Get Your Premium Membership

Best Come Again Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Come Again poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of come again poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Come Again poems, articles about Come Again poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Come Again poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...



New Come Again Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Come Again poems are below this new poems list.

Please come again by Mitra, Sucheta
November Rain Has Come Again by Loo, Lu
Just Let The Dawn Come Again by Asuncion, Bernard F.
Love Will Come Again by Zayas, Chelsea
He Will Come Again by Redricks, Dana
Here We Come Again by Dillenbeck, Gerald
Never Greater Shall Ever Come Again by Lindley, Robert
Here, you come again by Flame, Poetic
Come again, Sweet Love by Sircar, Tuisha
TRAIN TRAIN COME AGAIN by Thajudeen, Muhammad Safa

View all new Come Again Poems

The Best Come Again Poems

Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Here, Again: The Autumn Equinox

Written for the Avebury Gorsedd, 24th September 2016  
I wish you well...

I’m here, again…
Come riding in, upon the western wave
My hair all wove with golden leaves, my breast
As pale as moonlight on a hidden grave
And all the sins of summer long confessed

I come, again…
In sweeping skirts, with white swan feathers strewn
To brush the summer dust from weary grass
Make ash of aspen, damp the flame of noon
Before the frost freeze water into glass 
 
I bring, to you…
Windfallen apples, berries from the hedge
Long shadows on the barrows, and the chalk
Wild winds to stir the willows and the sedge
And mist, and myth, down every path you walk

I’m here, again…
The promise of the harvest to fulfil
The energy of autumn, streaming through
The swirling springs that spiral round the hill
To drench the land in red and russet hue

I come, again…
Between the longest day and shortest night
To fill the blood and marrow of your bones
With all the orange glory of the light
Before the dark descend upon the stones

I bring, to you…
A cornucopia of ripened fruit
Dark juices of the vine in bottles bright
To nourish soul and body, to transmute
Your thought to dream, your dream to second sight

For I am She…
Am Autumn writ, in every field and tree
Am mistress of the Owl and running Hare
So yield unto my kiss, and blesséd be
And dance with me, oh Druid, if you dare…

@ Gail Foster 23rd September 2016


Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2016


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Poem of Ruth

The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a distant, unknown land:
Once so secure, yet now compelled to roam;
Once rich in love, she treads through foreign sands.
Her weary feet move forward but by faith;
For all left to her name is mere belief:
Mind, heart so far away she seems a wraith-
Love, happiness- all taken by a thief.

When, sometime since, her heart had broke in two,
The path of life, once single, parted way;
Forsake she could, but this she would not do-
All else was gone- with mother she would stay:
"Intreat me not to leave thee," was her plea,
"For whither thou wilt go, there will I; pray
Forbid me not to follow after thee,
For where thou lodgest I would also stay:
"Thy people shall be mine, thy God my God;
And where thou liest, I will gladly lie
Beside thee, overhead the selfsame sod;
That even then thou mightest be closeby.

"And so they twain walk on, hand clasped in hand;
Both hold the only thing they yet possess:
The younger but a stranger in the land,
An enemy, a widow in distress.

She rose before the sun to find a place
Where she might gather barley ears and wheat;
A field where she might find some needed grace
To gather for their winter store of meat:
Then Boaz comes from Bethlehem, and see,
He tarries with the reapers of the wheat:
He comes to Ruth and says, "Hear'st not thou me?
Remain until the harvest is complete:
"Go not from hence, but in my fields abide,
And let thine eyes be on the field they reap;
Behold, these maidens thou may'st work beside,
And near the reapers thou may'st ever keep."
Then to her face she fell, and wond'ringly
Asked why to her, a stranger, was so kind;
And he replied that she unfailingly
Had cleaved unto her mother with one mind,
And left her father, mother, and the soil
Of her nativity, and kissed the dust
Of some strange land wherein she meant to toil;
Forsaking gods of Moab God to trust:
"The Lord," said he, "reward thee for thy deeds,
 And recompense thy labour and thy love:
The God of Israel answer all thy needs,
And make his wings a shelter from above."
 Then said the maid, "My lord, please let me find
Some grace and favour in thy blessed sight,
For that thou hast been friendly, spoken kind,
And I am but a stranger in the night."
Then Boaz said, "At mealtime here abide;
Rest in the shade, come, sit with us and dine:
So down she sat, a reaper on each side;
She ate her wheat and dipped her bread in wine.
Then Ruth arose, and to her work she leaves:
The master thus commands his servant men,
"Let this young maid glean e'en among the sheaves;
Rebuke her not, for she shall come again;
And let some handfuls fall onto the ground,
There let them lie for my sake and for hers
That she may glean and plenty may be found;
For reasons she has need of it are pure."
And as she worked, Ruth knew not what a sight
Of beauty and of diligence she made,
As in the golden field in sunset's light
She bowed her head and knelt as if she prayed.

It came to pass that in his fields she stayed
Until the end of barley harvest came,
When mother told the lovely little maid
To seek for his provision and his name.
She washed and dripped an oil filled with sweet
Perfumes of wild roses on her face:
She had not much; her beauty was complete
With but her finest clothes to seek his grace.
Her braided hair shone brighter than the gem
That never graced her soft and shapely form;
Her eyes, they sparkled brighter than the hem
Of gold and pearls that she had never worn:
Thus Ruth went down unto the threshing floor
Where Boaz winnowed barley till the night,
And peeked at him so shyly 'round the door;
She never let him leave her searching sight.
His workday done, the master ate and drank;
With happiness his heart was full when fed:
Then by a heap of wheat he went and sank
Into the furry robes that made his bed;
And Ruth, a while watching till he sleep
Kept vigil from a stone used as a seat,
Till when his eyes had closed and sleep was deep
She lifted up the cover from his feet
And softly laid her down and dreamed of brides
Until the watchman struck a dozen beats,
And being startled, Boaz woke and spied
A woman sleeping at his very feet:
"Who art thou?" queried he in sleepy voice;
"Thine handmaid, Ruth," was her unsure reply;
Then blessed he her for wise and kindly choice,
For passing poor and rich young fellows by.
"And now, my daughter, gladly shall I do
According to thy wishes, for all here
Consider thee as virtuous and true;
Howbeit, there is one to thee more near,
A kinsman who must duly have his say:
If he decline, then rest assured I will
Perform the part of kinsman." So she lay
Down at his feet, and both were quiet, still.

In grey of early morning she arose,
Before a face could be discernéd there;
To keep from what some people might suppose
And who might stand along the road to stare:
Then Boaz said, "Bring here the vail thou hast
Upon thy head and hold it in thy hand:
Six times the barley measure filled and passed
From heap to vail as much as she could stand.
Then Boaz went up to the city gate
To find the nearer kinsman, whom he sought,
To see if he would purchase the estate
Of Ruth, and she herself, but he could not;
So Boaz purchased all the widows' land;
The houses, barns, and fields, though overgrown;
And bought what pleased him most, Ruth's comely hand
To cherish and to make his very own:
Then Boaz went to find the handmaid, Ruth
And lift her from a servant to a wife;
To love her in all tenderness and truth
In every day God blessed them both with life.



[By Isaiah Zerbst. Published 9/7/14. Parts of poem have been removed due to soup's limitations.]






Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2014


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Last Call

He left his sneakers by the shore
A backpack too, was laid aside
to pick up when the sun had died

He claimed his other gear, instead
The thrill of rapids filled his head
and sounds of water drew him in
             His sneakers, backpack cast aside
             would wait 'til dusk, upon the grass
             when he returned to don again

They did not hear the roaring tides
They did not hear the shouts of fright
Nor did they hear, at last, the call
That came from voices through the night

Calls from those who searched the dark
While water surged and moonlight fell
And rushed instead,  to grip a life
              His sneakers, backpack, cast aside
              assumed that he would come again

His sneakers wait, .........he kicked them off
In haste his backpack, too, was tossed
The river flows...... and all was lost
The cost was more than words explain

There's someone home who got the call
The words so wild, the last, that came

                 His sneakers, backpack, cast aside
                 assumed that he'd return again
                 It lies not in their province now,
                 to know the cost of human pain


___________________________________________________________
(Based, sadly, on a true event, and someone I once knew)
10/23/15   For the Contest: "Hear The Call" triple prompt
Resubmitted for Skat's Premiere Contest # 11...... 9/16/16



Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Play Rain

Listen to poem:
Play rain , play melancholic tunes Play closely to my ear, I need to hear I want to listen to Sinatra's toe-tap sounds As you fall, fall slowly to the ground outside my great-grandmother's house. Play rain, Come down and break the silence Bring puddles to the desert Puddles far from clear, yet fresh enough to jump into, to jump in muddy waters to step within the dormant child to free the one I'm not from who I am Play rain, play melancholic tunes Wash away my present ,So I recall my past Let me find night's music as you patter on the old tin roof like a symphonic flute. Let me search for who I am , who I was why, and where Why do I fight this little girl inside ? This little girl who screams , who begs, who yearns to run, to get her white shirt soaking wet to splish and to splash , to be whom She's meant to be Daughter of the wild. Rain , rain, come again Let those drip drops stream , over my shoulders All way down my back, and across my thighs. Let me sail upon your rivers Holy waters - Dirty Waters Any water, better than a dry land where only cactus will survive. Rain, rain, Let me feel your touch upon my lips Rub gently against my skin Let me taste your every trickle Rebirth in me with all the blowing winds Cleanse all sweet hypocratic lies, anytime Tease me with your whisper Evoke in me the childhood magic Make it last throughout the years Rain, rain, pour down your sky light showers Let them hide away my fears Fears, tears, Fears...and more tears. Rain, rain , play and make me smile.
Inspired by Nikko's blog about Rain , Thanks Nikko !


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Before the Rain is Gone

She kept it all inside her
and never spoke a word,
though her thoughts flew and darted
like a trapped and frantic bird.

Inside her was a garden
that was hung with Spanish moss,
like the massive oaks were weeping
to remind her of her loss..

The spider wove at breakneck speed,
a perfect work of art,
watching it, she had her doubts
that humans were so smart.

The southern air was sultry
and the sea salt cloyed the skin,
 the yard dogs dug depressions
and the alley cats grew thin.

The black top roads got sticky
when the southern sun beat down
and the heat forever rises
forming monstrous thunderclouds.

When the blue sky rolls and blackens
soon the thunder shakes the ground
and the southern landscape flattens
as the blinding rain pours down.

Nostrils flared, she filled her lungs
with the dank and heady scent
of peat-rich soil, decay and loam,
of lavender and mint.

And in her secret garden,
reptiles raised their faces high,
and blessed the cooling water
that came pouring from the sky.

She loved the iridescence
of the blue-green dragonflies
and marveled at their flying skills
as they went whirring by.

The rain soon turned magnolia leaves
into miniature garden ponds,
there the dragonflies must lay their eggs
before the rain is gone.

Wrens and sparrows chirped and chattered,
they enjoyed the cooling rain,
but the squirrels were wet and grumpy
and the jays were raising Cain.

The girl did not seek cover
and the rain ran down her face,
on her lashes rain drops trembled,
much like crystals gently placed.

The thunder never frightened her
nor did the lightning scare,
to nature she was connected,
to living things, aware.

She lived in every moment,
soon the thunderstorm would end
and the dark earth would start steaming,
then the heat would come again.

Suddenly all fell silent
in her garden of delights,
all living things were quiet
as the steam began to rise.

The gray squirrel broke the silence
and if squirrels could really speak,
she knew he would be cursing,
surely swearing a blue streak.

And then she saw the blue jay
madly pumping out his call,
his angry face was comical
Mohawk feathers standing tall.

She swam the Sea of Apathy
and the Ocean of Ennui,
there the waves upheld her gently,
washing over memories.

And the earthworms turned the soil
in the garden of her mind
and the trees again were weeping
from the echoes left behind.


Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2008


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The First Bloom

You wonder why, my love
These memories flitter in the hallways of my mind
Knocking on the door
of every room
Where I’ve hung
Do not Disturb Signs
For I don’t want to remember you
My Paradise Lost and yet….

Oh, you wonder why, my love
I still rise to open the door
Why I fling them open wide
When each memory comes calling
Why I let them come inside
And sit here at my table
While I play the gracious host
As I listen to each memory repeat
The love story I love most...

You wonder why, my darling
I sit in rapt attention
Dabbing at a tear
While I smile
A sweet smile of remembrance
As one by one
They kiss my cheek in greeting

They all sit around me
Each one vying for my attention
These sweet memory guests
Are there to make sure
The visions are ever fresh
And so one runs his fingers through my hair
I close my eyes
Giving in to his ministration
But he couples it with kisses on my nape
To keep me awake
For he remembers the times
When your fingers playing with my hair
Would entice my eyelids to close
So the kisses he keeps coming
Preparing me
For what is to come...

The other memory holds my hand
Caressing tenderly
Making love to my fingers with his own
Intertwining and releasing
Whispering in my ear
In husky whispers of love
And I melt
I melt
At the resonance of his voice
The memory of enticement
The Prelude

I gaze down to look into the eyes
Of the memory guest sitting at my feet
I see there the devotion
Of someone at a shrine
As he looks up into my eyes
His hands on either side of me
His palms caressing my legs
Kissing as he goes along….
They are preparing me 
For the memory that has been waiting at the door

He watches intently
My favorite memory
There just inside the room of my mind
Of my wildest fantasies
He has been here before
He has been here often
What nights those were
What days
When he would ravish me
Till I could hardly breathe
Fatigued and spent
In the aftermath of his
Love storm

Now he stands
And though I try to rise
To close the door
I’m held back by the others
Whispering all around me
"Let him in
Let him come in."

A smile plays on his lips
As he sees me weaken
His devouring eyes take in my form
I feel the heat of his gaze
As his eyes feast on me
In my revelry of love
And at his signal
The other memories quietly leave

I look at him shyly
As he draws the filmy dream curtains tight
Blocking out the light of reality
Blocking out everything but his entity
He walks over to me
Stopping to light scented candles
Stopping to make me feel
His close proximity
He is near

He looks down at me
Claiming me before even one touch
"I’ve come my passion flower
I’ve come again to make you bloom
Like that first time
That first time
You opened up to me."

And then he is here kneeling at my feet
Undressing me
His breath hot on my breast
His hands gently probing
His mouth tasting
His tongue teasing
His fingers...pleasing
"You are altogether beautiful"
He whispers 
And I can only sigh
As the memory of that first bloom
Comes alive in my mind
And he takes me again
Takes me
Like that first time
When I discovered
What it means
To find release
Quivering on the edge of
Eternity
Suspended in time
As I give in 
And let the streams flow
Falling free
Falling
Like the tears that fall
Glistening on my rosy cheeks

And as I lay spent in the silence
Of my own dark and dreary room
Savoring the fragrance of my memory
My memory of you
My first sensual dawn
My first taste of the heady mix
Of pleasure and pain
I know I must rise
To close the door of my mind again
This time I will lock it
This time, I will throw away the key
But the memory of that first bloom
Will find a way
To visit me again….
Oh, my love
For I cannot forget you
And that very first time
You made me...
***BLOOM***

Eileen Manassian


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Today

Today I woke to the sound of sleet
etching my window;
the wind moans to enhance the mood,
my edges, ragged as the stony clouds,
bare, the trees sway and shiver 
as if to say
they understand. 

Today I wake again to sadness, stark
realization of your brokenness
I cannot mend,  
the emptiness I cannot fill.
A storm lingers in your soul,
as we vacillate, from hope to despair,
one minute reaching for life,
coming so close
only to watch it vaporize 
into the air,

lost in the solitude of your mind
you wander alone, just beyond my reach  
I can’t find the way to part the clouds, 
I can't find the way to find you again –
I miss you. 

How I wish I could take away your pain
I want to take it all onto myself. 
But I can’t stop the storm you have raging inside
any more than I can stop the rain 
from falling to the ground at my feet. 

Bittersweet, the reality
that pain is a part of living, 
and growing,
makes us stronger -
if we survive.

Today, the wind still blows,
and though my tears still fall with the rain, 
hope has come again with the dawn -
because, today, 
you are still alive.



Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2018


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Elegy for Michael Jackson (4)

Refrain
You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.

               Do you ask me why does my sorrow flow so
               Endlessly for him? Is he not gone the way 
               Of men that many went before? O I do know
               My time may not be long, and lessons delay.
               Who do think was the man in the mirror? did
               You see us there, did you know it oppressed him
               When like wanton dogs drugged and rabid
               Went heedless along the callous way being dim.

Look at the dance videos again, tell me
You see the what he begs to beat it. Off the wall
Are shadows falling like an inner expose
Where he internalized the world, and yet did call
In many songs - his troubled world was us
But now the king's sun set to dust, and we
Remain to heed and weep the vanity of lust
The tangled truths of out tentacled history!

                  Michael was God's gift to our season, and how I
                  Wish he would dance for me across the tribal plains
                  Of Africa again, where warriors ride in the sky
                  Through the fire make us brothers without chains
                  A global oneness where dreams deny the child
                  Nothing again. O death, what oneness beyond this
                  Can we find? Treat him kindly there, be mild
                  To him who in this troubled life knew no bliss.

Michael I miss you; O genius, sleep now in peace
The storms of life are over, the lightning ends
And droughts will come again, but I'll never cease
To proclaim your virtues to foes and friends;
Sleep beloved. Your glory stream in summer's eye
And Harlem's street are filled, old men remember
And old women interrupt their planning to cry
Farewell, Michael ... the grandest star is but an ember.



Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Pastel Reflections

I'll be waiting here
wading through the seasons 
Seems I can't recall the
      reasons you aren't here with me 

As I watch the trees
turn from gold,   -  to brown,     -  the leaves fall down
and swirl around to catch the tears they've found 

I believe that love
is something meant to last,  -- not like leaves
that ... only crumble, lost like a memory-               

Days have tumbled down
I've wondered how to live without you
Winter - summer -  fall, -  and spring.  -  have come again

Time recalls the years
Seasons to remember
Love can come around again,  without  the sound of tears

I have watched the leaves
drifting from the trees, then fall on down
without a song, to say goodbye....    goodbye

All the while, I wait
Just waiting for a sign  -  in the wind
Reminding you that we were once more than friends

Leaves have turned from gold
and I am growing cold, once again
While leaves are drifting down around my head

,,,,

I have watched the leaves
but, I'll keep pretending
that love could come around to us again
without the tears

I have watched the leaves
lifting from the trees, then falling down
without a song, to say goodbye....        goodbye

I keep watching leaves
lifted from the trees
gone, without a  song.........  gone, without a song         to say goodbye........




___________________________________________________
6/15/15  For the Contest: Pastel Reflections
Sponsor- Craig Cornish
Inspired by the music of Kevin Kern "Pastel Reflections"
(Be sure to listen to this beautiful music)....  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQ6owzWtjIs


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Goddess

With brilliance, clad in white, in an enchanted world,
a vision most inviting stands before my very eyes.
She treads a grassy hill beyond which mountains rise
to heaven's heights where fluffs of clouds, as if in pink, are swirled.

Her golden locks are streaming in a gentle breeze. 
Her lovely face is beaming. It's a woman-child I see.
My steps are quickening. She seems to beckon me.
But suddenly the sun is streaming; soon the maiden flees!

Who was she? Can you guess? And where has she now gone?
A little hint - she'll come again, but not till night has passed. 
Wake up bright and early; she comes and goes so fast!
Look to the sky and watch for her. She is the Goddess Dawn.



For Brian Strand's Poulter Measure (in quatrain form)


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The WORD- Heroic Crown of Sonnets

THE LAW

Yet sacrifice would cover for Love's sake
before that time, the Law was sent to guide
sin offerings appeased man's guilty state
but could not change his rebel heart inside.
The WORD was written down on Torah scrolls
with warnings and commandments to obey
God's prophesies with promises foretold
of blessings and forgiveness when they strayed.
To Israel, His people, God proclaimed
a Covenantal promise of a king
Messiah, Blessed One, would come and save
a broken people, prone to wandering.
A glimpse of hope, they waited through the years
one holy night the Promised One appeared.

THE PROMISED ONE

One holy night the Promised One appeared
You came to us in lowly manger stall
a helpless babe, to give Your life so dear
the Lamb of God, pure sacrifice for all.
While in this world You walked a sinless path
the Father's will to follow til the end
You healed the sick, the lame, the blind, and cast
the evil demons out of hearts of men.
You shared God's kingdom come to multitudes
of hungry men and women, all were fed
You broke the loaves of bread for all and knew
that one day they'd reject the Living Bread.
The Living Bread, Lord Jesus, new and fresh
God's only Son, the WORD, came in the flesh.

JESUS, THE WORD

God's only Son, the WORD, came in the flesh
fulfilling all the prophesies of old
yet scribes and pharisees would soon reject
You, Jesus, since You did not fit their mold.
Instead, You spoke of matters of the heart
not outward acts, but conflicts deep within
of pride and greed and deeds done in the dark
of right and wrong, of wickedness and sin.
You said You had God's power to forgive
if we believe, Your love could set us free
transform our hearts so we could truly live
for You would take our place up on that tree
You came to give us hope and draw us near
to preach the gospel truth for all to hear.

THE GOSPEL

To preach the gospel truth for all to hear
Your people came from all across the land
You taught in parables to make things clear
but still Your people did not understand.
For sin had marred their thinking, blinded eyes
still many listened, some believed Your words
the call went out, repent, believe, realize
You were Messiah, Son of Man, on earth.
And yet good deeds by man could not atone
for Holy God demanded righteousness
the only way to God was Christ alone
to die for sins and our rebelliousness.
You came to cover our unrighteousness
You came to save mankind from sin and death.

THE SACRIFICE

You came to save mankind from sin and death
it was the Father's will that this be done
with Holy Spirit power in Your breast
a substitute for sin You would become.
Then as was planned, one night You were betrayed
by one of Your disciples, cursed kiss!
An unjust trial, false accusers paid
Your sentence, blasphemy, then scorned and whipped.
A crown of thorns was placed upon Your head
while heading to the cross Your people scoffed
"Go save Yourself!", while silently you bled
You suffered, then you died up on that cross.
Atoning sacrifice, Your life You gave
then You arose, triumphant from the grave!

THE RESURRECTION

Then You arose, triumphant from the grave
and bursting forth, unfettered by the tomb
You broke the bonds of death, prepared the way
for us to gain eternal life with You.
With transformed body, You appeared to man
to women and disciples that You loved
appeared to crowds before Your grand ascent
a testament that You would rise above.
You carried all my sins, what matchless grace!
and conquered death for all those who believe
if I confess, believe in humble faith
You fill me with Your Spirit to receive.
You sit at God's right hand in bright array
And from above, You'll come again someday.

SONNET 14
And from above You'll come again someday
in righteousness and judgment to correct
this wicked weary world from fallen state
and reign as Holy King with Your elect.
Oh, Holy God, it is not ours to know
or understand the whats and whys and ifs
except as You reveal, as Your WORD goes
henceforth across the earth that all might live.
The truth in Your WORD challenges our hearts
to follow in obedience or scorn
the message of Your grand, redeeming part
in history, a Rose among the thorns.
New life begins, I'll sing in heaven's rhyme
the WORD was there before the dawn of time.

FUTURE PROMISE

The WORD was there before the dawn of time
His Voice, unheard by any living soul
Most Holy God proclaimed His grand design
with sounds so pure it made the angels glow.
Creator God, who knew the heart of man
desired faithfulness, a choice to make
the enemy was near to thwart God's plan
yet sacrifice would cover for Love's sake.
One holy night the Promised One appeared
God's only Son, the WORD, came in the flesh
to preach the gospel truth for all to hear
You came to save mankind from sin and death.
Then You arose, triumphant from the grave
And from above You'll come again someday.


Written 5/12/2016
Heroic Crown of Sonnets


Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2016


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Everyone Has A Story

The clouds are now fading,
as the rainbow of life breaks through,
once my tears fell heavy,
but now only a trace of misty blue.

Sometimes we have no reason,
answers can't be found,
but we still stand on our Faith,
praying for stable ground.

Many pathways are given,
that's where common sense can't be blind,
for what we choose today,
can push us forward, or leave us behind.

Years are a blessing,
if we learn from where we've been,
but if we never humble our self,
the clouds will come again.

Everyone has a story,
our journey of tears, and smiles,
we are the keepers of the memories,
and all those lifetime miles.



Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2008


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Words from the Oracle

We are in our fall before the season comes
Misting eyes and dropping a dandy heart
A sullen silence around the bee hive hums
History has no center left, facts fall apart

I have nothing left for honey but my words
Listening cleanse the eyes to see forever
Soon the sky flocks with all departing birds
Old bonds are unbroken, new loves sever

But to come again in heat and passion and lie
Cradled against the unknown of life's tomorrows
So summer goes, and sweet flowers will die
To bloom again as carpet for graves of sorrows.

Soon gold will fall from trees in a gray misty shroud
And all that was green will be brown and dim
And wild grass will bow where the land was ploughed
And wind will tap on its trumpet life's requiem


Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

November Chills Remind Me

November Chills Remind Me



As November chill creeps in
I think of June and a friend
Sun beaming so eagerly down
our spot at the edge of town

Silent moments holding me
to a time and her pitiful plea
O' that this day last forever
and my love leave me never

She saw farther than I
the thought made her cry
I thought her so wrong
right she was all along

Clime cooled and so did we
leaves fell from our tree
October faded swiftly away
Parted on a chilly November day

November chills I think of her
so gone, I know not where
Shall June ever come again
will ever I see my friend

Sun shines down upon my Soul
keeping her should have been my goal.

R.J. Lindley  09, 11, 1976 


note: Tomorrow will be two weeks and no new writes by me. 
That is other than my private writings at home.. 
Found this in a old poetry book tucked in a chest with 
divorce papers from my first wife.
Seemed fitting to present it because , well its November now.

Answer, no never saw her again. She moved away, I lost contact.
Life sent its distractions and the universe spun ever onward..


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Precious Life

A young boy sat atop a hill
Wondering at all his Father had built
He thought about the clouds, the flowers, and the trees
He thought about his life, what it all means.


Then he saw death, dark and grim
Walking up the hill, directly towards him.
With fear and dread, the young boy cried
“I am not ready, this can’t be my time.”


Death listened to the Young boy’s cry.
And asked “why should I grant you more time?
Convince me?” He said.  “Then we will see
If you are deserving.  Perhaps I’ll let you be.”


The boy stared Death directly in the eye.
He searched his heart and then knew why
His life should be spared.
Why he deserved more time.


The boy stood straight and tall on his feet
And said, “I have never sung a song so sweet.”
Never written a poem that changed a life,
Or shared a kiss with my future wife.”


Death sat and listened with intent
To the boy's argument and was convinced
That this boy was indeed sincere and true,
He would not take him with his years so few.


Death said “Go live your precious life,
Write your poem and find your wife.
Sing your song with a verse so sweet
That man will bow beneath your feet.”


“I will come again when the time is right
And we will continue our journey into the night.”
“But, heed my warning to you.
Live your life right and always be true.”


The young boy grew into a tall, strong man.
He found success, money, friends and fame.
But in all his glory he was alone
And he walked again to his childhood home.


He climbed to the top of an old familiar hill
And as he stared across the land,
He marveled at the majesty of his Father's hand
And the man sat down to ponder his life.


As he sat Death's shadow came into view
The man stood and said, “I remember you.”
“You came for me here when I was young and afraid,
And showed mercy on a small boy and set him on his way.


But, I beg you please, don’t take me today,
for I have sinned and lost my way.
I am empty inside, I still need my life.
I haven’t my poem, my song or my wife.”


Death said, “Write your poem and find your wife.
Find your song and live your life. 
When next we meet, I promise you,
Your life will end, it will be through.”


The man traveled the world and enjoyed its pleasures.
He made and lost an endless treasure.
But, time was not the man’s best friend.
And He grew old, his time was at an end.


His money spent and his friends all gone.
The old man set out to find his song.
He tried to write poetry, but couldn’t find a rhyme.
He searched for his love, but she too had faded with time.


And he came at last to a familiar space,
A tall hill overlooking a plentiful place.
The old man clambered up the steep hill
And sat in awe of his Father’s will.


And as he sat he saw a friendly face.
Death had come to their old meeting place.
Death stared into his ragged face and weathered eyes,
And said, “How are you, my friend? How have you passed the time?”


The old man stood and stared Death in the eye.
With a heavy breath, he let out a sigh.
“I never wrote my poem and I never sang my verse.
I never found my love and loneliness has been my curse.”


He paused for a moment before he said,
“I am ready my friend for my eternal bed
Take me now for I’ve nothing to show
Nothing at all for your years that I stole.”


Death took his friend who had known no harm.
Down that tired hill, they walked, arm in arm.
Through the green valley that his Father created
And into the shadows, his image faded.


Copyright © James Andersen | Year Posted 2016


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Within A Dream Divine

“Within A Dream Divine.”
By,
Michael P Clarke.

Within a dream divine we come together in our love
Your beauty shines as the sky becomes aflame
The sky now afire with the greatest desire
My love come to me in the heart of my dream
Everything merges in my dreams of passion
Soon i shall be singing love’s song
“Screaming Eagle” cries as he soars through a fiery sky
Soon he shall become man again while my dream does sing
“Prancing Horse” she is come again and she runs to me
She shall become the woman she was and my song shall sing
What joy my friends coming shall bring
The greatest joy of all lies across my legs
My “Running Wolf” is here and soon man again
Within a dream divine we shall all be together again
So many thoughts drift through my mind
My inner cosmos bringing my thoughts to an inner reality that does sing for me
Once more the blessed night shall give me life
Through my mind pictures shall dance forever
Love shall ever be mine and my friends never gone
I am “Star Maiden” and the mind is my home
“Running Wolf” do change as the last flame does leave the sky
Let us spend our night Within A Dream Divine


Copyright © Vladislav Raven | Year Posted 2017


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Lonely

Slowly he opened the drawer and looked inside.  Some time had passed since he last gazed upon the cloth that lay there.  Years perhaps.  Yes definitely years.  The blotched rusty brown stains, yellowing its whiteness, spoke of its age.  He reached in and moved the cloth aside. The chalybeous metal gleamed up at him.  The last time he touched it was when he filled it, six chambers, three full, three empty.  Fifty-fifty, why not fill them all?  It would end it so much more quickly.  The pain would be gone.  The loneliness, the ever present deep, aching loneliness would finally end.  He remembered the last time.  So long ago, he had these same feelings.  Feelings that left him doubting his life, doubting his world.  Nothing could stop these feelings as if he was falling into an abyss.  Never ending falling, deeper and deeper until all hope had left him.  The darkness of his own mind blinding him to the beauty around him.  He knew that beauty intimately, the beauty of a shared sunset, a walk on a beach, holding hands and laughing, making love in the grass in a breeze filled meadow, a single fragrant lavender rose, but what good is beauty that can't be shared?  What good is love that no one wants?  Back then there was time.  He didn't want it to end but he saw no way out. The darkness was too deep, the pain too intense.  The loneliness was simply unbearable.  His decision was to leave it to fate.  A fifty-fifty chance, fate, God, luck, call it what you will.  It was of no concern to him.

Whatever it was he was still here, and up until this moment he was glad.  He had found comfort in a warm caring relationship that lasted for years.  He even found happiness, until life intervened and it was ripped away from him.  He thought he had found it anew for a short while before he saw past their lies and felt the pain they caused.  Now time no longer mattered.  The Lonely haunted him again.  That's how he grew to know it, The Lonely.  Always present, always lurking close at hand.  Watching him.  Waiting for its moment, and its moment had finally come again.  He had but one chance left.

A beautiful person had come into his life.  Gentle and kind and full of the wonder that gave him the desire to try again.  A friend, more than a friend to him she was his saviour.  They talked and laughed and grew to know each other.  She  shared herself with him.  Not her body, nor even her love, they were saved for another, but her intimate inner self.  That part of her that was so difficult to share with anyone, even those who were closest to her.  Her true self that resided deep below the superficial face that she shared with the world.  His feelings grew for her and she enjoyed his attention which made him smile for the first time in a very, very long time, but he knew that it was destined to end when she spoke of her dreams and how they would lead her away from him.  He let himself care anyway.  Then it happened once again.  The Lonely stepped in.  He pushed her away because he was broken and he knew it, but then he had always been broken.  With this sweet, caring person that meant so much to him he found he could no longer share his feelings.  She had too much to bare in her own life to worry about shouldering his weight.

So, now, he was here again.  The Lonely pushing deeper and deeper inside of him until he reached into the drawer and hefted the weight of the metal in his hand.  It was heavier than he remembered.  He slowly walked over to his bed and leaned back against it.  His head pressed into the ornamental trim that created depth in the sleigh styled headboard.  The pain went unnoticed.  Slowly he placed the metal between his teeth.  The taste of old cleaning oil danced on his tongue.  For the briefest moment the thought of chipping a tooth flashed through his mind.  It made him chuckle deep down in his gut.  There was no fear.  There was no hesitation.  He allowed himself only an instant of remorse.  He thought about those people who had been important in his life and the beautiful times they had shared until they disappeared.  Then he wondered if they every really cared at all.  His last thoughts were of his special friend, hoping that he had not hurt her like so many had done to him.  Gently he squeezed.
 "Click."
He thought about squeezing again.  End it now!  But, Fate had spoken.  Feeling mildly disappointed he moved his hand to his lap and stared at the instrument that had let him down.  He heard a low laughter develop within him.
"Not so easy to get rid of me," it said.  The Lonely was still there.
He moved from the bed and carefully wrapped it in the cloth and placed it back in the drawer, knowing it was not the last that he would see of it.
His stomach grumbled.  Picking up his keys from the top of the dresser he turned and walked out of the door, mumbling to himself, "I guess it'll be Chinese tonight."

03/12/17


Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2017


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

On Rode the Valiant

Through the gates of Absalom,
steed and gate did ride,
charging fast and furious
o'er centuries gone by;
peace did shout in vain,
the Lidless Prophets...
must come again,
nigh is the evening sky
but full of hope

The ramparts held fast, ballast and beam,
cannon-fire bombasting flesh and bone,
groans of death ---
such dreary breath!
of decay centuries old

The Rose of all that is Earth,
her petals unsheathed,
torn for time ---
tear and antiquity ---
her red sheen lilts in the new day sun,
begging for Love, she asks:

Shall they come?




Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2017


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Mulberry Tree And its Birds One of Two

A GIFT FOR EVERYONE ESPECIALLY FOR CHILDREN BASED ON A TRUE STORY IMPORTANT NOTE: Now watch a short Video film made by me (placed on my Music Channel on You Tube) based on this Poetic story and enjoy a Great Secret revealed in this short Video Film about India's grand past and about its prosperity and how it was stolen nearly 2500years ago. Use the following URL : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l5dpe5_GRKE The Mulberry Tree & its Birds My Mulberry tree, in its season Used to get loaded With its sweet, Mulberry fruits. To eat these sweet fruits Birds of different colors and species From even far off places Used to come to eat And to play, on its branches. Watching these lovely birds When they eat Its sweet fruits and play Was a joy for the Mulberry Which can, only be felt If you ever see the Mulberry When it is loaded With its fruits and birds In the, season of Shahtoot* . 01 The birds, used to come To stretch, their colorful wings Sometimes, to show their beauty And sometimes, to show their Their affection for the tree, But, when they were In the company, of their friends And soul mates They used to sing, some lovely songs For the Mulberry tree. 02 Seasons come and seasons go The buds of yesterday, becomes A blooming flower of today As, life keep rolling With the change of time But even, in the season of Fast blowing winds The Mulberry tree remains Spreading, its smiles, Like, an innocent child. 03 Only, in the season of falls When it use to shed its leafs The tree, Becomes, sad and lonely For a while. 04 But soon again, the tree Becomes happy and smiling When, birds return And come, to Joy fully play On its, thick and thin branches The game of love and affection While singing, their songs In praise, of the Mulberry tree. 05 Hearing those Lovely sweet voices and Singing of different birds Seems very familiar sometimes But sometimes, They seem so alien To me. 06 It was not easy to understand What, these birds say and sing In their sweet lovely language and words But one thing was clear That they used to tell, The Mulberry tree That they would come again soon To eat, its sweet fruits And to sing songs For that lovely Shahtoot* Full of fruits. 07 Today, while searching and looking Towards that side of the sky Where, the Mulberry tree Used to spread, its smiles Every morning and everyday The birds find only, A blank space in the sky And they go away Sadly from there To some other place In search of a New Mulberry tree. Those colorful birds, Who used to show their presence While, playing and jumping Up and down, when they skip On the branches, Of the Mulberry tree While singing Their sweet lovely Songs, Have almost fled away For some unknown place Forever and forever. 08 Those birds Often, used to get lost In their sweet singing voices And lovely notes Which were very dear To their soul mates . 09 Ravindra Kanpur India 1st November 2013 NOTE: Protected under the copyright provisions of Poetry Soup and US copyrights. To be concluded in 2nd * Shahtoot = Mulberry


Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2013


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Relieving one's self of stress

There are so many things we like to share
And bring love in to take away care
The best way to relieve stress
Is to remember the good times and happiness

We hear the words of grief and trouble
And we know that we can halve it and not double
We have been given the gift to see the funny side
With laughter and smiles so far and wide

Sharing our stories and  kind words from the start
And the pleasure we bring will melt every heart
And help to heal loneliness, fear and pain
Then as we leave and please come again


Copyright © Vera Duggan | Year Posted 2016


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Naughty Twist to an Old Rhyme

The Build UP

One two…I want you
Three four...Kiss me more
Five six…tasty licks
Seven eight…I can’t wait
Nine ten…Come again!

The Cool Down? ;)

Ten, nine…that was fine
Eight, seven…still in heaven
Six, five….I feel alive
Four, three…more for me
Two, one…I’m undone!

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Perfect Way Home

It's winter's evening, I am driving home.  The bare trees whisper my vulnerability like a secret to the sky.  I've come again to an all too familiar crossroads; the one of dreams and fear.  I stop at the traffic light waiting but I am lost within a cold ocean of myself.  Overhead on the telephone wires, a flock of blackbirds have gathered.  The electric current keeps their toes snug and warm as they chatter; eavesdropping on my thoughts.  I wonder why the birds have chosen this particular place with all its confusion?  Perhaps they are my muse, my witnesses and they wait for a change in the signal too.  With a slight ripple in the wind and the light, their wings lift up in unison and I am lifted too.  I have no need to tarry; I turn towards the fading sun.  My heart is carried by a light haven.  Inhaling a deep breath of me, I pass a billboard that tells me to have courage.  


Copyright © Karen Dominick | Year Posted 2012


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Snowy Season

Our cold crisp air augurs an early snow before Thanksgiving. I need to look for my warm fur-lined gloves. The snow tires are heaven knows where in our cluttered garage, but they must be searched for now not later, when frozen fumbling fingers complain loudly from the cold. Every year at this time, daydreams of warm weather on a tropic isle are floating through my mind. 

                              floating blossoms drift
                              like snow in the tropic wind—
                              sun shines on sunscreen

Back to the reality of the coming winter wind as our aging oak needs to be supported and protected. This beautiful season leaves me with such contrasting feelings of joy and foreboding. Our roof was just replaced from last year’s winter wrath. Every year I swear I will be more precautiously prepared.

                              bright leaves fall from boughs
                              leaving them naked and cold—
                              north winds come early

Grey clouds begin to dominate azure skies that turn into white-out days and I begin to pray while driving on the icy roads. I pray for the safety of all of us who must trudge traffic on these precarious pavements. Careening cars coming towards me
haunts my sleep. Black ice threatens to come again, revisiting old fears of past years.

                              nimbus clouds gather
                              to darken frigid white skies—
                              flurries soon flutter

But then there is the beauty bestowed by blankets of snow covered trees and fences, tracing tree limbs with wondrous white perfect powder. An artist’s dream with a hearth burning bright inside, and outside the bright white of freshly fallen snow. Ice cycles cling to our eves in crystal prisms reflecting rainbows when the sun shyly appears.

                              as snowflakes descend
                              mirror lake freezes over—
                              evergreens will bow

What delight in watching my toddler with her nose pressed up against my winter window in such amazement of how her breath could cause the window to fog up, and how she can draw pictures with her finger on the frosty pane. 

A promised sleigh ride brings a smile to her face and to mine as we sip hot chocolate with marshmallows. The way she pronounces marshmallows is so sweet and will always remain in my memories of her youth. Snow….bring it on and I will stay warm inside with a favorite book reading rhymes to my little love in my lap. 

                              sleigh bells softly ring
                              on an adventurous ride—
                              winter wonderland


Written: November 14, 2015
For Charlotte's "Creative Haibuns" Contest


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Perfect Storm

She tried to drown out the noise
of all their mocking laughter.
Booming thunder shook the world
and lightening came quickly after.

She watched the storm above her head
with sadness in her eyes.
The pain had come again like rain
falling from the skies.

Dark gray clouds formed overhead
with no sunlight to come through.
The glowing rays were scattered away
and never got to you.

But no one came to rescue her,
there was nothing left but rain.
Even though the storm subsided;
she drowned in all her pain.


Copyright © Alex Calatayud | Year Posted 2014


Details | Come Again Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Pilgrimage

They fought the tide to own this land
A fight I did not understand
They fought the plow, they fought the drought, they fought the debt
But yet,…by God,……they owned the pride

In retrospect, I'm still ashamed
It was, my flippant pilgrimage
I had come a stranger to this place
About to step upon the moon,
A cratered space of rocks and sage
Of rolling hills, with no escape

She saw it differently, of course 
Although her body weary, worn
Her eyes were strong, ...she saw a home

Her age was then, what mine is now
It had been her home, and it had been her vow
To come again, just one more time.  

I was thirteen, and dragged along
I overlooked the great attraction
I could not see the satisfaction
I missed the light upon her face

She saw the youth she left behind
Her gray eyes drinking up the sun, 
I saw the dust, I saw the bones, 
Where she saw beauty,  I saw none .....
 
Nothing more than a sea of weeds, the crumbling brick, 
A place to shuffle my restless feet

But stories came, and they sunk in….
And now I view with wiser eyes…
She told me all these things back then…but now, I smile,… remembering.

     They had to fight to own this piece of land
     They fought the plow, they fought the drought, they fought the debt
     And yet,…oh yes,…….they owned the pride


                                                 ~~



Recited on youtube       http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kAchI2nu9yY

_______________________________________________________________
For Deb's Contest:....2nd Option..(With age comes wisdom, understanding and
                                                  appreciation. I am never too old to keep learning
                                                  and value those who came before and made me
                                                  who I am.)



______________________________________________________________


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013