Disconcert Poems

Harbor Forgiveness

Harbor Forgiveness						


His uproar was clear and overt
damage our love in one spurt
wreck Twenty-Ninteen (2019) “Home Port” chert
My soul is deeply deeply burnt

Pure kindhearted intent converts
to mistrust dreadful disconcert
mom, dad overly protection subverts
son’s golden career –- ugly divert

Three against one was no flirt
Cruel heartbreak alone in desert
Heal my ache in bitter dim yurt
I’d rather curse pain than hurt

Why is it, when my heart is hurt
I’d give a sigh of high alert

Will our gentle courtship be revert?   
Self-healing must reassert

Again, again forgive to unhurt
Harbor forgiveness free the hurt

Thought of the Day

does a memory lapse disconcert us
if it does, is not memory an attribute
to which our identity does as yet cling

Everybody's Mishegoss

Everybody’s mishegoss*
Is different from our own.
One person’s crazy fears won’t match
The ones to which we’re prone.

Spending time with others
May surprisingly reveal
Ideas and actions out of sync
With how we live or feel.

For all of us succumb to
Thoughts irrational, which lack
A basis in reality,
Appearing out of whack.

Yet we cling to our perceptions,
Feeling justified and smug
While opinions that may differ
Will be greeted with a shrug.

Everybody’s mishegoss,
Perfected and unique,
May surprise or disconcert us
When we manage just a peek.

*craziness

Thought of the Day

When musings flow not, does it disconcert ~
If there’s no one here, then why does it hurt

14-March-2023

The Spotted Lanternfly

My husband noticed, near my bench,
A spotted lanternfly.
I didn’t have to kill it;
Something else caused it to die.

I’m looking at it, upside down
And really, it’s a pity
That something so destructive
Can look cool and downright pretty.

This species, most invasive,
Has the city on alert.
We’ve been told, on sight, to stomp them,
Though the thought might disconcert.

Like roaches and mosquitoes,
I will add this newfound pest
To the list of critters I might send
To their eternal rest.

Fragments

Night to the wake of a Dawn
Hardly can it’s birth be forgotten
Driven by the Deep of the Dawn
Bewildered in past present so rotten

Wondered in dark-deep abyss
Oblivious in the trodden lines
Yet broken the mind-ark in reminisce
It diurnal rings in bounding lines

Hope twined with disconcert
Fazed with life’s playoff
Yet Love plays in the Concert
In worthy streams to cool off

Uncharted remain thy remains
For to Mother Earth thou were betrothed
Their hearts never forgets thy remains
Though grieving hearts left thou dead

In thy Uncharted bled my heart
For succor he misses
Thy demise still rumples my cart
For thy succor and subsidy he misses

As If Stones

Sticks and stones.
Words that do hurt,
more than stones could bruise.
How do you measure bruises on your heart?

I’ve now grown
ever more alert
to words that accuse.
It’s never, ever too hard, too late to start.

Careful of tone.
Mindful of impact.
As if stones are as hard to wisely choose.
Being inspired by Napoleon Bonaparte.

Sparkle like Rhinestones!
Words can disconcert!
Spread love and swiftly diffuse
Anybody’s verbal outburst, any vile squirt.

A Social Gaffe

Maybe I'm committing a social gaffe
but when someone falls, I have to laugh.
For just a moment I feel guilt and disconcert
before rushing over to see if they've been hurt.

Belly laughter is contagious
It tickles my fancy; it's outrageous
how quickly giggles get out of control,
but laughter is good medicine for the soul.

It Is In Winter When My Shadows Appear

It is in winter when my shadows appear,
It is at night that I shed a tear;
Remember you makes me break,
And all my body aches.

At midnight I can see you,
But you leave me at two;
You always disconcert me,
And you never ever let me see.

How much do I have to mourn?
How much keep this love unborn? 
Aren't you who promise to come?
Aren't you who make things hum?

If I were to die, let me know,
Where have you gone many moons ago?
Should I keep on dreaming?
Is your smile still beaming?

The Deal

On some days it will rear its ugly head
to disconcert when all around seems fine,
and offer choices different instead
from those I've made to build this life of mine.
It teases in the street, a passing glance,
a burst of laughter, glimpse of sparkling eyes,
two kissing lovers, bathing in romance,
hid in plain sight, and cleverly disguised.
Could this thing be the love I should have known,
am I in the wrong lane, on the wrong wave,
must it snap at my heels, future unknown
and torment my decisions to the grave?
You play the hand you're given, it's your call
or never get to play the game at all.

For contest 'New Sonnets only', sponsor Emile Pinet
August 19th 2018

Sweet Dixie

A land unto its own as old as dirt
Condemned by voguish northern state of mind
This realm you'd be hard-pressed to disconcert
Though his'try would prefer it be maligned

The secret twisted oak and winding creek
The tapestries of moss that grace the swamp
They whisper in a language few can speak
Revealing true that fair southern beauchamp

There is no match for tender Georgia peach
To Cajun gumbo nothing can compare
And off the Apalachicolan beach
Fresh oysters make the finest southern fare

Sweet Dixie with your blemishes and charms
No place I'd rather be than in your arms



Jan. 4, 2017
The American Deep South - That magical swath spanning from east Texas eastwards and upwards through to the Carolinas
For the contest by Silent One Re: Sonnet About Where I Live

My Beginnings

The dots do I join, to rediscover
That which was forgotten, remembered through continuation
Naivety had my youth shown plenty
Lines of love, professed lies
My aspirations stemmed, by a being not noticing. 

Time has it stopped not for my admiration
Its progression I cannot prevent
But my mind's reversion, has already occurred
That which had been lived, is lived again
Her entrance I appreciate once more; the essence unfound. 

Events are offered no change, by memories
Questions unthought than, asked now
The height of my feelings, a hyperbole
A chance doomed by an evasive reality 
Her beauty existent; I chose a figment. 

Each confidant, hearing more passion than the last
If doubts were raised, my words were shown
A destiny I sought, with a name with no letters
My stare, affording no return glance 
Her interactions echoing no friendship; my ignorance deflated. 

A work I had begun ardently, not knowing
My return home , a return to future synonymy 
Pages torn, to drown in cliches
Her rejection, could not disconcert
The dots I made, do I join to know.

Hydrophobia

HYDROPHOBIA

 Feeling some disconcert
As I saw some dirt upon my shirt,
I rinsed it out, but all in vain,
For one big spot did thus remain.
 Alas, it had been surely smote
By grease from a gravy boat!

I now saw I needed attention.
To a hostile, phobic tension
Between water and oil,
Causing grease, to the shirt, to espoil.
I had to figure out whether
I could get them, as friends, together,  
For only then, in some way,
 Could water carry that spot away.

Aha!. I found one to clear the weather
And get the two together, 
A cleaning merchant
By the name of Alfred D.Turgent
Was able to overcome this atrocity
Of  phobic animosity
Allowing the water and grease to elope
With the blessings of my good friend soap
Leaving my shirt 
Now free of all dirt!

                                            Stan      1/10/14

The Frog

Contemptuous of his home beyond
The village and the village pond,
A large-souled Frog who spurned each byeway,
Hopped along the imperial highway.
Nor grunting pig nor barking dog
Could disconcert so great a frog.
The morning dew was lingering yet
His sides to cool, his tongue to wet;
The night dew when the night should come
A traveled frog would send him home.

Not so, alas! the wayside grass
Sees him no more: - not so, alas!

A broad wheeled wagon unawares
Ran him down, his joys, his cares.
From dying choke one feeble croak
The Frog's perpetual silence broke:
"Ye buoyant Frogs, ye great and small,
Even I am mortal after all.
My road to Fame turns out a wry way:
I perish on this hideous highway,-
Oh for my old familiar byeway!

Ins-Pir-Ation

When folly leads; to wisdom…
By the way of endless dreams
'Pon a backdrop psycadellic where, 
There's nothing all it seems’

I have struggled with good reason
made forays to shore-less isles
Lived a lifetime in the instant  
Rode the shine of unforced smiles

Finding ever more to disconcert me
Through crowds of motley folk
Senses were overshadowed 
Seams burst at senseless jokes
So on without an Inkling,
To a place I can't discern
Where tomorrow or forever
All I know is..' more I'll learn..

© Joe Maverick 23-9-2013

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