Best Revival Poems
Before diving into the time machine for a nostalgic trip on my music video ‘Ring On My Line’ above, I invite you to read my preamble Sonnet below.
Ring On My Line -The Golden Era of Doo Wop, Retro Revival
If you've ever waited for a call that never came, ‘Ring On My Line’ will hit close to home. Take a trip back in time—no matter your age—into the golden era of Doo Wop and the boppy, haunting rhythms of the ‘50s and ‘60s.
This song captures the bittersweet romance of waiting by the phone, heart pounding with hope, wondering if that special someone will call. It’s a love story, where jukebox tunes filled the air, diners were the place to be, and every unanswered ring told a tale of longing.
So grab an ice-cream soda, turn up the volume, grab your partner, let nostalgia take over, and dance to the retro Doo Wop beat, you’ll enjoy it..
Note: You can also follow the lyrics by clicking on the CC (closed caption) on the video itself above our on my YouTube Channel
Beneath the silver hush of midnight’s sigh,
the quiet stars refuse to blink her name
Moon - You vigilant observer from above
Your indifference lingers just the same.
A drum with a hollow sound, my beating heart
each second stretched, each ring less second cold.
I strain to hear her verse, but none are found,
in the quietude of a glimmer not made whole.
Hope strains a fragile thread, pulled tight,
will love return, or do I wait in vain?
Time elongates the qualms I feel inside
Motionless yet its silence sparks my pain.
Oh, ringtone, let mercy find my ears,
or let me waft in love’s fickle fears.
Acres of lush emerald meadows
burst forth from pregnant earth,
creating the perfect background for a
dazzling array of wildflowers.
Expectant mothers of beast and fowl
fill the countryside with new
generations, eager to find their way.
Honeybees and hummingbirds
in frenzied competition for sweet nectar.
Jasmine and gardenia blossoms
kindle their senses with a
lustful, pungent fragrance.
Mares, folding new colts,
nudgeing them gently up
on quivering, spindly legs.
Ponds give travel to ducklings following in the
quake of proud mamas.
Rainbow trout rush upstream to
spawn, before laying eggs in lazy pools.
Throughout floral scented air,
unfettered birds soar freely,
voicing a revival of hope and joy.
Whimsical butterflies take a rest on
xylem, between aireal ballets.
Young babes everywhere, renewing our world with a
zest for life's adventures, awaiting.
02/16/15
Contest: Abecedarian
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
REVIVAL - A Dedication
Filled to the brink, ink in the barrel of my pen
Yet hesitant to flow as poem for days more than ten
Writer’s block or lethargy, I am unsure what and when
Like a cocoon reeled all around, my words trapped in den
No muse, no zeal, me cornered to the cozy comfort zone
Excuses I made in plenty- hell lot of work, I don’t have my clone!
Days and nights kept rolling, in my mind ,seeds called shirk were sown
Attitude of why bother?Chill! It happens to many, you are not alone
But entered little change to break this status quo
When a new message dropped into my mailbox you know
It was from this lady named Linda, dear poetess on Poetry soup!
On three of my poems that I had already posted, she sent in her scoop....
Her precious words of appreciation! left me motivated and inspired
To write new poem decided I ,my lost enthusiasm her words revived
Heartfelt gratitude dear lady, this poem to you with love I dedicate
Like an angel, to me you ferried a bundle of cheering for definite!
My words have now started flowing out of my mind's greenroom
To present before you all this poem in their free flowing inky costume!
( I dedicate this poem to my dear poetess -Linda, Poet Destroyer A )
©Copyright Anulaxmi Nayak,2016
In the wake, in the rubble,
I search for who I am.
After pain’s trouble,
how well can I stand?
I’ve long sat in debris
with no clue for company.
Please, hope, talk to me
so faith might walk with me.
I need out of my head,
away from all not said.
Tired of my feelings,
I search for their ceiling,
but I only bleed ~
nothing ceases my bleed.
In the wake, in the rubble,
I search for a new face.
After so much waste
how should I craft her ???
There’s need to shape
my chipped remains
into designs aligned
to best serve my
remaining lifetime.
Shall I mold pain into wisdom,
focus my eyes truth aware
or
keep this scorched heart form
with eyes colored forlorn?
tentatively touching ivory. . .
ten fingers revive euphony
For the Any Theme Crystalline Form Is Acceptable Old or New Enter Contest
of Rick Parise
Enrapture me, sweet radiance of beams.
As April takes her leave, I now implore
you. Fall upon me amber as in dreams
you came to me when cold was at my door.
Anoint me, oh sun, with rays of gold.
With spring’s arrival I’ve been made as clean
as drifts of peaceful clouds that heavens hold;
rinsed hopeful as the earth arrayed in green.
I walk midst meadow flowers, face upturned
as warmth like honey pours onto my skin.
The mirthless months are gone! My spirit yearned
for a rebirth, so now I take you in.
My only sin- neath winter’s pall I pined
with flagging faith for sacrament of sunshine.
You can squint your eyes and everything gets darker
But if you open your heart everything gets brighter
Lord, send a revival to our church,
To each and every saint.
Stir us, shake us, and mold us again,
Please make us what we “ain’t.”
the great revival is going on
the Arab Spring is going strong
no longer decieved by what was wrong
plane truth has shown what was going on
Restoration of soul
ransomed by love’s mercy*
repents from guilt angst, now
ready to worship while
refreshed spirit so blest
reaching out to others
radiates God's peace-bliss.
*Habakkuk 3:2 …O LORD, revive thy work in the midst of the years, in the midst of the years make known; in wrath remember mercy.
April 17, 2021
1st place, "Pleiades R" Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Merryman; judged on 4/19/2021.
The Terrible Ghastly Beastliness of
"THE POTATO CADAVER UNDEAD REVIVAL" (sonnet)
The Potato of Terror, April 24th 2002
They dug him up with a great pointed spade,
Awoke him from his rest of ninety years,
And O what a great bellowing he made,
And shook his fists, and twitched his pointed ears!
For there was much skullduggery afoot,
And horrid ghastly beastliness besides,
The Spud Maiden's Swan Song had taken root
Deep in his soul and tuberous insides.
Her tragic voice had roused the pixie throngs
Provoked the wrath of tuber overlords,
And small brown furry things in rubber thongs
Sprang to their feet and brandished tiny swords.
King Edwards, Caras! Hide your youngest sons!
A vast undead potato this way comes!
‘tis Sunday! Time for a revival.
It’s a celebration. Several days of praise
and charismatic speakers.
It is time for the bells
to be heard.
If we still walked the dusty streets
would excitement be at its peak?
Are the cars a yawn
that pull into the parking lot?
Will televisions be turned on,
instead of making a beeline
to be part of the angelic choir?
Who will dare to be unmasked?
Who are the holdouts?
Shout! Shout for joy
as we can still celebrate
and employ our lungs
to exaltation,
to raise the roof,
to blow the socks off,
to honor the King of kings,
the Lord of lords,
Father, Son and Spirit -
three in one
with the centrifugal gathering
that one day,
with trumpet force,
will find ourselves
amidst the angel armies
and all saved humanity.
‘tis Sunday!
Celebrate the upcoming days -
come one, come all
and give praise;
praise the Lord!
2/5/2023
Angry words have fear-mongering consequences,
said rhetorical behaviorist Hillary,
then Kamala, to Donald,
we would no more peacefully
and compassionately select a Donald Trump as President
than we would bipartisan co-invest to win Donald Duck for Empire Builder.
Words mean things,
said linguistic behaviorist Anat
to her fellow Economist Collective,
and the absence of kind words means something too.
We're not sure what
but I place my bet
on more discommunicating eco-political
ego-apartisanship.
FatherSun enlightenment led toward EarthMother liquidity.
We know this from our indigenous history
of Yang/Yin Win/Win
environmental science books
but this is difficult to see
how exactly this could be
without sufficient silence to recall
what dipolar co-arising energies lie in wait
within this shared bilateral brilliance.
Fire and water,
progenitors of stardust
eco-empowering,
sacred ecologizing
fertile organic planets
birthing health moisturized wealthy regenerations.
To paraphrase bodhisattva Joanna Macy,
Co-invested communing economics
is not more wishful monopolistic thinking
(or messianic ideation).
Active political gathering verbs
enlightening sacred habitats
do not wait for renowned
divisive
drowned-out
dis-organic trauma issues
to be reverently resurrected
and religiously re-membered
by monoculturing Donald Ducks
or by some Anti-Other quacking
self-serving colonization
of patriarchal monotheistic
discommunicating misbehavior.
Active Hope wakes up in love-life's ecological
EarthMother baptismal beauty
wonder
fertile light and flowing power sabbath
on who's silently communing behalf
we can act in sacred light
for animated
organic
polyamorous co-empowerment.
To the responsible Hillaries, and Kamalas:
Follow positively cooperative light,
not so much darkly threatening
reactively monolithic
swampy miscommunication.
To the authoritarian Donalds:
Follow your competitively brilliant
SunFather responsive truth
with EarthMother beauty
loves polyculturing liquidity,
not so much your prized
monopolistic
and monotheistic
anthro-patriarchal
discommunicating fear and anger
military-industrialized pathologies.
Divine fire
makes spiritual endeavors ablaze
kindled by love's impact
against coldness of apathy
turning brewing friendships
to fellowship-blends so sweet.
Revival flame
exposes spirit to broiling tests
midst trials, verily roasting
revealing integrity’s credibility
demanding drive-acceleration
with pressures against slothfulness.
Fiery sessions of faith-fortitude
burn unbelief and doubt
as well as selfishness-pride
being heated up for diligent service
midst God’s compassion-furnace
toward kindness' exercise.
Transforming powerful ventures
marked by reaching-out zeal midst soul winning pursuits
radiate inspiration for life-building mission
glowing with the Lord’s heavenly warmth
yon eternal simmering joy…
sizzling gratefulness and steaming triumph-praise*!
*Psalm 57:7 My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed: I will sing and give praise.
July 24, 2018
Edited on March 28, 2022
1st place, "A BRIAN STRAND 1098" Free Verse Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 3/30/2022.
Repel
The sounds of hate
Fate, voices of fury
That grip the heart in an icy
Embrace.
Repeat
The sounds of love
Words, songs and special gifts
That lift the heart upon the wings
Of doves.
Return
The sounds of joy
With a voice filled with songs
That seize the heart, no longer wronged
Royal.
Rejoice
With sounds of cheers
For here comes the new sun
And all hearts can be lifted up
In peace.
By CarolineCécile
Copyright © 08/18/10