__________________________
Concourse of water of a stream flows down from its peak on a mountain top, down through a thicket of greenery in a gradual fall to planes and ultimately to its destiny of ocean whence the journey first began.
Eternal silence of Nature here tells the string to calm down, wear not a self-bestowed crown feeling so proud.
___________________
O stream from tall peak,
What use feeling puffed up proud?
It all ends in bleak
One day, wrapped in Time’s dark shroud,
Cool down, why this din so loud?
___________________________
Musings | 22.05.2026 | Nature, ocean, silence, string, time, Tanka
You Aren’t Listening
You Just Make Words
Into Ghosts Of They...
What They Once Were.
There, Like You
Interrupt Again...
There The Breeze,
There The Tide...
Interrupted! Ignored
Like Soil Contorted,
Melded In, Like A
Spatula Spoon,
Like A Whisk...
Soft And Smooth
Of The Married Sky
Earth... Unyielding.
There From Soil Again,
Un-Earthed, Rooted
Rising Through Cells
To Nerves, To Reputation's
Ape... Reborn To The
Concourse Spoken Out
In The Blackness...
Not Alone.
Shut-Up And Listen.
-Gray Squirrel
03-23-2026
Go in the side entrance
Walk across the concourse
Out the front entrance
Round to the left
Round into the side street
Back into the concourse.
This is the pathway to finding out
Nothing.
As it is at the train station
So it is in life's world
Nobody can be relied upon
Blind ones sharing an eye
But not a brain
One Couple Of Days ago last week,
the two dead men found out they were really meek.
The blind woman has learned how to knit,
she loves to knit shoes for her bunny outfit.
The deaf policeman is now off the force,
he loves being a twenty-six hour DJ in the mall concourse.
The two dead boys love to play lively pranks,
like driving down main street in their big red tanks.
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)
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
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
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.
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
My eyes rose to the Moon tonight
with thoughts of you when we first met;
remembered how we tried to feel
bound close, though a 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.
Combining 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.
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 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
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
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
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
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