Long Regain Poems
Long Regain Poems. Below are the most popular long Regain by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Regain poems by poem length and keyword.
What’s left of Octavia glides down the hall
Past the portraits she painted in life,
Now framed in mahogany, rosewood, and oak,
And they’re hers for the haunting tonight.
She looks for the canvas she started the day
Her desire became indiscrete;
A nude on a balcony under the moon.
It was one she would never complete.
What’s left of Octavia passes the wall
Where her art is the featured display,
Recalling advances she made in the past
That went far beyond being risqué.
She goes to the window and conjures the scene
As it happened those long years before,
And thinks of the model who posed for her then;
A temptation too ripe to ignore.
What’s left of Octavia mourns what she’s lost
Like a dreamer deprived of her dream.
Her husband threw open the studio door
To discover her subject and theme.
He looked at the model, he looked at his wife,
And he saw what a fool he had been
To blindly indulge her artistic pursuits,
Which she took as occasion to sin.
A new moon at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
And she’s out on a haunting tonight.
What’s left of Octavia longs for the time
She felt anything other than numb.
The smell of the paint and the feel of the brush
Being foreign to what she’s become.
A specter deprived of the flavor of life.
An obsession that won’t fade away.
A monochrome canvas, a faintly drawn sketch
From a palette with ten shades of gray.
What’s left of Octavia stands on the ledge,
And considers the landscape below.
The moment of impact still fresh in her mind,
Because time has not softened the blow.
Her family gathered to lay her to rest,
And the ring was removed from her hand.
Though people would gossip, and ponder her fate,
There are none who in truth understand.
What’s left of Octavia comes to him now,
Late at night when he puts on her ring.
A family heirloom entrusted to him
When he married his lover last spring.
He stands in the dark as she enters the room,
And the séance is set to begin.
She watches him pose, while he takes off his clothes,
With her brushstrokes caressing his skin.
Confessions at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
But he's hers for the haunting tonight.
The rain was pouring, thunder in the distance
Her tattered coat offered no resistance
I saw her walking, soaking wet
Filled with anger and regret
Cast aside from all she’s known
Living in a cardboard home
I had to know what caused her fate
What filled her heart with all this hate
I stopped the car and called her near
She looked at me with eyes of fear
I said, “I’d like to chat with you”
She said, “chatting’s all we’ll do”
She climbed inside, we drove away
Stopped at a coffee shop along the way
I asked what had happened in her life
Why she wasn’t someone’s wife
She said, “I was, I had it all
Husband, kids, shopped at the mall
But we lost our love, I began to stray
He took the kids and went away”
“I had no skills, never went to school
Looking back now, I was such a fool
Pretty soon, the house was gone
I was out on the street and all alone”
“Husband told the kids I was nothing but trash
So, I guess my family’s all in the past
Now, I wander around, stop at the kitchen
They give me some food and listen to my bitchin”
“They think I’m crazy and that’s okay
If they were in my shoes, they wouldn’t last a day
It’s a hard life out here, you get beat up and spit on
But sometimes, someone will toss you a bone”
“And they’ll tell you not to spend it all on booze
Hell, a drink or some food - it’s not hard to choose
You get used to eating the dumpster food
But when you get a buck or two, hot food’s so good”
I had bought her the special, she was eating it slow
Didn’t want to go out in the rain, I know
We talked a while longer, then I had to leave
I handed her a twenty, she tucked it in her sleeve
I asked the manager if she could stay for a while
He looked at her and gave me a smile
He said she could stay till the rain let up
And he walked over to fill up her coffee cup
I was walking past her, she grabbed my hand
She said, “It doesn’t take much to get where I am
It could just as easily be you sitting here”
I walked away fighting back a tear
It’s true what she said, just a paycheck away
A bad set of circumstances on any given day
Now I look at the homeless a whole different way
I don’t pass them by with nothing to say
I look in their eyes and I see their pain
I do what I can to help them regain
A little of the dignity, lost to the world
Before their life had become unfurled.
In magical verses weave your fated heart's request,
With metaphors holding the shy choir of light abreast,
When hearts corroded by hatred in barrenness rest,
And chains of thought whip gently the gentle flight's zest.
If you are to regain control once more,
When friends of yesteryear were but a lore,
Whose drab garments through time emphatically wore,
But forgiveness you've secreted from its core.
And if in hope you can stand upright,
Not raising armor before the liar’s project slight,
When rage whispers edicts as if to indict,
Melt it in calm, with spirit bright.
Show the world whole your portrait fair,
No masks, no regret, laid bare,
And if you dream of deep breaks in despair,
May you not become in others' lives a dismal seer.
When eternity throws its cold shadow in your corner's crease,
You should gaze with eyes that do not buckle under time’s caprice.
Every living moment in time's palm surely will not cease,
On the heart's scale, they demand to be released.
If you can listen when the truth is spoken,
Alien and shifted in a world that's been broken,
And to persist through the common lies outspoken,
To find faith beneath the frothy spray's token.
If you dare face decay’s embrace without dread,
Avoiding the gilded pleasure's feigned spread,
And in autumn whispers feel your stern fall ahead,
In the poverty of a sky that once display had fed.
Risk carrying on the die heavy, precious pearls,
Wager all that you've got for a fleeting twirl,
And then, whoever you are, learn not to hurl hopes like chaff,
Your failures become a path leading to something more sacred, more daft.
Endure, in a feeble body, remorse and persistence,
Wearing a smile as a shield, melting the tormenting ice of existence.
Cherish the moment that remains in unending instance,
With a soul lined in armor's silent resistance.
If you can fill the silences in empty spaces,
When shattered times speak with yesterday's faces,
Replenish them with fresh sparks among the disgraces,
Then you will build from seconds, unbroken traces.
And the Earth shall through you be magnified,
And all that writhes in its infinite tide,
And in this great shaken, you'll uncover as scribed,
That you're a whole man, not just a soul that's been pried,
Not part of the herd whose times have dried,
But master of the strength from your own dream derived.
My heart is broken.
I am a miserable, lost soul swimming in a world of darkness;
trying to find a piece of myself that has been torn away from me.
I am blinded by emotions.
Unable to regain control of the irrational fantasy world I have built for myself in order to escape a harsh, ironic, and bitter -sweet reality that the rest of you call life.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
I am a shell that was once truly alive.
I have been left empty.
Taken out like trash on a Thursday night.
I was once a person, but I have been destroyed by this cruel thing that is called life.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
I have fallen victim to the cruelty of the human race.
I am ashamed by myself, but more so by others.
The truth is much too vicious and vulgar to accept it as what it really is;
A part of this thing you call life.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
It is said that ignorance is bliss.
That explains why the rest of you walk around thinking you are happy.
You are blind to the severity of the truth that surrounds you.
I am not the only one who had created a fantasy world for myself.
The rest of you are just too caught up in your worlds to even realize that another world exists;
The real world.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
Your “God” is nothing more than an illusion;
Created by the twisted minds that came before us as an arrogant joke.
Used for the soul purpose of making you feel better about yourselves and to repent for your so-called “sins”.
Just another part of this thing you call life.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
I’d rather walk around for the rest of my life thinking I know the truth,
when in all actuality there is no such thing.
It is but a figment of my imagination.
A part of my fantasy world.
And this thing that I call truth is extremely different than the thing that you assume is the truth
in this thing you call life.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
There is a fine line between genius and insanity.
I am unable to figure out which one of these applies to me.
Maybe both; maybe neither.
As I said before, ignorance is bliss; and you all couldn’t be happier.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
Form:
While I was an exchange student I questioned a monk from Italy about the predictions of Notradomus. He frustratedly sent me to a chapel that sent me to a small college that had a course that featured "Earth Wind and Hail" a course on natural predictions, comets, stars being born, there was even a class on contellation reform, what to do if a star- out of a contellation, fell or burned out. Answer being that one- you can try to replace it, two- try to regain it, three-move it back to its place, four- carry on without it, five- destroy entire constellation.
Anways the third trimester of Space Threory I questioned a guest on the specifics behind one set of predictions. I was told that the only set of predictions that he claimed were not predictions were about the years 2012- 2015. A friend of his had published an article in a news paper that claimed Sir Notradamius was a fraud and that he based his predictions on fairy rythms and fabels. The example that he based his facts on was an old Chinese tale about a boy from Japan my best memory of the tale was as follows.
A boy about the age of ten decided that he wanted to take a local medicine to the Great King whom was sick with what is decribed as the flu. This king is decribed to as one who was kind to his people and decided many foriegn treaties. This king was not a Great Royal King but he served his charities well. He was know as leading his armies in great wealth. The moving armies followed on going wars and since they stayed behind all of the action they picked up hurt and widowed people fed them made them well and treated them humainly so the captives were happy to be with the army. The king was accused of slavery of people that the wars were over of, when the king ordered the people to leave they begged to be able to remain with the king so loudly that the Earth shook of it.
The boy is decribed as walking a street to where there are stairs the name of the ancient city means stairway of the gaurdians. They believe the land inside of the city was blessed and the stairs were an protective barrier holding the gold bars in. Whatever that means. The boy went down the stairs and got on a boat. Went on a day long boat ride with a goul that was black wearing a hooded cloak and pushed the boat with a stick. They rode the river to Africa
A Franky and Spud Encounter
The coach, old and rusty, pulled up at the gate
The horses, portending the schoolchildren’s fate
Franky looked over and thought it was great
While Spud bore a look that said he was irate
But school children grow at a different rate
So different size horses stood calm and sedate
Spud’s not the quickest but must get the biggest
The chestnut he fancied was the tallest and thickest
If he could be first to that rust coloured horse
Then he’d lead the way on the pony trek course
He wasn’t a writer, he wasn’t a reader
But he would show everyone he was a leader
The coach door was open but he was far from it
So Spud shouted watch out, I’m going to vomit
The kids stood aside and that made a clear path
So Spud got off first with a victory laugh
Franky called out were supposed to be taught
Horse riding ain’t easy as you might have thought
But Spud found some steps and he mounted his steed
And screamed when his stallion set off at speed
Spud did his best to regain his composure
With tears in his eyes from wind speed exposure
But Franky yelled ‘Rusty Joy’ easy boy, Whoa!
He’d been here before, which Spud didn’t know
And Rusty Joy slowed and returned at a trot
And Spud acted nonchalant... which he was not
So as the kids stood by the horse they had got
Spud hammed it up... are we going or what
So gripping the reins in fear of his life
If I’m overtaken there’s gonna be strife
Franky called out, you should stay with the pack
Spud yelled, I’m the leader, you’d better stay back
To drive his point home, he dug in with his feet
And Rusty Joy went like a demon on heat
Spud just squealed whoa boy with futile insistence
But soon he was only a spec in the distance
Then Rusty Joy saw some lush grass, good for dining
Which proves every cloud comes with a silver lining
As, rapidly, Rusty Joy came to a stop
Spud landed face down in some festering plop
The kids soon caught up and Franky said Yuk
You’re gonna be rich ’cause there’s brass where there’s muck
You never said you were a horseman: that’s humble
What a good overhead, face first, tumble!
Spud sat himself up against Rusty Joy’s legs
I’m not gonna rest until each of you begs
If you don’t plead good, you’re gonna be dead
Then Rusty Joy’s bowels emptied over his head
Everyone have a dream
Some go, some withdraaw
I went and went far
I had a dream
I have a dream
I dreamt with open eyes
Dreamt with two
One for heart
Another for family
One dissolved, another resolved
One dream happens once
Once in life, once for all
Fortunately it happend to me
Unfortunately was broken
Lost one, have one
I had a dream
To defend her at heart
Be in her arms
Set her in my eyes
Spend an age for her
I had a dream
To live with her
Make a family of her
It was a whole half
Remained only with half
Dreamt her to become
My piece, My sprit
This was a heart dream
This was a lost dream
Dream of every second in a minute.
I have a dream
Get a good name
A standard fame
Rank in the starta
Obidient son extra
I have a dream
Making my brothers proud
Being high in crowd
Hearing my talks in class
Name in mass of every class
I have a dream
Be loyal to my mom
Glad to be a son of her
Pleasure to be a son of my dad
Satisfied as a son of them
I have a dream
Be with my family
Respect my family
Tradition what has changed in others
Let not change for me forever
I have a dream
See my dad happy
Feel my mom, s love
Be under my brothers care
In one home till the end
I have a dream
To become the best teacher
To become the best friend
To become the best citizen
To my students, Friends and nation
I have a dream
Regain the tradition
Decentralize the vulgarity
Bring back the chastity
Let the birth have naturality.
I have a dream
Make my lost dream alive
Set her in my growth
Experience her in my growth
Measure my beats in her
I have a dream
To still her with me
Spear my hear in her heart
To fulfill my left dream
Being in her, with her
A dream is designed
By many hopes and desires.
A dream is built.
With true emotions and Feelings.
A dream is a teacher
To a student.
Dream is a beauty
Where charm never departs.
A dream is a lover
To a true lover.
Dream is a timer
Felt when aparted.
Dream is a talent
Possesed by few.
Dream is a substance
For a every art.
Dream is a dream
When it is fulfilled.
Dream is also a dream
When it is broken.
Dream is a colour in ones life
Dream is happiness.
Which can be persuaded
Only persuaded not have.
I had two dreams
Lost one, have one.
Down I go.
On the paths of sheol again.
The rewards of death; my hands regain.
The wheels of the plow of righteousness; i forgot to maintain.
Being led into the desert,
I stagger like one under the influence.
All the while blinded by momentary pleasures.
A walk through the arid land with cold lifeless walls as my compass.
*Surely I have lost it*
These words my mind kept a fix on.
Regurgitating it while the devil's counsel slowly seeped in.
A 'sound advice', like Job's wife, the devil gave.
Urging me to totally quit.
A sweet ballad he played into my ears.
Telling me to embrace hedonism as my new religion.
For I would surely fail in living a perfect life.
He gave me examples.
Yes.
*Your righteousness is as s filthy rag before God*
The accuser of the brethren quoted this scripture for me.
I countered.
Reminding him that self righteousness accounted as sin before God.
Telling him of the uptmost essence of the Jesus's death and grace in salvation.
"No one is perfect"
These words the devil said in retort.
Quoting a popular quip which gave leeway for people to sin.
In despair,
I tried to counter.
For my Christian walk was filled with inconsistent up and down moments.
Like a touchlight with a failing battery,
The light of Christ within me flickered.
HE then came back.
Like a sharp clack amidst deep silence,
I heard His words.
That piercing word of life that erupted joyful tears in me.
For I was a washed out version of my former self.
*My grace is sufficient for you.*
*You have an advocate before the father who pleads your case.*
These words Jesus spoke to me in reply to the devil's condemnation.
*Look unto Jesus the author and finisher of your faith...*
This charge He gave me to cleanse me of all adulteration.
*There is therefore now no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus*
This fact He quoted to free me from all allegations.
*Seek ye first the kingdom of God and its righteousness...*
These words He gave to guide my future aspirations.
Once more I cling to the cross.
An abandonment of my fling with death.
A willing stone in the sling of Christ Jesus.
Ready to earn new trophies to bring to His feet.
Laying them down as He calls me a king too, being a joint heir with Jesus.
#Bashorun
In the quiet corners of the heart,
Where shadows linger, dreams depart,
The path of grief begins to wind,
A journey through the fractured mind.
**Denial** cloaks the soul in shrouds,
A veil of fog amidst the clouds,
A hollow echo, faint and thin,
Where reality can’t enter in.
In this place, the world seems still,
The pain subdued, the heart is still,
Yet somewhere deep, a tremor calls,
A whisper through the echoing halls.
**Anger** soon ignites the blaze,
A furious storm through mournful days,
An unrelenting, searing fire,
That burns through hope and will’s desire.
It lashes out, it seeks to find,
A reason for the troubled mind,
A target for the raging storm,
A way to break the endless norm.
Then comes the **bargaining**, a plea,
For what was lost, for what could be,
A dance with fate, a subtle twist,
To change the past or clear the mist.
Promises to mend the wrong,
A hope that reason will prolong,
The grasp of loss, the aching fear,
In every whisper, every tear.
**Depression** settles like a shroud,
A silent, dark, encircling cloud,
It drapes the spirit, heavy, still,
A void where light and joy are nil.
In this embrace, the heart may sink,
The soul retreats, the thoughts may shrink,
A hollow space where sorrow grows,
And endless night in darkness flows.
Yet from the depths of darkest night,
Emerges **acceptance**, faint yet bright,
A quiet peace amidst the pain,
A gentle hope to start again.
It’s not a cure or quick reprieve,
But understanding to believe,
That though the scars may still remain,
The heart can heal from sorrow’s strain.
Acceptance is a tender place,
A space where one can still embrace
The memories that never fade,
The love that once and still pervades.
It’s knowing that the journey’s end
Is not a loss but a time to mend,
A path where pain and healing blend,
Where broken hearts can gently mend.
So through these stages, one will tread,
With tears and hope and words unsaid,
Each step a chapter in the quest,
To find a place where grief can rest.
For in the depths of loss and pain,
There lies a strength we can regain,
A light that guides through darkened skies,
And helps the spirit to arise.
I heard from PrimeAryan DT
that socialism kills nations.
I thought it was fascist totalitarianism
that killed nations,
the lack of democratic social intelligence,
social investment,
non-violent communication,
restorative,
therapeutic
win/win social justice.
My grandparents,
at least on my mother's side,
who seemed ancient and fragile to me,
often opined,
"When you lose your health,
you love everything."
I don't know if they literally meant everything:
your faith,
your active hope,
your love,
your integrity,
your egocentric voice,
your hate,
fear,
anger,
obsessive-compulsive wealth,
despair,
cynicism,
narcissism,
xenophobia.
Probably they meant only everything good,
all things social,
Beauty fading into inconsequential,
Truth into lack of significant meaning,
Life into absence of future purpose.
I was young and apparently immortal
and could not hear their wiser warning.
Now older,
I find I have little more to add
to health's imperative
standard for resilient Wealth:
much older and more integral,
historically and multiculturally deeper
than money,
or even humanity;
older, even, than verbal communication
about healthy v pathological social-system experience.
So, why isn't this same observation
first on the list of every political party's platform,
every faith community's regenerative mission statement?
If we lose our democratic win/win social health,
we've lost our greatest wealth.
If we optimize
our actively co-invested trust
in global interdependent health,
we regain our most resilient dreams
of cooperatively-owned wealth,
communal peace
served up with personal integrity.
"Make America Great Again"
whether triumphantly declared as "mission accomplished"
or somewhat more humble,
errs in dreaming way too small
When we could more robustly
courageously
compassionately choose
"Make Earth Healthy Again"
Which would, of course,
also make America wealthy
in all the democratic social positives,
and none of the aristocratic anti-social negatives
again?
I guess sometimes healthy restorative justice
is more like exploratory win/win polycultural justice,
more pro-social green peace meadows
than elitist
monocultural
grab and crab grass.