Best Reassemble Poems
Erector sets and wooden blocks
Dominoes and house of cards
Built way up to be knocked down
Scattered all across the ground
Model cars and airplane kits
Making sure each piece will fit
Snapped together without glue
Just to fall apart on you
Puzzles without all the pieces
Will not work and it decreases
The fun and joy of finishing
A picture without it's full scene
All these things can fall apart
Or not be finished from the start
Like a love without the trust
Which is a necessary must
So it doesn't break and tremble
And you have to reassemble
Two hearts with a solid glue
So it doesn't fall on you
From a height that is too high
To complete---you let it die
From a lack of love and care
Broken too much for repair
Sometimes I catch them easily,
The words I'm reaching for;
At other times watch helplessly
As they crash to the floor.
I try to reassemble but
They've landed in a jumble.
I grab too fast for floaters and
My chair and I both tumble.
Susie thinks it is hilarious
And joins into the fun.
Before she hears my "stop", she has
Already swallowed one.
I am truly very sorry
There are no poems from me.
You will know why when I tell you
My dog ate my poetry.
Won 3rd place
Restless restoration
Return
Remove all the rubble remaining from the rampant rift you released and retracted
Remember?
I recognized and revealed your ravishing rituals and repugnant relations
Rippling into your relentless rampage
A recycled retaliation, resonating with regret and self-revolt
A response reused rather than repenting the wrong
Ravaging our rare relics of reverie without remorse in your ruthless rage
You have rendered a realm of ruin; relinquished of reason and rightful retribution
Reliving the reoccurring rumbles of this relationship as I rummage through the wreckage and reassemble the rivets and fallen rafters
You have run out of radius, only to reappear in my retrograding reflections
Recollecting till I rupture and regress
Reminiscing, recalling the rapture and revelry repeatedly
The rain that remains is relevantly rational
A requiem to rot for the rest of this reality?
Reevaluate righteous relief
Rust over, rise up or seek revenge
Peace
It’s ironic
It’s irenic
So….let’s play a game
we’ll dump out the contents
of 87 different jigsaw puzzles
mix them all up and then
reassemble them
as ONE unified whole.
This must be done without
altering any of the edges
shapes or beliefs
of any of the pieces.
We must also preserve
the integrity and culture
of every empty box
while maintaining
the dignity and ethnicity
of each of the eighty-seven thousand
individual pieces seeking inclusion.
Alas, it would seem
that peace is an
ironic
irenic
dream
John G. Lawless
©1/13/2022
The distant flash of guns, like fireworks
in Yorkshire Dales, a November, long past;
soon followed by deep rumbling, thunder
that usually precedes rain, but not today.
The boy, marching, singing with his pals
moving ever further from Tipperary.
Wherever that was.
Soon, ragged men start passing,
arriving from where he's going.
The boy thinks he sees a friend
it's hard to tell;
there's just a gaping hole below the eyes
the man groping for a dangling mandible
trying to reassemble a face;
dying questioning eyes meet.
A growling sergeant moves them on,
"forward, boys."
The singing stops
eyes dart from side to side
the proud upright march
becoming a bowed, furtive walk.
Tomorrow, the boy will take his gun
and march across
as un-yet fields of scarlet poppies
towards the enemy;
or so he's told.
He will never pull the trigger,
he will not have time.
GUNS Poetry Contest: Placed 1st.
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
Date wrote: 25-04-2021
Her hand extended to caress my face,
to wipe the tears away.
gentle with a sense of grace.
putting back the parts that fray.
Hand approaching,
instinctive defense kicks in,
involuntarily coaching,
mind offline, nerves began to spin.
My arm moves on its own,
wrist meets hand, bumping it aside.
a movement sealed within my bone
my eyes open wide.
The flashes are back,
seventh grade.
a girl clothed in black,
unsure why she was made.
A boy about her age,
with fist or word,
externalizing his feeling of rage
making her feel unheard.
his foot against my shin
The force splintering in pain.
he will do anything to win
he has become my bane.
Fist against the locker,
inches from my face.
I hide the fear, what a shocker.
leaving just a trace.
His words piercing my skin,
hate for myself permeates,
the boundaries of what I let in,
weakening my mental states.
For a year I forgave,
each hurtful move,
I dug my own grave
wanting to prove,
(that I was ok)
The flash has ended.
My hands tremble,
thoughts are blended
my mind begins to reassemble.
I guide her hand,
his rule has come to an end
those words will no longer land,
I chose to let those holes mend.
You will no longer have power over me.
You have lost that right
why cant you see,
my soul in now light.
This is my life,
and it is a gift,
I will not fill it with strife,
From my path I shall not drift.
I am stronger now,
I've made the choice to live,
And you'll never guess how.
I chose to forgive.
Are you even out there
Or is this another religious term
Cause how am I suppose to
knowingly wait
If your not even confirmed
The perfect man, like a treasure
concealed
But can't your hurry already and be
revealed
It's hard when God made every
male with so much appeal
It really is Gods fault
He made me a woman
Making me wait for my own song of
Solomon
But now I'm solemn, and
This waiting takes too long
Searching for Mr. right
In a world of Mr. wrongs
What will it hurt if I give myself
away
Nothing physical of course, just
flirtatious play
Hormonal needs that I must attend
to
But don't worry my love I'm still
waiting for you
I hear scripture say
Do not awake love before its time
Ha, Solomen get with the times
In this world I must work to get was
is rightfully mine
So if I want love, it'll be my job to
find
it.
But don't worry future husband I'm
to smart to settle
Even If I pass around my blossomed
heart, you'll still have one petal.
Of course it might be crumbled
from the last chosen vessel.
But Gods is a god of renewel and
reassemble
So its all good
I know its not the destiny I need to
choose
But its hard hanging around friends
who do nothing but pursue
Relationship flings that they fling
themselves to
Yet still have a happily ever after
come true
While I sit around waiting like a
lose-r
Trust me okay, I understand the
stake
But if I give my heart to God who
knows how long it'll take
It's not a reluctant, eye rolling
choice to make
But one of determination I must
partake
So I'll wait, for your sake
Your worth the wait, I tell myself
Until the time is right, I'll be
readying myself.
Spending time with the One who
knows me better them myself.
Only then will He bring someone I
can love as myself
And like my Savior I know you'll be
Confirmed by my heart with every
prophecy
So that when I see
The mirrored reflection of your life
It'll remind me of the passion that I
Have for my Christ
Give me patience oh God
For I'm still learning
Though my flesh rebels
I'm still yearning
Don't give up on me my prince
Though emotions are burning
Waiting i'll be
for the only one who is worthy
The late afternoon sun is quickly setting
I walk alone along the graying concrete path
And spy an army of ants crawling over a dead bug
Even the smallest ants cast long shadows.
Masses of ants march swiftly and efficiently
Covering the corpse and dismantling its innards
Going about their task without hesitation
Even the smallest ants cast long shadows.
Bending down, I touch the ants and they scatter
Momentary confusion creates temporary discord
Quickly they reassemble and resume their task
Even the smallest ants cast long shadows.
Written on 1/11/2015
Decisions made, the poem you write,
Hold hidden meaning from your sight.
Will never soothe a welling tear
Or aptly tame a childhood fear.
A retrospect of yesterday
Won't reassemble for display
Or paint a canvased future doubt,
As colors dimmed by years fade out.
Just as the roads you chose ahead
No longer trace the steps you tread.
How dull the scattered remnants bought
And not the glittered gold you sought.
Gene Bourne.
03-31-14
.
Cyborg Sleep
An image of a man stands serene against the rock cold wall
Vigilant eyes study the distant city
Elongated and curved shapes form in his mechanical mind
Only nature there to sense it’s out of place motions
The cybernetic organism, alien life
Coming to life on the barren world
A living machine, automaton, a time sentinel
Built with purpose
Watches with singular intent
All there is…. all that’s left
Never flinching…. Nearly motionless…. somber in demeanor
This replica of humans holds solid ground and waits
Programed to move occasionally at times
To generate power in its core components to survive
The guardian of humanity stands
A solid figure with a small metallic vile
Sheltered within hides a remnant DNA specimen strand
(It is the last fragment of human’s survival and hope)
Nestled deep in the power source
Atomic silent and serene it keeps the centuries still
In time to come, with luck
The cyborg will be cracked open like an egg one day
Perhaps by another benevolent humanoid race
To reassemble the family of man from the remnants left
Or the time sentinel will roam the Earth alone
Carrying humanity along literally in the heart
In an endless awakening from alien sleep
No one to ever know the secret that he keeps
It is not only the candle wick that burns this windy autumn night.
There was a tinge of scarlet as well - now shockingly visible! -
behind the beige drapes of the dilapidated living room
of a cobwebbed cottage (both internal and external).
One last great burst of flame was extinguished,
as the heavenly lantern was swallowed whole;
and in its place, spewed out, one crater
filled silver sickle of a harvest moon.
Can you feel from temple to temple
stagnant synapses reassemble?
As bloated television screens
for the final time dwindle
into
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#haiku I imprint my heart . a fingerprint of my soul . the clay of your eyes #poem
#haiku The delicate sound . a star makes when it twinkles . galaxy's whisper #poem
#haiku I hear clear voices . resonating to my ears . my heart's fantasy #poem
#haiku The shades of night fell . as curtains of the opera . Ending the act: day #poem
#haiku Delicate detail . overlaying skeleton . disguising structure #poem
#haiku Railroads of my thoughts . Locomotion of pulses . One to another
#haiku Speakled mist in air . slowmotion movement between . scene to scene of town
#haiku Nautical daydreams . her dress fluttering like sails . anchored to my heart
#haiku Orange glow on ceiling . fades a dark eternity . these curious shades
#haiku Yesterday's winter . a memory frozen for . tomorrows summer
#haiku My heart is a time-machine . broken: out of order . doomed to the present
If I was a fly, I would fly as high as I could, then just fall to the ground sniff
asphalt glistens new . sparkling in the lamp-light . clean glaze of clear ice #haiku #weblit
Let me tattoo her . heart and name onto my soul . to take on death's wings. #haiku #weblit
Don't devour my words . try to reassemble my eyes . just listen to what's there #haiku
#poem
Adolescence leaves . individuality . a thing of the past #haiku #poem #poetry #weblit
Water containing . starlight sprinkles from heaven . colors of cosmos #haiku #writing
#writer #art
If I could delete . All of the sins from my heart . What knowledge would go #haiku #poetry
#weblit #lit
A shot through the dark . a single shooting star leaves . memories of then #haiku #poetry
#weblit #lit #literature #poems #poem #writing
Poetry Soup, The foundation where I’m planting my roots,
Lassoed by a rope that’s never loose,
Always bringing me back,
I’m here, ready with no fear, high jacking minds causing post traumatic panic attacks,
Ya no match for Quincy Mac! Always attacking while on track,
Was once a street rat, intellectually faster and now your poetic master!
The Rhyme Advancer with the answers,
With deadly sexy stances of grammar,
Aggressive techniques you don’t seek, seen as dangerous, so you lag and stagger,
Dancing with words bringing this banger,
Too advanced, for the ignorant class, who lack comprehensive swagger,
Picking up my spanners, I assemble transcendental concepts making you tremble,
Majority blessed by their synthetic environment, so minds are simple, worthless like a pimple,
Needing popped, shocked into trauma, so you wake to the storm of the west,
Always assuming ignorance is an asset,
A threat to ya well-being, intelligence tells us we should want to know about everything,
So learn to THINK, in sync with observations that interlink with the missing link,
Quick, question your sick social rank, thoughts go blank? No one to thank for wise principals,
I perceive myself as a human individual, home is earth, but cursed with feeble people influenced by evil,
Been told I’m on a different level, NO! Believing this will take hold of my ego,
Instead I write with flow and send out these writings to your brains radio, So turn it up!
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow I pickup bombs of ammo,
As I undergo experiences growing my vocab to blow minds,
The Knowledge Mastermind, of good and the upheaval of fallen thoughts of evils,
Painting life right now, in this domain claiming a divine easel, that equals more than worldly rules,
Prepare ya tools, Reassemble your sanity from all the insanity and ball,
**** in the air, frequencies of fecal matter disrupting what you think, to you its nonexistent and nothing,
Writings encoded deeply, not for the sleepy, hard to put together like a double sided puzzle,
All or nothing, no trouble, with balance keeping an eye on my surroundings, while under my angels wings.
Quincy Mac
Date written: 11.6.2016
Through troubled times of struggle, hearts were muddled, I'd dissemble,
I'd drop your hand, chest buckles, you withstand and reassemble,
you've restored so many times what I've tore down, disassembled...
you understand my loss, first hand, "I love you", your lips trembled.
Though record shows my deeds forgo your love, you're more than gentle,
refused the bounds of apprehension, tension disassembled,
unleashed affection, your devotion, yet emotions tremble,
there's something uncontrolled, it has a hold within, it's mental.
Your intuition, my acts of indecision, temperamental,
propriety, on my behalf, falls way short of monumental.
Your heart permits my love, undeserving, unconditional,
though reservations pull back elation, unpredictable.
I promise you my heart, my spirit, it's unequivocal,
you complete the parts of me I thought were integral.
Burdens, troubles, tension, dissension, all now invisible,
all replaced by exuberance I once thought was mythical.
Trepidation, dread, fixation on perceived forged fictionals,
bring forth false truths expected to be unpredictable.
Look forward, opened heart and eyes, keep close what's fundamental,
I understand your fear, first hand, "I love you", my lips tremble.
Last season that ended in October
is now past, and something to remember.
The players are called the “boys of summer”
Here they reassemble in February’s winter.
Some of them report to training in Florida.
The others are on the fields in Arizona.
Why are they here? What is the reason?
They are getting ready for another baseball season.
The veterans are scraping the off season rust.
Rookies want to make the club hoping it’s not a bust.
Hitting and fielding; it’s time to get loose.
Muscles ache after they have not been in use.
It is cold now, but it will soon be hot.
Now is the time to show what the players have got.