Best Relearn Poems
Close your eyes
inhale roses-
love-glazed steam
of insatiable thirst;
place your thoughts
upon my heart,
feel my
voice s w i r l i n g
in sync with
periwinkle promises
whilst devouring
unfurled petals
facing ebony skies,
tenderly sketching
silhouettes with
vanilla drops;
for you and I,
we are interwoven
souls through
cosmic t r a n c e…
forevermore.
Tonight when dusk
transcends the
darkest twilight,
I’ll allow these
thoughts to
d r i f t into a magical
meadow where
butterflies b o u n c e
from wavy blades,
reflecting our love
in unspoken shades.
I’ll wait for you,
to relearn what
it means to be
the flesh and
bone of summer…
as this longing
c a s c a d e s
in
sherbet hued
cherry blossoms.
And if
the moon
refuses
to rise,
I’ll sketch your
pearlescent smile
across g r e y i n g
spheres, like the
first
glimpse
of
morning crescent;
unveiling verses-
s p i r a l i n g as mystical
milky-ways within…
emanating candy
coated cologne..
So find me
between
flickering afterglows,
l i s t e n to the
whispering willows,
seek shelter beneath
autumnal rainbows,
amidst m o v i n g seasons,
for two hearts
that beat the same,
would always find
their rhythm amidst
many seas
ruffling with ripples
of aching dreams,
between them~
although virtual
hugs are all we have
to keep our
f r e e z i n g
souls of summer
warm and in sync.
As the glistening jewels
of snow cascade like
ballerinas pirouetting
to the crescendo of time,
choreographed from porcelain
keys of your h e a r t,
delicate fingers of the
winter moon stretch,
enveloping forlorn footprints
of poignant memories,
framed with petal-like poems
you've placed in the
gallery of my melancholic mind
where soulless shadows still~
haunt me in holographic
hues through somber nights, but
If I were to rewrite the anatomy
of this romance with~
juxtapositions, should I rescript
your promises in p s y c h e d e l i c ink?
knit silken sonnets from the
tapestry of scintillating
stars in our favour,
letting go of all the
seasonal silhouettes
that seized redolent rhymes,
maybe, it is from pain
we relearn to dream
in periwinkle pigments to
nurture and navigate through
decayed gardens embalmed in
opalescent tears and fluorescent fears
suppressed and
personified within gossamer
tales of sunflower s i l e n c e…
Quilted with questions that your
quintessential quill can~
reveal, in romanticised verses, to wade
through the abstracts of weary woes.
So, set your stones to
architect cobalt grey lanes,
to usher feathered thoughts into the
serenity of your scented sanctuary.
until I find the perfect gateway
adorned with crystals in the
verdant valleys, engrossed in vanilla flakes,
where cosmic yearnings are embroidered
between mauve instruments
harmonised from
xylophone whispers reverberating
in vermilion s t i l l n e s s…
You will always be the
clementine crown of my sun,
the scarlet scrapes in my ink,
zested in zealous dahlias
and no rain can drown
this celestial
c o l l a b o r a t i o n…..
If I were a bird, would you clip my wings
then cage me away with pretty things?
And, if my wings were to be clipped
why not just burry me within a crypt,
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
For to have wings that cannot soar,
then why not nail me to the floor?
Tonight I shall make my final swan song
knowing I have been locked away so long.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant so kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So still the caged bird, she sings
without her sky, without wings.
Sometimes laments, sometimes sighs,
sometimes she whistles her own reprise.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So then curious is it, the caged thing
who finds she has the heart to sing?
Because it would seem a great strain
to be caged seems twisted and profane,
for a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
When asked, why do you sing, bird?
The answer is a simple word,
hope, for escape from behind these bars
that keep me caged from the stars.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
Birds should have no master, no kings
and love cannot be clipping wings.
But now it seems I must live confined,
in this hand crafted cage of your design,
but a cage is too small for a master of sky
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So must I wait for these wings to heal
and relearn how the wind may feel.
If I must be caged, still my heart sings
of the day I can again use my wings.
I searched only to find,
days more survived,
th'n wooed by life,
asking the heavens why.
Her name held a promised vow..
likened to a solitary bell,
from tall steeple's climb,
oh, how far I fell..
for one called Michelle.
I'll meet you in starlight again..
if rightful universe is willing,
to lend a helping hand.
Maybe, just maybe,
if they hear me praying,
where winged angels go singing..
her laughing eyes still playing.
Night passes on,
awaiting tomorrow's dawn,
somewhere a lone bell still ringing,
where queen takes pawn.
Two lover's lips willing to relearn,
whispered in a wishing well,
softest voice' heralding a return,
the one called Michelle..
Everyday, in all my years, I always spoke to you.
But now, I'm forced to live my life especially anew.
Three years have gone by since I last heard your voice.
And I still feel as if my heart is being destroyed.
I never would of guessed, it would be this hard.
As I put being without you, in disregard.
At nights I feel ambivalent ,when my dreams are with you,
In hopes that when I wake up, I'll still see you.
But I'm always let down when reality kicks in.
That another day is to live without you and so painful to comprehend.
My life is different now and so am I.
I've had to relearn everything that I thought I knew in life.
Only this time,without you, being by my side.
It's hard some days and then some days seem better,
But the bad days are hard, almost too hard to endeavor.
I still get angry that you were taken away.
And how much I feel like I've been betrayed.
But I realize that these things had to happen for me to grow.
And to get to know myself,only by being alone.
Maybe missing you will get better with time.
Maybe this mountain will get easier and less difficult to climb.
However this journey ends up to be,
I'll take every step still wishing you were right next to me.
I awoke this morning, before Dawns early light; the Sunshine still slept.
I took my coffee cup, out on the porch, and for “Lenore” I Finally wept.
The pain, the agony, years of grief: rolled down my cheeks: My Soul’s Relief.
A single ray of sunshine over the majestic purple mountains peak, peeks.
Out of this single ray of light, my Heartbeat; my Soul “ LENORE “ speaks.
“ My Dearest and Only Beloved ; I’m sorry I left, upon our Everlasting Day.
I’ll sing to you My final Poem, before OUR Heavenly Father; bids Me to stay
I remember every Rhyme, YOU wrote For ME : Lets memorize each TIME.
GOD grants US togetherness : “ LENORE, Lets make this HOUR, OURS.
LENORE and I shared Memories, OUR POETRY : many of OUR HOURS
As I came back, from this Adventure, the morning Sun was smiling at ME.
Atop the Mighty Purple Mountain he had climbed ; I was not There to SEE.
With eyes now wider opened, I watch the warmth of the SUN racing at ME.
I feel the wind the warmth flies in on, Flowing through my Grey White Beard
I Smell the flowers growing; I see the mighty OAK Limbs wave; WEIRD.
I must Retrain my senses; To see, hear, feel : TO WRITE!! My FRIENDS
Relearn the Basic laws of Truth and LIFE and LOVE and FEELING.
Must Retrain my hands to write of The Beauty of Mother Earth! My FAMILY
I have to Study very Hard, my Contemporaries , to quicken the HEALING.
Then I can Write, to the ones I love; They teach me Everything THE POETS
At eleven years old, by my Dad I was told
that I'd soon be enrolled, in a special Hebrew program
Try it for a year, my son, my dear
Do not fear: It'll be over before you know it
Hebrew you'll learn; for Torah you'll yearn
To God you will turn. You'll thank me for this in the long run
Well, my Dad was plain wrong. That year felt so long
It dragged and dragged along. Then, voila! It just ended
My Bar Mitzvah was good. I did my job like I should
Ate as much food as I could. And told my father I was quitting
My Dad was so sad. He felt I'd gone bad
Didn't care I was glad. Told me I'd made a mistake...
Years and years passed. My resolve didn't last
Just as my Dad had forecast. He'd been right all along
To God I had turned. For Torah I yearned
Hebrew I burned to relearn. But now I was sad
For Dad had passed away. His kindness unrepaid
At his gravesite I pray ~ that he accept my gratitude undying
September 01, 2020
Attitude of Gratitude Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
We don't see the stars as we once did.
We've lost contact now,
we live indoors.
We've lost the mythology of stars,
our ancestors once had.
They were glued to the celestial display at night,
and the stories and omens it told them.
Even when city-dwellers venture out at night,
to gaze and peer up at the night-sky of lights,
their view is dimmed by city lights, so bright.
Perhaps we should get out more at night,
and relearn what the ancients knew,
and what the stars told them.
It makes more sense than what we are told by science
much of which is quite frankly beyond belief.
In one Australian Aboriginal culture,
the Sun is female while the Moon is male.
"The Sun is a lovely old lady called Walu Yolngu"
She arises each morn and puts on her red ochre
this is why the sunrise is red.
Then the sun, sets a stringy bark tree on fire
and carries it across the sky and giving us daylight,
At day's end the sun puts out
the flaming stringy bark tree, and it's night till dawn.
The Moon is a bad person, called Ngalindi,
He is lazy, does nothing around the camp,
and becomes big and round and fat,
like the full moon.
His kin get so angry with his laziness
that they chop bits off him off each night.
So he gets thinner and thinner in phases.
Eventually he dies and disappears
completely for three nights in a row.
Then, he returns as a new full, fat new moon.
His is still, just as lazy, and loses his bits in phases.
This is charming, and makes much more sense
than what we are told in school.
We should get out more at night,
with our torches to read the ancient texts.
To relearn the lovely ancient stories again.
To put the heavenly soul back in the night sky.
There's a lot more out at night.
Life is indeed full of surprises..
Life is so huge to understand
It pricks us to cry, and lulls us to smile
Yesterday, we were full of love
Today, we helplessly fall out of love
It buoys us up to make the most of it
And be the best of everything
It is an endless maze,and faith is the only
banner of direction to destination
A gamble that we sometimes recklessly bet
Win or lose,we are up ready to try it again
A lesson, we ,most of the time, forget,
We do the same mistake, we learn and relearn
A pain, we get over with and yet, we find ourselves
being hurt again..
A trust, we willingly give away, but once
deceived, we can hardly give it back.
We build and rebuild it..
We sacrifice, we need to, to complete
ourselves through our loved ones' success
We hope like a persistent gale, failure may be
at hand, but we just don't stop hoping..
A choice that always begets struggle
to make us strong and be humble
We dream.We need an effort to believe in it
to get through and live through.
If life is so flickery to handle, then I must hold on to
the truth that I still live and live...
Self knowledge equated to the encyclopedia
and perceived facts, products of personal reasoning
the efficacy of thoughts should not be questioned
and assumptions simply made real and absolute
Typical of such a thought stamps on convictions that
the banana and plantain are the same
a superior race surely exist
leg size has a great correlation with the male’s genital
the measure of one’s success is solely factored
in his accumulation of wealth
and money is the root of all evil.
This mindset can walk on hot coal just to prove these points
Columbus was the first European to visit the Americas
bulls are colour blind and bats are completely blind
women are subordinates to men
and a pure heart is one which covers its body from head to toe
This mind can even tear its clothes to rags
in displeasure to your opposition to issues such as
Sydney is Australia’s capital
the earth’s evolution is the cause of day and night
Africa is a country and its inhabitants exchange
morning greetings with the Lion and the Chimpanzee
and Neil Armstrong is the first human to journey into out space
Despite carrying the internet even to the dreams
and having global captions mixed with daily breath
assumptions such as these are nurtured
religiously, with rigidity and military acceptance
the biggest illiterate of the 21st century is one
who cannot learn, unlearn and relearn
so said Alvin Toffler, the Australian Educationist.
Oh sorry! The American futurist
As I gaze upon your ghost-like skin and silken hair
I am reminded of those halcyon days we spent
Working in the fields. From row to row we rent
Weeds from the earth, nurtured the trees with care;
But something else bloomed then too. I came to bear
A most tender affection for you. The nights spent
Laughing, sweating and drinking together bent
My nature, my cold pride thawed in the June-night air.
But it is an affection I know you cannot return.
Your azure eyes may light up for me, but I ken
Whom they burn brightest for. Among all the men
Of the world, your heart does not yearn for a one.
So, to preserve the smile on your face, I must relearn
My cold pride and reign in my heart till its hunger is done.
(True feelings)
Not all culture are the same
If variety of different culture did not exist
Variety of history of life and different culture food would not exist. They would not be much to talk about if everything
Was the same.
What is the desperation of people want me to be this
African girl that I will never be.
For I am a Caribbean French girl get used to it already.
I am not a "niger" for I am not African from the Niger country, nor Neither is my son.
So really I think alot of few people need to relearn about history and culture.
I have my own culture background to put up with, what
Makes you think I would want to be part of another ( no offense)
I am sick of tired of the disrespect, for it goes both ways, I could do the same.
A person maybe the same color as another but that does
not mean they from the same background.
A respectable fashion is always display, which means
You ask but don't assume. For it could be done to you
I don't know if is being done in disrespect, but if it's so
Something must be wrong with thee upbringing not mines.
This nonsense been going on for a very long time.
The desperation of them wanting me to be this African girl
That will never happen.
Basically correction 101 I am a woman not a Niger nor a Muslim nor Dominican nor Jamaican. I am old enough to be your mother or sister ect. Thank God I am not.
I will not low to your level for the way I see it one of us have
To be the mature one, I see, it would be me
So to tell the tale of poetry one must start with the heart
A heart is the center of all emotions and thus said
It feel a range from the high of love to the deep dark pain of hell
Yes I know it tis' sad but cheer up all is not lost
For with this range of emotions this can turn into a great piece
For example I will try to write you a small poem on love
My Love
Many times I think you
You make my life complete
Life without you couldn't be
Oh you are my sunshine
very special lover and friend
Everyday I think of you
Now with this being said I do this for the love of poetry not to win any glory
you see I have suffered brain surgery where they cut open my right side of the brain I don't know if anybody paid much attention is science but I didn't it is where the memory is for spelling and all childhood and pretty much everything else so a person could just forget about it or try like me to relearn or regain so I write to learn
to regain my vocabulary even with this computer I have to come up with enough letter to hit spell ck. I was once a person with a photographic memory and now I am reduce to doubting myself and having to use baby words so the computer can help me spell them and grammar that part has not and will not come back no matter how I pray.
So if you read my poetry comment I can take it I got big girl panties I will get up pull them right back up and start again and if I don't comment back it is because I don't know how. I am still reprograming my brain .
when another (anointed as lady lucky)
resident renter bequeathed her bed
prior to that good samaritan deed thyself and spouse
slept on the floor like dogs dead
tired from another day acclimatizing ourselves,
especially when tummies got well fed
and grudging adjustment per lying supine upon the carpet
did upon arising found aches and pains from head
to toes, yet financial shortcomings disallowed this Jed
eye wannabe to defer attending domestic chores,
cuz ma whole body felt like a Led
Zeppelin, and matter of fact oft times,
thy body electric,
though lacked no evidence of disease NED
for short, I near felt a need to relearn basic motor skills,
gingerly, and eagerly reached for
performance enhancing drug i.e. PED
which coded identification
exemplified the a rich color of red
this (and other) prescription medication
(about a half dozen total found me to sleep akin to a Ted
dee bear, many instances of snoring
thine wife claimed emanated –
probably no more than when we wed
if memory serves me correctly
twenty plus years a husband aye attest
and find peace of body, mind and spirit
most exuberant and best
cherished, when hen pecking wife (yup, this husband
got pecking, pock, puck size marks
to vouchsafe his sworn statement)
some visible on my slightly flabby and hairless chest
and if traced with a ball point pen,
the shape loosely resembles mount Everest
with evidence of what appears to be erosion,
but actually evidence of wifely cannibalism –
viz zit on par as with an unwanted guest
which at first found this pop (sic) hull
averse to share the same firm mattress lest
she arise like a flesh eating zombie
during the wee hours of the morning and taking nest
ling to another level, whereby teeth
and scratch marks sure testament asper a pest
stiff ferrous mate, this husband would sooner bid adieu,
letting fate guide terrestrial quest
that might incorporate undergoing
the electric kool aid acid test
perhaps buffeting this corporeal essence north west
or maybe the unforeseen sojourn
would spirit thyself to a distant alien nation
one where each day of soundness of mental, physical
and spiritual growth will be reason enough
to celebrate with élan and zest.
Old Jacob was hard, but that was the only life that he knew,
At fourteen made his first cattle drive and was top hand with the crew.
He could ride, rope, wrangle, and shoot,
And helped to hang a many owl hoot.
Indians on the prairie, some were okay,
But there was those that would lift your scalp and not a word would they say.
But that was the west and why men relied on there gun,
Cause mister dealing with rustlers and Indians sure ain’t no fun.
Well those that stayed with the drive at the end of the trail,
Had a few months worth of money and some yarns they could tell.
Not all blew their money on liquor and ladies,
Some were God fearing and knew about Hades.
Many a good cowpoke lost his life in those joints,
Getting all liquored up and going for his gun to make his point.
It would be all for nothing when the smoke cleared away,
The undertaker would be the reaper of rewards on those mournful days.
Old Jacob rode the trail till a stampede broke his back,
Caused by some rustlers as they made their attack.
Laid up for months he had to relearn to walk,
He hated for people to point at him and to gawk.
He stayed to himself in a little cabin out west of town,
And when he’d come in for supplies it would be after the sun would go down.
Never once asked for help just weren’t his way,
Old Jacob was my friend and that’s about all I guess I can say.