Best Reigniting Poems


Premium Member Callused Fingers

Callused fingers press vibrating strings,
drawing passion from a violin.
And with burnished wood snug to his cheek,
amplifies what he feels in his heart.

Subtle notes saturate my being
as crying strings elicit feelings.
And expounding on love and desire,
music stirs the imagination.

His bow hangs, like a lingering kiss
savoring the taste of ecstasy.
And with a tear trickling down his cheek,
he unleashes unbridled fervor.

Combining hope with pangs of rapture
sound slips the bounds of reality.
And each vibe resonates in my heart,
reigniting passion's dormant flame.

As callused fingers tug my heartstrings
I've never before felt so alive.
And in this state of exaltation,
I feel my pulse race, and my heart pound.

Premium Member I shall find a way or make one

(Inveniam viam)

Far beyond these eerie things, where limits have no scales
Fish are replacing gills, with turbine aerated tails 
Sea level’s losing all meaning, for the humpback whales 
Ships piggyback them, harpoons syphon wind from their sails 

Today I woke up early, lately I’ve let dreams flow 
Into an abstract yonder, where visions often go
A wave came over me, up from my downy pillow 
When tidal forces passed away, many moons ago 

As the ocean waved goodbye, I called for an encore
Behaving like a poultice, the beach drew back old gore
You could’ve bowled me over, sent ripples to my core
Never again I’d sleep soundly, near this bloody shore 

After a fretful lie-on, facing truths with each turn 
My sundial running on empty, stars can’t always churn
Moribund in dimness, til an old spark can return 
Reigniting glory days, (let supernovae burn)

Overhead the vacuum grows, just to make more space 
Stretching my dysmorphia, to align with gods face
No one knows for certain, who enhanced his human race 
Gave an artful hand, outsmarting evolution’s pace 

As life spirals forward, in a world out of control 
Entropy dismantles, stripping back our maker’s role 
The poet in me keeps goofing, digging deeper holes
He’s a junkie rhymester, overdosing on this soul 

So hail all billionaires, who never walk down my street
Flying above fake cripples, with power in their feet
Prodigies of bad and worse, scheming to make ends meet 
Leaves an aftertaste of smugness, one that will repeat 

As for those big questions, some take a straightforward twist
Two things I thought might go away, stubbornly exist 
Not death or taxes, I’m already over that list 
Each day I arise, how come lies and bullsh!t persist?

First there was oblivion, til I woke up and saw 
Now fully awake, dead ahead looms a fatal flaw 
But so long as I can dream, and able to guffaw
It only hurts when I laugh, Don’t you think? vents my jaw 

By David Kavanagh 
Hms

Premium Member Tuirse

I have been in unequaled turmoil,
Overused in my personal trauma,
Drowning in tear rivers of tragedy,
Soul dipping southward trajectory,
But they do not seep from these eyes,
Nor do they follow the cries,
Just the heavy emptiness that thrives,
Within each breath hope in me dies,
But then there are those who remind me,
Why I have walked the road of words ardently,
Thank you for reigniting my linguistic dream,
I want you to know, 
that you are the intrinsic thread that holds my spirit seem.


Premium Member I bleed Poetry

I bleed poetry to heal through 
midnight confessions. 
Mistress’s ink does not seek 
your caramelized validation; 
it has no desire to please 
your feed of presumed perfection.

I’ve never tamed this 
skill as an online profession; 
this is just an unbreakable obsession~
I’m drowning in for a distraction.

Don’t question my 
hazy metaphors,
veiled away from towering 
thorns of introspection, 
too vague and meaningless 
for the skies adorned 
with sleeping stars. 
These scribbles of sentimental 
symbolism may cause 
digressing reactions, 
for I’ve been sewing a 
waltzing nightmare,
whilst counting syllables 
within concocted connotations, 
surfing through wicked 
schemes of sunset-colored 
sestinas to sunflower sonnets.

Now I knit hyacinth haikus 
in honeysuckle hues, 
woven from pristine petals 
amidst wilting wilderness, 
awaiting twilight that 
would awaken words written 
in repetitive refrains, 
reigniting the flames 
between spaces on fragrant pages, 
so dreams will no longer 
be more peaceful 
than the air I breathe. 

Although these lines
do not rhyme with teal-green 
tides that sketch 
turquoise beginnings, 
I still hope time can maybe 
guide this canvas home.

Premium Member A Poets Heart

a poets heart

they tore it from his chest
and yet it beat
in steady cadence,
a rhythmic resonance
roiling words
re-sounding a tone,
rekindling a fire,
reigniting a thought,
repeating-rebeating 
metered mystery’s
tortured torment
toying with truth’s
ludicrous lies,
rebeating-repeating
heretical hyperbole’s
hypocritical hollow
echoing eternity’s
empty promise.


©6/25/2017

submitted to – Any poem in June not for a contest – Poetry Contest

Premium Member - Spring and Easter Is Yellow -

Eggs are white - a little chubby chicken is yellow 
    Easter egg - chock full of colorful candy
    Sticky red sugar lips give you a sweet kiss
    Old snow spots melts on the ground 
    Dandelion scatters gold in the trenches 
    Easter bunny jumping out from nowhere 
    with chocolate spots on the white fluffy coat 
    Crocus and daffodils showing us spring with joy 
    Life sparking - reigniting 
    Small buds unfold and dances in the spring sun






    - Happy Easter - Enjoy Spring :)


    15.04.2014
    A-L Andresen :)


I Think of You Baby

I think of you, in this stretch of lonely nights
               Of the days we spent together 

I think of you, when the moon shines bright 
               Of dinner by the candle light 

I think of you, as I lie on the silken sheet
               Of your loving caress sweet

I think of you, in a dreamy haze 
               Of the longing in your lingering gaze

I think of you, with fire in my eyes
               Of your lips brushing mine and sighs

I think of you, in the grip of desire
               Of the loving words you whispered sire

I think of you, once night has flown
               Of the reigniting passion strong, I moan

I think of you, with each breath taken
               Of the love you showered on me, awaken

I think of you baby ...

© Nadiya (14 Feb '15)

Placed 6th in the contest 'I think of you' by Gautami Phookan on 22 Feb 2015

Premium Member My Desire To Roam Shall Be

The place where I desire to roam
Lies just of the African coast
The Canaries is where I desire
It's where my heart will rejoice the most

My life in Scotland is through
It's time for my soul to move on
To Tenerife or Lanzarote
A new country is where I'll belong

For my heart has been bruised and battered
Left out in the cold for many a year
Frozen to the point of no return
Reigniting was always a fear

For it doesn't happen every day
Meeting someone with like's, like I
And to look into Spanish brown eyes
If you'd witnessed, you'll understand why

Then came the day it all changed
It was like looking through the looking glass
My eyes met these Spanish brown orbs
The most beautiful looking lass

With a smile to delight any looker
Her personality sure lures me in
For her music taste I so noted
Like the hairs always rise on my skin

For the place I desire to roam
Lies just of the African coast
The Canaries is where I will stay
Many years in love I will so toast







http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/lorena.php

On the Long Drive To Change

on the long drive to change,
i didn't know at the time 
when the realization came,
i was literally shaken clean 
from the aged norm of my reality

on the defining interchange to new
scenes and settings, i was honestly
taken aback by being cared about
and given such a rare opportunity
for careful reconstruction

shocking was the journey and the discovery 
of myself that i never thought i would learn 
about through actual experiences that left 
me healthily greedy for more and more each
day

on the next wave of a planning session,
i am now my own travel agent for more 
than one and i never expected to be 
such a ready participant or such a
determined trooper

i think it is the combination of memories and
loneliness in dark times that attributes to our
newborn, newfound passion

the fruit of the joy it brings keeps our juices 
flowing and growing for the next anticipated
discovery

what once was is now 87 unleaded gasoline
and very dependable navigation....the map 
of our lives....the reigniting of our once limited,
sectional, and broken tonalities
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

The Lost Summer Part Ii

Giggle dancing vanities around bonfires your funny fancies, hula skirt feigning moves with floras and flowers I had dedicated unto your chocolate tresses of hair waltzing beside you my own flames circled about flickering ablaze upon your delicate and subtle grooves

Tracing, painting, the gentle touching your camberous and my muscular frame, creating endless, countless new ways of whispering, feelings, revealing our deepest, darkest secrets swallowing, consuming each other, dissolving all our pains

Offerings, submissions of stripping naked hearts, placing you upon a pedestal you leaping back down into my arms, crawling, veiling myself within the inferno, you cocooning vulnerabilities exposing your wonders, endowments, captivation of your devoting arts

Your majestic soft smiles blowing kisses to my face , sun rising, the Aprils, the Mays, the Junes, sunset bowing with grace, silks and supple of my princess, my goddess one day soon vanishing an apparition over the twilight shimmering dunes

Exodus grandeur, an angel exiting from a scene, the years hiding you away oft in my dreams, hoping, praying, believing that another time another day, bumping into meet, finding each other again, a reunion of union, marrying in another lost summer retreat

The lost summer fog, the misting ocean’s spray whisking returning a lost essence upon our sacred,consecrated domain, analogous subsiding tides, gulls fly off, sea grass evaporating, the shifting dunes our memoirs have all but eroded away 

Memories, reminiscences of two naïve, innocent youthful hearts, and lost summers blissfully buried treasures, fondest here remain testimonies reigniting renaissance adolescent wildfire sparks

Old Flame Emotion

My feelings are all over the place
Even more as the day progress
Trying to figure out this conundrum
That drifts back a romance blossom,

An old flame, ancient emotion
Rise into temptation
Wrapped me up in a silent vow
Makes me forget here and now,

Despite all the hurry all around
Little details sit idly in my mind
Chaining the time inside
While the world spinning outside,

Thy love, pulses through my soul
Reigniting the past, getting those sparks roll
Invading ability of thoughts to conform
Dragging them over huge brainstorm.

Sunshine

Holding your heart is
like having an perilous
experiment on 

reigniting the 
dying sun: it is so hard
and seems entirely 

hopeless, yet it's the 
last chance of humanity; 
it’s still worth fighting for it.
© Diana Bosa  Create an image from this poem.

Some Old Song

If I play a melody for you
 letting the music sway your heart
 titillating the words within your soul
 venturing into territories familiar and cherished,
reconnecting us
 tieing every dream and promise in place
 to the days of our youth
 when the time was irreversible,
reigniting the old flames
 searing us together within our love
 in summer passion, winter hopes, and dreaming
 of a time that has no end,
what would the lyrics say
what would you say
would you listen
 hearing the memories 
 that are too often hidden
forgotten
 in some old song?
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.

A Momentous Reunion In the Shade Under a Grandfather Tree

been a long time
i wonder if i still have it
all the pens have been buried from my sight
however, i managed to find one this misty monday morning
i write this poem without thought or even a warning

i remember her in those tight fruity jeans
her hair was like simplicity starlight in an everlasting exploration
her aura was like lavender scented candles reigniting my introverted personality
her smile left me speechless like writing in cursive with my right hand
in the toybox corner of my mind is the snowstorm that brought us to notice 

been an eternity going grey
i wonder if arousal still exists in our atmosphere
all the pads have been dangling in an attempt to make insanity appear calm and steady
however, i managed to come upon one this windy sunday morning
i finish this poem as i feel my reemergence ecstatically swarming
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Cocksure That Spring Had Sprung

Cocksure were we that Spring had sprung
Unprepared once again to be stung

   by Old Man Winter
   fresh back from vacation ~
   Fossil Fools we be, reigniting 
   CO2 home heating stations

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