Long Reignited Poems
Long Reignited Poems. Below are the most popular long Reignited by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reignited poems by poem length and keyword.
7/24/20
"Lopsided"
Folks being simple minded
So blinded
And staying one sided
Meanwhile, life and death coincided
Not every wrong was righted
I guided
Pathways were lighted
And a helping hand was provided
But still many remained divided
Some were frightened
Others caused violence
As the sky brightened
For once it was quiet, there was the sound of silence
People in their own world, and on their own island
Fires dying out or getting reignited
Such is life, the scales often lopsided
Disaster at times, when objects or lifeforms collided
Some emotionless, others quick to anger or be delighted
Some ready to tell the world, others would rather keep it private
They're either compliant
Or defiant
Big brother and other giants
Being tyrants
Continual protests and riots
Overhead a black cloud resided
Being depressed, not once did I like it
I had to fight this
Never wanted to be reliant
On medication to hide it
Much more enlightened
My senses heightened
It's either in or out of alignment
An ever-changing climate
Bull.... was always uninvited
Had to make sure it quickly subsided
She wanted a ring and I wanted a watch with diamonds
In a world so vibrant
Far too many looking to pick a fight with
Just about anybody because they're biased
Hit them with Poseidon's trident
Or make them walk the plank, like a pirate
As the final glimpse
of the sun leads into
an everlasting spectacle
of twinkling dreams,
peeking through
turmeric traces
of an amber aftermath,
I listen to the
nesting nightingales
croon nostalgic lullabies,
and search for a
celestial ray
that would illustrate,
the beginning
of
butterflies
within
my glass heart.
When twilight is
just a
mere mirage
in the distance of
my destitute mind,
and tune
of your
laughter
reverberates
in rhapsodic refrain;
a raspy rhythm
ringing
through
rustic breeze,
whilst the
whistling
wind waves
to the
dandelions
dancing
to your
delicate drumbeats,
scintillating stars
fall upon
our silhouettes,
scattering pieces of
who I once
used to be-
within pulsating
flesh and bones,
before I felt the
warmth of your
cosmic whispers.
Now initials of
your amethyst
song is the
penultimate prefix
to my path
of
healing,
where
sentimental sighs
between us,
unveil
wordless
smiles electrifying
a classical crescendo;
awaiting beneath
instrumental wings.
I count the
flickering jewels,
splattered across
nocturnal
night-skies,
questioning if this
is
another
start
of a
weary winter?
or is this just
a seasonal distraction,
intoxicating my
procrastinating pen,
or is your voice a
heaven-sent elixir,
to soothe the satanic
seas evaporating
black salt-
drizzling toxic rain,
upon my
porcelain choir,
synchronizing
a symphony
of soulmates destined
to
reunite and rewrite
a
roseate rendezvous.
Maybe,
fate reignited
to align
the emerald
glow between
you and I,
Maybe, I’ve long
been a wanderer,
on a quest to reach
the rainbow
swirls
above your
musky garden,
where background
music is
the poetry woven
from your
cryptic ink.
You’ll always remain
the
last maestro
in my carnival
of chaos,
amidst the loudness
of screeching demons
chattering within every
darkest sheet of
dreary December.
I was submerged in
an ocean
of rants,
hiding the sparkles
of my
poetic
planktons.
My meaningless
phrases
that meant
everything,
but
nothing and anything
at the same time.
Yet I found
mermaid melodies
from idyllic waves,
placed
with love
in my heart,
by a
mystical angel
worlds apart,
that felt like home
in so many forms,
when bitter reality
was
crashing
and
thrashing,
my bones with no
mercy or empathy.
Although twin flames
reignited
lost romance,
against every tide of
redolent rhymes
and measured meters,
as couplets destined
to be sweethearts.
In a world
of untold
words
and expressions,
we scribbled
sensual senryu,
and silver sonnets,
along lilac lines
of lavender shadows
where ebony fingers
intertwined to devise,
cryptic potions of
pearlescent personifications,
and
harlequin haiku
as well as
ethereal etherees,
where hourglass nonets
bleed
amethyst alliterations,
forever composing
floral choruses
whilst healing through
free verse
with strawberry musings,
on a sandbank
where islanders
rendered
ravishing runes,
dripping on
chocolate reveries,
about soulmates
that sheltered their
love in
an
oyster
shell.
One lone rose tumbled from the basket,
the same as the others but set apart
All were beautiful. They congregated
in one basket, these Southern belles,
but she, with her pink cheeks, tumbled,
she’d cut her ties. She loved them, indeed,
but not exclusively. No one was there
to hold her by the hand. She knew
and cared about the world out there.
all the southern belles
beautiful, adorned in pink ~
one lone rose cut ties
She’d end up in a beautiful bouquet,
dusted off, picked up from the floor.
She was the bride’s favorite - was she
something new or something old?
She wasn’t sure - it didn’t matter,
she was used for a moment in time,
carried as the piano played, as
the crowd stood to admire the bride.
how the bouquet served,
open to severed flower ~
the pride of the bunch
Puffed-up in the part she played.
The lovely pink dustable would be saved,
dried, sprayed. She was loved, as surely
as if she was the velveteen rabbit, boxed
up - almost nearly ever gawked at. Her
favorite time was when a little girl, who
looked so much like the bride of years-
gone-by, opened the box and picked her up.
surprise opening
admired, crushed, and scattered rose
a little girl laughs
She was admired and crushed and
a puckered up lady scooped her up
and kissed her over and over again
telling her of her favorite flower - a foundling
she admired even with its scattered petals.
kisses are gathered
strewn on the cheeky lassie ~
she’s a gift of life
She gave one petal to the mischievous girl -
“God bless you! May this grow into
a pretty bouquet, special and unique.
I’ve been so blessed, dear one.
May your life be so blessed too.”
understanding not
but love was never forgot
for girl’s heart was full
Then the worn out rose saw the old
bride kiss her granddaughter, again,
as they laughed and the girl’s cheeks
turned an eternal pink, taking on the hue
of reignited petals. She would stand apart
from the rest, though she loved them all
would serve the world. Her name was Rose.
her namesake of old
ruffled, lacy, magi’s gift
a blessing from God
9/1/2022
"You're here," he whispered from shadows
My fragrance consorted before me
Heady scent of musk-infused blooms
Intoxicating allure, lustfully impure
On the bed was an opened poetry book,
across it pages, a perfect red rose
Dark crimson, like the blood within me flows
heated by need and the greed in his eyes
There burned the wildfires of desire
flames fanned as I moved nearer
They reflected soft glimmers
of the pearlized moon
She, a naughty voyeur, peering in the night
Through an open window she watched
the rhythm of swaying shadows at play
Seductive smile on my vermilion lips
in a chamber painted amber by candlelight
No need of their scintillation to see
His touch was all I needed
to guide me in flights of ecstacy
as hands pleaded in sensual strokes
Diamonds danced across a sapphire sky
He breathed erotic sensations on my nape
and slid a strap of the gown down my shoulder
The pulse of his heart beat against my hand
my other caressed the ruff at his temple
Fuchsia fluttered on the trellised window
Their aroma faded as I inhaled his balm
We tasted love and savored passion
Now sated and replete in a moment of calm
Soft breezes swirled across warm silk sheets
My hand trembled as I reached for him
Wildfires reignited in his emerald eyes
"The night is still young and the moon is asleep,"
I whispered. My intent was not disguised
~ 9/22/17 ~
The Poet's Fire
Hosted by: Greg Barden
Bona fide baroque melodies resonated concert halls in Italy
Reigning Western Europe with elan more than a century
Until new composers innovated into avant-garde music
As ennui artists soon after wrote romantic modern beats.
Cacophony of sounds emerged after advent of modernity
As talent won carte-blanche to write popular harmonies.
Feeling of deja vu echoed sounds in modern-day music halls
When baroque compositions reignited latent fond-memories.
Dilettante musicians did not succeed except as an anomaly
For the musical world crowns only the best of its creativity.
January 18, 2018
Ten words, ten lines contest by Silent One
I The Phoenix
I recall in my youth how the world around me seemed so alive vibrant in color and beauty. As I aged this beauty faded and was replaced with a new world filled with shades of grey. Life rushed by me quickly, I was no longer able to see the beauty around me. The longer I lived in this new world the more my spirit faded.
One day this new world came crashing down around me and I was left alone, abandoned in the streets. Overcome with fear and loathing I wandered aimlessly among the dispirited and walking dead. I survived on the pity and sustenance portioned out to the lost souls.
I found myself pondering my youth as I walked the streets and wondered where that world had gone. My eyes saw things along the sidewalk that inspired my imagination, I kept these as mementos of life lost. These tidbits of refuse I examined and again found vibrant color and beauty. I began to piece these small tokens together and slowly recreated my youthful vision.
Casting aside my thoughts of returning to the life that had drained away my spirit. I became whole again, I now dwell again in those vibrant colors and an abundance of happiness as were in my youth. Society will not number me among it's herded numbers of spiritless victims.
Authors Note:
3 years of homelessness and destitution opened my eyes and reignited my spirit. If you feel you have lost your way, cast off everything and start anew.
Their eyes widened, and the group leaned in with curiosity. “What’s in it for us?” one of them asked, lowering his phone and adopting a tone that suggested a wild adventure was imminent, perhaps even Trans storytime or "Elementary School Teachers Gone Wild", in class. Maybe even genital mutilation and Jones Kool Aid + visual aids, plus umm, aids, and monkey pox and band aids. OK Gus was getting ahead of himself.
“Help us distract Michael! Promise you’ll get the real story behind the Easter Bunny,” Penney pitched.
The teenagers exchanged glances, and with a shared nod, they sprang into action. One of them grabbed an absurdly large basket of fake Easter eggs from a nearby store display while another started a group chant: “Bunny! Bunny! Bunny!” The noise attracted attention, echoing through the mall like a siren call.
“Where’s the playboy bunny?!” a kid shouted, turning the heads of middle afed Men. “We need her for a photo op!”
The Bunny, momentarily flustered, turned to the group, delighting in this unexpected attention. The teenagers began prancing around him, flinging eggs into the air as Michael, caught in a haze of confusion and rage, stumbled toward them. I am the playboy bunny, just Baroke wokey Bear !
“Why is everyone so obsessed with real women?!” he roared, shaking his fist in frustration, but momentarily losing his focus on Penney and Gus.
“Now’s our chance!” Penney hissed, taking Gus's elbow as they sprinted toward the Escape Rooms, leaving the staged chaos behind. With the door to Room One in sight, their hearts raced with momentum and fear.
Inside the rooms, walls transformed with dazzling illusions and outrageous puzzles awaited—a place where fantasy ruled and magic reignited the thrill of adventure. As they bolted through the door and barely managed to slam it shut, laughter erupted from behind them.
“Isn’t this just a tad absurd?” Gus panted, hands on his knees.
“Absolutely! But if it distracts Michael long enough for us to figure out our next move, then let's embrace the madness!” Penney winked, trying to catch her breath amidst the resurgence of adrenaline.
Dream a little dream – sing a song of authenticity
Remember yesterday, though it’s long gone
Light a heart with love and peace, joy
From the hopes, belief in what will be
When time has smiled down beautiful things
Across a life, through a heart – into a beautiful song
Dream a little dream – sing of kindness that believes
In the presence of a miracle, a wonder that sees
Through the doubts and darkness, into the breathtaking,
Where everything in life brings together the delight,
The inspiring and the magnificent, all the bliss that comes
Alive from knowing that there will come a time…
When the love that abides inside is reignited, invited
To bring someone other than the self, the selfish self –
A piece of the gladness, the excitement and elation, the
Serenity and sincerity, the feelings that bleed through
Heartbreak and dissolve all the anxiety so that every dream
Comes to believe, to achieve, to see – through the reservations
Into the spirit where there is a sense of assurance, a reality
A knowing that everything in life comes together to provide…
The dreamer with hope, inspiration and confidence
Because there is such a thing as love, there is a promise
That dreams come true – dreams can be sure to enhance
Realities when someone takes away the shadows of doubt
And feeds the heart with faith and prayers, belief
That, though the dream is so rare, the heart is mighty,
The soul will prevail so when you dream a little dream…
That dream will be sure to come to maturity, ripening into
The moment when you’ll see the dream of the past
Become the truth of the present and the certainty of what is waiting…
So dream a little dream, believe and someday you will sing authenticity
Sometimes you can love with all you have.
Yet it is never enough to capture a heart.
Sometimes the love fades away over the years.
Hearts are broken without words even spoken.
How can it be that what you have is not enough?
When all you ever want to do is love and adore
What goes wrong when emotions so deep, so strong,
Can’t find expressions to reach the other heart
Yesterday's beautiful memories slowly fade away,
as the love in your eyes gradually dies.
What happened to the promises? Why has the love died?
I begin to dread the day you finally say goodbye.
Goodbye will never touch my lips while they yet draw breath
My heart still beats there, there in your hands, it feels, it bleeds
Though voiceless are the words it thunders, yet its memories speak
Louder than the doubts in your mind; will you listen, will you hear?
I hardly recognize this person lying next to me.
Is it that someone else has your heart, so you shun me.
What do I need to do to make you love me?
Or is this the end? Is my love not enough?
If you wander away, unable to stay, tired of delay...
Know this: my love is feeling and commitment entwined
My love is constancy and ecstasy reignited, redefined
My love is all you'll ever need, when tired, when you bleed
Do you recall the vows you made, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish.
Till death do us part, means you love me until death, not wish it sooner.
Life is a balance of holding on and letting go, so make up your mind.
My heart will bleed, but how can I live with a love that is not true.
Still the doubts that shout; still everything else but this....
Lay your head on my chest, and hear the thunder that prevails
This voiceless beating of words that courses through my veins
While this testament of life remains, my love for you will live.
Oh beloved sweetheart of mine, rest assured, I will fight for our love.
I will reignite that fire in your soul and awaken the ghost of passion.
I will become the object of your affection, the one you carnally desire.
You are my destiny and I, your fate, we merge as one, together and forever.
Silent One and Eileen Manassian collaboration
25 August 2015