Best Restarting Poems
Forgive me for loving you, even though you never asked,
a secret kept like a pebble in my shoe, now smarting.
If heart dares to belong, it's just a weakness from my past.
Make scars worth the fight, put back the pin from grenade you grasped,
moment of truth arrives, met with two lips bruised and parting.
Forgive me for loving you, even though you never asked.
I thought I walked the streets alone, wearing a grotesque mask.
You were inside me all along, sweet message imparting.,
if heart dares to belong, it's just a weakness from my past.
How I've missed your awaited touch, and hoping it would last,
our sun grant'd pardons galore, for love's kindled restarting.
Forgive me for loving you, even though you never asked.
I didn't say why I came back, you never took me to task.
tho' written in an inkling, the tear your eye was guarding..
if heart dares to belong, it's just a weakness from my past.
You never miss something until it goes and die is cast.
Your present regifted, from a long ago departing.
Forgive me for loving you, even though you never asked.
If heart dares to belong, it's just a weakness from my past.
26 December 2020
Vast dust bowls surrounding the land
barren barely supporting any life
Stark and so bleak, just sand
sand as far as you can see
Wicked winds churning up
forever changing canvass
reforming the dune hills
maps little use to you here
Watch the Grecko lizard
as he dashes over the sand
his feet barely touching, as he
scurries then dives down deep
Harsh and Relentless
yet with a stark beauty
that some how pacifies
Life needs these adversities
It is on them that nature thrives
all we can do is onwards strive
stark dangerous and life threatening
yet holding a promise of life restarting
written 08/02/2013
contest PD's submit a poem any theme will do
In a tossing and turning night, to wake up I forgot
Never slipping from a series of perpetual dream
A strange situation over and again, escape I could not
In the fabric of this woolgather, I couldn’t tear the seam
A speech in front of hundreds, I yearned to scream
Standing in my underwear, my shaking voice was caught
Closing my eyes tightly, trying to change the theme
In a tossing and turning night, to wake up I forgot
Skating across the ice, I wind up to take my shot
I miss the net completely, letting down the team
I’m stuck in a roar of booing heckles, an onslaught
Never slipping from a series of perpetual dream
Shut these lids again, restarting in a shallow stream
Running with aching legs amidst a forest, I am shot
A hunter hovers over me, to finish his prey I deem
A strange situation over and again, escape I could not
With the bang I take off again, sprinting on the spot
There is no ground below, I plummet from a height extreme
Anticipating the collision, pinching to change the plot
In the fabric of this woolgather, I couldn’t tear the seam
Is it over? Am I out of this self-induced figment regime
In a jolt and thud, I reach the cloth of bed that I’ve sought
A sigh of exhaustion and relief, I’m all out of steam
Bedding and pillows askew in the chaos that I brought
In a tossing and turning night.
June 6th, 2022
A RONDEAU REDOUBLE POEM Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Classes started up again today. Soon, we’ll be gloriously stressed, and clocked-up on whatever. Our hearts will swell to the pre-med symphony - a frantic opus, composed in the key of no sleep.
In seminars for rising pre-med seniors, (What's needed to get that med-school slot!), it’s obvious that 60% of the students who started out with us, on this track, are gone - left for other majors. “I wasn’t happy, it was too much,” they said.
I feel a pang when I hear that undergrads we’ve shared a trench with have switched their major to basket weaving (‘political science’), TikTok (computer science) or Phys-Ed.
I envy those defectors, I pity those defectors, I envy.. Wait, aren’t deserters supposed to be, well, you know.
Meanwhile, the rest of us, the stubborn few, cling to the dream. It’s a waking dream, for caffeinated zombies, obsessive-compulsive workaholics and maladjusted wonks who neglect personal needs, relationships and in some cases personal hygiene (not me, of course) in favor of a goal.
Maybe there’s something wrong with us?
Just Around the Bend…
by Odin Roark
Make-believe knows
Hand in hand
Guardian and child
Never ceases to be
As words meet words
Sentences find paragraphs
Pages turn new discovery
Begetting chapter upon chapter
And then…
Often faith’s endurance knows no end
Like a turkey too numb
To know its head is gone
Or a truck forever stuck in relentless mud
Even the mind’s conscience ratchets its continuous drone
Long past heart’s flickering pictures
Have jumped off sprocket
Coiling images’ remains upon a floor
Always willing to catch the fallen
Knowing restarting is always possible
Yet
In the house
That might have been a home
The phone continues to ring off the hook
Like a metronome gone berserk
Bent on satiating rhythm’s appetite
Past the inevitable wind down
With eyes closed…
Survival holds firm one’s make-believe castle
The house now empty
Save for whispers from the past
Knowing well the drafts of loneliness
Shiver the drifting dust
Becoming the only skin left to touch
Unknowingly
The residual past
Moves through unneeded locks
Once securing doors leading to
Now forgotten passions of privacy
Images rendered blind
By keyhole mockery
Remaining…
The heart’s keyboard
Once delivering its voice of hope and trust
Now accelerating words no longer noticed
Meaning hurtling past yesterday and tomorrow
Like a bullet train screeching off its rails
Ricocheting off walls once holding secure
Now speeding toward a boarded-up station
Once of hourly expectation
A platform crowded with promise
Giving back a passing ghostly blur
So travel hearts in linguistic search
Myth makers pursuing beautiful language
Knowing delivery never guarantees
Anyone waiting to hear the words
Save perhaps the make-believe child
Walking hand in hand
Believing along with the writer
That just around the bend…
Tension Relief Program or TRP is a new treatment for a condition from which many of us suffer.
Step 1: Say "Footboatgoose" 3 times.
Step 2: Laugh.
If you cannot laugh, try restarting the program.
Saying "footboatgoose" 3 times may summon goofballs with bad hair, foul language, and noisy black & white striped suits.
TRP may cause ILLS(Infinite Logic Loop Syndrome).
If you develop ILLS, suspend using TRP and call Tech Support.
ILLS may make you unsafe to drive, so ask a friend to help you.
Treatment of ILLS is available and recovery is possible.
Side effects of TRP may include snorkel nose, pick-up stickyballs, and memory crapping.
Less common side effects may include trembling limbo bimbo, itchy fuzz-butt stubble, and jumping Macarena beans.
Men may experience interrupted pistachio stream and/or herniated taco sauce.
Women may experience runaway Fallopian tubin' and/or made in China milk.
WARNING: Saying "footboatgoose" around strangers may cause temporary detention.
TRP is still in development, but I think it is safe to use in moderation.
Please send all concerns to whom?
TRP v1.15 - Fit to Print
Between First Cause and Final Effect
swells and ebbs Time's echoing life
regenerating across mountainous valleys
from Alpha's thoughtful
revolving last Omega feelings,
Yang redeeming Yin's reiterating double-bound investment,
in HERE/NOW
Present pilgrimage
from winter's metamorphic hibernation,
preparation
Falling regenetic seeds of Time's harvest
restarting to unfold again
from barren Omega
back to budding Alpha
Coincidental thought felt cause,
infinite potential effectiveness
riding our shadow horse
of shared season's time
cooperating spacial place
Earth's eco-logical
environ-mental healthy pace
of synergetic felt volution.
God may not grow omnipotent
throughout life's mortal span,
yet evolve loving wisdom's omnipresent time.
Fractal rebecoming explains everpresent
recycling Time,
original nurturing effects,
intended affects,
implied reasons,
corrective rations,
logos resonant mythic resolutions
of DNA's contending recreative query.
Time run things
Not people,
It decide when to go fast, when to pause
And when to stand still to make a minute
Feels like hours,
No wonder we feel strain every time
The circle tick.
We stop living to let the universe
Decide our destinations,
Time brings all things to line,
It gives perspective,
Nurture us to make plans and dream about wishes
That may never come through.
Them struggling, we must give it names,
He’s always on the move it must be ADHD,
Mental instability, why don’t we call it depression.
Relationships are dying; it might be the end of age,
Time moves
But we remain the same,
There is no time, forget about the intercession,
She’s still unmarried she’s running out of time,
No kids she shouldn’t wait until she is 40.
He’s been in office for long, why can’t we see the movement,
Everyone is having an inner conversation,
No one seems to find fault, no one is talking
The man is moving in circle with no plans,
We must give him REBOOST
He might start the PLAY,
Why doesn’t he drink SCORE to
unravel the MONSATER Within?
Energy might keep him awake at night.
The time is moving, but it keeps on rotating and restarting,
Who is really moving this time?
Forget about time, everyone belongs in paper town,
Nothing is real, it’s just an opinion
We just in the season where everyone is looking for a reason
Ambition without solution is just a conjunction.
Stand in the light
For every unspoken word becomes a lie.
The time is now,
Stop waiting.
Stand in the light until every drop of spot
Light recognise you,
Because the time is always now.
Stop envying mine; I’m just a mess waiting to be saved.
Our times will never be the same, if you few seconds
Late it doesn’t mean you’ll never make it to the finish line.
TIME and AGE is just an illusion.
the eveNing strayed into the dark evening shade.
we pick up a drink and sharpen Our knives.
hold on now, hold on a little longer
wield the sharpest edge
like clear glass
of lonely
pain
down deep
in My heart sO to steep
the moRe i grind life into feEling
warming my blue bLood by an Open fire.
a maN hiding in the darkest End of this
Life will not speak of his crying eYes.
i touch his glass and Pour out all
the sorrow. i leAve hIm
walkiNg to light of
love
Symbolism:
The shape of an award symbolizes the award given to a person who lets go of their pain and
is able to achieve the hidden message (capitalized letters): “NO MORE LONELY PAIN”.
The word “pain” is at the bottom of the upper portion of the poem. Where the knife cuts into
the heart, there is pain. This portion of the poem also describes the descent into depression
after the loss of love. The shape is a downward arrow or a knife being sharpened to a point,
ready to inflict pain. Also, the word "NO" is hidden in the capital letters to further signify the
negative emotion of this portion of the poem. This part of the poem pluralizes the subject,
making it seem impersonal as if to personify, "cold steel."
The second part of the poem is shaped like a heart. This portion of the poem focuses on one
subject, is more personal or intimate. It indirectly advises the reader, through the actions of
the one subject, to let go of one’s pain and pursue love once more, in essence, restarting
one’s heart, starting life anew.
The word “blood” is where the knife is cutting into the heart, blood will flow from the injury.
The word “love” is at the bottom of the second part of the poem. Love is the deepest
emotion, “from the bottom of the heart.”
Boys opted to dance as the groups were selected,
A boy paired off with a girl formed a group,
The pole fifteen to eighteen feet affair,
With ten different colored tough ribbons.
The post stood centered within a big round,
Colorful strips barely touched the ground,
Along with other pairs we formed a circle;
Each pair picking to hold them in their arms:
The music began to play and we walked,
Watching pair in front keeping steady pace,
Each step kept drawing us near to the pole;
Music stopped; restarting us to reverse.
Next we wove around pairs in meshed styling,
Ribbons pleating over the shinning pole,
Evening sun shone with the rainbow shaft;
Boys never returned to this silly craft.
Picture help:-
http://images.encarta.msn.com/xrefmedia/sharemed/targets/images/pho/t242/T242422A.jpg
There's no need for heartfelt goodbyes,
Nor tears, though they may cloud your parting.
I wish to see it with my very eyes,
Convince myself that life is just restarting--
That everything will stay the same,
And you will find no one to replace me.
That I will scream, and scratch, and bleed your name,
And you would hear or feel, then turn to face me.
That distance would be just a noun,
One we could choose to leave unuttered.
And we'd pretend the sky's not falling down,
As though we'd known the future never mattered.
But please, remember me, when you have time to spare,
When your new friends and places start to feel as old as ours.
And if you fail to find your answers there,
Let me shine light upon your darkest hours.
So, don't despair, my dearest friend,
Allow yourself to suffer no remorse.
I'm part of all you have to leave behind, but in the end,
I would gladly lose myself, so you could find yours.
This is the making This is the
the making of something,
the basement of something,
the foundation of something,
something grand the re doing of
a young poet named Robert c
Bessel Jr., everything new,
as i sit back and start to build
this huge imp ire im restarting
from the basement,
the first step is placed with
granet finishing isn't even in my
mindset but
stamping checks now were
talking ligament business, so
getting the next is history what
history in the making is.
I felt time change in the air
Stopping and restarting so suddenly
Any mortal would have missed it.
But I felt its renewal
As I walked down the lane...
And met up with my heart.
I felt the wind caress my thoughts
reassuring of the future's changeably...
Nothing and all: is fate.
Like a dove and twig; inseparable.
And like the oncoming sunset
in its surreal majesty.
I felt time change in the air
Stopping and restarting so suddenly
Any mortal would have missed it.
But I felt its renewal
As I walked down the lane...
And met up with my heart.
Bent on discovering the truth
Stuck on igniting the flame
Restarting the stunted growth
All these things I want to know
To experience the old as new
Plot this pilgrimage as if it my own
It is, who is to say it is not?
Discover as if I were the first
I am the boy with the unquenchable thirst
Eager to start this tidal wave adventure
Anxious to stop the things I won't remember
From now on all I do
Will command to occupy my mind
And in turn subconsciously
Leave the past behind
I am hollow for I want what is out of my reach
Things I cannot have at that precise moment
My will struggles inside like a chained monster
Trying to get lose and devour whatever has the
Power to make my silly selfish dream come true.
Then the fortune wheel spins my fate round,
And brings up change, causing the unlikely to be.
Happiness happens unexpectedly as a lightening
Lasting no longer than a lightening does in the sky,
Making me want more, and different, and new things.
Hollow I’m found again, lost in my delusional aspirations
Restarting a cycle made purely of torment, angst, darkness,
Everlasting unsatisfaction that leads indeed to inherent conquests
As well as to the deepest abysm of a restless unfulfilled soul
Who will never comprehend the meaning of the word “enough”.