I spoke to silence once; it became my interlocutor—
in an incongruous sunset, January:
gold transmuting to red, saffron-orange
then to violet
the color grief contracts to
pressed through winter's
alchemical
sieve—
the colour that comes before silence.
Loneliness is pigmented.
Sky renders loss—light waning.
grey restless sleep
They're smiling leniently don’t be silly
You can’t be apolitical these days
I’m smiling back I don’t trust them initially,
It doesn’t fall under a criminal offence
I’m fascinated by the incongruous lines
Just look at those familiar shapes, distorted
The early cubist paintings make them shine
Not blindingly, but just how you would want it
Ambiguous light of green and brown hues
Strict and fastidious lines, this is my politics
No one’s deprived, humiliated or abused
You’re in your favorite chair watching pics
It’s a spiritual job, not quite a passive leisure
Those pictures move in time can’t stay the same
They grow on you without any measure
Until your mind will get the best of frame
You hang out in the school of old escapers
The shooters cannot see us with their drone
Tomorrows ash deploy yesterdays papers
Don’t ask of yesterdays old girls – all gone.
“It’s a very beautiful bird. It can never be ugly!
It’s the most beautiful bird in the world!”
- Quote by Purnima Devi Barman,
Wildlife biologist who saved
Greater Adjutant stork species
-------------------------------------------------------
Greater Adjutant stork
Uncomely looks
Despised by all
For being ugly
No other fault
No graceful gait
No melody
Awkward height
Impolite eater
Unsettled gaze
A woman fell in love
Raised an all woman
Hargila army to save
To educate, made those
Who despised love the bird
Rescued,
Rehabilitated
Cared,
Now the storks
Live in peace
Love can change
Love can conquer
Love is best when
Under pressure, so
Says the saved storks
An endangered bird
Brought back to live
Just because one
Woman saw beauty
In this incongruous bird
manipulative
media
montage
angular
distorted
&provocative
stark
overlaid
unusual
arrangements
of
the incongruous
Written: November 19, 2023
____________________________________________
Beyond the ethereal hues, reigns peace,
Incongruous with intrinsic ease.
Noshing desire tugs at the core fibers of my soul,
Wear tiredness bruise, frailty, and out-of-control.
The twinges of awe distort and narrow,
Dazzling me with its emerald harrow.
Crushing the sunlight rays that spread,
Oozing a cruel throb of dryness in my head.
The emptiness hosts sight and sound,
The truth is revealed by my idle ground.
Controversy seeps through my arteries,
Providing a safe haven for my mysteries.
Salt penetrates the skin's surface,
Water waves form in pools as they face.
Sharing the mind wonderful disarray,
So utterly, I'll be in anguish all day!
Life is blasted against the glass akin to sand,
Time is marked by simple, quiet steps stand.
What remains is a barely flickering light,
That is a velvety smear spackled in the sight.
Drawn into a war that was not our choice,
we’re compelled to play the cards as they fall,
for although we wish all speak in one voice,
if swords need to be drawn as of fate's call,
aligned with righteousness, we must stand tall.
Thus playing out our life role, as ordained,
following path of truth, our soul's unstained
but we yet wish it did not come to this,
since love in our heart is deeply ingrained,
thus in midst of battle, we effuse bliss.
03-November-2022
EPISODES
separate moments
timlessy
suspended
&transported
harmony
torn apart
by
covert hints
& embedded
warnings
inertia
in
tranquil
contrasts
of
dramatic
focus
petulant periods
of
shadowed eyes
a
narrative a
of tensions
both meticulous
& incongruous
in
scenes
recreated
of
vast frescos
a
triumphant
apotheosis
reaching up
in
serenity
to moods
of optimism
in
celestial
celebration
from
undertones
of melancholy
idyllic
concepts
in
shimmering
surroundings of
scenes
a
rural
mass
of
exploits
foreclosed
by
banal mishaps
striving
for
attention
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
SCENARIO
ostentatioun
everywhere
spreading
in the
hothouse
of
incongruous
reflection
ageless &
timeless
elevated
living
a
paraphrase
supposedly
overwhelmingly
in an
atmosphere
of
astonishing
perfection
flawless
beyond
observation
an
epochal
retrospective
of appreciation
in contrast
& spotlit
in appearance
so visually
available
&yet mysterious
impervious
impassive
monumental,
in
reflected
profile
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.
SANCTIONS ENGAGED
the impact
formulated&cultivated
to promote
captivating
the impossible
eliciting
dazzling sparkling
gathering the dedicated
with oblique
but lighthearted
pretexts
& pleasures
vituousy
devoted
to facilitate
&reward
continuation of the
subordinate role
cited by a phrase
inward daydreams
an unappreciated
force
but with
an essential aim
somewhat incongruous
but significant
perpetuates the
expressive sensation
connects
meaning
with a new style
continually
contributing
to its
origins
frequently applying
distinctive approaches
&poignantly tracking
tendencies
to mesmoralize
&
immense in
full participation
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
while you were still here,
I
ruminated silently,
pretending I didn't much
care,
was neither Here nor there,
and so, Your love was a ripe hanging fruit,
beautiful and free,
but i never fully partook--
I kept it under wraps,
except for a few stolen kisses
now and again,
There: here-- just a will'o the Wisp
Half-desire
floating sideways in my head.
An enchanting quirk was the thought of Love,
incongruous to my ingrained thoughts, my "common sense",
beckoning me to greener pastures --to a "real" life
that seemed too out of reach to even imagine my arrival in it,
for you were my little dewdrop,
beautiful but vulnerable;
and as I turned, I saw you
gobbled up by
the wind-- by a
breeze that disappeared
as fast as it appeared.
Your richness was lost on me-
until you were gone.
There is a horrible hollow ache inside me,
That murky feeling of being loved ,
That love which keeps a section apart ;
Fills the void with sadness and betrayal.
That feeling captured & wrapped around with distrust & dishonesty ,
My eyes brimmed with tears of disbelief ,
A society with patriarchy and misogyny ;
Are so selfish & yet so hopeless .
Excruciating story of millions ,
Abandoned by their families ,
And yet finding light in the darkness ;
Looking for a Messiah , to bless them .
That incongruous feeling will never die ,
It will remain buried under the deep core of the heart .
If I could just tell of the cruel it'd hit,
instead of outbursts that fail to grip,
would heads really grasp... is it all gossip?
Forgotten history and nostalgia trips.
My thoughts once tangled up balls of string,
seem flawed, fall short, fail to alter things,
ostentatious false holds the force to win,
whilst my incongruous talk falters thin
Deliberately debating a debilitating disease,
Excruciates and exacerbates existential ease.
Loquaciously lugubrious her lacrimonious wailing,
Instilled in me an ignominy of incongruous assailing.
Galling in its gargantuan, garrulous gainsaying,
Hypocritical hyperbole it goes without saying.
Tormenting me with tales of her tinnitus tintinnabulation,
Forced me to fulminate with ferocity and damnation.
Until, unambiguously, I uttered my interdiction,
Life's too short and your lassitude would test a Saints benediction.
A badge of great honor
We wear it with pride,
They say it’s an insult
But we’ll let that one slide.
A boomer’s a doer
A person with Pep,
Marching alone
To their own special step.
The children of Giants
Who lived through a war
Instilling in us
The passion to soar.
They call us great bores
Whose opinions don’t count,
Incongruous has-beens
Our words they discount.
Little they know
It’s a wheel that does turn,
With each generation
Another to spurn.
Suffice it to add
We’re fine in our skin,
Whatever is said
They’ll still be our kin.
Millennials are brash
They message and tweet,
But most just innocuous,
In-fact rather sweet.
They look at their parents
The way we did ours,
With fresh consternation
Like brief summer showers.
When all’s said and done
For boomers like us,
There’s nothing more pleasing
Than life without fuss.
Abattoir
She sat with her back to the wall
cuddling a red rag doll,
her eyes gazing into some safe place.
Her right arm lay disembodied
some ten feet away.
Her mother, beautiful, olive skinned
had been drinking coffee, Java I think,
now she lay stripped by the blast
to her lacy mauve French knickers
like some pornographic marionette
with hinged arms and legs.
Remarkably the coffee sat untouched,
still steaming and oddly inviting.
The silence screamed obscenities
as incongruous lances of sunlight
from the collapsed roof spangled
off the settling dust and lit
the crimson offal strewn floor.
A man created but
God inspired abattoir.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.