Conforms Poems | Examples

Darkness

Darkness 

Can one be capable of fruitless deeds
that separates light from Darkness?

Does this place we call Earth conforms from
Darkness?

Dishonesty,  Comforting,  Honesty, Virtuous .

Camouflaged not far away by Darkness blinded
By the light, concealed with secrecy and shame.

Feeling lost and disconnected,  How could you
Ever call your perspective your own?

Does Darkness have sounds? 

You can follow your vibrations into the shadows 
that's dark as vaults.

Silence speaks

Which ism offers the chaste taste of bliss,
setting aflame body prism head to toe that we know,
rapture of magnetism mind cannot capture; Divine Mother’s kiss?

Words are but forms mind conjures, to rewind impulses of our soul
but takes us not into love storms that makes heart glow,
until to God’s will, mind conforms feeling whole.

Bereft of thought, self-taught, divine entwined,
under the oneness sign, as we flow in staid stillness slow,
heart thaws, we align with God’s laws, playing our role as assigned.

Quartz

Born of Silicon and Oxygen, you hide in the Earth,
Formed in shapes sizes of dust and rocks, and heavy boulders;
Midst costly gems and stones and jewels, you have august worth,
Electricals and opticals intertwine your folders...!

Crystal and white and red and pink and green in their pure forms,
Like flowers and birds and beasts in various shades and shapes; 
Prism-like pristine kaleidoscopic elegance conforms,
As glass, concrete, mortar, or jewel show perfect stapes...!

A proponent of optimism; you are a sign of luck,
Polished Prefabricated you perpetually shine;
With diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires, when you are stuck,
The charm of your fusion goes beyond the enchantment line...!

Particles of the sun and moon and the stars in you thrive,
Fine alloy midst alloys, O quartz, fond feelings you revive...!!!

Devil Child

She is a devil’s child
born to be loose and wild
Mom will never meet her
She would not know how to treat her

She is kinky to the max
I’m not exaggerating, these are the facts
Dad might see us on the street
His heart would skip a beat

She conforms to no one
Playing a song on a boy drum
living her life like a man
Getting by any way she can

She throws society’s rules into a ditch
Singing her life lessons without a hitch
She goes her own direction
With a chameleon’s complexion

I must admit it is a bit complicated
But my super freak is never overrated
She is not the girl next door
When I am with her, my heart will soar.

She keeps things lively and quick.
Trying to catch up is my most desirous trick.
She is a devil’s child
Born to be loose and wild

Performance

PERFORMANCE

erased from history
 deeply respected
& composed
 proficient
yet
 was fated to
be
 forgotten

 entirely
to be trusted
striving
to thwart
the successful

  tested
when with
 elegant
irony
talent seemed
  to deteriorate
 opening up
an
intriguing
   possibility
dependent
profoundly
on
the sensory

ths the
divergent
 resonates
   improves
 &conforms
the experimental to
 pioneer
 the  improbable

 evoking a
 pastiche
   depiction
of the passive
shape
  &
challenging
 the
successful

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.
Copyright © Brian Strand

All Shades of Humor

Humor, in different dimensions and forms,
An innate trait that conforms to odd norms,
In high daily dosage recommended
To fix a funny bone, pun intended.

The one that cracks you up when you are down,
The one that makes you chuckle when you frown,
The one that cheers you up when hell breaks loose,
And weaves a silver lining through your blues.

One dirty joke upon awkward excuse,
One grandpa’s joke that grandma deemed stale news,
One dopey joke and you pee in your pants,
One inside joke that no one understands.

Whatever shades it comes, novel or trite,
Good old humor at all times serves us right.

April 13, 2022

The Shape of Water

The shape of water seems to be whatever it pleases
Such as the needles of rain caught in gravity when a cloud releases during a storm
It has no definite form, it conforms to that in which it finds itself
And it finds itself within many vessels, many things
Such as us, the human beings
The birds that sing
A cold drink on the rocks, with ice cubes that gleam
Cups of coffee, extra cream
Babbling streams and mighty oceans that crash and roar
Upon sandy shores
And leave tidal pools
Elegant pitchers that tilt and pour
And ever-shifting stains upon kitchen floors
A smorgasbord if you will
And more

All Hallows Eve

As the last light hangs its head in shame
consuming darkness slithers o’er the plain.

From within the black echoes screams of men
whose demise repeats again … and again.

Only howling winds bear witness to many men’s sins
while the blood-soaked earth conceals the horrors within.

The stench of death engorges the surrounding air
as the Reaper homes in on the soul’s last prayer.

From their chains the Hounds of Hell are released
as they hunt for the source of their next demonic feast.

For on this night they call All Hallows Eve
true evil conforms to what the mind conceives

My Carousel of Thoughts

hop on board my carousel of thoughts
  where wild ideas bob up and down
theories hang on tight for dear life
  some die on the vine; others run rife

tabulate all data collected
  frame it in pie-chart form
make sure it fits my narrative
  truth today, whatever conforms

Her Presence

The pointed arc Manor house onset,
Angel sculptures silhouettes.
Light through stained gothic windows,
high chairs and gargoyle shadows.
Marbled floor rows of columns,
pointed sealing reached by slaloms.
Heavy gilded frame,
giving her aura a powerful claim.
Brightness from eyes that capture,
ageless beauty fracture.
Sensation trigger warmth,
her smile only conforms.
Her caring gesture so rich,
purple velvet and satin stitch.
Cross in hand with bushy cuffs,
staring more then usual enough’s.
Temperature fluctuation,
some cold brush past sensation.
Sacredness speak joy of tears,
understanding now her cares.
Some little gifts to know,
crafted beauty in soul still glow.

I Am Rhyme

I Am Rhyme
by M. Griswold
07172022

A Rhymist I am, I will not deny.
If I didn't write, I surely would die.
It seems no other form can construe.
Rhymes flow out of me as if on cue.

I’ve tried to compose in other forms.
Yet, the lines never fully conforms.
I fight to write the right words to know.
Those metered lines that are hard to flow.

But I must admit, I'm no good at it.
All those other forms of poetry writ.
So, I return to that which flows free.
God's special lil' gift, given to me.

Corona Virus 3 Feet,6 Feet

Have you heard
Of the ravaging virus?
That equal leveller;
That conforms everyone to the same corner
Some say it is the disease of the rich;
Some say it is for the poor,
Just like John 10:10
Its aim is to kill,destroy and devour.

Please stay at home,
Stay three feet apart
I do not want you to live six feet beneath
I do not want you to be laced in white
I do not want you to meet your fate somewhere amongst the cloud above
I do not want your family to be in deep grief.

Wash your hands without ceasing
Wash your hands without counting;
If you must count,
Like the number of time Mantis prays.

Like Wildfire in harmattan
Corona is but a wildfire
Suffocating,
Cutting into lungs like
An empty heartbeats gores into arteries
The rush,the spread,the death
I do not want your chest to be heavy,
Please stay safe.

The Sun will soon smile
We will all live.

Octobers Surrendering Sun

Colorful are the skies

 lost in their dyes,

Cold are the stones 

displaying their tones…

Captive their surrender 

of hearts in their tender,

Aromas in distribution 

solitudes of seclusion…

Nights in their mourning

 frosts are aborning,

Stranded in their storms

 as the weather conforms…

Autumn in its yawning,

for a new day is dawning.





Oct.23.2019
OCTOBER SUN
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
 
N/A for contest
Went over the Max lines of 12

Do Not Disturb This Slumber

My sleep is dream-filled now --
imagined scenes, practiced dialogues,
fervid comments, loving words --
never-voiced retorts.
I resist awaking, lie in bed
clinging to a dream world --
and to that mind-constructed me
within it -- to that better, truer self, 
an ached-for rosy apparition.
Do not disturb my slumber --
let me lie abed and smile
until this waking world conforms
to the ideal one I build
in dreams.

A Geological Toast

To your health, Vice Chancellor Lightfoot,
who from Usher's words decreed
the creation of the earth beneath
in 4004 B.C.

May we learn from your conforms,
molding nature to current dogma,
and learn to view accepted norms,
at least, cum grano "salta."

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