Best Recreates Poems
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
Categories:
recreates, fantasy,
Form:
Verse
She comes to me impalpable.
A courtesan of crimson red dreams.
Her words fall from her lips in ethereal melodies.
Pulling my twine to seal the seams.
The nature of her existence,
Whispering along the hue of my suspended form.
Her voice becomes substantial to my eyes.
She recreates images of a thunderstorm.
Lightning cracked as she portrayed,
A landscape engulfed by dark clouds with no rain.
Beneath the canopy people danced a masquerade.
The music played on as they stepped their sin.
Entering among them, a mask upon my face,
An aching search ebbing within.
There through the crowd soft brown eyes met my gaze.
She swam through the dancing sea taking my hand.
We began to merge our steps; souls ablaze.
There adrift the violin of the forgotten land.
The reason for our creation became known.
As we held each other in such a caring way.
Something between us had secretly grown.
We would remain dancing together. Forever and a day.
Categories:
recreates, analogy, courage, creation, dance,
Form:
Free verse
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
Categories:
recreates, writing,
Form:
Verse
Let the sparrows sing and perch as they land on their birch
Let the squirrels swiftly search for their acorns as they smirch
Let the swans softly stray as they beautify their passageway
Let the trees swing and sway for their grandeur they display
Let my love be reborn again as it did before way back then
Let nature drip its poetic pen as it recreates a zestful Zen.
March.30.2019
Writing Challenge 6
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Placed 5'th...Thank You
Categories:
recreates, nature, spring, sweet love,
Form:
Rhyme
Jesus is the Master Potter
By Franklin Price
09/14/2023
Jesus, is the master potter
We, the followers His Clay
He molds us into shining lamps
Reconstructing day by day
He lays His hands upon us
Kneads and shapes us 'til we're done
He is the Master Potter
Who recreates us, He's the one
As cracks appear, remolds us,
Provides our structure with relief
Then fuels us, and lights us
To be His lamps that shine belief
He trims our wicks when needed
To even light the darkest hour
Leading others to salvation
His lamp has given us that power
He adds a globe of glass or crystal
To let the light burn in the wind
To guide lost souls to heaven
For since the garden, all have sinned
He cleans our globes when they have darkened
And our lamps are not as bright
And we doubt that we are able
To shine out believing light
If Jesus had not died for us
On that cross upon the hill
Would be no need to have our lamps
For other's nights, our lights, to fill
Categories:
recreates, celebration, christian, inspiration, jesus,
Form:
Rhyme
My greatest dream is called you...
A dream I hold so closely to my heart...
A dream I couldn’t give a worthy name to just yours...
You have always been my dream called love...
Your voice is as calm and peaceful as the nature of a dove...
Your words... I can’t start to explain...
They turn shadows into human...
They bring all my dead side into life...
Love can never be explained but it is understood perfectly by your heart and mine...
The impossible can only bend when love is on duty because with you there is nothing too
impossible for me to do...
For me living with men is history because you are an angel sent to me from above to
deliver me from my misery...
No better fantasy can ever be wished for and accomplished than this dream of mine called
you...
Now I know what it feel like touching and staring into those beautiful stone of crystals
called the stars which are in your eyes...
I can say I have been touched by an angel because only angels can take me to that place
only us have reached...
I now can see what my hearts eyes have been missing for long...
I now feel what my heart has been longing to feel forever...
Am glad I found you...
You are the most priceless thing that recreates a heart no matter how broken it is...
I AM GRATEFUL FOR THE GIFT OF YOU...
Categories:
recreates, friendship, girlfriend-boyfriend, husband, love,
Form:
When troubles and turmoil lay their grip on me,
Solace is found in a simpler time and place.
In my mind or person, it is where I flee;
Recalling Grandpa’s tractor and Grandma’s face.
Across spring-fed brook, past a massive oak tree;
Tall pines encircle and hide my hilltop space.
Nature soothes and recreates me to my core.
Friends’ strife fades here, too; I’ve saved spots for more.
2/1/19
Categories:
recreates, encouraging, family, friendship, grandparents,
Form:
Rispetto
Jim-I-Nator,
chase creator,
imitates a song,
recreates a major,
sail's you to saviors,
reinvents the round,
reelects the tasers,
summons it in a bong...
Bites it right out
just like the Chong.
Waits in a mile-
just for the hump,
butts heads with the viral-
just like the slums,
does a downward spiral like a swivel,
dials 911 to spy on individuals,
random as hail in July,
hits like nails-
out on the lake in the sky-
just where I had wanted to die.
Like a Laker in a coat,
like a disastrous danger running wild and remote-
just like Ebeneezer Scrooge with a check book and the holy ghost,
just like Jesus on an electric motorcycle,
flying with angels-
jimin' with a bagel,
rotating at an angle,
fly's in the sky like a needle near the eye!
Random as hail in July!
Eats prunes,
and then pray's not to die!
Greets his shrooms with venom,
beats his moods with a pendulum,
hears through stethoscopes when he's endin' the run,
goes to the gym to have a little fun!
Waits for the time to stand still,
eats all the cops in between him and his pillz!
Says **** jail!
My ******** is a nail!
**** being out on bail!
I'll still be here until the killer is unveiled!
Categories:
recreates, allusion, appreciation, atheist, devotion,
Form:
Political Verse
It was for you and me,
That Jesus left His throne,
Bore the scourge and agony,
Shivered His flesh and bone,
It was for you and me,
He took that gloomy tour,
Towards the dreaded Calvary,
Summed His tortured hours,
It was for you and me,
That Jesus bore the cross,
Paid the heaviest penalty,
Was supposed to be ours,
It was for you and me,
He wailed the saddest cry,
It was for you and me,
Jesus was nailed to die,
Oh, that you and I may see,
Our wickedness beyond measure,
Jesus to set us free,
In our stead bore the torture,
It was for you and me,
When Jesus' death sufficed,
Christ rose from the dead,
Our sins He paid the price,
His great mysterious love,
Knocks the door of each man's heart,
His mighty power recreates,
Renews our lives whole to restart,
He rose back to His throne,
Sitting by His Father's side,
Prepare! He's coming soon,
Today is to decide,
Categories:
recreates, allah, bible, change, christian,
Form:
Lyric
She looks into her looking glass
'Tries to see it in her eyes
And from a faded photograph
Convince herself it's still alive
No matter how it feels
It all feels so contrived
'Cause she can't find it in her heart
She can't find it in her heart
So she tries a little hideaway
In a dark corner of the town
And hopes somebody walks her way
After that they might sit down
Once again she'll settle
For any kind of love she's found
'Cause she can't find it in her heart
She can't find it in her heart
She said that she should learn to be without him
In time In time
But for tonight it's just too big a mountain
To climb To climb
So she lets go of herself
As the drink sparkles in her hand
She recreates the way she felt
And acts it out the best she can
She doesn't understand
Love doesn't stand a chance
'Til she can find it in her heart
'Til she can find it in her heart
She said that she should learn to be without him
In time In time.........
But for tonight it's just too big a mountain
To climb To climb..........
So she looks into her looking glass.......
Colab with Richard Leigh
protected by copyright
Categories:
recreates, depression, imagination, loneliness, longing,
Form:
Lyric
Cry me an angel to help me fly high
Take me to the places where I can go wild
Life is beautiful and I would surely not cry
Today is a reason and not a question to ask why
Let my strength be filled with glory
Taking every step to be a new story
While tomorrow recreates history
Leaving the past to be a mystery
So fearlessly I heave thy soul
Gazing with vigor to reach my goal
Let the heavens behold as darkness folds
For my faith in God will never be cold
So cry me an angel to help me fly high
Take me to the places where I can go wild
Cry me an angel to help me fly high...
Categories:
recreates, beach, god, gothic, travel,
Form:
Ballade
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once did hear,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labour hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
Categories:
recreates, mythology,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
withheld the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang with every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees rose mightily in view,
and full displayed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, though their lust's degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and ever,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms!
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet the music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny,
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora?
for whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst hell and Shangri-la!
Categories:
recreates, write,
Form:
Verse
Cover me in feathery down,
warmth against winter chills and frozen ground
leave me to sleep in deep refrain,
until tidal waves recreates my home again.
Step, step, stepping in deep snow,
Hobnail boot prints in trailing go.
Full blown blossom,
tis Spring
Showers of rain
Drip, drip, drops
Filling open flower cups.
Fluttering bird trapped in cage,
tempting fate,
it's door stands open wide.
Halt who goes there,
Red Robin sings
standing as sentinel
to nesting birds
as billing and cooing
their courting done.
Hanging basket suspended
from patio frame,
Purple-striped lobelia
is the plastic tagged name.
Spring marigolds planted
in beds so neat
Foraging nocturnal rabbits,
are now replete.
Castle turrets in skyline frame
Dark in silhouette
Formidable whether friend or foe
Sheltering community from the Viking horde.
Boatman concealed in hooded cloak
Waits across the river at midnight
Beckoning stranger with jingling coins
Tempting providence,
Boatman swiftly rows to comply
A flickering moonbeam
highlights his features;
no face, but skeleton skull,
Death rows the hapless stranger to the other side.
Circling bald eagle over misty moor,
wings outstretched,
as it begins to soar,
Over mountain ranges on thermal air,
effortless in flight,
though as an insignificant insect
to binocular- less eyes.
Blackberries are ripening
Along bridle track.
Children gathering them
As purple lips smack.
Time zone crossed
vow affirming
two lovers reunite
for all eternity.
Eleven p.m. strikes,
showing the late hour,
As ash residue,
through fire grate,
falls in a dusty shower.
In the early hours,
A lone dog howling
at an indistinct sound
Inciting a duet
with a neighbouring hound.
Categories:
recreates, change,
Form:
Free verse
Art is my skill.
My craft recreates what the eye
Beholds - And I am her humble beholder.
Today I shall paint a beautiful portrait-
Of what? Mother Nature is a fine mistress,
Her crystal blue seas, Her verdant greens.
Ahh yes, a fair maiden is what my muse
Provides with her sweet and innocent face-
A gorgeous angel is what would be her race.
What about the portrait of the working
Man, who sacrifices himself for one single
Conquest - giving his family the best.
Or should I paint the tortured
Woman with her suffering from
Unjust hands, Casted away as a second man.
But then my painting would lack truth.
A beautiful lie to gather the masses,
The ugly truth behind the fresh multitude of colour.
My art, my craft-
What truth do you bring?
Or was there any to find.
Or am I just a foolish man forming the mask.
Exchanging authenticity for my soulless
Actors - The world is now my canvas.
Categories:
recreates, appreciation, art, truth,
Form:
Free verse