Long Regenerates Poems
Long Regenerates Poems. Below are the most popular long Regenerates by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Regenerates poems by poem length and keyword.
Epic Sighting Contest
A streak in the sky filled with colored light,with splashes of pink on each ray,
And cerulean waves of particle collections, makes my visibility a true design.
Way above the frigid landslide,
I start to see...
I start to imagine...
I start to bask....
In the embellishment of the radiance in the sky,
Without return to where...
I used to belong,
I tried to forget my past,
Where I belong now.
No longer do I reside in that desolate land,
Dry, polluted and forsaken, I shall live where I choose,
And I've chosen the immaculate palace, above the clouds and
Just underneath heaven...
Prisms of rainbow light flashing through my soul,
As it regenerates from being so lifeless from down below....
Don't miss the waste land,
Moving forward came so quick,
I feel so at peace.
There's a castle made of ice crystals, sparkling diamonds shining through all directions from the sun. Dangling pieces melting into radiant beauty. This journey was not planned. Fate had it to be for my life and my life only. I always knew I would be happy one day...
The distance was too vast and my life seemed too modest...so there I was, walking a thousand miles north east to find out,
I need this in life,
Crystal castle up above,
Grateful that I'm home.
Written By: Laura Urbaniak
November 3, 2015
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer
In the abyss of our soul, a secret fire burns,
A flame of desire that brings warmth and comforting light.
This radiance, when it reaches absolute purity,
Envelops us in a sense of profound and eternal beauty.
The fire of sex, a hidden magic, a sacred ember,
Always present within us, whether it burns fiercely or smolders subtly.
Even at the twilight of life, at the age of wisdom,
This ember never extinguishes, remaining our living essence.
The flame of desire, a mystical dance of light and shadow,
A firework that illuminates the inner night of the soul.
It is the primordial song of day and night,
An anthem of humanity, a profound magic that regenerates us.
Every touch, a warm wave of pure light,
Every gaze, a spark that ignites endless dreams.
We live in the light of this divine inner fire,
Finding our way through the dark labyrinth of existence.
Like mystical alchemists, we keep this flame alive,
Clad in the mantle of our desires and aspirations.
We do not let the flame fade, even in the deepest melancholy,
For this is the fire that never dies, our source of vitality.
Through the magic of this flame, we transfigure and are reborn,
Rediscovering the beauty and inner light of our being.
In an ocean of wandering shadows, we are the keepers of the sacred ember,
Living in warmth and brilliance, finding hope in each of our dreams.
Thus, we transcend time and matter, becoming pure light,
A beauty that knows no end, ever-renewed.
In every flame, we find the essence of sublime life,
A mystical magic, an eternal poem of infinite desire and hope.
Canadian flag to the wind
virgin coasts to explore
canoes loaded with easels
paintbrushes and pigments
from sea to shining sea
rock islands scattered
nature self regenerates
untouched and pristine
through eyes of an artist
and lens of adventure
jack pines stand proud
their might and their grace
moved and inspired
in national colors
awe splashed to canvas
immortalized pride
pure wilderness
recorded in stillness
fresh mirror of canadiana
stylized called our own
the timely birth of a
west wind movement
birthe the distinct national art
of the iconic Group of Seven
AP: 3rd place 2020
Why are we the human race
rather than another extinguishing species?
Why not the human species
and not the cockroach race?
Why is human nature
intended as somehow supremely natural
not within but faster than,
above and beyond
inferior sensual nature?
Why is race,
inhuman embrace-conflicted context,
a qualitative noun,
stultifying stasis,
rather than a speeding verb
toward shared finish line
when everyone can win together
where no one fully wins apart?
Why is nature's race
not yet declared as one
indigenous Earth Tribe?
Bicamerally endowed
to celebrate Earth's rhythmic ordination
of regenetic liturgy and syntax,
grace racing veins
full-blooded diverse healing homes
of natural peace construction.
What happened to issue
as primal verb
when babies issued from progenitors
and words issued from mouths
and blood issued from wounds
and racing issued from DNA's polycultures,
storytellers weaving diverse generative threads
Remembering from whom and when we issue
back before embracing human memory
in dialectic dreamy nest of fractal tones
polychronic texture
4 dimensioned structure
rhythm rhyme dancing
polycultured racing
comic multicultural
co-operative opera.
Coincidental correlating races,
humane natural places,
issue forth to teach and humor
and recess back to learn and decompose
to mentor Nature's human embrace
radical solidarity race
rooted pace
secured by leaving none behind
Every living system ordained
to race redeeming issues
through singing flows of dancing waves
linked through all spacetime.
If race exponentially regenerates
intergenetic issues,
then this is more of a species relay race
during which boundary lanes
no more than trace and lace
our deep seasoned swimming synchrony,
blending genetic notes of freedom's harmony
toward nature's unfinish-lined
circling symphony.
YOU COMPLETE ME
A Collaboration on poem by Curtis Moorman and James Edward Lee Sr.
My eyes look for you
My heart bleeds the truth
My spirit enters your soul completely
My mind is stayed on you
My lips speak your name softly
My arms remain empty without you
By doing the above
Reaching up
You complete me
~
My hands and my arms embraces you;
My mind regenerates those feelings;
Separated in heaven;
Birth here on earth;
Separated it hurts;
Come to me,come unto me my, darling
Hold my hands stare into my soul
Reaching up
You complete me
4/15/19
written by Curtis Moorman and James Edward Lee Sr.
A stone of spiritual protection and purification,
the amethyst aligns my chakras with sanctification.
Shimmering and shining with ease and inspiration,
she’s a resounding aria of light and regeneration,
helping me sleep in peace, supporting detoxification.
This lovely gemstone is violet in color sparkling softly aglow.
Glorious with effulgence; through my soul does it flow.
When using amethyst in tender touches, emotions grow
radiating heat to flourish balance; adoration she does bestow.
She gives me gentle quietude devoid of solitude and woe.
In the quartz family, she shines magnetism through veins.
Used for strength with addiction, insomnia and pain,
amethyst also regenerates cells when cancer does retain.
Circulates my blood and lifts my mood when I feel disdain-
for she is my greatest repose as serenity does remain.
She’s my daughter’s birthstone…hope she does contain.
TRIBUTE TO A PRECIOUS OR SEMI-PRECIOUS GEM Poetry Contest
Line Gauthier
May 1, 2019
Feeling drowsy as your feet stumble
wanting back to bed to tumble
Half awake in the morning dawn
knowing that this feels all wrong
But the smell of java brewing
lifts your spirit and keeps you moving
A cup of hot coffee in the morning
gets you up and starts you going
You can face the day anew
with that fresh cup of morning brew
Coffee as American as apple pie
without it we would look as if we died
Keeps our juices ever flowing
that magic cup of coffee in the morning
A cup to awake and a cup to go
nothing regenerates like morning joe
Coffee coffee let the Brits keep their tea
that morning cup of coffee taste like liberty
In hues of sepia she maintains
her web of life, Mother Nature;
from smallest seed to greatest
creature her umbilical sustains.
The fate of all life resides
in her consciousness and flow;
like a machine each part depends
on the other parts smooth glide.
Pollinators nurture flora,
food is recycled and regenerates;
feeding others of her children,
from trees to abundant Passiflora.
Through our big blue marbled macrocosm
she weaves her web of life;
from Terra-firma are many birthed
abundant arising microcosms.
With light and pigmentation's work
amazing color floods her realm;
from greens, golds, reds and browns
she paints such serene patchwork.
Wondrous miracles she has birthed
within her spirits sylvan seas;
a universal soul, our Mother,
captured by the poets in verse.
The finest artist of her kind,
with unlimited imagination;
her womb is quite a fertile one,
life’s threads are fragilely intertwined.
6-27-2021
ALL YOURS (Jun 27) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Orange and Green would not exist without her
For they depend on her mixture to be created.
Mix yellow with blue, voila – green.
Mix yellow with red, voila – orange.
Yellow is bring, clean, fresh.
Yellow rejuvenates, regenerates, enthralls, and delights.
Anyway for me, and I am only the expert of me.
It uplifts me, and excites me, brings me hope and joy.
Mustard, sunflowers, daffodils, dandelions
Baby chicks, baby ducks, bananas, buttercups.
They all raise me up, inspiring me to be better than I was.
The psychology of yellow for me is amazing; it is my heart.
Bumblebees, sunshine, raincoats, daisies, marigolds.
Firefighter’s jackets, 1970’s infamous happy face.
Bring my childhood swiftly back and make me grin.
Yellow pudding, lemon meringue pie. Yellow tastes good too!
Parakeet, cats, playdough, Tupperware, bedroom wallpaper.
Bring me yellow if possible, for it uplifts me and instills optimism.
It is rejuvenating, refreshing and delightful. Maybe not for everyone.
But for me, and I am only the expert of me.
In denim- blues skies:
the sun hums gold a decaying monotone
of chest crushing heat on teeming trees
to fields and prairies, where they striptease.
And when the wind gusts:
cool hours seed encoring the hues
of ochres bright not of fire forced.
Spirally wheeled pupils may whirl
as in tireless and heavy rammed blow,
brown crinkled leaves fly in frenzied dance.
Weak limbs shudder too; lulled, they tumble,
fall and rest to coat the earth.
but within the heat, nothing goes to
waste nature regenerates.
It worms the leaves into compost weaves.
Yes, shades of Autumn are nature's mourning
for nature's die yet still its beauty: a romance
as it gratifies the eyes.
__________________________________________________
~~Inspired by the painting: Autumn in France
by Emily Carr 1911
__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__
5:49pm , January 15, 2015