Best Recreated Poems
Moments that are recreated
are moments of counterfeit.
They will never live up
to the original's intent.
Trying to relive a moment
is a waste of time.
Moments belong in the moment
in the memory of the mind.
A pose cannot capture
a moment's true face.
Moments that matter
have their own time and place.
Trying to capture a moment
is like trying to capture a firefly.
Once caught in the hand
he will never shine like he did in the sky.
Moments are not to be
taken out and shown.
But moments are to be set free
and let die on their own.
9/21/18
Categories:
recreated, memory,
Form:
Rhyme
Huddled over that old black radio
waiting for the final announcement
School canceled tomorrow!
Bedtime? We actually have to SLEEP?
Where am I? Is that light coming from...
No-No! Don't look out the window!
Then-how-what-when-where?
Oh me oh my, the door, the front door
Some has swept up onto the porch
And the steps, the steps!
Breathe a deep, icy breath first
Go ahead now, look on out and note
how everything is smothered,
smothered, muffled and quieted
by the blanket that covers all,
covers all but the perfect silence
Breath another deep, icy breath
Go ahead now, step on out
Step out in the yard and note
dainty, delicate bird tracks
And rabbit footprints too?
(How DARE they get here first?)
Fence posts measure how much
Wearing comical, tilted hats
Pesky sprinkles of sleet
tease and tickle my nose
Like a magical wide-awake dream,
familiar yet so unfamiliar
A brand-spanking new kingdom of white
custom recreated just for me
Oh, you BAD little boy!
Will you again tromp out and ruin
Mother Nature's picture of perfection
and forever scar this eternal moment?
Oh yes, I believe you will
Hurry! Get dressed! Now GO
Categories:
recreated, nostalgia, snow,
Form:
Free verse
Floods of memories
The tumults, the peace
The pitter-patter on rooftops
The passion, in dollops
The continuous beat
Driving away the heat
The smell of rain
The overflowing drain
Emotions uncontrollable
The storms, the lull
Inside, her scent strong
Outside, Nature’s song
Past recreated
Once again, nothing hid
The gusty wind, the ferocious lashes
The crumpled sheets, all the messes
The thunder, the roar
The desire… ‘Want More’
The ebb, the flow,
As in each rendezvous so
The shiver, the quiver
From him to her
The sun pierces the fog
He rolls down, a log
The pleasure, the joy
Comes back the spirit of coy
The rains abate
And thus ends, the love date
Categories:
recreated, romance, romantic love, sensual,
Form:
Rhyme
~ (~) In-the-moonlight from here echos carry far. Grace lays beside innocence amid the
shadows of love the measure of its hope, tranquility, delivered. (~) ~
~ (~) With a tender terry to-and-fro-amid the murky acceptance of the open streams,
dancing vibrantly humble weeds-can be-found rolling around in abandon toppling about-again-
and-again-up-under them then-and-again amid-the-forbidding mid the ambling waters off the
shores in lieu of the gentle undertow reflecting-of-their-brilliant-pastel-colored-luminescence
— shining boldly in their naked dance coming to land softly then... and-again — each upon the
mighty shores of the delta. And as they catch her eyes my youngster her passions. (~) ~
~ (~) Tender-as she is as she eyes them there their velvet petals crimson her love grows
sheltered between the bosom of the light. As she kneels down, reaches out between the wind,
and-thorn... to pick up their essence her quiet ladies their beauty blooming.? (~) ~
~ (~) Shadows scurry away, run... morning Sun wakes the dawn. Grateful eyes see,
remember. (~) ~
~ (~) Removed, bygone buried dead already I am... yes. No not bitter because grateful if the
truth be known, a willing man I am today. Wishing only to abide in peace with no regrets.
Because yes friend, found I have in the place of my bitterness, regret, today. (~) ~
~ (~) No, you know I know I haven't any room for this. Praying to be as I was born but-one
open soul my one driving ambition being, to be as complete. Absent of the motive of self
ready openly willing to be emptied recreated filled to-overflowing standing in the repose of His
peaceful pardon. This promise remains to be plenty for me enough. Asked God I did, for this.
Trust Him now I do. Honorable He is faithful, wiped my sin away He did... sealed it, with a
kiss.? (~) ~
~ (~) And now given-to me this, God's illustrious heart extended for me held up high! His love
has come, brought me to my knees... kept me. Echoes carry wanting only to raise lonely
ghosts of the past. His love has become my only reprieve. No kinder thought is there to wake
the morning. Carry onward with me, through the twilight-with-Him... fall asleep to in peace. (~) ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98LcbCkhqJs
Categories:
recreated, inspirationalme, love, me,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Memory
I am my memory.
This piece of the world, this brief sprouting
Amongst many thinking radishes,
Exists only as resonances within
Lacy neurons; Flanders’ delicate patterns
Sustained by glial skeletons,
Beyond the spider’s web or silent
Snowflake in elegant complexity.
I am memory:
Identity, selfness, the compass of my person,
Shaped by the universe’s unknowingness
Of my reedlike form; yet I know I exist,
And know of my fate,
And of the fate of the universe,
Which is the power of my memory
And humankind’s collective memory.
I am:
And therefore recreated endlessly by my memories which,
Shallow-like, bow to my insecurities
Played out in my mind; ironically,
Feeding my own undermining,
Poignant recall of joy and bittersweet sorrow,
Given force by visceral emotion, shaping “I”
Anew, through endless rehearsal.
I:
Who is: only in relation to you, another,
My child, parent, brother, sister, a lover,
Bosom friend; like me, the sum
Of memories, which we share
And are thus part of each other,
All one, yet separate, connected
Through memory.
The memories of you fade,
Yet do not disappear, and
Give truth to my thoughts
On memory, and my identity;
Me, whom you pursued until
I caught you, and gave
Me memories happy and sad,
That shape me still..
with acknowledgements to
Blaise Pascal, William Shakespeare, Rene Descartes, Eric Kandel, John Locke, the Lace makers of Belgium....and Georgia
Categories:
recreated, forgiveness, i am, identity,
Form:
Verse
Morning dawns with a touch of a chill
Touching naked feet with a thrill
Open the blinds and look outside
Realizing you might stay at the hearthside
Shimmering snowflakes fall to the earth
Whispering glimpses of angel’s birth
Reminding the heart to always find joy
In the simple things like a shiny new toy
The world is recreated from gray and dismal
To a winter wonderland of all that is cheerful
Snow so pure white and bright that it glistens
Filling the entire world with a ear that listens
The silence of the moments sends up a prayer
Filling the moment with a peaceful affair
Instilling in the heart a sense of pure hope
That slides down from the freezing slope
Christmas morning, for this year’s holiday
Has prompted us to celebrate this birthday
With reassurance that a snowy ground
Sends joy, peace and love all around!!!
*A Christmas Snow* - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Gail Angel Doyle
Categories:
recreated, christmas, snow,
Form:
Rhyme
Life
moves on
circles turn
seasons cycle
one to another
endlessly carrying on
as life is recreated
and it flows on seamlessly
new blossoms to tempt birds
flowers bowing their heads
green grasses flourish
apples swelling
crops ripen
winter
snows
Categories:
recreated, life, nature,
Form:
Tetractys
I The Phoenix
I recall in my youth how the world around me seemed so alive vibrant in color and beauty. As I aged this beauty faded and was replaced with a new world filled with shades of grey. Life rushed by me quickly, I was no longer able to see the beauty around me. The longer I lived in this new world the more my spirit faded.
One day this new world came crashing down around me and I was left alone, abandoned in the streets. Overcome with fear and loathing I wandered aimlessly among the dispirited and walking dead. I survived on the pity and sustenance portioned out to the lost souls.
I found myself pondering my youth as I walked the streets and wondered where that world had gone. My eyes saw things along the sidewalk that inspired my imagination, I kept these as mementos of life lost. These tidbits of refuse I examined and again found vibrant color and beauty. I began to piece these small tokens together and slowly recreated my youthful vision.
Casting aside my thoughts of returning to the life that had drained away my spirit. I became whole again, I now dwell again in those vibrant colors and an abundance of happiness as were in my youth. Society will not number me among it's herded numbers of spiritless victims.
Authors Note:
3 years of homelessness and destitution opened my eyes and reignited my spirit. If you feel you have lost your way, cast off everything and start anew.
Categories:
recreated, adventure, appreciation, beautiful, moving
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Flushed,
kicked to the curb and stunned,
waanning, waanning and crumbling crumbs,
dispelled as dumbed,
come backs like lakes of water aren't even fun,
toned and intonated,
17 things to endanger-
39 to reconnoiter,
there was nothing to do,
nowhere to go,
some people showed,
they were enhanced,
I was so gold-
aggrandized yet grow'd,
I couldn't even agree with the folks,
got stunned and littered as the roads,
melted plaster and recreated the last masters focused.
Categories:
recreated, art, assonance, celebrity, desire,
Form:
Blank verse
Once upon an eternal sacred time of Earth's Golden Age,
Yin knew her body as a divinely virginal forested place
given equally to all for and of Earth's holy
wondrous
regenerativity.
She, without language,
but with marvelously holonic ecological symmetry
and sensory proportion,
recreated organic ecosystems,
bilateral branch/root trees of nutritionally reversed hierarchies
with mutually subsidiary memory,
digesting compost icons of Earth's Yang spaciated,
convexly articulating,
four dimensionally spacetime octaved
health-nurturing prime (0) relational time resonance,
autonomic integrity,
universal positive Left-Yang
OVER
unitarian double-negative eco-binding Right,
Yin's dualdark WinWin
ego/eco
nondual evolving nature-spirit.
Elder Matriarchal YinRight mind
and Younger Patriarchal YangLeft body were,
and remain,
happiest and healthiest together,
and cognitively-feelingly dissonant
when Yang remains adolescently uppity,
believing his superior polypathic brain runs his ego body,
which may be too often his suboptimal flow of quasi-graced state,
yet Yin's RightBrained autonomic DNA-memetic
integral-organic
ecological body
still integratively sacred dances
our LeftBrain's best reflective language,
poetry of embodied form
with Earth's ecosystemic functional flow-powers.
Climate health-Positive Yang
external/internal landscapes decomposing dualdark Yin flow,
WinWin future/past regenerative (0)Riginal Intent
within Earth's ecosystemic nondual co-arising
polypathic bicamerally continuous
memetic-iconic re-imagination.
Go tell it on Earth's mountain:
this MindBody of ChosenAnthro Christ reborn
Bodhisattva Warriors,
Yintegral Princesses rebirthing Yang Conserving Princes/ses
of Earth's Post-YangSupremacist Peace.
Categories:
recreated, beauty, creation, culture, earth,
Form:
Political Verse
Soon To Be Poem of the Day
Or German Plane Accident Poem
A plane recently fell from high in the sky
Will we ever discover or know reason why?
What are the facts that are flight related?
And can all of this possibly be recreated?
There has been blowing a cool breeze
Over remains of bodies beneath the trees
Of all those precious ones they did adore
Never to be seen again or for evermore.
All of this had been very hard to bare
Charming ones who we loved and did care
For who we once held in our withering hand
And even a future with we had all planned.
God, what could have caused such a thing:
That to us so much misery started to bring
And a memorial wreath we now want to lay
As well as for them everyday we will pray.
What if some sad song we started to sing
About small birds who were taking wing
That for a while we faithfully waited
Found out their bodies were obliterated.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
My desire is for this poem to be Poetry
Soup Poem of the Day.
Categories:
recreated, angst, sorrow, , memorial,
Form:
Couplet
HOAR FROST
Multi-fingered trees drowned in the mist
Mist like the cold hand of death coming to Ramses
Last night’s mist - purifying spirit
Enveloping all in the frost
Like a well-tended graveyard
Dead, silent, nothing moves
The ugly old dead trees - and
The lovely young live trees
Are levelled, enveloped,
Masked in a white shroud
Each tree - asleep, dead
Recreated in white
Born again of water and Holy Spirit
Ready to enter the kingdom of heaven.
All souls look alike
All the trees look alike
New souls reborn sinless
Souls of trees waiting
These ghost trees are not real trees
Their previous life forgotten, bees and pollen
All sensual feeling numbed
Their tree souls purified
Pure innocence - sin free
Prepared for tree heaven
Cold joy of heaven
Ah….the forgotten delights
Of being a larch or elder or oak.
The warmly imperfect summer life
Categories:
recreated, tree, life, tree, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
I’ve completed another day.
What’s the rush in throwing yourself
at another –
When the rooms are cold,
and the lovers are gone
Smiling is hardly representing sanity.
Your picture hanging is messed – see there –
My smiling represents thought
If this goes anywhere – we’ll be trapped
You make me comfortable in small ways –
getting me in
Fill me with your own words – I am made,
Born –
Recreated for a person, to be had in all ways.
What’s the rush at throwing yourself
at another –
They’ll leave anyway because they
recreated themselves –
Why leave someone so perfect? – You ask?!
Hated by their souls, they look into the mirror.
Create yourself – Don’t be created
I’ve completed another day.
Categories:
recreated, introspectionme, me,
Form:
Free verse
“The chances against anything manlike on Mars are a million to one,” he said. (Excerpt from the book by H G Wells.)
WATCH OUT, run for your lives ...the Martians are coming!
Well on October 30, 1938
Terrified listeners truly thought the world was ending
When a radio broadcast
Of H G Wells book ‘The War of the Worlds’ was aired
Jeff Wayne turn the book into an epic musical story
Well over 40 years have passed since it was released
Millions have listened to the double album
And seen a Martian monster recreated in the stage show
Though the Martians first invade dry land
The album cover focuses on the war at sea …
Terror stricken sea travellers try to escape
A massive menacing metal monster
With bulging green bug like eyes
Its gleaming silver body perched high upon
Three spindly chop stick like tripod legs
It stalks the steamer like a spider eying its prey
The brave captain tries to steer the ship to safely
but it’s is tossed on stormy seas
like a rag doll thrown by a petulant toddler
Suddenly, the ebon sky is illuminated
By an intense golden beam - a death ray
Which pierces the bow of steamer
with pinpoint accuracy
White smoke billows, fire rages
Countless lives will be lost
Will the Martians conquer the world?
I won’t spoil it for you…
Just listen to the album story to find out
Believe me you won’t regret it!!
Categories:
recreated, music, science fiction, space,
Form:
Free verse
I was strong, I thought.
I didn’t fit the mold,
Now I’m fractured where I was bold.
Like the heinous scar you thoughtlessly branded
I lost with the trust I took for granted.
So I bore the Scarlet A
And covered up your perversion
In my own promiscuous way.
Like a re-rerun of a show I hated,
Made to re-watch, I
meticulously
mentally
recreated.
Inside, insidiously saddled
Our salacious secret I privately battled.
I could not, would not, take away
The respect my love held so close,
To someone I thought I could trust the most.
As venomous as a fatal snake bite,
your fangs, they pierced, more than one life.
I think of your future daughter
Will she be spared the same vile slaughter?
You took what was not yours to keep,
more than any man should reap.
Categories:
recreated, abuse, anger, betrayal, dark,
Form:
Free verse