Long Recycling Poems

Long Recycling Poems. Below are the most popular long Recycling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Recycling poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Holy Mess

The tip of the fur tree sticks out like a sore candle

Barely visible an angel drowns in a pileup of presents 

Fortunately wrappers and cards are bio-degradable

Each allocated their circumspect place for recycling

Ribbons find rest in a manger on top of Baby Jesus

Who awaits resurrection just breathing under the load


Season’s decorations sum up the festival of love

Finely crafted dollar signs meet the cherishing eyes

Wooden ornaments of cross bows and skull bones

Defiled grave stones miniscule reminders of peace

Guns and roses entwining unmistakeable messages

Thorns are forever and tiny bullets shine like tinsel


Mesmerized the young family looks at their gifts

No plastic in sight because this is a sustainable feast

Chocolate Santas jingle silent nights on Kalashnikovs

Pinocchio attempts to rescue the meaning of kindness

Slides down the chimney on Rapunzel’s delicate hair 

Gets ditched in a trench of poppies bloody like wine


A veiled little figure begs for mercy at the Jolly Inn

Which looks like a shopping mall that hails indigestion

Jojos powered by solar eclipses arrest in full flight

But the children are happy as long as they get a drone

To spread holy prophesies in the name of liberation

From infidel contamination of pagans soldiering on


Jonny plays with the cardboard crates not quite prepared

For what might be in Pandora’s Box and Felix the cat licks

Tins of caviar and dolphin with no tuna caught in the net

Holly and Ivy are too small to digest mince pies and porkies

They shriek when Christmas crackers explode in their faces

Are too young to wonder what might have caused the charade


20th December2019


Premium Member My Bicycle

Once I had a bicycle,
A loving present from my grandfather;
Since I was his favorite granddaughter,
He granted my wish at a snap of my finger .

Since he was so old,
A new bicycle he could hardly afford;
He took his bike when he was young,
Which I found it once at the back of our barn.

As far as I remember,
It was really so old and rugged;
But my grandpa was like Mr. Mac-Gyber,
Amazingly fixing all things all-over.

My granda was a well-known painter,
I thought he will repaint and use sandpapers;
When I surreptitiously sneaked into his hut,
He was there recycling all my milk cans.

When everything was done,
He gladly gave it to me with a big hug;
I hurriedly drove it at once,
Down the street and field with so much fun.

“My bike was real a unique one!” I thought.
So different from others in our neighborhood,
Its wailing siren was made up of a  cow’s horn,
Tubes were made of dried bamboos and corn.

Other parts were still the same,
Like forks, hubs and chainwheel set,
The rest were made up  of my milk cans,
They were pedal, brake and seatgear stem.

Handle bars were what I liked  most,
Converted from the handle of his old plow;
So sturdy and so strong all I knew,
And  I can drive it  so long in full control.

However, when I travelled quite afar,
Parts were falling one at a time;
Until everything suddenly split apart,
Eventually it dropped and rolled me down.

©2012Leonora Galinta
     All Rights Reserved


Date: Aug. 3, 2012


4th Place Winner (My Very First Winning Poem)
Contest: Any Poem of the Week Contest
Contest Judged: 8/4/12         
Poet Sponsor: Secret
© Len Gasun  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

Dukes

DUKES

Sacrifices offered in secrecy,
Secrets shrouded in darkness,
Fortunes of families
rose and fell accordingly
to birth a recycling;
New dukes born in duchies,
Many dukes reborn,
Old dukes extinct.
In being a holder of a dukedom
legends are born,
Turned into relics
as they pursue glory & wealth,
power and justice;
Yet, these ends up in vanity
despite trying to hoard their power
so they can be worshipped as legends
by their subjects and descendants
But cold skeletons they become,
Emotions withered away as shrubs
until they perish, nothing left inside
but dark soulless desire & ambition
that feels their bleakly world
with doom and gloom.

VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 10th May, 2020.
Form: Narrative

Routine

Routine 
You wake every morning 
You retire every night 
You repeat this in life 
You rise and fall daily 

You are up for work each morning 
You are down at night exhausted 
You have no choice in the sequence 
You are bound to the cycle of life 

You eat every time hunger comes
You must be hungry again and eat
You enjoy when it brings great fun
You are pained in times of failure 

You are angry when challenged
You are happy when it feels good 
You fast and pray to achieve a goal
You get so glad and forget the source 

You are in a cycle you should know 
You keep  recycling  if you choose 
You can choose to choose otherwise 
You then live a life free of its burden
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Attitude of Gratitude

as natural to me as life itself
flows through my veins
the attitude of gratitude
the thankfulness for every day
sweet fair or foul the weather

like clockwork the universe’s charm
in harmony well orchestrated
sways musically to beats and rhythms
its graceful dance across the galaxy
our solar system spawns life

days of sun regenerate
infusing us with energy
while recycling of the seasons
lifts our soul to heights that dazzle
yet keep us still connected

days of cloud slow down a notch
invite us to turn inward
nurturing grounded introspection
brings us deeper understated joy
in its own delightful ways

each night the moon looks over us
in a most calm unobtrusive manner
demure serenely soothes our worries
thankfully wiping clean the slate
so goes on cue the pendulum of life         



Published in PoetrySoup's first anthology "PS: It's Poetry: An anthology of contemporary poetry from around the world" Paperback 2020

Published in my 24-page photo/poetry anthology ~MINDFULLY~ 2021

AP: 2nd place 2020, 3rd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2025


Premium Member Sabbath Culture

Watching this new sabbath begin,
darkness born of dusk,
dawn birthed by night,

I wonder about comparisons
between everyday logic
and systems restoring thinking,
feeling primal relationship
between verbal analogic
and nonverbal spacetime metaphor,
4D revolving EarthMaps,
seasonal/fractal missions
all designed for deep healing

Sabbath therapy
between linear cause-effect sequential history
and resonant/dissonant
resilient/unstable loops of regenerative/degenerative 
solar systemic recycling causes
with Her antecedent birthing effects
becoming future's further causes.

Logic collapses past and future health dynamics
into static unchanging inside v outside
and non-temporal non-contextualized either/or relationships
of verbal thought
about smaller and larger sets
growing and shrinking,
removed from nonverbal feelings,
health/diseased sensations,
notice,
appreciation/depreciation,

Awareness
of win/win analogical ecological metaphor
of active hope
for healthy inside-outside climate resonance,
both ego-
and eco-therapeutic

Resilience for all Earth's ego-smaller
and eco-larger systems,
left and right
west and east
north and south
interdependently dipolar hemispheric.

This ecosystemic health context
intuitively feels
and rationally believes
our larger ego-harmonic sabbath narrative,
sunny day of non-tragic history,
positive energy enculturation
remains sadly untouched
by autonomous left-hemisphere verbal logic,
either cause
or effect,
disembodied linear analogic,
metrically decontextualized absence of warm/cold ecologic
without polypathic/polyphonic metaphors 
reborn of sabbath theologic,

Everyday left-hemisphere verbal language
without right-hemisphere curious and courageously felt listening

CoPassion
toward healthy 
ecotherapeutic
systemic memories
restoring wealthy egologic
more polyculturally regenerative
during days and nights of rest,

WinYin cooperative
strategically thought and organically felt
resilient and resonant
Future Integral HealthSabbath Systems,

Restoring cloudless blue-sky sabbath mornings,
predicting yet another day
of leisurely here is now,
space is bilaterally measured time
is distance from sabbath zero-zone bliss
dipolar co-arising.

Premium Member What Wellbeing Exists

What resiliently exists
has synergetically become together
more than win/lose competitive apart

Win/Win reframed
as future integrity's healing potential
existence,
sustainable experience,
potency for positive resonance,
multicultural cross-creating
and re-creating narratives

Historical regenerative
cultural responsive
co-invested fore-gifted plots
to co-invest
in co-redeeming
cooperative ecopolitical systems.

What cannot exist,
viably persist
prefacing entropic
static
unchanging enthymematic
pre-emptive being
without past integral reweaving
systemic and ecological potential
to produce empowering gifts

To induce grace
to seed
breed regenerative health creation,

Wealth of multicultural creolization,
positive resonant inter-nations
complexly co-invested
nested cooperative fore-gifted sets
of interdependent resilience

Throughout WholeEarth Systems
re-creating
ego/eco-feminists
more rightbrain prominent
re-educators
recycling 
reweaving co-redeeming narratives

Repurposing
re-ligioning
re-integrating secular and sacred
re-storied Meaning

CoMediating political bicameral ways
and economic bilateral means.

Recycling

There is so much about our universe I don’t know
So much I don’t know if I’m even capable of knowing
One could even debate that the amount of knowledge I lack 
Is infinite 

Feeling something weighing 
On my consciousness 
I read about stars
How they begin 
And how they end
Did you know that the bigger the star, the shorter it’s life?
Somehow that made sense to me

When a large star forms
It burns big and bright
It uses its resources more quickly
And runs out just as fast
Then it explodes
Pieces of it are flung into the surrounding space
If a star is big enough
When it dies
It creates a black hole

Apparently
When a black hole is swallowing the things around it
Not even light can avoid falling in
Apparently
A black hole is far heavier 
Than the star that created it

Even though this cycle takes place so, so incredibly far away from me
It feels so close and so familiar 
And what it really reminds me of
Is the stars I’ve known
Who shined so bright
So bright that they didnt shine for long

I’ve known many stars in my life
Beautiful to know
Heartbreaking to lose
Always a privilege to witness
Seeing just how far their light reaches
Shining their rays on everyone
And everything 
That crosses their path

And when they go
The ripples of tragedy can be felt far and wide
Shrapnel striking anyone close by
After the shockwave
The space they once occupied 
Becomes a chasm
Sucking in the light of those around them
The gravity of this chasm
Forces you to the ground
And tries to coax you into falling in voluntarily 

But there is beauty in these phenomena 
For when black holes reach the end of their life
They too, explode
And the matter of everything they consumed
Is scattered
Creating an environment for a new star to form

The matter that composes these stars is recycled into infinity 
And their makeup is never truly lost
We witness their light time and time again
The love we pour into them 
Is eventually poured back into us

One day, my time here will come to an end
My life force will have been used
And I will have to leave those I love
Just as those I have loved had left before
But knowing that they will never be without me
That I am here amongst the ether
Shining down on them at all times
This fact comforts me
© Lila Head  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Grandmother Tree

Miracles of GrandMother Tree
begin with her purgative peaceful birth.
For at this time,
so long before her cycling rings of time began,
we see her original seed
and this seed's less original composting environment,
and within this brief timeless moment,
before her benign becoming,
these each appear to decompose 
into each recomposing other,
beginning GrandMother Tree's long waging of peace-filling rings,
recording recycling time's historic four fractal seasons
of perennial reproduction

Once begun with consilient fertility,
GrandMother revolves through days and nights 
relentlessly deepening creolizing root systems
of nonzero co-relational recreation.

For each new ring 
another year of cooperative becoming.
Cooperative thrival,
and only as necessary
competitive survival,
or healthy becoming decays to loss of living

Yet even these degenerative transitions
are not equivalent to springing back to prior springs.
She cannot go home again
because she carries her original home
within her still small skeletal seeds
reincarnating past purgations and ministrations

All while extending further rooting down
ever richer deeper cooperative
health-seeking Win/Win system sensors.

And so, at last,
GrandMother Tree begins to fade from Yangish life
toward Yin-emptying death.
Whether fast, through uprooting hurricane,
or slow, through slowing drying aging defense/offense loss of balance,
her woody organs disintegrate
creating compost perfect for her dormant seeds
and, even more richly,
for seeds of her adult children,
now become intrinsic to
her richly interdependent forested environment.

Her forest floor
each spring
producing metamorphic regenerations
of seeds and benign environmental compost
remembering each Win/Win peace fulfilling communication

GrandMother Tree winds and water
reweaving nutrients of time
in economic co-invested
political co-empathic space

Ecosystem rooting for waging peace,
ever more robustly resilient

While waging defensive war 
strenuously defeats dynamic balance,
waging Win/Win peace requires root systems
repeating GrandMother's dharma balance.

Back To the Beginning

Congratulations dear Inioluwa Adebiyi 

Back To The Beginning

Life- a cycle recycling from the hemisphere
Home- an abhor of peace cum duty
Leaving to live with time both revere
Among lovely fruits that bury boredom's beauty 

Nothing gold can last
Its presence do give a blast 
Honor the eyes by your beauty holds
Care for the stress to please you in folds 

Your dignity earned the family flowers 
Not only the joy of celebration for hours
That may be forgotten possibly early
But the pride that remains pure entirely

While Eden sink into grief 
You leave to turn a new leaf
Spinster is gone forever
So is loneliness and its fever

© Olábòsóyè Wèmímó Oláolúwá 
® 2022

Courtesy: Adebiyi Anu O'Dayo
Form: Other

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