Best Regrow Poems
Truth Found, Recovery Of A Broken Soul
1.
In nightmarish dreams he found such great dread
Of lost hope, life's decay, eyes of the dead.
Day's clear lights his damaged mind repaired
Deep traps from which his heart had been ensnared.
In sunshine he felt life's returning glows
Erase night pains and darkest of its blows.
As sun waned and shadows of dark arrived
He felt again, joy vanquished, love deprived.
2.
What of this devilish, persistent foe
With such powers, its broken claws regrow.
Hope alone, can evil be defeated
Or must Fate decree, his life be cheated.
In sun's bright shining hours his heart grew bold
Oft from tales of warriors of old.
On such bright days his thoughts returned to her
Destroyed dark powers that made life a blur.
3.
Where deepest love passions reign, hope survives
For in man's inner soul, true love revives.
Times and cherished moments serve to remind
With love's great truth, one can never go blind.
Standing firm with knowledge of man's powers
One can face even darkest of dark-hours.
Faith, love and hope are the right paths to take
All the rest are results of blind mistakes.
4.
Armed with newfound wisdom and clearer path
He had weapons to overcome Fate's wrath.
Every night before falling fast asleep
Head bowed, he recited prayers true and deep.
As new dawn's brighter lights came, his heart knew
Torments were over, as joys in life grew.
Found true, cursed Fate can be defeated
If one but lives, each day truth is greeted.
8-24-2017
Categories:
regrow, art, deep, farm, hope,
Form:
Rhyme
Away bleak weather! It’s your time to flee.
Sun shines down and gifts me with his glow.
Pellucid are the streams from melting snow.
Robin’s come. I see her in my tree!
Ice and Sleet, it’s good to see you go!
Now the earth is ready to regrow.
Gladness sweetly takes a hold of me.
I take a stroll outside. It’s such a treat.
No longer do I trudge with dreary feet.
My gait is lively as I amble where
Yellow-flowered fields perfume the air.
Spring, is here! I feel my spirit sing
Thankfulness to God for everything.
Effervescently I greet each day.
Perpetually may this springtime stay!
March 20, 2016
A 2-Time N/A for Chantelle Anne Cooke's
Final Call Of Nas Your Most Meaningful One Poetry Contest
Categories:
regrow, spring,
Form:
Acrostic
There is an illusion of dishonesty in darkness,
so we rejoice when spring sings saccharine serenades.
I've always been a soul yearning for summer scents,
but somewhere the seasons got lost in translation.
Not all honest hearts can remain evergreen,
when memories like wraiths of past demons,
echo in eerie vibrations of autumnal whispers.
The dark side of my mind is an oxymoron of fictional truth.
A harmony between her reality and my empathy.
I recall a lost childhood when the ghosts of winter besieged me,
as all the melted snow rotted my roots -
I pondered how do I regrow my frostbitten petals?
To determine the odyssey of my destiny,
I sowed a million seeds hoping you would
devour the nectar of my honeyed blossoms.
I finally found you awake like an insomniac,
in a sleeping wintery world of monsoon wickedness,
like a queen bee tangled in a cobweb of lies,
so I followed your scintillating silhouette
into a dark maze of silent shadows time had forgot.
I felt your pain through every window pane of your soul.
No one can heal all your hidden trauma,
but I can distract you from those unwelcome voices,
gathering all the shards of your cracked mirrors,
placing them into a purifying fountain of understanding.
I was artless within my garden,
until I swam in your artistic aquarium.
Oh my vintage rose,
you can be bronze, ivory or crimson,
I care not for the cover of your covert book,
for you remind me of my faith
in the dilemma of desperate hope.
I know sometimes I make mistakes,
but every time you cry,
I wish you would take my sight,
so you can see the world in a positive light.
If I could gift you an eagle's spirit,
maybe you would fly into my arms,
so when we watch the dreaming stars -
I would show how they shimmer in your eyes.
Categories:
regrow, assonance, emotions, love,
Form:
Prose
Autumn Leaves
With much wonder,
Leaves always are,
When we watch from close or maybe way out far
All of their great beauty is agreed by us both
And in each New Year will be another growth.
Wonderful color of the autumn leaves,
God’s wonderful way of nature to shed its leaves
And regrow even more beautiful
With God’s blessings of a new life
10/11/2014
Categories:
regrow, autumn, blessing,
Form:
Free verse
Clear blue sky came to witness my funeral , decided to not throw any tears or any stones
Came to say goodbye to me before earth analyze my bones
Down in the river they are drowning my sins , my demons , my guilts
Sea shattered down his waves , asking them to give me some peace
Asking angels not to trap my soul , no ...but to get it release
In the God heavens I'll regrow my soul
I'm not dieing nor alive
And no killing disease to fight so I can survive
Just killing thoughts which is controlling my fate and my path
Categories:
regrow, death, depression, destiny, funeral,
Form:
Verse
For many years, the creek, ran passed as a drain,
Polluted and unloved; a poisoned murky vein.
A favoured dumping place, for household unwanted things -
out of sight, out of mind; and no good what it brings.
Life was almost non-existent in the creek
and weed infestation makes it sad and bleak,
but turning a blind eye has gone too long,
and allowing this pollution was so wrong.
So, ‘friends of wattle creek’ were duly formed
and at meetings their ideas quickly warmed,
with working bees to help remove the mess,
and from there, reclamation could progress.
Weeds became victims, of mattock and the hoe;
there’s room for native vegetation to regrow.
Five hundred seedlings were there every week,
and planted by the ‘friends of wattle creek.’
Through the years, there were many setbacks,
from mother nature and her natural attacks,
with flood and storms or sometimes howling gales –
and thankfully, it was just the weak that fails.
With the foliage and the flowers an attraction
for lorikeet and honeyeater squabbling action;
weebills and pardalotes, were giving lots of cheek,
to warm the hearts of ‘friends of wattle creek.’
Undergrowth is cover for the wary bandicoot,
and the sugar glider dines on native fruit.
In the shallows of the creek; water is now clean;
once again, a spiny crayfish can be seen.
In a few short years, the volunteers with vision,
turned away an eyesore, with a right decision,
now it’s paradise restored from something bleak,
and all thanks goes to the ‘friends of wattle creek.’
The health of wattle creek is quite amazing,
and ‘friends of wattle creek’ deserve the praising.
Native fish are thriving; bird numbers are on track;
it warms the heart to know – the platypus is back.
For many years, the creek, ran passed as a drain,
Polluted and unloved; a poisoned murky vein,
but is now a thriving green belt, captivating all,
and the ‘friends of wattle creek’ are standing tall.
Categories:
regrow, environment, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
“Ô, Wanderess, Wanderess
When did you feel your
most euphoric kiss?
Was I the source
of your greatest bliss?”
- Roman Payne
Can you imagine being young again -
going back where your longings first began
when feelings – bright tulips – sprang inside you?
Springtime yearnings blossomed; they grew and grew.
Can you imagine being young and free
and getting past (at last) timidity?
While quivering with sweet desire’s delight,
first love you tasted deep into the night.
Can you imagine going to that place
which years of living manage to erase.
Could you return and once again make real
the vividness of what you used to feel?
Can you imagine love fresh and sublime?
I try to bring it back to life with rhyme.
But even when I write of it, I know . . .
bright tulips of my youth will not regrow.
Jan. 24, 2021
Categories:
regrow, lost, teen,
Form:
Rhyme
“Of all flowers, methinks a rose is best.” – William Shakespeare, The Two Noble Kinsmen
Sweet Rose, for ages you have blessed the human race
with your beauty, elegance and grace.
You show yourself to us in so many ways . . .
as miniature, teacup, floribunda, rambler,,climber, and
as so many other species of loveliness - a true wonder of God's creations!
Whether on the ground, in the wild, in gardens, or on bushes,
you bring me such pleasure to see your many shapes and sizes.
Unlike pansies and other annual flowers,
which glimmer for a time, then die – never to regrow,
you come and you go, sweet Rose, continuously
from spring, through summer, and until the chill of fall.
Oh, sweet Rose, with your names so charming,
I love you all.
With female names like “Princess Diana,” “Lolita” or “Bathsheba,”
you intrigue me.
With names that reflect the splendor of your many hues
such as “Toffee,” the pale yellow “Sahara,” the bold “Gold Medal,”
“Beyond Blue,” and “Black Magic,”
you enchant me.
With cute precious names like “Adorable,” “or “Angel Face,”
you delight me!
My muse reawakens each spring as your glorious scent
perfumes the air, and you offer yourself to the worshiping bees.
In those rare moments when I see a hummingbird
partaking of your nectar, I nearly gasp with excitement.
Oh, sweet Rose,
whether posing steadfastly in the summer sun,
dancing with breezes, or dreaming beneath the moon,
there is no flower so popular as you.
And no other flower bears so many different meanings
as those found in the paleness or in the vibrancy of your many colors.
Innocence is your white; your friendship, yellow; your modesty, peach;
In burgundy and dark pink, you show forth admiration;
in coral, good fortune; and in light pink, the cheerfulness of youth.
In the tint of amaranth is your passion; in rare green, your freshness;
in purple, your whimsy; however, your ruby red
transcends them all with the purity of love.
The deeper your hue, the deeper is your meaning.
You are the symbol for so many things of which the poet dreams!
Oh, sweet Rose, I adore you. How you inspire me
with each bloom of your dewy petals that I chance to view.
Never do you cease to amaze me, sweet Rose.
May you blossom ever sweetly into eternity!
Categories:
regrow, rose,
Form:
Ode
Twenty One
So far above, you’ve been flying high with the angels
And still you stand so far above us.
You are amazing to me, when you speak about your problems
And those things you wish you could have changed; such pain.
Impossible not to like you when all you do is show us love.
So complicated to me, I want to walk inside that mind of yours
And share your empathy, because you speak so elegantly,
When you write about your love life
And you show us how you really feel on the inside.
A broken heart that we all share.
I want to put us all back together with the pieces we are lost without.
I hope you are happy in love;
I want to find a place I too belong as I too need to be loved.
I’ve met a woman like you, but she will never compare,
To those feelings that I hear in your voice
And I am still having these doubts,
But she loves me like I love your songs; they are so good!
So I think I will let her become my reason to believe in love.
You got me through to the other side,
When I was lost, you made me see the truth and I too found my way
And now I see all those tears I cried,
Were just a way to regrow the feelings that I thought I threw away.
Now I am happy in love with her,
So I can never tell her of you, or she would just be gone;
But we each share our love for your love songs.
So I will let her have all my devotion,
But I will never forget an album called Twenty One.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Categories:
regrow, devotion, inspiration, integrity, love,
Form:
Bio
The Moon’s Yellow Eyes
After: The King in Yellow by Robert Chambers
Situations righted by the assassination in Sheepshead Bay (alibied with difficulty under earth’s single moon), I curl up on the windowsill hissing at the pallid orb. Oh how, I long for my planet, Carcosa. I lick the remaining human poison from my claws. Yes, man-made poison, but I, I am the one who delivers— population control.
Wilde, my mate, our transformed intermediary, brushes my coat. I purr. How oddly complacent Wilde has become. Once, he too walked on four legs. After our arrival on Earth and his change (We thought the change would regrow the ear I tore from him in his last life—) my mate became no more than a castrato. I do regret the torture which deprived him of two fingers on his right hand. (It made his job more difficult.) But, discipline was necessary.
the pestle crushes
poison white snakeroot:
yellow eyes shine
Well, why am I telling you this? To that I would say, why not? Who on earth would believe a cat could talk?
The feline form has advantages in espionage. A petted and pampered puss can lure the reticent, overhear the loud-mouthed, two-footed, earthly baboons—with cunning, obtain information no human in their right mind would divulge to an enemy. As valet, advisor, disciplinarian to Wilde (and he to the earthlings), my position abides, a mere slap and tickle from the throats of power. My teeth, neck piercing weapons of choice; my claws scimitars of death drip with the blood of masters.
One more night out. Wilde cat-like licks the scar on his damaged hand and stares at the invitation stamped with the Presidential seal. One more night, sweet puss and the reign of The Yellow King will begin.
Published by Illumen 2016
Categories:
regrow, evil, farewell,
Form:
Haibun
You singed
the last feather off my back
took away my sky my flight
congratulations lady fire you win
I surrender.
I'm leaving...
you can eat those feathers for all I care.
When true warmth, true peace blows my way
I'll regrow a new pristine flight.
Regain the sky-high ground
and
watch you sink into the zinc cold earth.
weighted down with singed flight feathers
petrified into silence.
Categories:
regrow, absence,
Form:
Free verse
what i see.
I see nothing but a dead community of people who would never snap into reality and realize life ain't a joke, We live in an world full of people who only care about themselves and loves to sugarcoat but growing up like this will never be like the 70's 80's or 90's and that's okay cause life will continue to go. Hopefully we start a new generation and they learn to regrow.
Categories:
regrow, 10th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
I sat there waiting, for a change in our relationship
Asking, the Almighty to give you a hand
Opening your mind and releasing your heart
Letting your body, come to me and wipe my thorns
Giving me a chance to breathe from the rain
Falling down my face, may I no longer speak
My soul is reaching the sky, hoping its coming from you
For so many times, you have repeated the verse
Over and over again, pounding my eardrums, into hell
Now you come with these words of roses, trying to reach
Reach for, what is no longer there, nor near
The only feeling I carry, is this fear of letting you back
Back in my mind, body and soul, as my fire flares
Asking, the Almighty to give you a hand
I scream, oh Lord, is it coming from you
Because, then its gotta be true, if its coming from you
These verses of roses, touching my heart, opening doors
Is everything he saying true, tell me, oh Lord
What do I do
I'm listening to his words, trying to forgive
Forgive this roaring pain, he put upon love
The many tears, I've cried, do to his sin
Now he speaks, trying to fix all the damage roots
For these verses have me so , so confuse
As, I wanna pick rose, by rose placing them back
Back in our bush, and regrow our roots
But, I don't know if it's coming from you
Or, is it coming from the man upstairs
What do I do
Asking the, Almighty to give you a hand
Opening your mind, releasing your heart
Unto me
oh Lord, are his words, coming from you
Do they come from Heaven or Hell
I need to know, if what he sings is true
If it's coming from you
It's gotta be true
So, what do I do
I'm so confuse
Categories:
regrow, confusion, faith, hope, religion,
Form:
Free verse
Sitting on my front steps
delighting in the scene
Discerning in the ordinary
long-forgotten dreams
A toddler hides in mommy's skirts
A dolly-girl presses dandelions to her nose
A brave lad stays up on a unicycle
Can I, my imagination regrow?
Categories:
regrow, children, dream, imagination, me,
Form:
Rhyme
tidy floral rows
stark ragged dandelion
shears’ hungry maw gapes
shing!
have a care; it will regrow
unlike your delicate bloom
surprised, you look down
your prize tulip’s roots mingled
with this intruder
woven inextricably
gleaming shears look quite hungry
6/14/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
Categories:
regrow, allegory, flower, relationship,
Form:
Tanka