Long Remakes Poems
Long Remakes Poems. Below are the most popular long Remakes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Remakes poems by poem length and keyword.
The beginning is a dance of pain and fulfillment, isn't it?
Real life hurts, but it also fills the soul with light,
happiness sneaks in when we have lived and have time to forget,
a happiness that comes as a respite, a pause between battles.
Happiness, in its simple sense, is just a fleeting holiday,
but lifelong happiness is being used by life,
being hurt by life, pushed and pushed again by life,
being renewed and overwhelmed by the joy of life, fighting for life.
In living life, pain is a large and unforgiving part,
but in this suffering, we also find hidden beauty,
like a flower blooming among thorns, unceasing and brave.
Life drives us, overwhelms us, tears us apart and remakes us,
and in this struggle, in this dance of light and shadows,
we discover true happiness, the one that does not waver,
the one that makes us feel alive, makes us feel whole,
the one that embraces us with its arms of steel and silk.
In the flow of consciousness, life runs like a river of emotions,
sometimes calm and gentle, other times tumultuous and untamed,
but always carrying us toward an ocean of understanding,
where pain and fulfillment intertwine like the waves of the sea.
Happiness is not just a refuge from the storm,
but also the reason we endure each storm,
to feel those moments of pure and clear peace,
in which we find ourselves again, whole and undefeated.
So, let us be carried by life, let us be wounded,
let us be renewed and fulfilled by this journey,
for in every pain hides a seed of happiness,
and in every struggle, a chance to find our true heart.
This is real happiness, not a mere escape,
but the joy of being alive, of feeling, of fighting and loving,
of living and dying and being reborn again, always,
until life itself becomes a song without end.
If I were a baby’s breath
I’d be the sigh
that bends the wheat as dawn slips by
a gentle chinook that softly speaks
a river’s pause….. before it breaks
the soulful love itself remakes.
If I were the moment
I'd be the one
star that pierces through the dark
where moons align and two hearts become
a place thoughts dissolve where time suspends
a love too vast for fate to end.
If I were a dream catcher I’d kiss your sleep
with shades of joy too rich to keep
reality more radiant than you'd dare.
and when you wake upon your skin
my breath would rise dew drops within.
If I had an enchanted touch
I’d be the artist
of tides that sculpt the cliffs in full
a warmth that lingers on your breasts
a caress that cradles slow and deep
like roots that drink where my love sleeps.
If I were a sacred covenant
I’d be the mark
that binds your soul where comets arc
not lost to time, nor dimmed by space
but carved in light-faith’s endless place.
forever locked in my loves’ divine celestial lace.
But I am just myself
imperfect true
yes, I am only flesh and bone
no myth no spark no sculpted stone—
but in your arms, I burn, I shine
a zephyrus breath where earth meets sky.
Burnt CDs, black marker spinning,
Discman walking through the seasons.
Ford Tempo losing ground,
feet dipping through the rusted sound.
On the bus I felt protected,
public-transit bubble, youth connected.
Till the night the danger shifted,
instinct sharpened, whole world twisted.
News broke, breath broke,
shape of everything revoked.
I blamed my feet,
trampled dreams, incomplete.
But I still hear the soundtrack calling,
even when the sky was falling.
Girlhood stitched in ice and steam,
ringette blades cutting through the dream.
My burned CD,
my lifeblood, my mythology.
Spin me back to who I was —
fire, danger, music, trust.
I was dancing in the room,
between despair and breaking through.
If all that’s left is memory,
then let it ring —
my burned CD.
Girl-power spice on frozen rinks,
tweens spliced between the ice and instincts.
Cutting habits meant to break us,
rage for show, but truth remakes us.
Gloves off, kick it, tape and stitches,
es get riches, survival switches.
I got the deal, sealed it tight,
peeled the dream down to the light.
Acid truth to clear the bruise,
systems built on old abuse.
Cheshire grins and Garbage nights,
In Utero and failing rites.
But the beat keeps pulling through,
rap and blues in every hue
Saturated food for thought,
gum-stuck rhythm I never lost.
My burned CD,
my lifeblood, my mythology.
Spin me back to who I was —
fire, danger, music, trust.
I was dancing in the room,
between despair and breaking through.
If all that’s left is memory,
then let it ring —
my burned CD.
Lineage laid out on a tray —
Elton John, Lion King days.
Foo Fighters stalking teenage nights,
speed and roads and manic rites.
Lock it up, pack it in,
get thin, detonate within.
Cut the joints, remove the bones,
pressure carving through the tones.
Jelly heart, but still I’m able —
wobble steady on the table.
My burned CD,
my lifeline, my identity.
Spin me back but let me be
the girl who learned her alchemy.
From rusted floors to northern nights,
from fear to rhythm, wrong to right —
if all that’s left is what shaped me,
I’ll let it ring —
my burned CD
élan vital
David J walker
Everything is hungry
Every single thing alive
Shall survive at the expense of
Some poor enhungered something else
That has learned to thrive in it’s
Own peculiar environment
The élan vital has turned even the
Blades of grass into clever predators and hunters
Capturing sunlight and rain that will sustain it
For another day
The forest records its own language spreading
Branch to branch Tree to tree
As the sea sings its ancient songs between the
Salty soliloquy of tidal waves
Even the mountains standing majestically
Will be spread softly along the beach
As the Earth remakes itself
Patiently
Day
by day
by day
This is the second of a trilogy that started as "The Frozen Sun" and concluded as "The Sober Dawn".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our shoes were worn without legs,
or so our drunkenness made us believe.
Amid the ruins, we searched for our feet.
If not for a kind gentleman
who helped us find our legs in our shoes,
we’d have woken to a hangover,
convinced our shoes had danced without us.
But in truth,
we were the ones who danced—
wearing different shoes:
my right shoe on his left foot,
his left shoe on my right—
as we stumbled into each other’s steps.
Funny how drunkenness remakes people—
how someone can wear a size 36
on a size 42 leg and vice versa,
still out there searching for shoes
outside their own feet—
and swear it all makes sense.
I looked around,
wondering how my new catch
grew a beard so suddenly,
his eyes sparkling
with stars flashing from his pupils.
I tried to walk, but
the ground kept rising,
till I fell flat on my tummy—
spilling drinks, bruising my belly.
The blood that flowed
brewed like beer with whitish foam.
My solace: tonight will soon be over,
to birth me a sober day.
But I doubt I’ll yield my teetotaller plea.
Cataclysmic Lovers Spirit,
Love, lover, you arrive and tame the wild spirit inside,
Set the pace, it slows to a walk to observe and feel and look and notice,
Drops of dew on a rose petal,
Pink sunsets sets, high above in a sun punched sky over a shorn green David Hockney lawn,
Cool glasses of clear perfect water quench a thirst,
And mammoth plates glass windows reflect our youthful smiles,
And our wild spirits slow to love, a simmering boil
They unfold graciously, kindly, admiringly,
And time remakes space,
Entropy changes landscapes, city-scapes, and topography
And you and me,
And the spirit’s restless,
The spirit sets a marathon at sprinters pace,
Seeking solidarity in the wilderness as the rain sets in,
Lichen covered blackened, branches and brackish water slake you now,
You arduously seek thunderous storms in stretches of cold cruel terrain,
And your spirit tumbles in long dark stretches of formidable mother Nature,
once you crashed into me, like thunder, once you pulled away from the wreckage
Stretching your spirit like a Giacometti bronze,
A spirit as Forlorn as Femme aux Bras Croisés
bereft of Joy
simple joy such as dew on a rose petal.
Eyes Closed Toward the Light
I close my eyes and see how the night ignites in the colors of morning,
How shadow becomes a transparent window toward gardens of liquid sunlight,
My heavy eyelids are open wings toward subterranean skies,
And my shining blindness is the clearest sight in the world.
In the luminous darkness of my head float islands of green gold,
I see with my ears butterflies singing colored melodies in blue,
I hear with my skin how stars move through my velvet veins,
And the resounding silence whispers to me all the secrets of the mute universe.
My closed eyes are two wide windows open toward infinity,
Through which enters the multitude of loneliness—people made of solid fog,
I see how the past comes from the future like a river flowing upward,
And my absent present is the only moment that exists forever everywhere.
In the glowing darkness of inner vision dance luminous shadows,
Each thought is a stone bird flying heavily through liquid air,
I see the upside-down trees growing with their green roots toward heaven,
And their leaves fall upward transforming into stars of warm copper.
I close my eyes and the world becomes clear as a perfectly broken mirror,
Its glowing fragments gather in my blind and total vision,
I see how time stands still running fast through the inverted hourglass,
And living death shows me my future birth from the present past.
My blindness is a sharp vision that pierces all transparent walls,
I see through the solid walls of reality the impossible gardens beyond,
Where black flowers shine in the white darkness of the nocturnal sun,
And their mute perfume fills my closed eyes with colored sounds.
In the interior night of my eyelids all days burn at once,
I see the blue shore where the child pisses under the molten silver sky,
The copper snake of autumn coils around the future summers,
And the thread of blood from my pocket weaves the light from my closed eyes.
I close my eyes to truly see how my blind sight is clear,
How darkness is the only true light that never blinds,
And in the resounding silence of inner vision I listen to how music is seen,
On that blue shore where everything remakes itself in the hot magical fog.
Hey Babe, it's Me here!
The day's on the run!
The remakes
And half takes
Are for the boss
And the bum!
Hey Babe, it's Me here!
The chase is for the bit!
The truck is not
A train yet
The heart will see
The hit!
Hey Babe, It's Me here!
The tug is for the noun!
The "Who" is just
A verb for the foot
And the found!
Hey Babe, It's Me here!
The best is for
The part!
The deal's just
A steal with
A take back
The start!
Hey Babe, let stay here
The world is
A fall apart!
The tug's not
A rug for a trip
But the heart!
The retakes
The stand stills
The long gone for
The found
The half tracks in
The way back
Are for a real
And an around!
Hey Babe!
It's me Here!
Here lies Les in his new dug grave
All dressed up like an atheist in suit and tie
With nowhere special to go at this time
A liar by trade when he was alive
On his tombstone are words he wrote
If you are reading this I must be dead
Don't step on the grass
It was freshly planted
Leave the same way you came
No one lives forever or so they say
So join me when you can
Here lies Les still not alive
So he must be dead already
No Les no more could be surmised
When you are dead and gone and buried
Authors note: At the beginning of one of the many remakes of the movie Tombstone, a headstone depicts a cute etching, "RIP...Here lies Les...Put here by a 44... No Les No More." Short and sweet in my estimation.
[Verse 1]
A doctor or the lost and found
Can’t heal my heart or remove this frown
Find my wandering muse when everything's upside down
Even hands can hurt on a spinning wheel, going round
[Pre-Chorus]
I need some hope, a scribble in the sand
Sweat in the mud, someone to understand
The rhyme in the chaos, that I’m more than this lack
See a light in total darkness, maybe belief can bring me back
[Chorus]
Cause all feeling is gone,
Has it died or run away?
Am I a ghost or still a man?
Will love rise again one day?
Am I walking to you or nowhere?
Can I even ever know it?
If there’s beauty in the dirt,
Could a poet somehow show it?
[Hook]
Oh-oh-oh, I’m waiting for the light,
Oh-oh-oh, I’m reaching through the night,
Oh-oh-oh, hope’s got to find its way,
Oh-oh-oh, I’ll be alright one day.
[Verse 2]
Can you feel my wilderness?
Without a sound, I’m calling you
Tangled thoughts, lost in the wind
Are any of them getting through?
Taste my echo, feel my heart
Can you see when I can’t say?
Wondering soul, so far gone
Only the potter remakes the clay
[Pre-Chorus]
I need some hope, a scribble in the sand
Sweat in the mud, someone to understand
The rhyme in the chaos, that I’m more than this lack
See a light in total darkness, maybe belief can bring me back
[Chorus]
Cause all feeling is gone,
Has it died or run away?
Am I a ghost or still a man?
Will love rise again one day?
Am I walking to you or nowhere?
Can I even ever know it?
If there’s beauty in the dirt,
Could a poet somehow show it?
[Bridge]
I’m not lost, I’m just waiting,
For the spark to start the flames,
A broken heart can find its healing,
When the silence speaks my name.
A new day’s on the horizon,
Maybe tomorrow I’ll see,
That the pain will turn to purpose,
And hope is all I need.
[Chorus]
Cause all feeling is gone,
Has it died or run away?
Am I a ghost or still a man?
Will love rise again one day?
Am I walking to you or nowhere?
Can I even ever know it?
If there’s beauty in the dirt,
Could a poet somehow show it?
[Hook]
Oh-oh-oh, I’m waiting for the light,
Oh-oh-oh, I’m reaching through the night,
Oh-oh-oh, hope’s got to find its way,
Oh-oh-oh, I’ll be alright one day.