Best Conor Poems
He's running out of Colour.
*eternity eternal mind over matter
*He forms combative images of daffodils and lilac hedges
The Grey Seeps From his Eyes.
* His heart holds abundance, life close, close as a shield
Nature is Turning Black.
* All of the mind intent melds a joyfull palette into an encompassing black
- Can't You Smell Their bitter Entrails?
* Retching he adds fodder to ripen the ground for rebirth.
He Could. He felt them weave
*Balance sought to assert dominance over discord with the Fathers hand.
In and out of His Senses,
*Mesmerizing optiforms presenting themselves
Alienating his Perceptions.
* He strains to hold human concepts dear.
- Count the Bodies, Count the Women
and The New-Borns if You Want?
* From Death, Life, from Life, Death
*the endless circle sustains his weakening heart.
It's Just Math. No longer
*The count down, or up? continues…….
Did Time Stress Relevance.
The Sky was Red: and Empty.
*Empty, yet, the promise of nature abhorrence of a vacuum ..screams.
- If You Wait, They'll Come Back for You
*And you, son of God, child of the Mother will deal……-
He Walked Through Various Flesh
*Seeing the shell for what it was …casing of soul…..
Obscenities, Traveling for Miles.
*Caricatures of Man, insults only to ego long gone.
But The Smell, The Smell Had Followed Him.
- Where's Your God Now?
*………………Now and forever, his soul answers, eternal in the heart of man
*……………………beating with the pulse of the Universe……..
*…………………………Ashes to ashes…..dust to God……….-
*I felt it necessary for my soul to reply, please forgive me Conor? A month of wicked was
too much without a reply.
Poetry is a body of water,
With the title being its' surface;
The context deep or shallow.
It's as far in the water,
One chooses to go...
____________________________
Inspired by a good friend of mine.
Conor Jordan's artistic eye and
Spoken knowledge helped me greatly.
His wisdom speaks oceans.
Our first collaboration of many...
There’s wisdom to be found,
In the depths of a poem.
If we choose to submerge our mind.
We hope you enjoy! Thank you
Muddy Brown
Scarecrow Scattered
-
Echoes Abstract
Metal Mouth
-
Fire Hunger
Liquid Passion
-
Ashy Sorrow
Tattered Faith
-
Hopeful Breath
Stubborn Love
**Prompt: Describe yourself in exactly 20 words
Title credit to Conor Jordan
Pouring milk teeth onto a tea cup silence,
rasping over ceramic furroughs -
a harvest of unborn cries -
she shudders into the hollow of a throat
she can’t escape.
She’s already shrouded,
tapestries and bed-sheets and fences and
liquid walls, all white.
Bridal white, white as snow, cold to the touch.
She dreams softly, unassuming,
folded into her wrinkle of universe,
and dabs her weeping wrists with every
perfume she owns, hoping to reclaim her mind
with the memory-laden scents of what was.
But it all smells the same to her now,
like steel corridors and hospital-stillness,
and she can’t hide the decay even
though every mirror in the house is turned
inside out and left alone to reflect the wall.
She’s nothing now: a final breath
a kiss no one remembers,
a candle with a millimeter wick and no matches.
She’s imprisoned in one strand of mercury hair, torn and
bleeding around her finger,
and set free in that instant where vanilla tears swell
with his image on her face.
She held him for so long, but she’s on her knees
begging for more.
Inspiration: Pearl Jam's Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town
and
"Lucid, Nostalgic Perfumes of a
Deceased Love Permeate his senses."
-Conor Jordan
From the first time that I saw you
When few were in your corner
I watched you from a distance
And I saw you, play a stormer
There was thunder in the air
And you made my young heart sing
For I knew, I’d seen the makings
Of the new M.M.A. King
I seen you dance, a lethal dance
With the look of the insane
A kick, a punch, like rifle shots
White lightning in your veins
To those that said, “you couldn’t”
The ‘Belt’s’ above your station
Your confidence and brilliance
Helped lift, a flagging nation
My name, my friend, is Steven Walsh
And I danced a ‘different tune’
A grain of sand, in a desert storm
A hope among the ruin
Obscurity, was not my way
My thoughts they couldn’t gag
The proudest moment, in my life
To hold our Irish Flag
Five thousand years, before today
Then you’d have been a Pharaoh
A life cut short at twenty four
I got to meet my Hero
No equal on this planet
A body, lean and mean
Each time you fight, I’m at your side
That’s me, upon the screen
So, Conor, if you’re listening
I’m always in your corner
I’ll watch you here, from Heavens Gate
And know, you’ll play a stormer
There is thunder in the air
And you make my young heart sing
For I knew you'd be the makings
Of the new M.M.A. King
A touching moment
sat in the stalls
My grandson and I
full of great expectation
sitting together
in this iconic location
Two hundred performances
Guitarist supreme
uplifting
sublime
‘tis for us
our first time’
Eric his name…
with guitars he found fame
One of the best
for he brings them alive
with his talented fingers
makes music that lingers
With his ups
With his downs
With his tears very near
for Conor his son
‘Tears in Heaven’
he sings
After shedding so many
a song for his boy
who is missing his dad
leaves us crying
leaves us sad
Then for his dear wife
just before they go out
Reassures of her beauty
from rooftops he’ll shout…
For this is surely
what true loves all about
singing…
Darling ~ you look wonderful tonight
And as he is playing
two hours or more
The audience is yelling
for one more encore
So much emotion
within every song
Singing ‘Tears in Heaven’
for his dear son now gone
When singing his song
You look 'Wonderful Tonight'
My eyes they fill up
at this magical sight
So thank you Eric Clapton
for a wonderful evening
In the Royal Albert Hall
the most iconic venue of all
Written 9th May 2022 after seeing his concert yesterday evening...
Contest A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CONTEST
Sponsor Brian Strand
6th PLACE
'I really just want to be warm yellow light that pours over everyone I love' Conor Oberst
Yellow, so bright and cheerful.
The canary, with wings so beautiful.
Yellow like the sun.
Shiny like the gold medal I won.
Yellow, the color of the Christmas star,
Or the color of the mustard jar.
Yellow, like the dancing sunflower,
Or the lemon that tastes so sour.
The yellow banana on my breakfast plate,
And the corn on the cob that I ate.
Yellow, like the butterfly in the air,
Or my favorite stuffed Care Bear.
The yellow ribbon wrapped around the tree,
In hopes that my dad will come home to me.
The color of the bus I ride to school,
And the toy that floats in our pool.
I love the color yellow,
Because it helps me stay mellow.
To look into her eyes and see nothing,
Spurned the cycle of self destruction and narcissism that threatened
Her freedom from the silvered chains of solace that used to bind her soul.
It was the spark of an explosion so massive it would consume entirely without discrimination.
All of her past, everything she held dear
Was lost in a blind stretch to humanity,
Her trust in faith gone, until the end of everything.
It would take time to fix the tear in her heart.
All the energy she had was focused on remaining intact.
Searching The Unfamiliar Corridors of Stability,
Her Thoughts Binded Themselves To Reality.
- Vaccination of Security -
-thanks to Conor Jordan, for busting the ending paradox :)
After the show, which we found a delight,
We stopped at a neighboring place for a bite.
Discussing the play over burgers and fries,
I glanced up to notice a pleasant surprise.
My favorite actor*, of six on the stage,
Sat there in the restaurant, on the same page,
Sharing a meal with an obvious friend –
Unwinding, perhaps, at the matinee’s end.
He isn’t yet famous, so no one looked twice.
(Our unbeknownst staring would have to suffice.)
I wanted to tell him we thought he was great
But a fear of intruding made me hesitate.
Yet we went ahead, interrupted his meal
To share our enjoyment; our words made him feel
Most gratified, judging by his giant grin.
Acknowledgment certainly was a win-win.
An actor’s a regular person, like us,
Despite, when he gets there, the fame and the fuss
And so it felt wonderful just to connect
With some well-chosen words and a dash of respect.
*written about Conor Ryan of "Desperate Measures"
Happy birthday Conor,
Today’s your special day.
As I write these words,
You are so far way.
You’re a special person who,
Deserves deserving words.
So I penned some down,
That this day deserves.
Today you are eighteen;
I hope you have a blast.
I wish you a happy one,
From Oklahoma to Belfast.
___________________________
This poem is for Conor Jordan,
a fellow souper and today's his birthday.
HUTINASHRO
Apple a day makes you happy.
Choose apple daily: Stay care free.
Juicy fleshy delicious.
Eve was good to share with Adam.
The couple achieved wisdom.
As fruit, Apple is marvelous.
Sir Adam learnt from Madam Eve
and granted Apple to believe,
knowledge-giver, nutritious.
Human dynasty started on.
Stresses and tensions all are gone.
Apple deserving high status.
Apple a day makes you happy,
taught Newton, ‘Law of Gravity’.
Fall of fruit made him curious.
Apples fall from tree at random
Free fall is always welcome.
Scientist explained being serious.
From a tree, ripe fruit to leave
at any time, morning or eve
must fall on the ground, obvious.
It cannot jump up on its own
or to fly away, never shown.
Pull of Earth goes spontaneous.
Apple gives Doctor no entry.
No apple, though temptatious,
Doctor being handsome or pretty.
06/16/18
Hutinashro Poetry Contest by Conor Lotts
He caresses her neck romantically,
By slowly strumming her hair.
Moments after tickling her,
And promising to buy her, her lair.
A true-carrying case I mean,
Way more than just a stand.
She winks at him daily and
Ibanez, is his trusty brand.
With a great pedal board,
They create a rhymatic loop.
And for now he plays solo,
But would rather be in a group.
He and her are forever in love,
She’ll always be his beloved Lucy.
For the sounds that they create,
Make the airwaves feel juicy.
With a built in handle to grab,
He holds her close to thee.
And together the love they make,
Is considered fret-based poetry.
__________________________
Dedicated to my friend
Conor Jordan and his guitar Lucy.
I saw her out of the conor of my eye.
She was just standing there.
Beaitful flowing hair.
Bright red dress.
I strolled over any as if she wanted to dance.
She accepted wwith a big smile.
So we danced the night away.
When we finished I took her over to the bar.
And brough her a drink.
And we talked aand talked.
at the end of the night Iasked her out.
She was the nicest woment there.
It was a nice night.
And I am seeing her again.
2003