Short Congealed Poems

He climbed atop
an oak on fire
Its sap transformed  
by flames concealed  

Each branch he passed
a year he traded
For what’s unseen
— by heat congealed

(Dreamsleep: October, 2024)
...

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It’s the things
we love
that destroy us
Taken inside
beyond
cover and shield

Killing us
softly
killing us sure
Lambs to the
slaughter
—heartache congealed

(Dreamsleep: August, 2023)...

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Covered thinly, by a bloody clot.
Unhealed.
Congealed.
Unwelcome obligations to eat, sleep, dress
fulfilled.
That your body is still here
is the best that can be said 
of this,
the first year....

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Pity poor cheap old Adolfo Santiago Minestrone
  Gagged on week-old baloney and congealed macaroni


        April 22, 2019
Entry in 'An Epitaph to Make us Laugh 2' contest
     Sponsor:  Jesse Rowe...

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Our backyard is a doggie toilet, how free that must feel
Asked Annie, she barked, “woof woof my hooha's congealed”
Youse guys don't know
When pooping in the snow
Freezes half way down, a mocha popsicle appeal...

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time stops to slip in ebony night,
emotive clock freezes
eternal pathos in congealed instants, 
silhouetted in the shadow of past, 
smears the strata of darkness,
designed to disguise perception lattice 
...

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It bites it claws away
Remembering yesterday
As it tears your gut unhealed
The wound festers and the blood congealed

For you know every one
The sadness can’t be undone
And the peace you crave
Will be lost as your resolve will cave.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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Time turns on wrinkled canvas,
winter spider in twilight hour 
weaves senility web, 
empty eyes wander in wasteland. 
Hedonist psyche refuses 
to gauge the grief of loss. 
Face morphs into metaphor 
for the past panorama dislodged,
captured in the snapshot 
of narcissist impulse congealed. 
...

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Reason: It saves austere
and transparent phrases 
from the filthy discord
of tortured words—opens 
congealed fists of the past. 
All is new—the bright sun 





*Mathematics&Poetry—based on a mathematical square: the number of syllables in a line equals the number of lines. 
Adapted from poetry by Czeslaw Milosz...

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Someday we will be.
Two will be congealed into one.
Two lives amalgamated together
to lead our lives as we are.
Our future lies in front of us,
an open road.
Our paths converge in unison.
Our lives unveiled
upon the earth's stage.
Concealment needed no longer.
Someday, we will lead
the life that is in our hearts.
Two hearts drumming together
uniting us forever....

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O'er valley and dale
  flashed lightning and hail
Brass buttons, glimpses of steel
 
Soon bullets whizzed by
  cringing lads' shell-shocked eyes
Severed heads seen to spin and reel

Peach-fuzzed cheeks without beard
  a frantic youth's cry seared
skies the color of blood congealed

Sharp pains split his chest
  as he sobbed up the rest
of a life lost to fortune's wheel...

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I pushed at the open door,there was no sound,no noise,just darkness all around.Dust filtered my nostrils,a mustiness of lost years inhabited my senses.A loose floorboard creaked as I headed for the stairwell,the aroma of her Chanel provoked memories of my living hell.A tear of self-pity congealed in the dirt as I switched on the light."Hello son,...I knew you'd be back...He's gone..."...

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I pushed at the open door
no sound
just darkness inside. 
Dust filtered my
nostrils, 
    a mustiness of lost years
inhabited my senses. 

A loose floorboard
creaked in the stairwell, 
the aroma 
of her Chanel provoked memories 
of my
living hell. 
A tear of self-pity congealed
in the dirt at my feet

I switched on the light
"Hello son
     I knew you'd be back;
He's gone..."...

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He pushed at the open door
no sound
just darkness inside. 
Dust filtered his
nostrils, 
    a mustiness of lost years
inhabited his senses. 

A loose floorboard
creaked in the stairwell, 
the aroma 
of her Chanel provoked memories 
of his
living hell. 
A tear of self-pity congealed
in the dirt at his feet

He switched on the light
"Hello son
     I knew you'd be back;
He's gone..."...

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I pushed at the open door,there was no sound,no noise,just darkness all around.Dust filtered my nostrils,a mustiness of lost years inhabited my senses.A loose floorboard creaked as I headed for the stairwell,the aroma of her Chanel provoked memories of my living hell.A tear of self-pity congealed in the dirt as I switched on the light."Hello son,...I knew you'd be back...He's gone..."

...and then......

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What are we but relics
of time gone by

Where painful encounters
stay undenied

The wounds may scar over
but never heal

As memory is martyred
its blood congealed

New skin tries to cover
what sutures can’t hide

Each moment recovered
a falsehood decried

With strength built on pillars
of fortunes disdain

From deep in the shadows
—our essence remains

(Dreamsleep: January, 2023)...

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in winter of congealed land
the poignant stream froze
in the desolate valley of chilled flowers
unseen in the hills of blues

the spring of revived longing
melted glacier of innate hearty content 
in lacustrine luster of sapphire embrace
where the blocks of essence ice 
perched on actuality stones of yearned shore
formed the obelisk icon
the eternal connection 
between the heavenly sky 
and endless life force
...

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re-post inspired by Constance form D contest

THICKER THAN WATER

I pushed at the open door, no sound
just darkness inside. Dust filtered my
nostrils, a mustiness of lost years
inhabited my senses. A loose floorboard
creaked in the stairwell, the aroma 
of her Chanel provoked memories of my
living hell. A tear of self-pity congealed
in the dirt at my feet.I switched on the light,
"Hello son I knew you'd be back;He's gone..."...

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The sunrise was like a fertilized egg
golden of yolk and flecked with blood,
it crowed to the mist filled morn.
It ran over the hillside frying the vegetation.
The brilliant white albumen flowed
into the vague gray day.

The egg itself blushed at the flattery
extending pseudo pods of white 
like rays outward against 
the steel gray of the frying pan
it's yolk congealed a burgeoning
like the celestial eye of Ra....

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Lightning's her giggle
Thunder's her belly laugh
Rainbow's Nature's smile

Rivulets run down
Like tears from a weeping hill
Quenching valley's thirst

Stars have no power
There's no magic in moonlight
Rain's not angels' tears

With time and nature
Diamonds from coal and pearls
Congealed oyster spit

You can't fool Nature
She demands variety
All part of the Plan

From Nature's viewpoint
Each season in its own turn
Is the loveliest...

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dreams
conjures
fantasy ~ 
A gilded cage
or Icarus' wings?
the amethyst sky sings
serenading us, who sleeps
ephemeral though we may be
through this effervescent escapade
we who dream drifts along eternity

Eternity abides in those who dream
unwinding hopes too often congealed 
painting the night with faith yet found
who can see illusions speak?
This unfeeling façade
beguiling the eyes
wipes our essence
redressing
them with
haze
...

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abstract endings pacified 

  pedestrian beginnings, 

save yourself before

             you're slap-happy,

 choking on interloping bourgeois 

       mind-control subterfuge

   under a darkly cast spell of

plebeian sugarcoated reality,

  waxing tween whitewashed rainbow

        hues and unicorn attitudes,

  beyond uncompromising comeuppances

     from behind unglued glossed over walls'

                congealed mid exoneration's excuses...

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“OYE” (“HARMATTAN”)
[BY OHWOJEVWE ESE GANIYU]


When
	On harmattan wings
Flapped iced
Into my oblongata cold
Into moneyless sadness
Of our Saussure’s paper
Locked in
Folic signified signifier
In language
Too much mystique in
Folic signifier signified
Till tides come
When
On glorious dawns day
We acknowledge
That those potholes
We 
Wobbled our way through 
In 
Thorns trumpeted
Into our ears 
Too congealed
To hear Bata drums
Hypnotizing us
Into spag queens hall....

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time, fickle mistress, turned away,
as a child runs to play,

next time as we're looking down
the child's grown and no where found,

and as life's minutes slowly tick
our rushing moments never stick,

a smile, a touch, a windblown field
are left in a past so soon congealed,

grasping desperate for the years
burning older through our tears,

laughter soon a gasping sigh
played out music, fading cry,

so turn your eyes to breaking dawn
life explained in a small dog's yawn......

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