach, childhood,
Form:
Light Verse
What to photograph first?
My yard is a haven for every color of flower.
There are mushrooms, and worn out stumps, and renegade violets.
There is Queen Anne’s lace, and prairie golden rod, and honeysuckle.
There are tiny red berries, and there is moss of the greenest green.
The sky is filled with lavender, and smoky gray, and the softest blues.
There are cardinals, and robins, and butterflies, and bumble bees, and wasps.
There are knotholes, and gnarled branches, a tree that crackles with crows congregating to go south.
There are wood nymphs, and elves, and faeries, and rainbow orbs, not seen by the naked eye.
I will start with the orbs.
Categories:
congregating, garden,
Form:
Free verse
Morning dew lets
drip essential
waters, the active
ripples drop,
landing, working
with the melting
ponds, to release
surface tension
The callings of
chirping birds,
resonating
pleasantries to ears
everywhere, fervent
life, the eager
promise of things to
come
The good morning sun
evaporates people's
resentment, feelings
over three months of
abandonment, making
it up with a return
Ceremonious
Rich with golden
beams
A father figure
Hatch lings making
their identity
known, breaking from
shells to survive,
congregating around
mother for advice,
Feeling the
strengths of
togetherness, still
insecure, even under
the gentlest of
April breezes, that
whisper comforting
thoughts
The Lush trees,
restore their former
selves, showing
boldness and beauty
and shade and
shelter, trying to
outdo each other
Nature and Nurture
Kissed by the broken
winds
Fragility fades
Strong showers
precipitate as the
tears of the sun,
bringing out regrets
for having left us
at all, so fondly
appreciated
Our offspring
play in the muddy
puddles, birds
flutter about to
bathe, flowers grow
bolder, while bees
work the sap
Libidos driven by a
fervor, wanting to
be part of it all,
form partnerships
and blessed unions
worldwide, we will
conceive
Our prosperity
Interlinking all of
us
Timeless equation
Categories:
congregating, art, birth, nature,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Black Birds
Congregating
In the dead of night
Stealthy midnight chatter
outside my window pane
No singing to my ears
Just constant rain
Thunder crackling
The children have left
Just the plots
And leaves scurrying
the wind swirling
Upwards almost
Telling me look up
Refusing I tell myself
It can't be
just hallucinations
The oval mirror where
She would stand naked
Brushing her long Blond
Waist length hair
Dripping wet her supple
Body yearning calling me
I wouldn't come
wouldn't move
just a Mirage a dream
Nightmarish I'd say
I remember her though
Singing softly to me
The children all five
All girls all gone
She lays in state on a
Lily and rose Laden
mattress sunken in
Scented silk now
Moldy and musty
Cobweb silkscreens
Adorne her
I still try to talk
She doesn't answer
I'm alone
Wasting away
Skeletonized
In this room
So much gloom
Your not here
To share in
My uneventful doom
Lurking shadows
Closets and halls
Faceless lovers
Pictures hang
on walls
Your not here
Just your Soulless body
You left me behind
brokenhearted
Alone so long ago
Glock in hand
And mind in
Transient state
Waiting staring
At 12 dead roses
Near the grey
Antiquated
Corner stone
All alone...
Categories:
congregating, conflict, crazy, dark, death,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
How silent lies a lone ghost ship
that lists, tethered to its mooring
having run aground
inside a dying dream, now distant.
Unearthly selenium skies hang
mute, limp and discordant
absent of air, breathing death.
I drift alone in an ominous ocean
devoid of water
hovering in a vacuum of anonymity
absent of that ever essential
liquid of life.
I am inert, obscure and obtuse
languishing in a catatonic state.
A yawning expanse of emptiness
marks a melancholy existence
as if Mars happened
upon a forgotten corner
of the earth.
I feel lost, as I look up
into surreal clouds
congregating
in solemn penitence
watching as they move
upwards and downwards
at random intervals.
Morose are the disturbing dreams
that can send a vulnerable soul
into the abyss of madness.
How freeing it is to awaken
to the renewing gardens of sanity.
Written on 3/23/2018
Categories:
congregating, dark, dream,
Form:
Free verse
Rock paper scissors,
Wizards of utopian flavored wizardry, exquisitely triumphs in every gamble beyond these doors,
Flawless tangled reversed reflections, remain forever forbidden to thoughtless mentors,
A cursed emotional seesaw bleeds and wrestles each end hardcore,
Roaring and agitated amassing vacillating backwards tripped out cognition galore,
Attuned intrinsic tutor restoring more miraculous palaces placed within your space and time,
Sublime tribes of chrome plated words alive and congregating, hitting hard the hammer of stamina utilizing backyard grammar,
Autodidact physiques pack preeminent techniques fond of higher states,
Earthquakes from snake riddled concealment shake the anointed with disappointment,
Appointed fools lowering vibrations of stations frequencies,
Advocates underground traveling through lands and over sea's,
Undetected forward vision upwards,
In the presence of cowardly lords using swords of misfeasance,
Eyelids glued open, still unobserving rulers, kings and queens with blinding evil pupils,
Topple till stagnant misplaced silence takes vengeance over souls,
Walking gods of earth observing a hole as the devils henchman transform from the fallen,
Never forget the calling, the called out elect without verbal speech, supernatural telepathic freedom,
Finding Eden beyond quantum universes unlocking Pandora’s Box,
Mundane conscious blocks, angelic psychedelic capabilities,
Infinite possibilities traversing dimensions with three sixty peripheral vision,
Subatomic divisions, galaxies of particles coexist omnipresent yielding disorienting mechanics,
Organic fractals, geometry sacrosanct, divine kinematics pure to awoken viewers,
Future past tense, retrocausality effecting cause of events presents questions,
Spooky beauty interviewing intentions, synchronized oscillating firing patterns,
Exploding fireworks of hierarchically organized neurons, circuits and networks,
Knowledge or Ignorance? Defective decision fostering Berkes, Apple believers the first?
Earthborn mortals thirst!!! For cash, philosophy of money doctrine, man cursed.
Quincy Mac
Date Written:4.5.2016
Categories:
congregating, allegory, dream, meaningful, metaphor,
Form:
Epic
The tumultuous whirlwinds had now ceased
The roaring, nettlesome sounds have dried away
The tide is now silent
The clatters and jangles,
now dead, they are.
Far and wide, the drumming sounds, ululations...
For the happiness, peace and calamity, found again
All is being born again.
The sky is blue
The dark-dark, huge, cumbersome and petrifying clouds
Have faded away
And now, white clouds are to be seen hither and thither
In the blue sky-scape, congregating
For the new rain of the new
the new downpour of joy and peace of nature.
With my hands,
I rubbed away the hot tears, at last
With a smile, i looked out
The thudding of my heart, had stopped, but gone
Relieved i felt, for the tempests, had flied away
I yawned, stretching my arms
Bad times, had reached their edges
At last.
The birds fluttered and warbled
Their sounds anew
Tickling my fancy
The swiping of the trees
buzzed with the cool breeze
and then, the sun showed up
with new lively alight, and
with the moon
they all smiled cutely.
All got in full swing
For the peace, and happiness had at last been restored
I danced along with the birds, soft wind and the trees
Dancing, to their tune
And with all the peace and happiness
Smiled back to the jolly sun and the moon.
Categories:
congregating, peace, peace, peace, sun,
Form:
Limerick
My grandfather
Worked hard all his life
And died
When I was
Away.
I remember him
Sitting in the dark
By the kitchen stove
On cold winter nights
Rubbing his calloused hands
Over and over again
Not saying a word
To anyone
Listening to the voices on the outside
Whistling in the winter wind.
Once I walked
In by mistake
Breaking the silence
I asked what he was thinking about
Nothing he said
The his voice changed
Listen to me son
Everyone has a lesson
To learn in life
You’re young now
But later on
You’ll need to know
When to grab life
In your own two hands
And shake it
Until you get
What you want.
The sudden anger
In his voice
Startled me like a
Short fuse in the night
And I ran from him.
Grandfather didn’t work during winter
It was too cold he said
The need
To work more
To buy more
Never suited him.
What he needed was nearby
A pair of old work boots
A jacket carelessly slung
Over a chair
A pair of cotton twill pants from better days
And a bottle of brandy.
For him, winter was
Meeting old friends
After Sunday Church
Congregating in the park
In small groups
Standing their ground
Against all outsiders
On days when the snows receded
And winter’s end seemed close.
Some rested on canes
Others stood tall
Survivors of another winter
Arguing politics
Talking about this and that
And how well their grown up children were doing.
Life can go on without us
They seemed to say
To the empty park
And the gray skies
We will meet again one day
But for now
We’ll stay here until the sun goes down
And winter returns.
Categories:
congregating, lifeold, work, winter, me,
Form:
Narrative
Sea caps, white, shadows
Fin, cutting above surface
White caps part, Great White
Herons calling out
Congregating over cove
A gaggle of clouds
Eagle soars above
Snowshoe hare, new tracks, no hare
Disguise of whiteness
Categories:
congregating, nature,
Form:
Haiku
On the sandy knoll he stands, a solitary, forlorn figure gazing at the sky. It’s a clear night, and hundreds of stars shimmer like fireflies pinned to the firmament. His eyes fix on one of them, a twinkling pinpoint near the center that seems to give off a faint amber glow. Looking at it distractedly, he wonders what star it is, which galaxy, how many light years away. He has been mired in a persistent gloom brought on by a bad breakup which life in general has done little to lift, and in his pensiveness, he yearns to be where he is not.
Stars congregating
A salve of reticent lights
Melancholy vaults
He imagines not only life but a much more advanced civilization on the amber star (the distinction between a star and a planet he’s in no mood to dwell on), an unknown utopia in the wilderness of space where unhappiness has been bred out of the entire race, and where there’s no war, no loss, no hate, no love, just a perpetual lightness of being maintained by wisdom and moored to omnipotent technology. He wishes he could leave everything behind, and go far, far away to that beckoning star.
Soul with starry eyes
Thoughts retreat into night sky
Fantasy of flight
The star he’s gazing at is in fact not a star, but a planet in a spiral galaxy 4.5 million light years away, which would not be visible to his naked eye if it weren't for the light from over 5,000 near-simultaneous explosions that have obliterated civilization there in a nuclear apocalypse. Before life was extinguished, the planet’s inhabitants called their galaxy the Milky Way, and the planet itself, Earth.
Man-made suns flashing
Perpetual night descends
Light flees into space
Inspired by the song “So Many Stars” by Sergio Mendes, Marilyn Bergman, Alan Bergman
Categories:
congregating, leaving, life, night, sad,
Form:
Haibun
In paradox with the living world,
Day breaks at dusk,
Reminiscences of the preceding night,
Lost to substance abuse induced amnesia,
Breakfast is served,
Flunitrazepam, ethanol and cannabis,
A balanced diet of solid, liquid and gas,
Like a decaying carcass,
The remnant of the prior nights hunt,
Lays naked and lifeless,
Inebriated by debauchery,
Only awakened to gain her recompense,
Her departure leaves both souls in depletion,
Like an eloquent and articulate preacher,
The tube propagates hells propaganda,
Corrupting the subconscious,
By its message of profligacy,
As darkness encompasses the metropolis,
Its offspring emerge from the shadows,
Adorned in gold and glitter,
Bathed in fragrant perfume,
Concealing rot and decay,
Congregating in tabernacles of immorality,
Flickering and flashing lights,
Tobacco burnt as offering,
Its smoke rising as repugnant incense,
Alcohol and drugs served as unholy communion,
Bodies swaying to hypnotic melodies,
All in total adulation,
To the lord of the night,
In this realm of perversion,
Where virtue is sacrilege,
Abomination is sacrosanct,
In pairs they fellowship,
Sons with sons,
Sons with daughters,
Daughters with daughters,
To consummate their worship,
By sacrifice on the altar of iniquity,
In total defilement of their temples,
As dawn approaches,
The darkness recedes,
Only to resurface,
At the break of dusk.
Categories:
congregating, city, culture, life, night,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I was compelled by a strong desire to be a nurse when I was a child. My parents and grandparents told me what nurses do and how they helped people. I was totally beguiled.
My parents painted a picture in my mind of nurses being angelic and noble people. Ones who had answered a call. Nurses give up their Sundays to care for patients. For, it is a calling that is of higher priority than congregating in a building with a steeple.
I have prayed for my patients at times when I had an overwhelming workload or was exhausted from sixteen hour shifts. I have often wondered how I managed to care for such a volume of patients without having dire consequences. Over the years, I have personally witnessed miracles and divine gifts.
Now, I have been a nurse for over thirty years. I have questioned my choice at times because of various obstacles, such as, high patient to nurse ratios and excessive paperwork that take away from time spent with patients. I have had to remind myself of why I was on this people helping mission. And I have always made a decision to stay on course with my virtuous peers.
Categories:
congregating, career,
Form:
Rhyme
A tattered Calico traverses the crumbling corridor
dissecting a row of dilapidated sacred structures,
each uniquely indistinguishable from the next.
The wind carries an eerie refrain
as it whistles through the splintered stones,
white-washed to harbor their degeneration.
There's a fragrant stench of wilted petals
lying dormant in stagnant waste.
This potpourri of nature's compost
resonates from the marred receptacles
lining this mourning path.
Picket shadows serve no comfort
from the unbearable fervor
as it bakes these palaces of the deceased.
Irreverent voyagers marvel at its spectacle,
congregating within the blighted vestibules,
ignoring the pleas of sacrilege,
all to capture images for their own posterity.
Exit this city of the dead,
allow the mourners their serenity due.
Bestow the departed their wanted peace
and leave them to their gentle rest.
Categories:
congregating, bereavement, death, solitude, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
Golden strands wave at me as the psithurism rings
Across the barren fields, stretching like children
Awaiting their mother’s soft caress
Of comfort and presence.
The fabric of dawn drapes vibrantly across the sky,
Bathing babbling waters in a warm glow – slowly burning a path
For the darkness to exit the midnight scape.
Such the same as the stars shine still in the sky
Congregating figures to lead the way,
The sun treks Ra’s journey each night, fighting
Battles within and underneath the surface, in which we
Rise above each new day.
Of the swaying strands of gold with which we
Pluck from the roots only to sell without price,
It is a wonder with which we still remain in the presence
Of such beauty, and yet, we continue to treat it as if it were
Nothing but grains in our hands, of which will dry out.
It is with each breath of wind in my lungs that stirs
Within a deep seeded need, for which I must
Plant and sew with my own bare hands, before
I may blossom into the carnation with which
Mothers water, so daughters may grow to be.
Categories:
congregating, daughter, flower, growth,
Form:
Pastoral