Coincide Poems | Examples

Blood Moon captivates sky-gazers around the world

I timed my departure to coincide with the
lunar eclipse, but the
eastern horizon wasn't apparent,
in the park, or at the top of the road
my local high points

I scanned the firmament along with
other rando hopefuls but there was
no show to see so
onwards and upwards we went
as wine of a deep red hue
wasn't going to
buy or drink itself

Synchronicity

Looking for my home, 
As I roam the realm, 
My conscious at the helm,  
An overwhelming experience rushes over me, 
The feeling of ecstacy, 
I'm starting to see the synchronicity,  
Feeling energetically charged, 
I barge into the connection, 
Feeling the affection, 
Enjoying every second, 
A blessing in disguise, 
As I rise in myself, 
A prize inside, 
My home is in the body I ride, 
I Am the tide, 
Seeking for my bride, 
Thankful for my guide, 
As moments coincide,  
She's always by my side, 
My pride and joy, 
The one thing they can't destroy, 
Since a boy I've known, 
And have grown to understand, 
I planned all of this, 
Using love as the witness.?

On the Path Less Traveled by Accident

Did we meet when stars aligned?
Or when fate dragged our paths,
to coincide, to bump together, 
sidled up, side by side, 
by coincidence, in time and space?

Or did we slide into the same path by accident?
Enchanted to dance by chance, 
with happenstance and serendipity,
on a path less traveled?

We met in a deserted park,
in a deserted ghost town,
on a path way off the beaten track
Both coming to see how rising salinity
in the district's groundwater,
through excessive water use,
had ruined the crops, 
ruined the town's livelihood.
Everyone had left.
One of us came here, 
to yen its cause, 
the other with pen, 
to write a report.

In the park was a swing
with a rusty chain and black rubber seat.
The wind made the swing, 
swing to and fro, to and fro,
emitting a haunting creak.
Which drew us to share the
pathos of the scene.
Which to us, thus met,
made all the difference.

This path, this town, this park, 
this swing, this wind, this creak,
by accident, 
made all the difference!

Queencliff

2025.5.5

It was the 5th day of winter.
Somehow the weather was still warm,
It tickled my travel's bones.
Yes, I went all the way to Queenscliff Geelong.
I came here several times in the past,
But missed climbing up the tower part.
With it magnificent 360° clear view,
I circulated the platform along the glass windows.
My time of arrival was coincide with
The departure of the ferry Sorrento - Queenscliff.
I casted my eyes to the north-west,
There were three Islands Swan, Mangrove and Rabbit.
The Point Nepean on the far east across the sea.
On the east side of Queenscliff 
There was a stretch of sand beach,
Curving it all the way to Point Lonsdale.
In one hour time, I could enjoy the sun set,
Beyond the horizon of the marina bay.
It would be lovely if I could stay.
But I had to give all that a miss,
Head back to Geelong and then home.
There will be another warm day in winter,
Before the weather drops to low temperature.
I just have to make the trip again
With or without friend in the future.
Where there is will there is way.

Reflections of the Past, Visions of the Future

Faded memories litter the walls, as anniversaries coincide together with zero regard for one another, the simple beginnings are barely visible and yet the complexity of wrong choice after wrong decision are very prevalent. Isn't that how it always ends up though, in the end anyways? Hastily cultivated 'wonderful' ideas are laid to ground, only to later discover the overlooked Great Wall, which ingenuity says there's a way around even provides a way, but ultimately ending in complete disarray. Then insanity's epitome is born...
Torn and broken we dust ourselves off and go right back to the drawing bored, or the supply store, either or, we're back at it wanting more. It's the gifted curse of persistence at it's finest, completely blinded to judgement that could barely be considered lucid, however still finding room for improvement, if only for the piece of mind that our actions are conducive to society's 'of the moment' movement. I know the evident truth. Do you?

Messy

A fraction of home,
Can she come to me? See?
Ignore the useless bodies,
They can’t have what’s mine.

Can’t even tell what’s a lie,
What is living? (Living, living, living.)
Why do you come back?

Dread is all it is,
It can’t hurt me, but my home SUFFERS

My hands are gross, coincide with my arm,
One is insecurity, the other is selfish.

Do you drag? Do you wait?

Why do you stall?

Practice What You Preach

There are many genuine , good and kind people in our world

Who’s  kindness, empathy and good deeds are apparent

Who give and help those in need without expectation

Their authentic , selfless, humble souls transparent


There are also those who voice all the right words

Yet their words and actions do not coincide

Outwardly spouting graciousness and compassion

Yet their actions and real truth lies inside


If your heart is truly open and sincere  

Your virtues are beyond reach

Show it in your actions

And practice what you preach!

Crystal of Life

Shimmering,

Across the landscape.

A sea of lights,

Start taking shape.

Such delicate perfection,

Under divine protection.

Natural selection,

A chemical reaction.

Elements collide,

Coincide,

Divide.

Creating a core,

The perfect storm,

Falling into place.

Coming to form,

Now face to face.

Shining a light,

Shimmering so bright.

Beaming pure delight,

Innocent little Light

Such beauty in our sight,

As we hold the,

Crystal of Life.

Storm Inside Me

I look outside my window,
Watching the falling of the rain.
I'm hypnotized by the way
Mother Nature feels my pain.
The dark clouds in the sky
Are like the ones inside me.
Outside they drop the rain,
Inside it's sadness they set free.
The lightning strikes quickly,
My happiness it does plunder.
It drags out my pain
Like the roaring of thunder.
This storm and the rain
Ironically continue to coincide
With the hurt of you leaving
And the tears I've cried.

Wish you a happy new year

The ocean's fog and mist so wide,
High tide indifferent, no confide,
Surf's ups and downs in rhythmic dance,
Sweeps all on its watery expanse.

New Year's visions in uncertainty's haze,
Time's march indifferent in mysterious ways,
Success and failure, life's dual ride,
In the misty shroud, they coincide.

Waves' frothy silk on sea crests blue,
Optimism triumphs, shadows eschew,
Human hearts in hopeful cheer,
Pessimism in darkness disappears.

Beautiful waves in song and play,
Defy the gloom, hold sway,
Aspirations and hearts aglow,
Wish all a Happy New Year's flow.

THREE SIDES STORYLINE

when lines join or coincide
to make a shape curved or straight
line becomes a side so intricate
three together 1 2 3
transmute abstractly

The Exile of a Writer

Sometimes it is hard to see God’s grace
Sometimes all I can do is be obedient with a smile on my face
Sometimes I can’t count it joy
Sometimes I become annoyed and annoy
Sometimes God in the cleft is His placement of place

Sometimes we will be exiled to isles
Sometimes the ashen gray of walls in cells
Sometimes I need Gilead’s balm
Sometimes I need to pray a psalm
God protects us with His wings or His angels

Sometimes as the Apostle John
Hetoimazo atimazo hyper ton Theon
Sometimes as the Apostle Paul
And Jeremiah during Jerusalem’s fall
God will always provide the proper direction

A way out He will always provide
If our will with God’s will coincide
To think His thoughts after Him
To bring all our struggles and cares to Him
Enduring as a soldier or Christ’s bride

The exile of a writer is God’s protection
To head in His direction
Of course, we are all sinners fallen short
Accused continually in God’s court
Remember this is under God’s discretion

Sometimes see that God is graciously
Protecting you even if confined spaciously
From others and ourselves
Searching the depths, the Spirit delves
Advancing one and the many patiently

The Fuddle

   My mind is befuddled,
   No two ideas coincide.
   Can't seem to move past,
   The muddle inside.

   Assorted things I want to do.
   Can't seem to plan,
   Just what to do!

   Made list,
   Copied them twice.
   This does not suffice!

   My calendars full,
   The time is my fool.
   That is the tool!

   Take the time to move my mind,
   Un fuddle the muddle.
   To move on past,
   The time I have wasted.
   That I wanted to make last!

My Boy 1988

No one ever told me, it could be like this.
  To have such a fine boy, whose life I'd miss.

To look at a face, grow into a face like my own.
   Bass in his voice, could he be my clone?

If along our path, should we walk by.
   Would I know him from his stride. My stride, coincide.

Are his thought that of mine? Does he tilt his head just so?
   Absent from his world, how would I know?

I could only hope we have what binds.
   A father. A son. Could God be so kind?

Anticipation

What I miss is not  wealth or fleeting pleasure, 
But your love, a shiny beacon in the dark, 
To hold your hands, a soft touch beyond measure, 
Your presence, a light, igniting my heart’s spark. 
Anticipation’s sweet, enduring treasure, 
With you, my heart and the soul will find its mark. 
Our reunion soothes this restless, eager tide, 
Knowing soon, our hearts beatings will  coincide.

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