Long Recast Poems
Long Recast Poems. Below are the most popular long Recast by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Recast poems by poem length and keyword.
Him fountain of eternal joy from
Where life is renewed,
Ageing and life to be drained out, exit
From the world is nigh,
When suddenly comes a call from him
Above, who regulates
The flow of life through cycles of many
Births and deaths, to stop.
Suddenly sounds the drum from sky for the
Second act of play,
Life really awakens, drooping life
Joyfully responds to the call;
The wintry night desolate soon turns
Into a joyous spring day,
Undoing death, His rhythm and dance
Rejuvenates life force.
The flow of life from star to star
Follows the rhythm of his dance,
Freed from the confinement of matters
Th'Earth finds salvation;
With multitudinous fruits and grains and
Flowers of myriad hues
Her baskets of seasons are filled to the
Till and brim and all.
Thus she attains the fulfillment at the
Touch of his dancing feet,
The flow of life gushes up from death
Following incessantly
The pattern of his rhythm and dance, to the
Tune of his golden flute;
In the tornado of this violent dance,
All that is withered falls.
The triumphal arch of life is erected
Midst the joyful tunes,
And the journey of this spring meanders
Towards the fountain again.
This poem was originally written in Bengali Language by Rabeendranath Tagore. Its Bengali Title was Udbodhan. It was then translated into English by Mr. Rabeendranath Choudhury who expressed his wish that somebody from some other generation may attempt the rest so that all the English-speaking people may enjoy India's Pride. And here it is, slightly edited and recast in the true poetic form by P.S. Remesh Chandran, Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum.
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From bottled feed soon after birth
To liquor in a lifetime’s mirth,
To blest bottled water
When at death breaths falter,
Oh bottles rife till one with earth!
_______________________________
Reflections | 01.12.2017, recast Jan 2023 | on life
Poet’s note: I had the misfortune to see an old acquaint dying some time back. He had lost mother soon after birth. Milk bottles in lieu of mother nourished his early life. A single father, who could not quite be the mother, raised him as a child. Wasted childhood saw him to grow as a careless youth, liquor his constant companion. When I saw a few drops of bottled Ganges water administered to him as the last rite, it made me reflect on life. Don’t go by the rather flippant tongue of a limerick, see the irony of life.
Act One: the stage and scenery are set
I was told the play, I'd not soon forget
But if truth were to be told
More like the game, whack-a-mole
I needed a hammer, not a lorgnette
Thespians were vying for the limelight
Popping up everywhere, ready to fight
Sarcastic words ill spoken
The golden rule was broken
A princess rudely slandered by a knight
Act Two: the actors wrote their own stage play
A long soliloquy to have their say
The audience booed and hissed
"Put that one on the blacklist!
Kick that charlatan out," they did convey.
Someone had to quickly close the curtain
'fore the crowd decided they'd be hurtin'
the actor they were jeering
with sidelong looks of leering
meaning, "Fit for a role by Tim Burton!"
Act Three: Then Queenie tried to take control
Each part played, she admitted that she stole
Just another know it all
Boring with each scribbled scrawl
Showing up everywhere like whack-a-mole
Bad actors can't write plays worth a ripe fig
But criticize others to make a dig.
Negative comments given
Are they jealousy driven?
Wantin' to make the rules like a bigwig
The play, though not very well attended
is being recast with those commended
who are never rude and crude
and have a kind attitude
Instead of those whose words have offended
The next play is about a new dog breed
I heard it's called a boghound with a need
to chew on a bone until
its nibbling has caused ill will
and seats are all empty; audience freed.
I wish i can touch the sky.
Put on wing and then fly.
I wish I can starch and rewrite my past.
Undo the things I did not want to do, and go for a recast.
I wish I can say and do things I always wanted to do.
Understand the things that others have done for me and know its value.
I wish I can be born again.
Stop asking question all the time how is it and when.
I wish I can express my feelings more clearly.
Let everyone know whenever I disagree.
I wish god I can know the value of whatever you have given me.
And stop cribbing about how I wanted thing to be.
I wish I can understand that there is always a second chance.
And understand that god or bad cannot be decided immediately at a glance.
Not once, but twice, death stole his love away;
lost love- how he encountered its deep pain.
The first- when kids were young, she left one day;
dark, furtive, death from cancer was to blame.
Lost love, lost friend, lost mother of his young;
ascetic life brought shallow, lonely years.
His only joy- his children; still, he clung
to nonchalant, dark emptiness, and tears.
Years later, love did visit him once more.
With children grown- his heart now mended some,
her humble kindness he could not ignore.
But, lasting love for him would never come.
They married- but, before three years had passed-
her death- lost love- new tragedy recast.
January 20, 2018
~7th Place~
Premiere Contest: Your Finest Sonnet
Sponsor: Mark Massey
Judged: 07/26/2018
~3rd Place~
Contest: Lost Love
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Judged: 02/11/2018
~3rd Place~
Contest: Some Broken Hearts Never Mend
Sponsor: Faraz Ajmal
Required words used in order of appearance:
Furtive Ascetic Shallow Nonchalant Humble
Eyes are for seeing.
Ears are for hearing.
Noses are for smelling and breathing
both in and out.
Mouths are for tasting
both bitter hard
and sweet soft truths,
trusts and mistrusts,
cooperations and competitions,
cultures of health and pathology,
climates benign and toxic,
and all sensory flavors between
balance and imbalance.
We reseed universal spirits
in remembered knitting materials of forest,
oceans of becoming
sea son daughters of swimming in and out being.
We reweave omnipotent divinity
within recast integrity of biodiversity.
We feed transcendent wealth of Earth's rich souls
and thereby bleed redemption from subliminal humanity.
Only together we heal future's climate of universal Promise
by re-sensing Elder landscapes of symbiotic swimming polypaths.
As one GaiaTribe of dancing spiritual health
we reconceive material wealth
reborn singing nations
corporations
religions
capitalizations
plantations
ministrations
individual imitations,
cultures of health and less pathology
and all enspirited flavors between
trust and mistrust,
truth of and for healing competing dualistic truths
resounding We Are One MindBody
Resonant CoArising Wave
Is it a virtue
of legal, or just plain logical, process
to tolerate the morally intolerable?
Regardless of therapeutic opportunities to communicate dissent,
loud and clearly vocalized
articulate and explicit resistance.
Is it an immoral act
to participate in the Win/Lose market for climate pathology
if you could not know whether you are recast as oil-baron predator
or as a life-long perpetual child
praying for matriarchal cover?
Is it a corrosive vice
to tolerate the intolerable?
To settle for only Win/Lose options
in a ZeroSum stingy world.
Do I tolerate, even celebrate,
most everybody except those who are intolerant?
Why does feeding openness
to tolerating change
feel so risky?
Alarming past critical events
confronting disloyal oppositions
fade into memories of chronic dis-associations
against those also intolerant in diverse ways.
Am I a good person
if my most celebrated values advocating diversity,
and my more internal integrity of voices valued
and heard,
and cared for
feel like fragment fading shreds
of intolerable wonder and awe?
Why is your here and now intolerance,
my fearful-future intolerance,
against accepting invitations to mutually stretch tolerance?
Now invested in building apartheid-trusting walls
rather than win/win interdependent webs.
Why is my self-righteous intolerance
fair,
just?
Yet your fears and terrors,
impatience and suffering,
intolerable neglect
of win/win mindful opportunities
are not OK,
not healthy democratic enough,
too elitist,
too explicitly ignorant
of implicit win/win hope,
remain at least non-lose/lose communication,
verbal and non-verbal,
Still open to becoming more virtuously,
and legally,
tolerable.
Lord, please tell us how we can be blessed?
Shall I tell you who of these are blessed?
Receiving the kingdom of heaven,
the lowly, poor in spirit are blessed.
Receiving solace, comfort, those who
sorrowfully grieve and mourn are blessed.
Being satisfied, those who hunger
yearn, and thirst for righteousness are blessed.
Receiving compassion and mercy
the merciful, graciously, are blessed.
Seeing the face of the living God
the untainted, pure in heart are blessed.
Being adopted as sons of God,
peacemaking reconcilers are blessed.
Receiving the kingdom of heaven,
those aggrieved for virtue's sake are blessed.
Receiving great reward in heaven,
those reviled on my account are blessed.
----------
From Matthew 5, the Beatitudes, recast as a Ghazal with 9-syllable couplets
Written: March 27, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Line of inquiry:
“since thoughts speak in past tenses,
drop mind, rely on senses,
embracing and releasing,
pain pangs and pleasure pleasing”
******************
Waiting for the sun to create holes in the ground
Waiting for the sun to emit a bright golden sound.
Waiting for the sun as it tracks down the moon.
I wonder whether it'll catch it soon.
I'm curious why the sun doesn't follow me instead.
I question if, without it, I would truly be dead.
I wonder whether crying will assist drain my tears.
I wonder whether lying will support me face my fears.
In the now continuum, threads intertwine with her gift.
Revealing persistent mysteries, as awareness awake,
In this vibrant realm of name, time asserts its stake.
The fighter instinct ignites, propelling us to shift.
Awareness pulsates; the heart responds to the call.
A dazzling light of redemption! To redefine syntax anew,
Echo into the night from a consummate body view.
As a powerful image emerges, irony ebbs and falls.
Emotion blends with lyric; elusive thoughts recast,
Pulse and ear resilience against the overanalysis snare;
Past tense is a mind game where sensations are aware.
Ignoring pain and pleasure fluctuates in contrast.
Bask in the sunlight bareness with the wind in your hair.
Stop thinking; apply senses—accepting what it brings;
Grabbing each moment's warmth and the joy it sings;
Releasing the clinging past for raw experiences to share.
Any would be dictator can easily
close down an open and free society.
In order to do so 10 steps must be put into play
and these 10 steps are in place in America today.
*
1. Invoke An Internal And External Threat
Mission Accomplished:
Our country is under attack by terrorists.
2. Create Secret Prisons Where Torture Takes Place
Mission Accomplished:
Detainee camps are in America and at the various off shore military base.
3. Develop A Paramilitary Force
Mission Accomplished:
BlackWater of course.
4. Surveill Ordinary Citizens
Mission Accomplished:
Our streets are now flooded with surveillance systems.
5. Infiltrate Citizens' Groups
Mission Accomplished:
Government moles have been documented spying on you.
6. Detain And Release Ordinary Citizens
Mission Accomplished:
This occurs at all airports over and over again.
7. Target Key Individuals
Mission Accomplished:
(eg., Valerie Plame, Drew Griffin, The Dixie Chick girls)
8. Restrict The Press
Mission Accomplished:
Many outspoken journalists are threatened with imprisonment or arrest.
9. Recast Criticism As Espionage And Dissent As Treason
Mission Accomplished;
Many protesters now arrested get charged with terrorism.
10. Subvert The Rule Of Law
Mission Accomplished:
Bush's bill signing statements has subverted US Constitutional Law like never before.