Short Consigned Poems

It is impossible to live at peace with an enemy for whom peace is anathema.*


Anathema meaning “a person or thing accursed or consigned to damnation or destruction.”...

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A spring was made and then consigned
   In spiral form to serve mankind.
   There's tension in the shape,
   It's aching to escape
   From python hold and then unwind. 

   -------------------------------------------...

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I am the ghastly red face consigned upon a black canvas. The capacity of my hands become quite knavish tricks with minacious intent. I am the ineluctable doom the will run down your way like trailing clouds of lightning. I drink your blood and I feast on your skin....

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their seasonal fling
leaves little imagining ~
passion's bits abound
naked, shamed, consigned to wait,
redeeming spring, yet far off…


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for the Autumn Reverie 2 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Jcb Bruh
written 11/13/23...

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Said before 
Wasted words 
Nothing more 
Alone now 
In the silence 
In the darkness 
Nightfall 
Day's end
Life's end 
Consigned to the grave 
Said before 
Wasted words 
Nothing more 


      W.A CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly. 2022


       26/3/22...

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The only one along this road… 
riding shotgun through my mind
Tomorrow waits for someone else,
lost wanderings consigned
Forgetting what the moment augurs,
living in the past
Confirming what I’m most afraid of
—behind whoever’s last

(The New Room: January, 2022)...

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My brother went to limbo
Stillborn and unbaptized
Faultless but Original Sin
Status unknown
A soul in liminal space
Lost between heaven and hell 
Damnation spared 
Salvation denied 
Consigned by papal decree
Resigned to the Mercy of God 
Wrenched, a mother's heart...

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If karma were a thing
I would say bad musical scores
get consigned
to live their next lives
as the symphony of unheard notes
played out on medical devices
until someone actually hears them
or they draw someone else back from the dead
in sheer desperation
having successfully escaped
hell...

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Battles we wage, an ego urge
A dream life, make belief
Belying delight of bliss surge
Soul lost; our thoughts the thief

Play earth role, as assigned
With pulse of love aligned
Desires, to bin consigned 

Actor on stage
Battles we wage

29-September-2021
Quietus...

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the intense quiet could shatter glass
it was despair at its finest point
the way the movements were all consigned
to one single breadth
no one could make a sound
without the approval of the clock
and the world was flatlined
no fortunate adventures
the gaping holes of being lost in time
without a single way out....

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Say When Flynn

Now that Flynn resigned,
Where else can he be consigned;
Removed from my mind.

What he left behind
Won't receive a Valentine;
Shivers up my spine.

Next who will Trump pick;
Common sense hope has a lick;
Not end up the crick.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Precarious Poet...

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Why are politicans always so sure about the future being better any whichway?

whilst they are continually addressing past mistakes all day?

that were never going to happen in their future anyway!

but they never want to go back to their past either way

and why can't they just be happy with the way things are (today?)

Joe Maverick...

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Long years back writing just was a job,
To my boss— a bugbear, my pet lob,
It then turned to hobby—
To numb noise my Dolby,
My life’s passion by now consigned FOB
Of an unpaid cabby,
A do-not-so hubby,
A horse in harness, show-off doorknob.
_________________________________
FOB: Free on board as in shipments
Reflections |02.05.2023| humour...

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Dreams of a fetus shattered
Your bitter hate 
Praying for its demise
Dancing for rain
Cutting the umbilical cord that brings you life

Dead inside
Just a forgotten carrion
Left in the battlefield
Mourning the divorce of your sanctity

Suicidal dolls, disguised as love
Begging for death
Swallowing my fate 
Consigned by you


©  2008 Courtney Dyer...

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Soul ascends only after lower mind dies,
requiring us to relinquish each desire,
that thus upon heeding our soul’s fervent cries,
our ego’s consigned to the funeral pyre.
Drums of heaven resound in our glowing heart,
where breath by breath we feel bliss ignition start,
wherein whence touched by God, we become the flame,
radiating love and light that has no name....

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How much profit
have you made
on your greed

The bursar 
of hell
wants to know

How has your
 avarice
lived unrestrained

A glutton
those starving
in tow

How many times
have you dealt
from the bottom

Betting
the players
were blind

Sleeving that ace
that sends
you to hell

In debt
to the devil
—consigned

(Villanova University: November, 2023)...

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I used to clearly see your face
But now you’re gone; as if erased,
Misplaced, or hid, or left behind,
Or lost somewhere inside my mind
I want you back; my heart is twined -
A Celtic knot I can’t unwind 
That aches your loss; I feel consigned
To memory’s unfair design
How can I love you, yet be blind?
You’re still a blank, still undefined
I keep on searching, frantic paced
I need to fill this empty space…


7/11/12...

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A single petal of some fallen rose
Swims in a sea of spring-time breeze-
Like a whirling, frolicsome child
It dances at play on the sun's jeweled stage...

But for a while...

As Day too soon veils its light
In eventide's repose,
And Wind withdraws its lifting breath,
With a wordless cry, and trembling
The petal plunges, resigned,
Consigned to the greying earth
To die, silent,
In an endless ebon Night......

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Have ye been touched not yet by magnetism,
ushering deep wisdom, unknown to mind,
rapture of bliss pervading body prism,
causing us to become with love aligned,
with fears and desires to the bin consigned?
Befriending silence, piercing the vast void,
the demons of darkness are then destroyed,
whereupon doing nothing we so see,
our true Self as light, shaped as a spheroid,
revealing to us, we were always free....

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This Wednesday morning in Canberra
There will be a review of wether there
Is any benefit in introducing digital id
In Australia, As we know there is not.'
It is a soulless thing..Completely against
The Australian spirit, of new beginnings
And support for each other.' This is not
Fair it should be slated.' And consigned
To a history that we use to learn from as
We build a future, a Country' that the world
Can learn from.!...

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Wherefrom does arise that impulse divine,
which we deludedly claim as our own,
thus offerings of grace decline?

In the void of silence, we dethrone
wayward ego birthing fear and desire,
whence mellow and gentle becomes our tone.

Having consigned ego to the funeral pyre,
all that remains is presence aware,
radiating God’s eternal fire.

Recognise oh hermit, each thought as a snare ~
Call of God beseeches that with love we pair...

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Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
One girl grassed him up  and the cops came along
And then he sang a quite different song
It was all consensual, he said, and harmless fun. 
The boys in blue just shrugged and ran him in.
Now Sir mopes alone in his cold dark cell.
All that fun has consigned him to his time in hell
To his unending   and abiding  shame
The sex offenders' register now carries his name


...

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A mermaid sure caused a commotion
by skinny dipping in the ocean
her body is bare
which makes seamen stare
and dreaming to rub in sun lotion

An angler nets her; it’s a shocker
she struggles, he grabs her left knocker
This makes her irate
and it seals his fate -
he’s consigned to Davy Jones locker!

Both limericks 9,9,5,5,9  - checked with how many syllables


Two Sea Themed Limericks Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin

7/29/19...

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You don't know how this feels,
  the pain compacting my chest,
the pressure bearing down,
  laying my heart to rest.
Ashes and dust assail me,
  filling my aching throat,
gasping and flailing, a drowning man
  unable to keep afloat.
I feel I'm in a grave
  whilst dirt is shovelled down,
covering up my face and eyes
  consigned to the cold, cold ground.
I cannot breathe without you,
  I don't know how to survive,
the thought you don't love me
  is burying me alive......

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Mole would have been a gardener,
but he just couldn’t see.
He was consigned to dig and dig
and wander aimlessly.

But then a woodland faerie
popped him upon the snout,
gave him a bulbous brownish thing,
told him to let it sprout.

She said, when you can feel the shoots,
then cut it into chunks,
and bury them deep in the ground,
and wait a couple months.

He didn’t quite believe her,
but much to his surprise,
that idaho did start to grow,
and now he’s got his eyes....

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