Best Repainting Poems
Frozen flames pressed between each sheet
I flip every page while taking notes
Censoring every event in my past
I fall deep when staring at the painting on the wall
Every blink feels the same when in love
However, on this one night, I stumbled
On a certain page, I found my heart beating twice
The roof at this moment allowed the moon to illuminate inside.
A memory unfolded while I held your hand,
Repainting our years, a devoted love
At the heart of everything, I've forgotten this feeling
The canvas opens more than an old chapter
the beautiful canvas, tied by solid gold.
Flames brush every wall as we age as one
In perfect harmony. TOGETHER
Laminating our love forever
1-06-2016
hanging from the foliage
in your hundreds
repainting the leaves
in bright shades
of black and orange
with your waterproof
gossamer wings
of four inch span
so fragile and
yet so strong
enabling you
to journey south
across america
from canada to mexico
breeding new generations
as you travel
thousands of miles
with unerring accuracy
to the exact place
of your birth
to breed
a new generation
that will initiate
the process for
the return journey
to the north
in due course
you are indeed
the monarch
of butterflies
(Duo rhyme in Honor of Mary Ports)
Butterflies & Moonbeams
Of things that inspire I will write
Whether things of day or by night
Butterflies and silver moonbeams
Upon the quiet water gleams
Azure heavens where a hawk screams
Sunsets repainting awesome themes
Trees shade meandering cool streams
Yellow Stone where old faithful steams
Fireflies & double rainbow dreams
All made of magic so it seems
Enchantments entice my delight
With wonder I will dream tonight
©Diana Dalton 15 July 12
__._,_.___
Wind can be a bit pushy
at times
Though I would be first
to admit
of needing nudges in different
directions
inclined to linger too long
under shady canopy
or at the seashore
gazing off into dreamy
horizon
my mind inclined toward
repainting sunsets
rearranging stars into
unique constellations
or writing poetry
strictly for sojourners
each poem a gateway
to ports further unknown
Ambivalent pink heaven
merging softly into ethereal earth’s stratosphere
With a vibrancy and star plunk,
repainting the world with glittering hope.
Sprinkling it with love stars,
surrounding the dreamers with uplifting majesty.
God smiled benevolently as He watched His angels at work,
Revitalizing His young…
We are reclaiming them one soul at a time,
His positive cupids assured Him. He knew.
They were on a mission,
inspired by the despondency and greed
they had witnessed.
The souls began to arrive in glitches and gasps,
nurtured in the heart of heaven,
As their flesh bodies slept, not realizing their souls
were in full astral travel mode,
Being cosmically corrected….
Written 2-12-2019
Contest: Tell Me What Do You See Sponsor: James Edward Lee Sr.
It really bugged him, that shadow lurking
in the depths of the corner just waiting.
He had tried moving everything around
to no avail, it hung there as if bound.
He felt as if it was watching him move
for what he was unsure maybe his love.
Yet he knew for sure one way or another
it had to go for it was a real bother.
He tried repainting, that was a flop
it was full of bubbles he had to pop.
It appeared his guest was here to stay
nothing he tried seemed to keep it at bay.
In the end he put a screen that blocked
to which he swore the shadow flocked.
If you're good or you’re bad
If you’re happy or sad
If you’re angry or glad
You are human
If you're bald or you're hairy
Or fearful or scary
If you’re brave or wary
You’re human
If you hate scrubbing floors
Or repainting your doors
Then you are indisputably…
Human
If you sing like a lark
Or your voice is a bark
Or you howl in the dark
You are human
If you’re normally nice
But you’ve made a device
To put rats on ice
You’re still human
If you order your cat
To go catch that rat
Then you’re daft as a bat
But you’re human
If you locked all your doors
Due to Texas Chainsaws
Shunned the sea after ‘Jaws’
That’s just human
But if you, unlike me
Didn’t cry in E.T.
Then I hereby decree
You ain't human
Reflection is music in spirit
Deception is gratification through
ignorance;
Decisions cover the wallpaper on the
walls and furniture of
This stage we as actors play to these
cosmic gapping wormholes;
Hope steering louder than the hounds
camping out on the shoulders;
All ends in silence, and so gracefully
repainting the road back home
Saddled on the ears of angels,
Playing the lead role,
Carrying hope through a restless letterbox
Writing the story of love as it goes
Shore to shore
Ocean to Ocean,
Underwater yet out in the open
Swimming with the tides as God exhales
them
Breath within, without one cannot go
longer
This...
IS...
IT !!
He’s gone.
Just like that.
Poof.
I walk home,
My head filled with Kyle.
I miss him and,
A stupid letter,
Won’t compensate,
For the fact,
That he’s gone.
I live in a slanted house.
That needs serious repainting,
Steps that bend with every stride,
And needs a new owner.
My mother, Selene, sits
On the front porch, smoking.
She used to be beautiful.
But cigarettes and various drugs,
Took their toll.
Now her beauty is preserved,
In crooked picture frames,
She stares at longingly.
“Anna”, she croaks
Did I mention she hates me?
Hates the beauty she lost that I gained.
“Anna did you know…” She starts again.
I want to close my ears.
Stop the words that I know will only hurt me.
“…that Kyle’s a magician?” She laughs.
I push past her,
Escaping into the crooked house.
“He must be, because the moment
He figured out who you really are…
He disappeared! Poof. Like magic!”
The laughter in her voice,
Soon turned to malice, venom.
Spreading poison right into,
My broken, shattered heart.
“Then…who am I really?” I retort.
Anger making my voice harsh and cold.
Unfeeling.
“What did he figure out?” I scowled.
Making sure not to mention,
His name.
“That you’re no better than him.
You’re just as bad. Might be a bit smarter…
But just as evil. You gonna end up
Just like your momma. Hah!
Beautiful on the outside,
But ugly as Satan in the inside.” She sneers.
I feeze. Never.
I will never be like her.
“No…Kyle left me…
So I don’t end up like you.
So I can actually turn out to be something.
Instead of becoming…whatever you are.”
I say softly, gently.
I climb the stairs,
That nearly break under my weight.
I escape to my room,
Before she can respond.
It’s only been a month.
Since he left.
That’s when I realize,
Today is the first time
I’ve said his name out loud.
Since…he left.
Poof.
Just like that.
He’s gone.
I would ride a rhinoceros for you
ride it to Timbuctoo
and bring you back
all the golden sand of the desert in a bottle
I would overcome an octopus for you
dive it to deepest Atlantis
gathering up
pearls, sapphires, coral and rubies in a shell
I would bridle the biggest eagle for you
fly it to the cheese-green moon
collecting
shooting stars and sunbeams in a fine feather basket
I would sing a silly song for you, or
write a pretty poem, a nonsensical novel,
a dictionary
of brand new words to describe the lexicon of you
Moving faster than Wonder Woman, I
would go around the world in seventy-nine days
saving a day just for you
(bringing it home, wrapped in spices of the orient)
I would - if you asked me to -
stay up all night for a year, repainting the stars;
leaving them in your room to dry,
just to light up your dreams with silver.
Kim James
7-Feb-2000
Though years slip by through time
if you live long enough and rewind;
you get to see that history
is ever a repetitive cyclic mystery.
Refugees and immigrants raped
always seeking some escape
when faith, land, house and home
do not withstand the change and roam.
What is it about faith and land
that we take life so easily
in a self righteous stand?
The earth and sand lies troubled
drenched in hate and fear and bloody rubble
unable to grow lush in unseen lost beauty
as the seeds of change die in duty.
Man progresses and reconstructs
where earth of promise begins to self destruct
repainting it in greed and desire disabled
as Cain rises again once more against Abel.
Why does the story of brother to brother
never seem to change
and the good in humanity is smothered?
Those finally set free only in retreating
still find their fate unfound and fleeting
and in the end revealed the truth believed
and permanently lost remaining unachieved.
Slip sliding footsteps of the aftermath
trace imprints in the well trodden paths
and new found short lived peace
forever lies stolen and fleeced.
Why does the record never teach
lessons learned
to be continually un-reached?
We have been here before
resettling the same score
forever destined to repeat
living in our self conceit.
Seize the day, the changing times
stand and hold true to new paradigms
all are equal, deserving of the moment
giving hearts, trusting minds with eyes open.
We have been here before
lets learn the lesson at last
once and for all, evermore.
Those chairmen are in the tower of babel again
Painting and repainting the future of our land with crooked hands
Laughing at things as the world pass us by.
Those chairmen are in the tower of babel again
Writing us messages that have no bloodline.
Although black oil runs in our veins like water of vegetation
There is a sunstroke in our land.
We dream of cassava songs in the market
We dream of an open vehicle that could bear the tiredness of our souls but we are at the verge of things.
Our chairmen our flag bearers of fences
Translators of black dreams with European mirror.
The white house is open for destitutes, kindred of destitutes that are china in African sun.
Those chairmen are in the tower of babel again and there is a sunstroke in our land
The scorching heat is against banana groves.
Look and see children on a hungry march in the metallic road.
At the crossroad
Where I cried and rise to stardom
Unchained from within
And sing a song of freedom
There my seed would be, shouting "Father well done" !
At the crossroad
Where the scriptures were misinterpreted
And puzzle rearranged
There my people would be, dancing on their veiny drips
At the crossroad
Where the throat of the pen would not be stuck
and chest not tight
It teeth will be given it greatest bite
At the cross road
Where the pen will drip venomous ink
and cast silence to it earliest dark
There we would be, celebrating success
like yesterday's event
At the crossroad
Where my demise will be displayed
And wounds scraped open,
Where the titles of my pieces will be swept under the mud
There I would be, with a soured heart
repainting my darker past
BLAQ POET
PAKAMARA
There should be an idle Olympics,
one where you don't cycle or run,
and instead of diving, there's synchronised skiving
where teams of four get nothing done.
A training camp for doing little
would certainly pick up my vote,
full of amateur loafers sprawled out on the sofas
not caring about where's the remote.
Gold medals for staring at ceilings
that have needed repainting for years,
a silver for shirking, a bronze for not working
with an audience too idle to cheer.
No sports fitness coaches to nag you,
or physios to massage your joints,
starting gun's in the drawer
should you need it- what for?
As we all shrug, and say 'what's the point?'
I'll put my name down for team GB,
her indoors says 'you've nothing to prove,
you're already a winner' as she makes my dinner
and I can't be bothered to move.
Along the corridors both in white overcoats,
I think that’s what unifies us, what charges the environment
Even with light shakes and occasional jades
With larks pretence to just keep the handshake a little longer
Every meeting moment, both a boon and bane
‘I really wish to see her, but again the sparks just fly uncontrollably’
I’m afraid she sees through my soul
Analysing every thought after thought
Drawing clear disparage of the person before her and the brave
Lad still unveiled, my breath and britches
I felt her thoughts through her breath,
Her heart pulsating, her chest heaving up and down
Wasn’t that the motion of love?
As her mint white teeth confirms how pure her soul is
I immediately fix a tryst to warm myself on ambers of her purity
Besides the slow flowing waters I waited
Just how slow they were, waiting to witness affirmation of love
The setting sun a little ablaze, theming the evening with amber hue
Knowing that should it wait longer, might I be shy to look at my beloved
With silhouettes forming, dusk creeping in, the serene nature
Confirms how imaginary beings waited
How massive onlookers were to the secret nuptiality
How ready I was to my confession blatant make
Slowly she approached…
Each of her steps firmly knocking on my heart,
My mind played sudden games, reliving her before her arrival
Her sweet familiar scent, emanating from the surrounding green
With the blow of a breeze, pushing last of its wave down my core
Fresh roses in my hand smelt of her
Random bougainvillea repainting her graceful statue
Fresh lilies equating her to a goddess, ready to command my life
As I knelt on my one knee, affirming my allegiance
I saw her stretch forth her hand
She, holding her heart in her palms
Smiley, gaiety, my hands stretched forth to receive it
As I startled to the present,
At the touch of plastic kidney dish,
Hey Heman, stat blood samples please…
And the sound of running lab tap water
Really confirmed my daydream
Looking up, I stared into her smile,
Same smile
Same girl,
Same goddess!