Best Repaint Poems
-Dr President Lady, please launch the nuclear war button-
I'm packing up my girdle; I'm heading up state
Where society thinks only men should run for president
Chill with Bill, on the side show Hill
Subsequently, he got tripped up with his hand in the biscuit jar
This poem is not about me... It's not about, Hilary
I'm here to cheer and throw off an early vote voluntarily
I'm numbering my days with the aces
Until the 2016 U.S. Presidential election
Only in a woman, you’ll find confidence and determination,
Someplace out there is our leading lady in disguise
A woman who sits down and pee's with pride
A woman Like Hilary, whose place was denied in the sun
I will vote for a woman who is not afraid to lead,
Grab up her crotch, and fight for all the right reasons
Repaint the town white and her fingernails red
Blue lipstick in the breeze, a tommy gun in her possession
A million dollar diamond ring,
A mink from all cultures of the globe
Sing hallelujah, Amen Praise the Lord!
Pink ribbons of freedom,
China can test all her might,
It's time to feel the empowerment of a woman's delight
There she’ll be’, sit down and enjoy,
When it’s time to hear her voice,
The bullet will miss her beautiful mind,
She'll Raid the Democratic Nomination moment of the blind
Her ego on the side; when it's time to reason with society
Feel the shattered glass feeling when sharks attack whitey
Cop Out the Republican Bully
Black Ops the Democratic Liar
For women can reach, preach, and teach,
Nursing a world, collaborating with every mind
A barrier to be breached, a blessed moment to come,
If you require a true hit, vote for a woman in the Oval Office
Who said Mrs. Wonderbra can’t launch the nuclear war button
By:)
Categories:
repaint, appreciation, celebration, courage, devotion,
Form:
Free verse
The days go by so faintly,
But the pain throbs in my heart.
I wish I could do this over,
And begin again from the start.
Words are scattered bullets,
That left my big mouthed gun.
They targeted my happiness,
And killed away the fun.
·
The echoes of the casings,
Still cling within my mind.
If I could touch Dali’s clock,
I’d repaint the hands of time.
To a time...when I was with you,
To restore all of my wrongs.
But this life replays to me,
Like a sad love song.
·
My actions are still hazy,
But the results are all too clear.
If I could cast some magic,
I’d snap my fingers to bring you here.
But life is not that easy,
We make things so hard.
What started out as easy,
Is signed with sorrow’s regards.
·
Man, I’m in a daze,
A dream I can’t wake from.
As the world moves around me,
My emotions are still numb.
As I achieve my accomplishments,
From all the things I do.
Believe me...they mean nothing,
If I can’t share them with you.
·
As you rest on your happy pillows,
I toss and turn on mine.
I have come to my conclusion,
That separation is divine.
Maybe one day you’ll return,
To color in this black and white sky.
Nothing I do...can reclaim you,
And only God knows why.
·
I’m speeding to get nowhere,
While staring in my rearview.
The road has gotten longer,
With still no signs of you.
My patience is on empty,
Burning fumes of creative wealth.
But when the rubber meets the road,
I did this to myself...
Categories:
repaint, life, losssad love, life,
Form:
Rhyme
...... Part 3 ......
The old wolf creeps, the old wolf leaps
on prey he’s been a’ trackin’ –
a deer adorned with branchin’ horns
is torn by beasts attackin’.
The morning quakes, a shadow shakes,
tined antlers left a’ lyin’,
and spattered spots and scarlet clots
repaint the point o’ dyin’.
A magpie flies with frightened eyes
(on ebon wings a’ wavin’),
spies wolfin’ jaws and sated maws
of wolves no longer cravin’.
The snowdrift clears, a cool wind veers,
a dying breath, moreover –
a wraith appears, with shaggy ears,
(one droopin’ down, hung over).
Dawn’s sunbeams crowd, ignite a cloud,
its threaded strands a’ weavin’.
The pack awakes and twists and shakes,
for soon it’s time for leavin’;
it’s bleak, it chills on shallow hills,
as she-wolfs come a’ nuzzlin’,
but north winds scold, the wolf lies cold,
the pack stands back a’ puzzlin’.
On crimson snows neath perchin’ crows,
the pack abides a’ guardin’;
while nights are tight with Harpy kites,
the she-wolves wait an’ harden,
until a groanin’ blizzard stones
the barren forest stowin’
his shaggy ears beneath the weirs,
with icy hails ’a blowin’.
The storm abates and terminates,
the glacial wind’s subsidin’;
the past is past or passin’ fast
and life goes on abidin’.
The herds, today, roam far away,
not thinkin’ of the dyin’;
the pack’ll stray from day to day,
’a stalkin’ hard and tryin’.
As spring sneaks forth upon the north,
they’re lean without their leader.
A she-wolf (bound with belly round)
strains neath a budding cedar.
Upon the morn a whelp is born
(the future forest drover)
in new frontiers, with shaggy ears
(one droopin’ down, hung over).
......End......
Categories:
repaint, nature, old,
Form:
Rhyme
Yesterday I caught the drift of a word
Almost at the end of Dr. Ram?s words
That I had it all, three in one, with music and no regrets
Stirred my mind and made me think
What regret really means
I suppose Regret is the truant of history
Often sneaking out of the schoolroom of the past to torment present time
...seeking a meek heart to mess with
But time has taught me to be wise
Hence I now know how to turn Regret into a good child
The secret is in offering him the candy of time
The present is just what it means
A present to be justly cherished
If I share it?s gift with the regrets of the past
Sure, Regret will turn into a good child
And Regret?s deeds will fill my heart with pride
The power is in time
Each a new opportunity eager to be of service
As soon as yesterday bids bye, today arises to take its place in haste
And it brings in its wake
...the promise of forgiveness, reconciliation and reconstruction
In each day I find a newer canvas to repaint my dreams
And since yesterday I tried another style and failed
Today I?m that bit wiser
So I will try again with better skill...
To redraw the masterpiece of a life I dream in colours so beautifully vivid
So yes Dr. Ram,
Thanks-a-ram for reminding me how lucky I am
I owe it all to time
For teaching me how to turn Regret into a better child
Filled with lessons which I study
Tomorrow in my life there?ll be less like his kind
Hey Doc! Thanx-an-awesome-lot 4 the kind words u post of my poems!
This is especially 4 u!
Categories:
repaint, life, thank youme, heart,
Form:
Narrative
Artistry created with a hand comes in so many forms
I'm not always able to conform to considered norms
I've used #2 pencils when it was suggested I use a #4
Then again, I don't always do things to keep score
I've used crayons on pages while coloring with a child,
often traveling outside the lines on purpose, a bit wild,
but that's the rebellious side of me that I tend to condone
for I'm not one to be commanded like an airborne drone
I don't respond to lectures that try to confine my style
Establishing my own borders... blueprints not kept on file
The designs I'd used in poems and paintings, heretofore
are never repeated in new creations. That would be a bore
I write outside the margins and scratch words out with a pen
but on the keyboard, it's much easier to delete and then send
them to keep with pictures I'd consider painting in the future
I continually edit poetry and repaint scenes that need a suture
I'm open to the boundless beauty that nature holds in store
All anyone needs is the willingness to wander about and explore
I find incentive in spider webs before sunlight dries the dew,
and in prisms of wondrous things open-minded vision can accrue
Give me blank pages, stretched canvases, pen, paint and brush
Music brings out the artist within me, and I am never in a rush
to finish a poem being born, or a lighthouse I'm drawing on a cliff
but I am easily distracted by baking cookies with just one whiff
Categories:
repaint, art,
Form:
Rhyme
My porch must be miserable
Full of empty boxes
Thanks to Amazon’s daily deliveries
I had not noticed until today
But it is unbelievably noticeable
I wish the delivery men would take the empties away
My front door looks shabby
Needs a fresh paint job
But it is a mural and not easy to repaint
My car is not empty
There are three coats in the back seat
When did I become such a slob?
I would open the trunk
But I could not stand it
And the garage is already brimming with stuff
Nest week is spring break
Dare I begin purging?
I pick up a Styrofoam plate on my way to the car
And I am not yet in my car
So all of this is the three minutes
It took me to get ready for work!
Paying attention is unique
Has awaken me to my faults
I sit down behind the steering wheel, pondering my steps
Categories:
repaint, satire,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Once I had a bicycle,
A loving present from my grandfather;
Since I was his favorite granddaughter,
He granted my wish at a snap of my finger .
Since he was so old,
A new bicycle he could hardly afford;
He took his bike when he was young,
Which I found it once at the back of our barn.
As far as I remember,
It was really so old and rugged;
But my grandpa was like Mr. Mac-Gyber,
Amazingly fixing all things all-over.
My granda was a well-known painter,
I thought he will repaint and use sandpapers;
When I surreptitiously sneaked into his hut,
He was there recycling all my milk cans.
When everything was done,
He gladly gave it to me with a big hug;
I hurriedly drove it at once,
Down the street and field with so much fun.
“My bike was real a unique one!” I thought.
So different from others in our neighborhood,
Its wailing siren was made up of a cow’s horn,
Tubes were made of dried bamboos and corn.
Other parts were still the same,
Like forks, hubs and chainwheel set,
The rest were made up of my milk cans,
They were pedal, brake and seatgear stem.
Handle bars were what I liked most,
Converted from the handle of his old plow;
So sturdy and so strong all I knew,
And I can drive it so long in full control.
However, when I travelled quite afar,
Parts were falling one at a time;
Until everything suddenly split apart,
Eventually it dropped and rolled me down.
©2012Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Date: Aug. 3, 2012
4th Place Winner (My Very First Winning Poem)
Contest: Any Poem of the Week Contest
Contest Judged: 8/4/12
Poet Sponsor: Secret
Categories:
repaint, childhood, father, i love
Form:
Narrative
Spring Rebirth
Spring wakes from hibernation on warm days
which March allows, near closure of her reign.
But, since she's fickle, wind and snow regain
the right to visit, spread their frosty glaze.
Yet, mostly, we will see new growth displays,
encouraged by spring air and April rain,
that splendidly repaint the dull terrain,
with verdant wash and lovely pastel haze.
Our reborn spring unveils her youthful glow,
unfolding on the plains and mountain crests.
Along the valleys and their streams below,
her blooms and leafy trees grace each plateau.
And coupling among creatures soon bequests
new life...to multiply, replenish, grow.
Sandra M. Haight
~10th Place~
Contest: Petrarchan Sonnet
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Rhyme Scheme: abbaabba cdccdc
Categories:
repaint, spring,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
Out to our secret garden, I go,
No one's looking, I start the show,
Under the Pergola, out of the sun,
Dogs disappear so they miss the fun.
I check the back and all is clear,
My seat is better than I did fear.
Looking down I see my spindly legs,
After all these years, they are nice pegs,
Another check, just to make sure,
I start to strip in the morning air,
Down to shorts and croc's, I don't care.
After a few strokes and a cup of tea,
I'm bowing and scraping for all to see.
The old is cast off and on the floor,
A few more strokes and I lose some more.
What I see now looks pretty neat,
Now phase one is done and all is bare.
Tomorrow morning, I will repaint this chair.
© Dave Timperley 23 August 2017
Categories:
repaint, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
Written by D. W. Breidenthal
You take my breath away
I wanna stay in this entrancing paradise
I want all of the negativity to fade away
The darkness isn’t my property…I despise
Living a life that’s filled with misperception and disaster
I would love to live in the ocean’s ecstasy
That would be spectacular if we can abide in the sparkly sea
This eccentric dilemma makes your angelic features too unclear
It chills me to the bone…
My heart pounds with hope and fear… when will peace draw near
This flawless wish remains unknown
The night’s approaching…seek shelter and light
Painstaking regrets – I can’t back away from gravity’s pull
Hand me the rope and don’t bestow your burdens upon my soul
Sift away the misfortune and allow me to put up with the fight
Help me fulfill my flawless wish
And I’ll strip away your anguish
You’re a burning candle
I raise my head up from the mud
I step forward with courage that I couldn’t handle
On my own, but you stripped away the agony
Watch us grow and sprout as one flower bud!
You took my heart to a wonderful place
I wanna desert this decaying body of mine and seek you in splendid light
You forgave me for my wrongs…you thrilled me with praise
I wanna embrace the dawn’s incredible, appealing light...
Sweeping away the deploring night
It soothes my sensitive heart…dismissing my vexing misery
I have the urge to repaint the breathtaking memories I’ve spent with you
Will it scratch away the sorrow?
I have to search for shelter and burn away our calamity – slaying us with rue
Will my flawless wish store hope for tomorrow?
Categories:
repaint, absence, addiction, angel, angst,
Form:
Rhyme
Honey carry this
Dad the toilet is overflowing
Can you move the sofa there instead
Does this smell bad
Just three more stores Honey
You can build that easy
Sorry about the truck Daddy
Dad can you fix this
Honey I think it's time we repainted
Oh did you already finish Dad, I would have helped you
We didn't know you wanted to eat
Honey take out the garbage
Oh just put it in Dad's garage
And best of all it goes together in 4000 easy steps
Sorry about the report card
Honey turn that down
Damn you stink go take a shower
Will you start my car its cold out
I think it's time we repainted, don't you Honey
Dad I need to be picked-up at...Don't Forget
Honey I like the room better the other way
Tell Dad there's groceries in the car
I told my parents you'd build them an addition...Here
I think the septic tank is full...Honey
Did we clean those gutters
I thought we'd move the garden over there
Dad can I use your credit card
By we, I mean you Honey
I know it's the color I picked, but it's not the color I want...repaint it
Is It Good To Be The King?
I love you Daddy
Thanks Honey
Cool thanks Pop
I love you too Dad
Your the best Daddy
Yeah, It's Good
Categories:
repaint, family, funny,
Form:
Free verse
A self acclaimed professional with incomplete training;
following a system with part-time understanding;
feeding a beast with little knowledge of an approach tactics;
are all shelters where misunderstanding is harboured and trouble, honoured.
Foreign traditions should firstly be digested before adopted,
any culture’s morphology without the remittance of peace and respect
is either faulted with errors towards humanity
or carelessly photocopied using a bad ink.
It is okay to have an ascent
by mere keeping up with the kardashians
or beautifully repaint the glamour of societal fun
by bathing in the Jacuzzi of pop culture.
But when an entire way of life
such as faith based systems and religions
are admired and happily embraced;
such an adoption should never be done from a distance.
Despite its huge diversity, the world gets smaller everyday
due to similar interests, ideology and advancement in technology.
Even though borrowing cultures has aided this process,
it is still insignificant if humane virtues are altered.
Categories:
repaint, art, character, christian, community,
Form:
Light Verse
No citadel’s too tall for mortals like you.
Even acclivity of mounts fear of bipeds like you.
Adam’s ale in its ampleness has lost its meaning.
And only with your condonance,
do the flowers un-bud and birds do sing.
But let’s see, if this almighty can pass in my little catechism;
And a test it is; shouldn’t be misconceived with any criticism:
So, in the unfolding, will you also make the butterfly to unfold,
its hued aileron as per your yearn and control?
And As per your hankering, will you as well repaint,
the black calamus of the cormorant?
What has been quenching the thirst for years,
will now go from blue to black?
will you do all this to everyone and
Then save yourself the flak?
Will the new clock scoot a tick?
The viaducts have no brick?
Will the berdas rumble and the cougars sing?
Will the off-springs dummy up their begetters in the forthcoming?
Succumb or give an answer, are the only ways you’ve got!
Cause’ what you’ve been doing, I dub it as prying.
And there exists no amnesty for what you’ve been trying.
You’ve been a fine jeweler for the prime;
Validating the originality of a corundum’s been your style.
So how come you changed your vogue; negative appraisal is all you report?
Since when were you born with the power to transmogrify?
One could not get to azure, if you ever denied?
It’s never too late for home, even if you start back today,
You’re never too late for home, if you grow into a new You on the way.
You’ve been vexing the orb for years and yet go on, cause it owns no speech.
Narcissistic you are I hate to say; You never did as you preached.
But you still get a chance, to outweigh all your flaws,
Capitulate to the architect; cause he’s the only one who knows,
How the orb would relearn to live and the art for the orb to re-grow.
To bend is not for the anemic; But for those who aspire to learn.
Meek you’re not but strong enough to have ‘to be transformed’, as what you yearn.
Believe me when you reach home today,
they will get to see the stronger You.
For yes, I’d still like to admit
No citadel’s too tall for a mortal like you.
Categories:
repaint, angst, natural disasters, nature,
Form:
(to my late husband, Sonny)
Time to repaint and to clean
I really need a change of scene
So I can make this room mine
Where we once spent our time
Redecorating my room is a chore
Because I have treasure galore
I can’t part with this or with that
I have to keep this little white cat
And this red stuffed frog that can sing
Of course I must keep my engagement ring
You bought years after we were wed
And the Harley cap you wore on your head
My bubble fairy is a precious figurine
I must put it where it can be seen
Oh, and the water globe music box
Along with these polished rocks
The models of a ’64 Ford
This replica of a sword
Boxes for my jewelry and trinkets
Books, music, and these blankets
Memories flood into my mind
With each treasure that I find
I can’t part with things that you gave
‘Cause my heart says I really must save
So Sonny, even though you are gone
Your memory will still linger on
With mementos of the love we knew
A love that was forever true
Categories:
repaint, death, funny, introspection, love,
Form:
Couplet
First Day Of Spring
March twentieth, the first day of our spring,
though fickle she may be, buds start to stir.
The soothing breezes and sun's warming fling
bring magic as rebirthing will confer
to push the reign of winter out of sight;
repaint the scenery with tints of green,
and set the stage for shows of spring's delight
as her soft haze of new growth can be seen.
Heard are the chirps of birds with hopeful songs
of romance as they relish spring's new glow.
All creatures stir from winter sleep in throngs,
and brooks are bubbling full, from melted snow.
On this first day of spring...what joy we feel...
with reborn earth, new life, new hope, new zeal!
Sandra M. Haight
~4th Place~
Premiere Contest: Spring Is In The Air
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Judged: 03/05/2018
Categories:
repaint, spring,
Form:
Sonnet