Long Disconcerting Poems
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Rummage
If you must.
My presence here
Is based on trust
So dressed am I
In Summer svelte
Yet you're to check
My trousers belt;
I'm scanned
As if each cell is rogue
So scrutinised
Despite en vogue
I understand
Away from home
You check my
Hydrocortisone;
The lotion for
My perfect tan
Or salve for lips
To kiss this man
Accept, do I
My gooey three
Could form a plan
For bomb plot spree
A victim
Of mis-communication
Disturbing transport's
Destination
Ungroomed
Is how my luggage ends
While protection
Of the sky depends
On just this task
For safety's sake
More pleasant if
A smile you'd break
Your focus can't be
All on me
Perhaps you're wondering
"What's for tea?"..
Or hoping soon
To get away
To pack for your own
Holiday
So here's my wish
For you to find
Credentials
Of a different kind
As poke and prod
Display and sort
Where discretion is
A last resort
So one day you may
Understand
In travel
To another land
Exposure
To some inner delving
Though required, it may be
Disconcerting
A shell explodes out of the barrel
Of misfortune's gun with a deafening bang.
Unexpectedly pink slipped as he was
Slowly making his way up the corporate ladder;
To use the demotic vernacular, "Laid off."
Poor fellow. He never saw his hard luck coming;
Confronted with a disconcerting reality,
It has rendered him a melancholy shell of a man.
Poof! His dream job vanishes at one fell swoop;
Outsourced overseas. In his wistful eyes,
Utter dejection. His reversal of fortune, cruel.
He doesn't quite know what to do with himself.
It's a tough pill to swallow; he's struggling
To adjust to his grim circumstances.
Sudden joblessness has taken a toll on him.
His saturnine feelings are tough to conceal.
His indigo-hued mood clearly shows on his face.
He's teetering on the precipice of depression
And withdrawn from friends and acquaintances.
A shroud of uncertainty now hovers over him.
His future couldn't look more gloomy.
With his stellar career gone
And mental health dangling on tenterhooks,
Where does he go from here?
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Date written: 05/26/2023
Woodbury, new jersey home
to me self since birth
my very late mother
(bless her long departed soul)
slaved and toiled
per accursed penury and dearth
tried her darnedest
to create happiness while on earth
would be livid with rage
at lack of neighbors’ manners
if spirit of said deceased
returned to this home and hearth
so let this poem serve
as springboard to communicate anger
for whatever
this literary effort might be worth.
this aged body of mine creaky,
nearly out of steam,
and well nigh lost track
of countless times auld lang
cos sine and concomitant excitement
filled past and long distant childhood
waiting for ole saint nick
to careen down chimney flue lugging
that humongous and bulging sack
or going out hunting
(when this area mostly woodlands)
awash with fauna and flora
and not unusual for pop to bring home
a buck sporting many tiered rack
caught in the cross hairs of firearms
seemed like gendarme of the pack
now, which memories flood my noggin,
akin to overflowing waters o the Merrimack
especially disconcerting with hostility
from youths politeness to lack
spouting expletives with flip of the bird
to us older folks who cough n hack
similar to staccato machine gun fire
in terms of that barrage of flack
To dream a dream within a dream:
a bit uncommon, it would seem.
Occasions when this happens: rare.
But be assured, yes, be aware,
for 'tis a disconcerting thing
to, from a state unconscious, bring
oneself to find you're still asleep,
nor can you move or make a peep.
For when in terror's deepest throes,
you blissfully escape your woes,
and think you're back from dark to light,
remember, "Wait, it should be night!",
well, that is when true fear sets in;
you thrash and scream and scream again.
I've never gone as deep as three;
no thanks, two's plenty much for me!
----------
Second Place Winner
for the Form L - Lay - New Poetry Contest
sponsored by Constance La France
on the theme of 3. Dream
written on 03/31/2022
CASCADES
of anguished
brilliance
appears
to be shared
with the self-aware
&
vulnerable
unsuccessful
but
provides a
self-image
in
multiple ways
with
complicated
intentions
&circumstances
thoughts&
touch
a single
state of mind
each
leave their trace
a personal style
all played
out
on a
small scale
derived
from looking
at the face
in shadowed
interplay
a transition
surrounded
& faded to nothing
in a disconcerting
way
between self
&image
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
Trust is so much a part
of every relationship –
I mean, I love my cat,
but he has this disconcerting
way of sleeping with one
eye open, as if checking out
the terrain, listening for
incoming -- well, he's
either a very silly, typical
paranoid cat...or they
know the human soul
a lot better than we admit
to.
Cats seem to have two basic
instincts: start and run – while
mankind has 3: more, more, and
more....
I was going to cut the grass today;
then thought, as with dust, grass can
wait till tomorrow – unlike laundry and
cat litter that seem to ferment awfully –
therefore, some must-do chores were
gotten too...while executing the
routine tasks I wondered, why do
I hang-on so? A little kitty meowed.
Snow falls upon my father’s distant grave.
The disconcerting thing is, I can see it!
He neither was a humble man, nor brave,
Yet all his good – I would, that I could be it!
His arm, in every picture, round a friend,
Upon his lap, in others, babe or child!
Was ‘overwhelmed’, when he came near his End,
But, ‘kind of philosophical’ and mild.
He knew his time was up, so he hugged me,
Forgave me for my words, which was a feat!
And I forgave him, too! Wide as a sea
Was his forgiveness and words kind with heat
They burned my ears, and yet, they soothed my heart,
And made me know, of his, I was a part.
2/18/2019
An aging man, sage and wise
Removes his glasses
To wipe his eyes
He can no longer visualise
In which direction his future lies.
Every day when he awakes
He reads the daily news,
That makes his troubled heartbreak
He is an educated man,
Who always had a plan
To make the world a better place
For those he taught,
To bravely face
The World outside.
BUT
Everything in life is changing,
Creating chaos and rearranging
All that he held dear
Has become unclear
Transparency has disappeared
Making things impossible to see
It is hard to comprehend
How this unrest came to be.
NOW
As this man of faith ages
His book of life holds many pages,
Of happiness and joy
His failing health is disconcerting
With body, mind and heart hurting
He feels he has lost his way.
I like to call this man my friend
And I am confident in the end
His strong faith will save the day.
Haunting my thoughts in hues of mourning
Coloring my dreams in shadows of dejection
Silence screams through the dreary darkness
Caressing my hopes with despair and disquiet
This is the music of a poignant fear and sorrow
Lingering on my tears in a lasting, liquid loss
There comes a plaguing dread that leaves me
Certain that dusk will bring me a pandemonium
The noise of chaos, destruction and desolation
This is the music of biting emotions so tragic
Troubling my life in sensations of trepidation
Baffled by the discord that brings such wars inside
Where a virtual struggle stays there to remind
Pain this laborious is made up of a bitter song
This is the music of anguish that persists on and on
Suffocating my laughter and wiping out my smiles
Disconcerting obscurity sends me to my knees
The only place where I can find a second chance
A continued peace – the answers to my worries
This is the music of a heart driven by faith, hope and love
There is only One – the Only One to go to
When life is hard to handle and the hurt is heavy
There at the foot of the cross, there at Calvary
You will find the answers to ease your pain and worry
This is the music of a peace that passeth all understanding
Philippians 4:7
King James Version
7 And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
all my senses ...
long to make sense ... of YOU
what greets my gaze is perfect imperfection
lines and curves and shapes and
colors and movements
mingled with sacred intent in sublime symmetry -
features that alone might be found disconcerting
collectively arranged in ways that
steal the steadiest of breaths
and define envy
for the gods themselves ...
then, a scent ethereal ...
weaving its quiet way into my head and blood
bewitching my mind with a rarefied air of
you and Je Reviens -
an intoxicating mix of essences, visceral
aromas that rival breezes from the
of Gardens of Babylon
and send the mind spinning ...
tumbling ...
to say your voice is music
would be doing it an extraordinary injustice
like some anointed dove from heaven
it lilts on the atmosphere
and when you press it tenderly to
my ear in wafted whispers
its voltaic song penetrates my coursings
and ignites my core
harmony and heat and will ...
aria and fire ...
I live for the feel of you ...
your skin is warm satin and silk
a catkin corporeality -
electric and responsively raw
sexy little bumps erupt at my touch
your perky bow lips -
an alluring mix of raspberries and chili peppers
and the indescribable perfection of
your hand in mine
as though your fingers were created from
the spaces between ...
and oh, your taste ...
the many flavors of you are like a
banquet of rare piquancy
your mouth a tangy, sugary bubblegum treat
dermal surfaces, savory and salty -
a tease for where they lead …
and your unique angelic nectar
like some exotic potion
created and sanctified to bind my
marrow biochemically
and render me ...
unhinged …
yes -
all my senses ...
long to make sense of YOU
yet I pray like a child that they never do
for the joy is in the journey ...
and the divine …
discovery.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Five Senses" Poetry Contest, Viv Wigley, Judge & Sponsor.