Long Concocts Poems
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Denouement
The plot thickens broadens in plastered confused juxtapositions
over time there and then weaves tapestries lost unfound caught
Viscous tears dried out shed rivers searching oases oceans of love
squeeze suffering hatred solid misconceptions scripted resolve
Crocheted dreams unsnarled in disguise colour rainbows stain-bows
stain blows and arrows offer inkblots from coiled council reconcile
Waters cascades cataclysmic beginnings alleviate alluvion’s weight
skirmish tease entice droplets of truths splashing change alteration
Naïve native losses childish unadulterated tangential torrents unfold
allude inundate delude adulthoods’ illusions commence from afresh
Under the bridges of ricocheted echoes trickle drops from Styx to
Ganges feed and contend with the seagulls and vultures of life
The story line concocts and conceives tell retells and remembers
the past as it blends narrates a misty final initiation’s webbed spray
Resolute resolution wets the gills washes clouds spins them around
until springs guzzle project thoughtful narration to entangle once more
Denouement Renewal De-new-ment confer contain depositions repositioned
as some tangling wisdom posits one swims in the same ocean never again
09th August 2016
Originally entered for contest 'Denouement' judged 24th August 2016
People want a life
with imagery similar
to that of their dreams.
They wish to replace
the everyday, mundane grind
with nocturnal views.
But how do you transfer
all of what slumber concocts
over to your waking hours?
The answer is easy
but hard to initiate -
Just get out of bed.
This stops the dreaming
and starts the changes needed
so you’ll feel alive.
Opening your eyes
let’s you see the wonderment
that’s always been there.
That which can be dreamt
pales in comparison
to that which can be achieved.
Life has vibrancy,
beyond imagination,
if you go live it.
A New Poem:
Family Is:
The first thing that makes sense...
It blossoms at every direction it grows...
The flourishing nature of family
Is beauty-impersonified....
Sparks fly when the core tenets
Of family is mixed with a stint of love...
The rich brew that family concocts
Is savoured by invigorating inducive
Recipes like patience, parental care and love
And wholistic mentorship.
Family is...
Humanity, in this complex world...
Courage, manifested through a mother and father's
Loving guidance...
Unity, imminent in the evergreen tenet of togetherness....
And above all, family is...
Love; for all the age-old tales of sacrifice
Altruism, and Strength drawn From the influence of
Love.
For these and many more:
Family is everything lovable
ISAIAH A. ASANGALISAH
An arbitrary effigy
Enacts its own soliloquy;
Concocts a taste sensation
Fit to consternate a nation.
What's an ethical conundrum?
Sinful, existential ho-hum!
Guaranteed to whiten whiter
Never lit one cross on fire...
Yet the sugar pills create
A side effect that won't abate -
You're free to spend more time prostrate
Than one can ever stay awake.
Now your own somnolent scream
Conducts a constant marching theme;
Reverberates the eight of Rome
As sifting sand toward sunken home...
If as you glance up at the sky
You still sense wonder from on high -
If with every labored breath
You'll glibly force another step -
Seek some meaning midst these words
Although the cadence is absurd:
NeVeRmInD tHe BuRnInG;
ThAt JuSt MeAnS iT's WoRkInG!
Flagrant bird Bernadette feathery flair flamboyant
Towers over average plumage
Parades tassle twist pantomime pow wow warbonnet
Cascade costume illuminating
Cheyenne crowned showgirl, a flurry of torso tumult
Statuesque neck festers fatalism
Stiletto weapon punctuates staid with societal revolt
Rouses a Lady Marmalade rythm
Elusive vermilion mouth majestic Bernadette buxom
Slinks sequined by beside suited
Patrons in shadow of taboo troublesome seduction
Stubble rub struggle translucent
Sashaying aves, aloof eaglet suspended in feminine
Bouyant slow swirl drape tailed koi
Hypnotic bronzed bends transmit treacle pheromone
Concocts a carbonated cider void
26th June Too sexy!
Nights of flying dream world,
who might chase a raucous laugh,
or seek indeed mirthful excitement,
the sort that has embroidered twists,
as is generally perceived by intention,
but epic hurdles formed in still frame,
city snores past midnight bell clang,
dare one ever risk a robust venture,
should I have said pursuit instead,
sleep is diversion in that steel crib,
that modern crib pillow we fostered,
an idiom that has it’s silken source,
on foot of rainbow studded home run,
as denizens of driven blissful sprint,
with that palette city life concocts,
waiting to arise from brainwave surge,
but toilers so content at last wonder,
can still find that extra zestful yen,
nocturnal misnamed down tool free time,
energizing hour filler may arouse,
around the ink drape walkways,
quite surrogate and surreptitious,
character one may mold from time,
spent as a regal rhombic chaser,
boundary scuppered plot by strolling fleet,
as creatively imagining might edge,
vast supply has penchant without dent,
zeitgeist flower of a fluorescent flag,
warning mask so deft but visible,
canopy laid beauteous black fringe,
alliance in shade infused etch front,
squeaky noising trickle eardrum muffin,
hear full dose of ripple muttering,
clued on obscurantist thin,
taut code evasive decipher ask,
float of urban mirror pool by pattern,
reflection, mirage, cocoon,
after midnight curtain draws,
to protracted claps evinced from,
squinting imp coterie on foot,
ricochet off Moroccan spice tint,
outside vivid haunt so frequented,
perchance, perforce, pertaining patois,
little seen scatter mice squeak,
analogy horizontal spurt funk,
if only these dart and dash clan,
midgets metaphorical so jubilant,
in sonic meddle near edge encounter,
it would be strictly beyond a dazzling cast,
from other daylight theater staunch queue,
when aiming for parallel experience,
performance nocturne wise deep art,
even rich fantasy has upper boundaries,
some grating gulley flake debris awash
Some of them are drifting vapor,
fluid pastel flavoring my tongue.
When awake, they linger like nectar,
or the hidden symbols of Jung.
Others are more like nesting dolls,
hand painted selves inside of selves,
secret centers wrung in reluctant recalls.
Narcotic sleep concocts misshapened shelves.
Still others are Fabergé eggs,
grandiloquent intricacies, ornate and refined,
interior parlors absent of regs.
Fantastic reservoirs are carefully designed.
But most of them are made of celluloid,
cinematic and impossible to avoid.
Published in the first PoetrySoup anthology- 11/20
My nights have lately become sultry
as suffocating heat chases sleep away,
I lay wide awake unloved and sweating
beneath the murmurous ceiling fan
hoping for some refreshing relief.
Each eventide I hear her bittersweet song
drifting from the verdant vale
like seductive perfume on the breeze.
I cannot resist for long. I must visit every night.
People say there's magic in her.
Rancorous rumors have it that
she seduces with a whimsical smile,
subdues with an enchanting laugh,
soothes with a surrealistic sigh.
Maybe they're right. I know they’re right.
For I am under her arcane spell.
Late at night I leave my rumpled bed
and like a somnambulist I tread
through mysterious corridors of my house.
The dazzling moon shines the pathways
that lead down the surreal vale
into the sonorous cavern where she
concocts her alluring recondite runes.
There I hope to get a glimpse of her
Embrace her gorgeous beauty for untold time
Till inexplicably I find myself alone back on my bed.
Can you blame me if I’m under her spell?
8 January 2021
Damn anticipatory anxiety affliction...
trumps volition (mine) to don employee hat!
Until the grim reaper
whisks yours truly away
common joe just biden his time
chronologically old fogey
(albeit boyish looking goodfella)
at moon shadows he doth bay
meanwhile stricken with
dripping wet sweaty palms,
perhaps attired with
trademark Harris tweed
this August twelfth
two thousand twenty dog day,
viz just the mere thought
to seek part time employment -
cuz I wanna supplement
(social security disability) income
perhaps out of desperation
selling myself short on eBay
unless an anonymous reader
espies adept ace at foreplay
i.e. whereby his linkedin word choice
oft times evokes double entendre
essentially this poetaster
at large concocts gourmet
reasonably rhyming literary cuisine -
thus hip hip hooray
invariably an anonymous
respondent will inveigh
against playful badinage,
and/or perchance some grumpy
humorless cat (woman)
originally whose nine lives spent
housed within San Jose
will take objection with base (sic)
lame ribaldry (mine) laughable
courtesy none other than kkk,
(kooky, klutzy, and kitschy tendency)
who though reformed Caucasian Jew
coon sitter me laughingstock, nevertheless
(modesty notwithstanding)
he brews the best latte
this side of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,
where whiplashing, madding, and
clamoring crowd fuels melee
along Perkiomen trail
over hills and across Atlantic Ocean
eventually leads to Norway,
which namesake river from “Pakihmomink,”
or “where the cranberries grow.”
Rather than get further
bogged down with inane zeal
I best steer clear of poetic poppycock
courtesy imaginary wheel
thus the following pablum I unveil
nsync with titled malady all to real,
which plight involves hyperhidrosis
quite a debilitating ordeal,
especially when thinking
to pursue gainful employment
emphatically steadfast
and honest think (me) leal
course this humble communicates
(hyperbolically) embodiment ideal
if seeking to gain insight how I feel
about myself, a tense body
inept to cartwheel.
Kate and Bram, so in love or so she thought, but he was after Kate’s rich cousin. Laura, was just as greedy for Bram’s striking good looks. Does lightning strike twice for Bram? Will he find happiness with his fiance’s kin? Kate was prettier, confident, sweet. He moves the candle over the treasure and concocts a vicious plot. Laura was guilty of one thing - she coveted what was not hers. Bram’s sin was greater.
WAXING OF CANDLELIGHT
Longing of candlelight - the shadows slim.
A flicker steps downstairs; She’s trembling down.
Kate’s tapered low-light tears, without a hymn.
Green spirit in her phosphorescent gown.*
She remembers Bram’s face, his smile. The bleed
of blush no longer stings - a swan-like snow
running from head to toe; done is the deed.
The late night storm will search - its fury grow.
The strike of lightning hate will court her beau.
He tripped a switch - she fell headlong for him.
The candle burns - the fire’s leaping stairs. Sow
And reap - the pyre-steeple of life and limb.
The separation - vinegar and oil.
Reunited, Kate shrieks - Bram’s on slow boil.
7/30/2021
A BRIAN STRAND SONNET
HMS used
*Green - 1) color 2) new