Long Redraw Poems
Long Redraw Poems. Below are the most popular long Redraw by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Redraw poems by poem length and keyword.
A dream that came into my life
With an eye look
With a simple chatting word
With a simple hand shake
With a pure smile on the face
This all lead my heart to shake
Out of happiness and Joy!
It was a memorable day
When I knew it is coming true
Yet, some fear was inside
The fear of one day losing you..
But still,
Days passed on and here I stood
Next to you during the days,
Sharing your dreams at night
Feeling your words before you speak
Just by looking through your eyes..
It is a perfect time that we shared
One of a kind, that
Made my life dance out of excessive bless
Just by having you beside me..
Ups and downs! Yes,
Still life goes on..
Love is not about words,
But actions as well
And here I am
Facing the world alone,
Going to change
for Myself and for YOU..
To prove to you that
I DO REALLY LOVE YOU!
I am learning my lesson
And changing for myself,
But still, for that special person as well..
I can move on without anyone
But I do not want to lose one day in my life
Without being with him
Life is too short to spend it away,
One day I am here,
The next I will be there
But the only constant is that
No matter where I am,
In my heart you will be engraved.
No matter where it shall end,
Will this changing time on my side turn to be
Either The beginning of the best
When with you, I shall eternally rest
Or will it be the beginning of the
True, painful end
When you will decide to move on
And leave me behind?
I cant guarantee..
But all I know is that,
I wish you the happiness in the world
Either with me or away
Because Id rather die
Than having you in my life
When you are not truly happy from inside…..
Still, I shall do my best
to redraw the smile on your face
but if it did not work out
so ... unfortunately
there is nothing else in my hands to do..
Yet.. Passion is filling my heart,
That one day things will go in line again
Everything shall be fine
And I will feel his hand touch,
I will dive in his hug
And have his love
As my surrendering, motivational life drug.
Till this moment life will be tough
But I am surely hoping that at the end it will positively and happily paidy off!
Sides, perspectives, religion, skin color, culture, all of the above are things that individually we all have. No matter how strongly you feel about something no one will ever 100% understand what exactly you feel about said "thing". That is why as human beings we communicate. If we had found a way to connect our minds and see through the eyes of our fellow brother or sister words would be unnecessary, and we would see nothing then. Only misunderstanding and misconceptions make us human. We try and portray perfection and right and wrong through our culture but that is also just a part of perspective. And since human beings will only know what their own personal true feelings are 100% we will never be able to reach a new level in which we would have to redraw the meaning of perfection.
Weak mindedness is a massive curse and blessing humans have. It's a curse because if someone else's actions effects you negatively you will feel inclined to approach this subject and express your distaste, whilst on the other hand it's a blessing because without it we wouldn't be able to show compassion. For example (personA) becomes friends with (personB) and (personC). Then (personA) talks about how it feels about some type of "movement" happening, (personB) might totally get what (personA) is talking about due to the fact that they share similar feelings about it. But (personC) due to human's innate weak mindedness gets upset by (personA)'s words and retaliates with some snarky comment to insult (personA). (PersonB) now having shared some of it's feelings to (personA) and coming to an common consensus("allowing [personA]'s words to effect it"), gets defensive of (personA) and attacks (personC) verbally.
The whole idea of my way of thinking is too try and subtly allow myself to take on a role in which i don't allow outward negative forces effect my life path.
The only true end to the mind is death.
Torture and suffering couldn't tear my mind from my body cause even at my last breath the only person taking that breath is me.
In all the books of history written with ink of blood and dried tears,
There is no war that was not hatched in the shadow of palaces of power,
Governments alone, like birds of prey sharpening their claws in silence,
Independent of the hearts of people, for whom war is always poison.
How many generations have marched on dusty roads toward certain death,
Carrying on their shoulders the dreams of men in expensive suits and cold offices,
While children and women wept at home, knowing they would never see the dawn,
Governments weave wars like spiders weave their webs, with patience and meticulousness.
The people, like a sea of souls that wants to live and love,
Never wish to send their sons to slaughter, to see the red fields,
But the unseen hands of power move the pawns on history's chessboard,
And simple people become soldiers, and soldiers become numbers on endless lists.
Even in victories, war is a disease that devastates souls,
Leaving behind only full cemeteries and grieving mothers who no longer smile,
How many homes have remained empty, how many stories interrupted mid-sentence,
While governments count profits and redraw borders on dirty maps.
And thus, in the silence of nights when the moon looks down on earth with sad eyes,
We can hear the echo of all wars that have been and will yet be,
Hatched in the palaces of power, where people are nothing but figures on paper,
And peace is merely a pause between two acts of the same tragic spectacle.
If we could rise above the noise of time and look with closed eyes,
We would see that war is not born from the hearts of people, but from the vanity of leaders,
Like a poison distilled in the laboratories of ambition, then poured over the world,
While we, the people, remain forever too small to stop this madness.
a fire breaks out in his pants
whenever she walks into the room
but she just laughs
at how quaint he is
she has eyes only for the old man at
the end of the bar
his beat era leather socks are just up her alley
his pocket protector lifestyle is just
the thing for her wedding plans
she could always see herself
with his type of narrow shoe smart fella
he leaves her and her lover
at the dark bar
and wanders the lobster cages
looking to trap the feelings
that made him feel like
unconquerable king john
with his magna carta series pen
but this night is too full of babe sweet
and her pocket protector cowboy
so he goes home
to lay on his bed on imaginary nails
and suffer all the trials that good men should
wants to be worthy for the pay off
wants to be in line for the pearly gates
babe sweet and her man
live up the coast now
they own a bed an breakfast catering to the insane
who write great novels
on the walls in crayon
and spend their nights
hanging out on the roof singing ballads
to babe sweet
and her cowboy who lasso's the moon
its a wonderful life plays on the tv
every night year round
cause thats the dream they are sellin
that if you work hard
someday itll pay off
jerry garcia's picture hangs
in the lobby
he looks out at the changed world
with the shocked expression
of how did all these people miss the point
as the just go on beating eachother up
and crashing the gates
he is in the back room of babe sweets place
hiding from all the gretchens
and trying to redraw the lines of reality
we all got lost out there
gotta reinvent yourself
before the gretchens and the hangers on tear it all down
gotta bend the road before it bends you
just like unconquerable king john
Yesterday I caught the drift of a word
Almost at the end of Dr. Ram?s words
That I had it all, three in one, with music and no regrets
Stirred my mind and made me think
What regret really means
I suppose Regret is the truant of history
Often sneaking out of the schoolroom of the past to torment present time
...seeking a meek heart to mess with
But time has taught me to be wise
Hence I now know how to turn Regret into a good child
The secret is in offering him the candy of time
The present is just what it means
A present to be justly cherished
If I share it?s gift with the regrets of the past
Sure, Regret will turn into a good child
And Regret?s deeds will fill my heart with pride
The power is in time
Each a new opportunity eager to be of service
As soon as yesterday bids bye, today arises to take its place in haste
And it brings in its wake
...the promise of forgiveness, reconciliation and reconstruction
In each day I find a newer canvas to repaint my dreams
And since yesterday I tried another style and failed
Today I?m that bit wiser
So I will try again with better skill...
To redraw the masterpiece of a life I dream in colours so beautifully vivid
So yes Dr. Ram,
Thanks-a-ram for reminding me how lucky I am
I owe it all to time
For teaching me how to turn Regret into a better child
Filled with lessons which I study
Tomorrow in my life there?ll be less like his kind
Hey Doc! Thanx-an-awesome-lot 4 the kind words u post of my poems!
This is especially 4 u!
He would visit the wharf of the pond very often
Peace and joy writ large on his lips and eyes
He would whistle a tune to call the shoal of fish
From inside the water as well as from his heart
The clouds got intimate with the flirting sunlight
Like a comfortable poem the shoals appeared
In three or four groups they would come up to
He would look like gleefully chatting with them
In wonder would look on the tales in the reeds
Shadows of tall palms played hide and seek
He would feed them as if they were his children
Sometimes he just talked on with no motivation
Their movement would raise ripples in the pond
Inside would pulsate an impressionist painting
The euphoria in water would erase and redraw
Clouds in loud colours would go down the water
And would watch in wonder the blue rendezvous
He shed the foliage of his unquenched passion
Into the mother water that with a purple comfort
Would convert them in the lotus of his heartbeat
Country folks remarked he must have been a fish
In his previous birth in a very deep pool or lake
No, others would say, an angel accompanied him
In his surreal bridge of love for the water and soil
The mahogany at the roadside would smile a little
He would write so well his poem inside the water
Where human and piscine tongues would meet
Time halted a while in the warm breasts of geese
As the sessions came to an end he would depart
Sweet and salty sweat-drops would wet his shirt
_______________________________________
14 March 2017
When you unravel in the darkness, you learn how deep the silence of the world sinks,
not even those for whom you would bleed will carve your name into their silence,
they will scroll through dreams, sleep under indifferent skies, smile like shadows,
while you try to breathe through the pain wrapping your soul like a veil.
For when the sun disappears, the stars do not shed tears of light,
they sing their brilliance louder, like an orchestra of sparks in the night,
the moon does not ask if the sun is well, it rises,
as if it had waited for it to fall, to begin its silver dance in the sky.
That's how people are—they wait for their turn to light their own flame,
not yours, to heal yourself, to redraw your outlines in the deep silence,
no matter how much they claim to care, they don't truly care how you feel,
they are lights that ignite only for themselves, shining ephemerally.
In the deep silence of the night, in the pain that wraps your soul like a cloak,
you will discover that light does not always come from outside, but from within your being,
for the stars do not cry when the sun leaves, but embrace their brilliance,
embracing the darkness like an old friend who knows their secrets.
And you, in this silence that embraces you like a silent sea, will find the strength,
to rebuild your being from stardust and lost memories,
for even if the world is silent, you can learn to shine again,
despite the silence surrounding you, despite those who do not hear your song.
The glimpse of something recognizable; meant seeing her, only see would be with him, and us together had been strained to exhaustion. But maybe the magic of night might give way to forgiveness and love. maybe the need of belonging might have her to wish me as hers again!
the appearance of love
weirded by the tensions
of being stressed.
Strains from obligation
or lack of concern
and desire to satisfy.
What words redraw
the duty of love
the premise
of understanding
to betray his trust
that he might labor
to make treaty
and than be undermined
by her need for attention
and her desire to be
with others.
his lack of commitments
and his eagerness to
control.
Yet the understanding
where his need
to be secured
and have his
woman to be
truthful and precise.
not giving names to
those she don't know
or causing problems
with others
to have clarity and answers
instead of invoking her
naiveness to her man
so that he can assure
his woman.
stressed from situation
they become comedy for
those who know them
and are then easily
made into speckitals
for potential future
meddling
making stories of people
to entertain those
they wish to impress
and make examples of
to cause fear for others.
From the Book " the Spetikal" @021 Written by Cor Da Cacca and P. Yannick.
Why do we meddle in our family members relationships.By Talc Vetiuos and Seager Toopie.
I gave him the map to my mind,
Let him redraw the lines in my skin,
Traded my laughter for silence,
Just to be something he could live in.
He handed me rules like chains,
Soft-spoken, wrapped in love’s disguise—
Don’t wear that. Don’t say this. Don’t be you,
And I, too blind to see, apologized.
I shrunk to fit his comfort.
Tamed my voice so he could speak.
Dulled my shine to soothe his ego,
Made myself small, made myself weak.
And every day, he chipped away—
My worth, my will, my fire.
Until I couldn’t find my reflection
In the mirror of his desire.
But then—he left.
And with the echo of his silence,
I heard something I hadn’t in years:
Me.
A whisper at first,
Then a roar through the ruins:
You are not broken.
You are free.
My confidence came rushing back
Like the tide he’d tried to cage.
My bravery danced in daylight—
No more hiding, no more stage.
Now I speak without permission,
Wear what sets my soul alight.
I laugh loud. I take up space.
I no longer dim my light.
I talk to strangers, make new friends,
Taste new worlds, chase new skies.
I write my rules in fire now—
No more fear behind my eyes.
He took so much, and I let him.
But what he gave me in the end
Was the spark to rebuild myself—
Not as his.
But as my own best friend.
Where was I?
unusual.
behind
the dizzying looking glass,
cement block,
panelled windows,
noonish saloons
sipping my loathing
like mosquitoes
milking stone veins
constipated.
contemplating pretty suspects
and their banditry of spotlight and shadows;
cute fashions with their dreamboat accessories.
Snatched away!
Who was I?
a deserted
quotient.
All of me, crumbs
sucking thumbs,
snorting baby powder, perfumed by heaven's hope,
resisting hunger
and decomposing
inside career mascot attire -
long-sleeves and layered layers
buttoning down body shame.
Where were we?
Ten-and-less aisle,
bargain corner debates.
Okay, maybe unquestioned.
Neither taken,
nor given as a suggestion,
no soft eyes
pursuing my pepper coarse afro edges,
rising bust, diffusive thighs
and stooped shoulders.
Hominim deflated,
experiencing overqualified non-affection
as a ruminant beast,
between ungovernable lioness
and resigned kitten.
I was left holding a pen,
multiplying stereotypes
around fatherless girls
without an agreeable image
of self
who fell for blank pages
to redraw the stages
that had
failed
hearts.
Flesh.