Concourse Poems | Examples

Message from God

Above the highest mountains of grandeur
Gracing fertile valleys of great worth
Wings a heavenly message most urgent
For all inhabitants of the earth

A message with evangelical wings
That yields neither to despot nor king
Exposing mortals' nefarious sins
Threatening earthly shenanigans

A message that strikes with dynamic force
Against evil's quest for flagrant wrongs
Will not crumble before motley concourse
Immune to injustice's deadly thorns

Message spoken by a prophet of old
Sets forth a noble and worthy goal
Writes  a profound message with heart and soul
What humanity is to uphold

The message from above to humankind
Speaks of justice,  doing what is right
Loving mercy, a grace gift most profound
And walk humbly with God in His light

**********

Inspired by the Old Testament Prophet
 Micah 6:8, "He has shown you,
O mortal, what is good, And what does the
LORD require of you But to do justly, To
love mercy, And to walk humbly with your God. (NIV)

DIVORCE poetry contest - 12-19-2023

D-evotion In Vain; Open Rawness Consuming; Ex-spouse
I-nconvenience; neither one willed to stay the course
V-intage it is of matrimony failing; now get back on the horse
O-ccurred in percentages that make bookies grin without remorse
R-elationships, however, do end; different destinations like an airport concourse
C-opiously feeding an industry; built on having no recourse
E-verything Could've Remained Obviously Vindictive; I Divorced


DIVORCE Acrostic poetry contest 12-14-2023
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri

The Railway Station

Neon lights outlined stalls
in braids of red and green
in the dim cavernous hall
of the railway station.
Muted drum taps of passing feet
and crisscross talk were pierced
by stabbing announcements
of departing trains.
A stairway tunneled upwards
to the street
where a wall of daylight
met squinting eyes.
Stonework still wore the soot
of steam trains long silenced
from impatient panting,
their age had passed.
My age was diesel with its fumes
pumping out incessantly
without pausing for a breath.
Guttural piston beats
pulsed the air with shudder.

Some of us still left home
riding dreams on train tracks
or else sailed them to England on P&O.
Most stayed at home
and waited for the ballot.
Out of step with the sixties
the railway station languished 
in its nostalgic façade.
Newspaper banners headlined protests
and the Vietnam war.
Through its ageing concourse
young men moved in haste or haze
towards uncertain destinations

A Mixed Existence

MIXED EXISTENCE
this
 sweep of life
 elaborate
   consecrated in joy
&sorrow

  this thronging
       concourse
of painstaking
precision
exquisite
   yet brittle
    worn lghtly
in gleeful radii
of the
 times
an accumulation
an elemental impulse
   of the
infinite


NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE   using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.

12 Frog Prison Slammed Shut

The other night as every
night since and before

My weary eye's drifted into 
wonder sleep and i began
to snore 

And then of 12 frog's i eventually dreamt

Belly down crawling stuck
on a concourse prison floor

And once awake i took the 
time to look it's meaning
and definition up

And this is what i read
This it what it said

Rebirth
Transformation
Hope
Evolution
Positivity
Good luck

Yet somehow all i see is 
prison bar's and the inside
of 4 wall's

On Cell Door Number 12

For i fear in reality i am a 
lonesome tadpole trying
ever far to hard

To find a frog princess willing
enough to let me even near
let alone kiss them

As clearly somehow something
must obviously be amis way down
deep inside me

Moon Glow Love

My eyes rose to the moon tonight
   with thoughts of you when we first met;
      remembered how we tried to feel
bound close- though ridge between us set.

Extensive miles tween us, for sure-
   when you enlisted in the Corps;
      but every night our eyes would touch-
while moon glow formed its open door.

This kept our closeness filled with love
   since we, as two, would feel like one.
      Combing eyes and bonded thoughts-
extending, blending, it was spun.

Oh, yes- the moon, our concourse formed,
   where we could meet, keep lit our glow,
      until once more you could come home-
our moon stoked fires for us below.


August 29, 2020

Contest: The Night Sky Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anna Marie Kaianah

Lipogram: No Letter "A" In Wording

Lake Gratitude

There is a hole in the earth
It lays in the west far from the city crowds.
It is the berth of forest and wildwood
It is majestic in its watery discourse
It is where the earth's crust met the sky
Conjoined and shared their distinct elements
Where mountains reached upwards to their destiny
Yet was besieged and shaped by this kismet
Divined and immersed with the waters of life
A contest of perfect union
Pitting the magnitude of years of conflict and resolution
A saga birthing a new landscape
A masterpiece of colors and substance to behold
And in this concourse of creation has evolved
All that is worthy for those who perceive its' artistry
Tis the profound worship for love and beauty
For all that appreciate its perfection

The Train

The click clack answered back
As  I rode along in the train
The familiar sound it made
The rail journey was always a highlight

In the summer the doors were open wide
As the breeze cooled me down 
And the click clack egged me along
At each station into town we stopped

The smell of diesel and hot brakes 
Until the Adelaide Station was reached
The concourse was the biggest place I knew
Always busy people bustling through

An afternoon in the shops walking around
To the pictures to see a colour film 
There was a magic to these times
Then click clack the train took me home again.

© Paul Warren Poetry

The Man On the Train

I had been at College that evening
After work I was not thinking of anything
Just sitting down on the train all alone 
Wanting to just make my way home

The train came into Salisbury stop
And I saw a man onto the train hopped
He had a pronounced limp when he walked in
Sitting down across from me and started talking

He said that he had been away from his family a long time
And looked forward to seeing them again fate being kind
For he had seen many things in his journeys made
By ship to support the Old Country with his blade

I found his story not so interesting as it went on
Dosing as the train rocked along on the rail’s song
When I woke I saw the man was gone and I was in Adelaide
I walked from the train onto the concourse slowly made

On the eastern side of the concourse there was a display on the wall
With photographs of military men with notes about their deeds all
I looked at each photograph until I saw a familiar face amongst them
It was the man awarded the Victoria Cross posthumously as he was ended.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Phenomenon

Slow, as if in pearls of eternity
this infinite time became molded into peace
I lingered there within serenities breath
communion upon a galaxies edge
lay the breadth of creation at my feet

Replete to the overflowing brim
this spirit soul of I
held countenance 
and the concourse of angels betrothed
gave its summoning to all my earthborn family 

Slow; as if of pearls in all eternity
in this timeless belove-ed lay the mystery of peace

And peace it was that gave me cause
return the sands to hour glass
return this predisposition of light to form
fill the experience with its empty maw
and so in willingness suffer the bond

It was asked of me
by such perpetual belove-ed
to set such sacrifice to loves immortal alter

Slow; she breathes
the rhythmic waves echo a hearts beat of peace
and by miracles form
I slowly become
the image of serenities breath

From St Patrick's Pent Horses To Out Horse

From St. Patrick's pent horses to out horse


She rode St. Patrick's day wild horses
Through leprechauns and lucky Joe's of course
She rode her horses well
Every horse loved her swell
In came a pony changing the concourse

connie pachecho

3/14/17

She Rode With Him To Shebuktoo

She rode with him to Shebuktoo


she rode up and down the hilly concourse
riding shot gun like on his big white horse
when he shot his gun high in the air
a huge blast of shouts shook the pair
in frenzy she bucked, too, arriving with a force

connie pachecho

2/24/17

Invitation To An Unmalling

What if,
instead of inviting people to the local mall
to further accelerate a fight,
we invite each other to join us
in the middle of the central-most concourse,
for a jazz improvisation of tai chi and yoga movements,
to breathe peace in and justice out together,
to grow in reflective mindfulness together,
to cooperatively appreciate each other's participation
in the rhythms and patterns we discover
by moving and beating and breathing our hearts together
communicating belonging together
in this unmarketable community.

What if
we invited people to dance together
and side by side,
an impromptu self-invitation
to embody together at the mall
how we belong together
rather than flying apart?

Raising the Bar

Raising the bar 
By S.Jagathsimhan Nair 

Come along, mate, 
Let us cross this concourse of coincidences and pray before this 
ever-evaporating deity of oblivion. 
And offer the termite hills of our doubts 
at the altar of this counter-god. 

Placed before his liquid justice 
is our shared compendium of one mind 
two heads and four arms in the form 
of some kind of a binary or joke. 

Are we algebraically trying to tie up 
the imponderables like 
mind, head and means,or just 
offering up our movables like 
money and matrimony and 
immovables like kids and ****. 

But the new mind is a dumb platform 
like meadows are just mud 
And the means as always converges 
to come-what-may. 

Any which way, let us not go slow 
into our convulsions 
into contrition 
into oblivion. 

Inspiration:The painting ' Two women sitting at a bar' by Pablo Picasso, 1902. 
24 nov 2015.

Lost

Lost

Crushed by the weight of confusion
doubt and uncertainty my mind reels 
like spindles from a broken axle
Disjointed configuration of mangled
manias hurdling out of control
till restored clarity should arrive
resetting sanity
Debris strewn concourse defiles my uncharted path
broken axis running pitching me headlong
toward every ditch 
Thumbing down past paradise oases that are tricks of the Sun
then heart time is paralyzed by each step closer
The undulating waving mirage before these seeking eyes
blur scant revelation 
the vision concealed in shadow too deep for concentration

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