Long Relearn Poems
Long Relearn Poems. Below are the most popular long Relearn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Relearn poems by poem length and keyword.
("To the Bone", 2018, original encaustic)
Down to the Bone
Over and over
Up and down
Back-and-forth
Around and ‘round
It’s always learning the same lesson.
Learning it again
And again.
Like a species,
An individual
With amnesia
We cycle around
Experiencing
To rediscover
Yet again
What we’ve always known
Not in a rut, but
In a spiral.
And each time ‘round
As we relearn the old,
We learn it with a new twist
Twist of the coil
Which inevitably
In time
Is worn out
In exhaustion, worn
Down to the bone
To a stub
A frayed knot
A bit of tattered fabric
That once supported
Bound and
Veiled the sacred
In a mystery,
But now
Leaves it
Revealed
In stark simplicity.
(10/5/23)
There is an irrepressible field of thought
We learn resiliently better
more profoundly together
than competitively
and shallowly apart.
We feel better
in eco/ego-therapeutic teams
more than as isolated egocentric wanderers
more eccentric
than supported by nurturing environments
ego/eco-centrically populated
with WinWin players.
EcoCentric thoughts
informing EgoHealthy beliefs,
feelings
and resonant practice
practice
praxis;
Ego-disciplines of WinWin TeamPlay
are nutritional regimes,
health frames,
wealthy multicultural dialectals
For ecological Left-YangStrength
and theo-sensory Right-YinFlow equivalence
Conversing within WiseElder freedoms
to playwork and roleplay
what SolarGod might say
about baking out inhumane pathologies
with His retributive
and unkindly blind
patriarchal justice.
While EarthSoul Gaia RightYin
holds matriotically up
her restorative eco/ego-justice Northern fractal face.
DNA staring wave-linear
ultra-violetly back
into WiseElder RNA octaves
of harmonic deep learning revolutionary health,
secularly resilient
and sacredly resonant,
and together curiously integrative sanity
yet something of a creolic stew.
Steaming streaming with integrity nutritional images
through this post-millennial healthy field of time,
of thought
We deep relearn
our Left-Right EarthSoul
Yang/Yin ecology best
as WiseElders
cooperatively North-Teamed
self with resonantly plotting others,
eco-therapeutic discoverers
of healthier ZeroZone landscapes
WinWin
inside Yin
Gaia's EarthSoul of Integrity,
With outside YangGod SolarSpirit
of Universal PositivEnergy Democracy
ZeroZone Earth
WinWin Original
Nutritional
Intent.
Gaia EarthRights
with LeftYang reiterating and evaluating
competing ZeroSum waste streams
and group string theories
of bilaterally explicitYang
implicitYin sacred deep listening Time.
There remains a resiliently resonant field
of Left with Right dipolar thought
We learn
economically and politically and psychologically better
cooperatively together
than too Yang-competitively apart.
The Fear of Loving
The idea of love scares me like a light that burns you blind,
it doesn't add a thing — it transforms everything I was and am in mind,
all of a sudden my own mood no longer fully belongs to me,
my thoughts drift into someone else like leaves caught in a frozen winter breeze.
My stability — that tower of salt built up on wet sand —
becomes a shared thing, and what sounds beautiful falls apart as planned,
for shared things can be taken back without a single warning sign,
and what was yours becomes an echo with no windows, no design.
When it leaves, it doesn't leave clean — it marks every habit that you keep,
in the way that moments stay unfinished and incomplete and deep,
in memories that burn like altars that the rain has long put out,
in empty gestures repeating a presence that no longer comes about.
It's not the loss of the other person that unsettles me the most,
but the version of myself I'd have to become after losing that ghost,
the one who has to relearn how to exist inside her own cool hollow space,
like an uprooted tree that blooms in soil with no purpose and no place.
To relearn how to breathe without that thing that felt so born and alive,
so deep inside the blood it was the rhythm of the late field's drive,
so endless in its shape — an ocean that had never known a shore or floor —
and now its silence fills my chest like a mountain that won't answer anymore.
Love is the paradox that makes you whole by splitting you in two,
it makes you complete precisely in the moment it transforms you into something new,
and my fear isn't of love itself — it's of the person left after the storm,
the one who watches shards of self shine bright beneath a moon that's lost its form.
Self knowledge equated to the encyclopedia
and perceived facts, products of personal reasoning
the efficacy of thoughts should not be questioned
and assumptions simply made real and absolute
Typical of such a thought stamps on convictions that
the banana and plantain are the same
a superior race surely exist
leg size has a great correlation with the male’s genital
the measure of one’s success is solely factored
in his accumulation of wealth
and money is the root of all evil.
This mindset can walk on hot coal just to prove these points
Columbus was the first European to visit the Americas
bulls are colour blind and bats are completely blind
women are subordinates to men
and a pure heart is one which covers its body from head to toe
This mind can even tear its clothes to rags
in displeasure to your opposition to issues such as
Sydney is Australia’s capital
the earth’s evolution is the cause of day and night
Africa is a country and its inhabitants exchange
morning greetings with the Lion and the Chimpanzee
and Neil Armstrong is the first human to journey into out space
Despite carrying the internet even to the dreams
and having global captions mixed with daily breath
assumptions such as these are nurtured
religiously, with rigidity and military acceptance
the biggest illiterate of the 21st century is one
who cannot learn, unlearn and relearn
so said Alvin Toffler, the Australian Educationist.
Oh sorry! The American futurist
The History of Grown Children
When we are kids,
we are told of God.
It is easy to accept,
a great Father in Heaven.
No questions about our own will,
later to be exercised by us,
at every turn,
down the road of life,
both in the right,
and wrong directions.
Then we are young,
and everything is on fire.
New to us in different ways,
hard to feel all of it,
without losing the ability,
to think clearly.
Some lose their minds,
their hearts...
and their souls.
For a while, or forever,
dangerous flirtations with freedom,
obviously un-deserved by the irresponsible.
Later as the consequences of our adventures,
find us down the avenues of loss,
we try to put together a map.
Some source of gathered wisdom,
that would let see where we jumped off,
the right thoroughfare, onto the path of destruction.
Sadly to find it was often a one-way.
Those of us that return to the trail,
that leads us back to the walls of church,
must relearn to be kids again.
Something we could not wait to give up,
to become grown and on our own,
and yet regret the loss of the entire time,
it is missing from our hearts.
Rejoice that God is forgiving.
Be cheerful for a second chance.
Yet do not take it lightly,
that the cost of your discursions,
here... will not be held until the time...
of your last breath.
But that at the foot of God,
you are still valued,
if your soul is true.
Unlearn and relearn to learn
What if
Could be the if
When we are so doom
With why
Cos our questions are
Are always a bold standing why
Why this why that but
What if
Unlearn and relearn to learn
Don't be so sure in
Your believe
Don't be so tied up
With one set of life
Life is universal
Why make it personal
What if what you know
Was a false
Unlearn and relearn to learn
Have you ever been
Heart broken
Now look deeper to life
Go beyond the height
You dear never to
Try something different
See what you can become
Out from your inner power
Cos we are in a universal universe
So don't be hold up just to one
Side of life
Unlearn and relearn to learn
Unlearn and relearn to learn
Sometimes we oath to think twice
Look again to same picture
What you've seen before
You might be missing
It best beauty unknown
As nowadays our life
Are left to the unknown
Our minds are on control
We can't see no more
Cos we've lost our sight
To a believe
To a group
To a culture
To a tribe
To a race
To a religion
To a story book
To a style of life
To technology
At worst to civilization
What if
Instead of why
Should be a better
Source of solution
In our generation today
Cos the reason for the
Why's are obviously obvious
But what if ??????.......
Content Creative
--------------------------
By Rhapsodes" The Muckraker"
The Elaborate Composition
He dealt with the subject as only he could.
He was the leader of the Organization
the conductor of the Orchestra, the leader
of the band. first chair in the Ensemble.
It was rather unpleasant for him to remove
most of the material presented him. He felt
it outdated and often very unappealing.
He offered the presenters advice.
Trick me into liking it, rearrange it make it
more presentable for a modern audience.
I'd rather keep interest into what I am already
doing, and not have to relearn according to whoever
what we are doing now is effective and in a
manner of storying our time together this
does not make sense in into what's going on.
"I do like the songs: but the sounds are out dated!"
The storms of spring the following morning
bought him back into someone else's office.
We would sound as if we had been asked to
go somewhere and relearn our trade, redefine
our sound or adjust to something someone else
was doing. Diaspora does not define our present
state as we are today. Now if you wanted to make
pretend we had built a time machine to travel back
in time to do a video: or incorporate ancient
instruments into a modern sound that's cool.
But to do a ""way back song"
from nowhere sounds far fetched.
Do you see the serenity of my
misshaped machete?
A moment mistaken for a musical mystery,
Hold no hopes for this ballad my blade sings to you;
She only reflects the dreams on a dimmed dawn you once drew,
Foolishly flourishing for the finely crafted chaos,
When the writings on her walls bleed for the bruises you prey on,
Rest on the reflection she wove for you,
A closet you’ve locked, she wiggled her way into,
Do the realistic corners of what you seek have no light?
Did my mahogany mirror make you feel a little fright?
Was holding the hands of an echo a suggestive thrill?
Or would you rather have a minute and relearn the drill?
Dare not blame my beastly blade, wear no shade, since you stayed,
So lay your cards and pay the price you played.
A Daunting Mountain Slavery Raised
An injured knee suffers in times of rain.
Seasons of counting costs raises mountains of debt.
Yet... faith can move a mountain,
At the expense of Love... immeasurable.
There is forgiveness,
Until next time,
When the lessons forgot, are relearned again,
... And again.
So flawed are we, with virtues limited by sin,
That we must relearn to empty ourselves,
So that God’s Grace can come flowing in.
It's not I, myself nor me, that matters most;
It is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
The cragged path to destruction that I choose,
Is not for my very best desire,
But sadly a slave to pride a master serve.
And of the rain that flows that my knee foretold,
Are the tears that came from a path I poorly chose.
But if I allow the Spirit to guide my step,
And live by faith, trusting that He’ll do rest,
That Mountain that I chose to climb,
Would be leveled in a moment’s time.
And from that fist I do release,
The strains of anxious toil unfurl,
Gives way to comfort and thanksgiving.
And from my shackles I would be released,
And from my Lord I would find my rest,
If I my Savior trust and dare not test,
I would live with peace, and live free at last.
Free at last.
by Martin Braun
January 11, 2024
A tribute to my Lord and Savior, and in acknowledgement and thanks to the works of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.
To die an old man, tasks left on slow burn,
And as fake coins do, get reborn ‘pon earth;
Work harder still, more mileage points to earn,
Which, heaven calls goodly deeds well their worth,
To repeat none of careless omissions,
Careful avoiding sinful commissions,
Grow up again and relearn things ere learnt,
Suffer old age again, same helplessness,
Begin and end with diapers no less,
Same hassles of life, oh what a huge stunt!
And yet, there are welcome blessings to fore:
Mother's love— not else in life be so good,
Worth returning to earth often and more,
Another, innocence of the childhood,
And its older version— second childhood,
For small joys, pleasures, life's trinkets so rife,
And that hard lesson learnt in adulthood
That true joys come from trivial things of life.
For sure, this journey of life has odd rules,
Where humans are handed worse punishment—
Being treated no better than draught mules
That must learn things learnt ere— in chastisement,
The karmic fate— there's no meaner kill-joy,
But is not life God's play-act to enjoy?
And still I'd feel, life comes with mixed blessings,
Like coins it comes with two sides: joy and strife,
One may call it tyranny of this life,
Of destiny that in a dual voice sings.
And poor man, whether he likes it or not,
Must empty ere refill his karmic pot!
And still, I love you O life, fall or spring,
I like this journey, pray keep me calling. ……
____________________________________________
Musings | 03.07.16 | Ode
Poet’s note: This first part of the Ode starts with ten lines in the first stanza. Every stanza progressively loses two lines, ending with a pair of couplets. For, each lifespan is supposed to reduce the journey of evolution that ends with Liberation. But as this poem seems in love with life, it continues and carries on.