Short Conflate Poems

Drain no vim rain in vain
On pursuits which gather you
A blend of strain and pain....

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Dalliance anew
Thy memories worn leather
Conflate woven tight


2nd Write For Raul Moreno Contest( Not Entered)...

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Almond promises
round oval drops
dripping song to fall
in neon light

His stares of hope
conflate when she comes
your everyday Cleopatra
cascades lofty

Acorn kisses
hanker sweet footsteps to be
on time  
mystique on the commonest day
burrowed deep in the recesses...

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The writer always
wants to sing
And the singer
wants to paint
The painter fancies  
he could dance
To the dancer
songs conflate

The greenest grass
it seldom grows
Where you now
make your bed
As wishes stray
and hopes betray
What might have been
—instead

(Dreamsleep: June, 2023)...

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In a subconscious state of mind
both real and unreal intertwine
and twist each others attributes
into dark Eidolon recruits.
These phantoms perform roles assigned
So well they trick the sleeping mind;
The scripts emerge from deep within
The brain where images begin
To shape and sound then orchestrate
Successive scenes the two conflate
Into involuntary schemes
The conscious human calls his dreams....

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Listen to poem:

Written: November 13, 2023
              ____________________________________________

The exhausted soul's speech is faint.
In response to the voice of dream.
When faith lends its way to conflate
The exhausted soul's speech is faint.
Where the bloom faded with berate
lack of mind and frame as soul screams
The exhausted soul's speech is faint.
In response to the voice of dream....

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While volcanoes rehearse to show their teeth
lovers shouting from the well of the house
wave broken condoms rather than broken trust

conflate dissent on self-erasing slates
and prove worse than the old oxen 
long following circuitous ways

billowing opposition, discalced defenders

they all assert superior dishonesty
sell cheap what is most dear or make
offences of new affections

I carry the tomb of unburied days


--R K Singh...

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A mob of crows conflate a raucous debates
with sweet songs.

They gather
on the broken branches of Autumn,
they fill the leafless spaces
that now are only naked windows
for a colorless sky.

An ad hoc hectoring
of dark and light notes shakes a cold wind -
a song sheet for the fallen and failing.

If you watch and listen
to that black-winged rabble
all will turn into the glossy iridescence
of ethereal harp music
played solo upon the few twigs left
within these stark woods....

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