Long Rebuilding Poems
Long Rebuilding Poems. Below are the most popular long Rebuilding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rebuilding poems by poem length and keyword.
You meet them with sparks and a cinematic kiss..
All butterflies screaming, “It doesn’t get better than this!”
You map out forever by date number three..
“I’ve found the one”.. statistically.
The honeymoon phase is a glittering high..
Where flaws wear disguises and red flags wave shy.
They chew kinda loud? Oh, that’s cute, what a trait..
Six months down the track.. “I can’t stand how they ate.”
You post all the selfies, the captions, the glow..
Couple goals for the world’s little facebook show.
But behind all the filters and highlight parade..
There’s cracks in the plaster love carefully made.
Because love isn’t candles and wine every night..
It’s bills, moods, and choosing to not start a fight.
It’s laundry and silence and days that feel flat..
And learning to sit in the weight of all that.
But somewhere along when the magic feels thin..
Instead of rebuilding, we pack it all in.
“Maybe there’s better,” we quietly think..
While pouring wasted years down the emotional sink.
We swipe and we wander, convinced we’ll upgrade..
Like love is a product that slightly delayed.
But every new soulmate starts just like the last..
With fireworks destined to fade just as fast.
So here’s to the lovers who bail when it’s tough.
Who chase the feeling but not the real stuff.
Who fall for the start but not stay for the mess..
Congratulations.. you’ve just met your future Ex.
Dearest Adrian, do you know the ache,
The way you left my heart, a shattered flake?
Each tear I cried, a river flowing deep,
For in your silence, I lost the will to sleep.
You were the sun that turned into a storm,
The hands that held me, now ghostly and worn.
I loved you fiercely, but you turned away,
Left me in shadows where love used to play.
I wrote this letter, inked with my pain,
A way to purge the heart's scarlet stain.
Once I trusted, believed in your gaze,
Now I question if love's worth this maze.
The memories linger, bittersweet and bright,
Yet the nights blend into a suffocating fright.
Why did you leave when I needed you near?
Was the love we shared merely smoke in the air?
I didn’t think love could cut so deep,
Could leave remnants of sorrow that crawl into sleep.
But you lifted me high just to let me fall,
A sweet serenade turned into a brutal call.
With all my heart, I gave you my best,
But you took the love and left me to rest.
And here I am, rebuilding from dust,
Understanding that love should be built on trust.
I’ve learned through your silence, your absences vast,
That real love isn’t found in a fragile past.
I carry the scars like pages I’ve turned,
Finding strength in the lessons I learned.
Yet part of me wonders, can I ever love true,
When shadows of heartbreak still whisper of you?
I won’t close my heart; I’ll mend it instead,
Through the cracks of my being, new love I will thread.
Goodbye, dear Adrian, the hardest of lines,
But I’ll rise through the ruins, letting fate intertwine.
You taught me of love and the pain that it wears,
But with time, I’ll find joy in what the heart dares.
So take this final note, a wish on the breeze:
May you find your own path, may your spirit find ease.
And though you held my heart in your careless grip,
I release you now—let this journey eclipse.
—Makayla
his path strewn with sink holes and driftwood
took him to the edge of fear and utter despair
and perceptions often mislead more than they guide
until he chose to be more than a mere survivor
love had brought him incredible satisfaction and joy
yet impermanent suffering shadowed his rainbow
for a while painted in anthracite charcoal and ashes
black on dark canvas ghastly grim and forlorn
depression reeked its ugly head as a stark reminder
that life owed no happiness but he beheld himself
in courage hope faith and the hard labour of searching
for grasping the meaning of pain and thorough rebuilding
on the verge and crisis near the abyss and valley of death
he came upon the crossroad and decided to forge a third way
went to the beach and gave thanks to good things to come
As the flowers are reborn in the embrace of emerging spring,
Who am I to wither at dawn, when I see the morning blackbirds gathering,
Blessing me with songs they sing in crystalline voices.
Once, their melancholic song melts with each drop of rain,
Under blue and clear skies, they banish winter’s pain with hopeful trills.
I watch them gather fallen twigs, skillfully building new nests,
Bravely rebuilding what was once shattered, facing nature’s trials.
I know predators lurk in the shadows, so at sunset, in the silent dusk,
I wonder where they find shelter, not to fall prey to the merciless night.
With a philosopher's eyes, the mind wonders: what if birds were born without wings?
How would they fly to freedom when trapped? Would we still hear the blackbird’s song?
Wandering in the wilderness, some glide slowly, lost in melancholic motions,
Sinking gently into surface streams, unable to control their chaotic emotions.
We are blessed with spiritual wings, yet some prefer to remain in their fragile cocoon,
Still unable to learn from the birds’ return, their true soul struggles to sing harmoniously.
In the migration of misunderstood minds, we may lose ourselves among unfamiliar silhouettes,
Like dead petals ignored by butterflies, our pains turn us into puppets.
Darkness will always consume our horizons, but reaching the edge of light,
I rejoice in the belief that my spirit will fly, even if my foundations collapse at the shore of hope.
They met in the silence of shattered lives,
two strangers with broken hearts,
haunted by losses too heavy to name.
He carried the weight of wars fought far away,
the screams still echoing in his chest,
the faces of fallen brothers,
cloaked in nightmares that never let him sleep.
She carried the weight of a child lost too soon,
a son taken in the violence of a world
that knew no mercy.
The emptiness in her arms a reminder
that love can be stolen,
leaving nothing but hollow echoes.
But when they looked at each other,
there was no need for words—
just the shared understanding
of how grief carves deep and leaves scars.
They didn’t need to be saved,
only to be seen.
In each other’s pain,
they found a quiet strength,
a place where the world could not touch them.
Together, they rebuilt.
Brick by brick, breath by breath,
they learned to stand again,
stronger in the brokenness
than they had ever been before.
Two souls scarred but unyielding,
complete in the space
where their losses met.
On the day I met your smiling facade, I should have guessed
That you are a mapless labyrinth, an enigma clothed in the false light of evening,
A guide to wanderings, where my steps lost their echo,
And your gaze, a deserted lighthouse, left me to navigate in the starless dark.
Fate carried me to you, a shipwreck promised from the start,
To learn the art of rebuilding from the ruins of my soul,
To paint dawns over my dark nights, to clothe my days
In the colors of sunrise, in an endless spectacle of rebirth.
Become all you wish, in the whirl of change or the calm of stagnation,
I, unchanged in my essence, will remain steadfast in a love that crosses eternities,
Even when you chose to turn my feeling into a doomed chess game,
Leaving my heart to burn on the altar of your unshared passion.
You became the executioner of my feelings, a magician juggling flames,
You abandoned me in your labyrinth, leaving me to melt in your obsession,
From my ashes, to raise a seed of hope, to harvest happiness as forbidden fruit,
While I, turned into fertile ground, will nourish the roots of a new beginning.
On the altar of silence, where the echoes of love fade into the mist of oblivion,
I became a pilgrim in search of light, crossing the dense forests of longing,
Within me, a universe opens, a gate to unseen worlds,
Where each step is an incantation, and every breath, a song of renewal.
In this hidden sanctuary, where reality intertwines with dream,
Your love, once a living flame, now a falling star in my twilight,
I learn to dance among the shadows of memories, to carve my destiny
From the magic of silence, turning every scar into a sacred sign of wisdom.
Dear America.
My name is Common Sense.
A few people still respect
and utilize me, but in many if
not most places, I am no longer
welcome. Nevertheless, I beg of you
to bear with me in this brief discourse.
Here we are again,
at the crossroads of heaven
and, as Charles Dickens would say,
"the other way".
We have been here before, often
pushed to the edge as in 1776, 1812,
and 1860; just to name a few. By God's
good graces, we withstood the attacks
of our enemies and survived our own
civil war against ourselves.
The present questions before us are
whether or not we will survive and
recover from our present determination
to be at war with ourselves.
Do we dare embark upon a course that bodes
no good fortune? Must we insist on a family
feud set on disembarking from America's
foundation principles? Shall we pursue
a direction intent on rebuilding a nation
whose God is no longer The Lord?
I love you America, and I still believe
in you. I shall continue to pray for you.
Your friend,
Common Sense
I am a mess — but not one to be fixed.
I am the ruins and the rebuilding.
I am the storm that walked away from the wreckage,
Still breathing. Still burning. Still me.
They hurt me.
Often.
And I stayed.
Not because I was weak —
But because I believed people were more than their wounds.
I saw the parts no one else saw.
I loved them anyway.
But something changed.
The tether broke.
I don’t chase what cuts me anymore.
I don’t anchor to people who never learned to hold me.
I care — but I don’t cling.
I remember — but I don’t return.
There’s no hatred in me.
Just a quiet goodbye
to a thousand versions of myself
who thought love meant bleeding.
I am chaos,
but I’m not lost.
I am truth,
even when it’s uncomfortable.
I am the fire,
but also the one who walked through it.
I am Chaostrude.
Not a title.
A becoming.
He Knew When She stopped Smiling
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"Dissonance" by: De Manière Negatiboa
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Surgery niceness, started the response, it
caused most of us to see things
in a different light. Maybe we shouldn't
have wrote this song! We collaborated to
write and of the 14 main characters
involved with this creational piece
thought it represented a classical
mastering. Most of the critique
caused others to frown. It tuned
our ears tom want to hear better
things the lady said. She avoided
eye contact and completely turned her body
away from me. Avoided me like I was the Plague
Moving away from me to reduce her anxiety
or discomfort, such as ignoring
messages or avoiding conversations.
It made her happy to say she liked the music
but the song was like stepping in the horses dung
wearing a wedding gown. "You don't want it
on you, you know!" Days later she thank us for
our decency by removing the lyrics and smiled
enough to give me a little solace to comfort
me. They didn't like it is all we could say!
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"rebuilding a sense of integrity"
Rebounding from a review of your talent
or chose of material "pathetic" and "horrendous"
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Isn't it about time that the West and NATO stepped in
To put a stop to brutal aggression by Vladimar Putin
Men bound and shot, with their hands tied behind their backs
Enough is enough civilised world, it's time to launch attacks.
From cities and towns the Russians are starting to withdraw
Journalists are reporting on the unspeakable horrors they saw
Russians are preventing burials and bodies are left decaying
War crimes are being committed and we're doing nothing.
Horrific war crimes were being committed, by ISIS in Syria
Now the Russians are doing it and claiming it's fake media
Saying actors are being used and what you're seeing isn't true
But Russia we are not stupid and we can see what you do.
We see the evidence from satellite images of a scorched earth
Many bodies were thrown in pits and then covered with dirt
We see many burnt out cars with charred bodies left inside
Just some of the atrocities that Russians, are trying to hide.
Men, women and children have been tortured and left lying dead
And on the roads and pavements there's pools of bright red.
Women and girls raped at gunpoint, in front of their families
The West and NATO should act and bring that scum to its knees.
Russians are spineless with yellow streaks down their backs
They run for cover when Ukrainians launch counter attacks
They carry out abuse because it makes them feel like men
And target old men, women and defenceless little children.
I don't believe for one minute that Russia will go nuclear
All they're doing is sabre rattling and trying to instill fear
We're giving Ukraine arms but I don't think that's enough
The West and NATO need to man up and start getting tough.
There's no need to invade Russia, so it wouldn't be a threat
Just staying within Ukraine's border would be our safest bet
Drive out those psychopaths who've caused so much pain
Stop the horrific slaughter of innocents, and restore peace again.
Even if the Russians pull out robust sanctions must stay
Because Ukraine will need rebuilding and someone must pay
Everyone thought the mighty Russian army was invincible
But they're all cowardly, spineless and utterly despicable.
Written 7th April 2022