Long Reclaimed Poems
Long Reclaimed Poems. Below are the most popular long Reclaimed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reclaimed poems by poem length and keyword.
I emerged / born with a silver pen in hand
…and a tempest raging within.
Words writhe, a serpent's coil
…tightening their grip
A soul adrift in a sea of
…self-made iniquity.
I buried my daddy
…in the black shoe
…by the Yew tree
Yes, I, the beekeeper’s daughter
…bearing the weight of hexagonal cells
A hive of memories
…buzzing with secrets.
The bell jar shattered
….a fractured hive.
Its glass walls no longer a prison
…but a shattered cocoon
……a metamorphous!
Pain and disdain drip like honey
…a bittersweet nectar of survival.
He, a poet
…crowned in the harsh light of fame
Bound in chains of duty and shame
His words
…a romance of lure and alarm.
Echoing the sirens' song
…enticing and harmful.
Yet, his tongue
…a viper’s forked lie.
Whispers truths and half-truths
…conjuring illusions to die.
Wandering the maze of being
A little fugue of
…fractured fairytales.
Each note a fleeting glimpse of clarity
Lost in the discordant
…cacophony of life's emptiness.
Like my "Little Fugue" a dance of shadows
A journey through the corridors of the mind
Seeking answers in the interplay of light and dark
Striving for harmony amidst the chaos
Parchment of blood and ink I leave
A riddle of life and death's plea
Maniacal madness with visions slight
A macabre dance upon the night.
Ariel, brings lightning and fire!
With heavy heart
…I sealed my children's room.
Softly kissed them farewell
……Extinguishing the final flame within.
Enveloped in oblivion's velvet veil
………Yielding to the oven’s cold caress.
…………No, more morning songs...
Inscribed a cryptic goodbye
Breathed in the silent slayer.
For, I Lady Lazarus
…Dying is an art
……Faded into the ether…
Her blacks crackle and drag, a fire of new birth
Flames licking at the borders of life
Consumed by oblivion's greedy blaze
Lost in the vast cosmic ray.
The embers die
…a fleeting spark gone
No masterpiece
…….just dust reclaimed
A silent echo in the void unstained.
A mystery lost
………never quite explained.
Yet, God's Lioness
...Fierce and Untamed
Roaring her defiance
…Covered in darkness…
----
Underneath the star-strewn skies
A fleeting passing note.
Lost in the vast expanse
Living on the edge
For, I am but a speck of dust.
In the blue vase, hip high
Is a rose
Not a new rose, days have gone by
Since first blossom, and timeless scent
Fragile neck, a green cord, bent to the right
As if falling to one side in a half swoon
Oily briers, thorns dark and daring
Cat’s claws, to draw blood, but not on skin
To seep and drain, bruised, into veined segments
Cheek-soft, aging with hints of brown
Around deep blushing cups, scoured at the edge
Frayed by the sun
Into the red swirl, circles within circles
Melting away to the heart, the final secret
Exposed, peeled back, as a handkerchief
Untucked from the breast pocket
Falls to the ground
The first in a line of lovely failings
As time reveals itself in ailing petals
And sighs, content, as nature is reclaimed
Written for “Autumn’s Breath” — Regina Mcintosh
18 August 2026
—Autumn Reverses the World—
The streams, insurgent against gravity, ascend
The hills, as though the sea reclaimed the blue it lent;
The roots, abjuring their chthonic covenant, climb
Through loam towards empyrean immensities beyond time;
The leaves, renouncing their ordained descent, return
To boughs, as though departure were a wound the trees unlearn;
The orchard, having spent its aureate inheritance, distils
From severance a green no summer’s plenitude fulfils;
At dusk, the firmament dilates beyond the visible sphere,
Whilst shadows, severed from their bodies, migrate where
No geography survives the sovereignty of light;
And frost, beneath the rose, engenders a subterranean night;
A seed, still unborn, remembers what birth has yet to know,
And thrusts its darkness skyward, making earth overflow;
Then Time, divested of its forward-moving throne,
recoils through every fallen leaf towards the future it disowned;
I breathe—and autumn enters not my lungs, but the place
Where being precedes its name, and becoming outlives its trace;
For Autumn does not breathe the dying year into its end—
It breathes the unborn through all we call the dead.
Animation I grew up with,
Bride of fantasy stories.
Comedy with action I watch,
Death of worries I snatch.
Earth of penitence is
Fist of imagination I sense.
Girdle of suffocation, I sike
Hinterland of minds, I hike.
Insatiable finds take off
Juggernaut of marvels thereof.
Kommandatura with style,
Love of sequels I file.
Mysteries of lifestyle are not farfetched,
Nincompoops play unwretched.
Over and under a replay of streams --
Posthumously acclaimed.
Quondam penners survived,
Reminiscences of sets --
Sets of scenes and takes,
Travesty of the reclaimed.
Up, up and away
Victory not far away.
Wonders of life in a bucket
Xanadu of strife in a socket.
Yabadabadoo!
Zen of life.
I hide in my room for I am ashamed.
My memories are with me, forever reclaimed.
I keep my secrets locked away from you.
Oh how I wish, that you could be true.
If you were to see me as I see myself,
You would say to yourself,
What a man! Great help he must need!
Face his emotions and took greater heed.
And if you were to go into my room
It's so dark, awful and so full of gloom;
Should you discover my secrets and shame,
Would you stay with me, and play in my game?
Would you look straight into my eye
And accept me truly whatever am I?
Or would you run, scared and afraid
That my destiny may not yours invade.
So I'll not invite you to my private shell,
Where eternal damnation is a real living hell.
Leave me alone, let me construe
That one day I might... live normally too.
PS: Not with this darn heat !!!!
You threaten me…
like intimidation is a skill you mastered.
Even in Purple Month,
when women are supposed to be celebrated,
protected,
uplifted—
you still choose violence
like it’s a personality trait.
To you, our pain is just a concept.
A poster.
A speech someone else must give.
Never you.
You open fake Facebook accounts in my name—
wearing my identity
like a stolen jacket.
Posting pictures of me
like you bought me,
like you own me,
like my face is something you’re entitled to.
You spread lies about me
because truth has never loved you back.
You scam people in my name
because your own name
is too empty
to stand on its own.
You threaten to kill me
for leaving.
You promise to send gangsters my way
because freedom—for me—
feels like disrespect to you.
But every morning
I whisper to myself:
“It can be done.”
And every night
I thank myself
because I’m doing it.
Without you.
And that—
that’s what burns you the most, isn’t it?
That my life gets better
and better
daily,
even without you.
Still I grow.
Still I rise.
Still I get thicker,
stronger,
happier—
without you.
Our “love” died the day I said hubby
and you replied,
cold as metal,
“I’m not your hubby. I didn’t marry you.”
That’s the day I knew—
I was pouring love into a grave
and calling it a future.
So go ahead.
Threaten.
Lie.
Create a hundred stolen versions of me online.
Do whatever helps you pretend
you still matter in my story.
Because the real me?
The woman who walked away?
She is untouchable.
Unbreakable.
Reborn.
Engaged
Purple. Powerful.
Protected by her own strength.
And no gangster,
no fake account,
no whispered threat
will ever dim the light
I reclaimed.
Come, feel my pain, and cry with me,
grieving my loss to wind and sea.
As wailing winds mocked children's screams,
Maria washed away my dreams.
When a surge of water drowned Hope,
Puerto Rico struggled to cope.
To lose all, even who you are,
outweighs the loss of home or car.
America's heart turned to stone
and Puerto Ricans felt alone,
Collapsed homes, with no walls or roofs,
get pimped by the news: out for spoofs.
With no lights on the streets and bars,
night skies were reclaimed by the stars.
And, as in a hypnotic trance—
Fear joined Death in a ghoulish dance.
Pray to God, if you feel you must—
food and water are what I trust.
My life was destroyed on that day
as I watched bodies float away.
It was a dark hole
into an Aladdin's cave of old tools.
A small window
gave the only light and fell
on a rough sawn bench wearing
scars inflicted by years of use.
Saw cuts, drill holes
and the miscued gouges
of chisels had crusted to
dark scabs. Oil stains blotched
the surface like age spots.
Reclaimed tin beaten flat
on an anvil length of railway line
covered the walls in a mosaic
of odd shapes glazed
in powdery rust. The floor
was hardened clay compacted
over decades by a pair
of shuffling boots.
It seemed almost a holy place,
a grotto cut into a life to house
precious things a man valued
back then. Tools bore a sanctity,
a purity of purpose,
the blessed instruments
of a craftsman kept
and looked after for life.
Some were venerated relics
passed down by generations.
I closed the door,
leaving the cobweb draped
silence intact.
Soon to be demolished,
its contents will be thrown
into bargain boxes
at the local trash and treasure.
Sad how the age bundles up
and dumps the holy
to feed an empty core.
Claim your own joy
No more waiting by the phone
Hoping for a call that often never comes
He is not the completion of you
You are a whole person
These lost hours can never be reclaimed
Stop asking questions for which you have the answers
Do not pour your love into a broken glass
He is not worty of a love that is so pure
He feeds on your soul
Time to close the buffet
Claim your own joy
Discover the intricacies of you
Realize you are lovable
Don't count his failure as your own
Your time is now
You were never meant to live your life on hold
Claim your own joy
Let your laughter explode
The one you are meant to Love will hear it
You are made for better things
You deserve so much more
Yesterday will not be tommorow
Dying in the moment,
reborn to eternity
The choice was like water,
the choosing like stone
Dying in the moment,
reborn to eternity
Magic reappeared,
as truth became known
Dying in the moment,
reborn to eternity
Age redeemed ageless,
all years are reclaimed
Dying in the moment,
reborn to eternity
The wind changed its course,
the storm to rename
Dying in the moment,
reborn to eternity
The entrance transformed,
map burning unread
Dying in the moment,
reborn to eternity
Intention points inward
—new pathway ahead
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)