Long Renovated Poems
Long Renovated Poems. Below are the most popular long Renovated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Renovated poems by poem length and keyword.
Boated through the tantalizing Kerala backwater
in a pleasant summer morning;
Coconut groves were adorning
our way and perky fishes were chased by river otters
Cacophony of the swaying lofty coconut trees
and the nearby evergreen plants
produced a mesmerizing chant
that certainly consoled the chaotic minds and appease
Majestic banyan tree with its spiraled pillar branches
enthralled the endemic birds
and the migrating animal herds
on the river bank, renovated the place into the ranch
Suddenly the boat entered into the hollow way
where tangled trees made archways,
and fallen flowers filled our pathways
welcomed us, it was such an unforgettable day
Reflections of the slender palm trees on the waters,
painted a flawless picturesque picture
with the kaleidoscope of colors and mixtures
Which was untapped only in the perpetual back waters
Coots and cormorants swiftly plunged into water
When they heard the sound of the boat
Tranquility of the place calmed the hysteria
and it led to the apocalypse of worldly emotions
Sep-9-2017
POTD on Sep 11 2017
I was so happy and I felt so blessed as I received this honour on the death anniversary of my favorite poet Mahakavi Bharathiyar.
The House was featured,
celebrities put on hard hats
posed with sledge hammers.
It was said that the old structure
had ‘good bones’.
What it did have
were walled-in nocturnal whispers
and a resident paranoia
that stubbornly failed to lessen.
Interior decorators
re-imagined rustic hues
with a bohemian chic.
Rooms were staged
yet beneath the contemporary
the old retold its history.
Much of the house
was to be renovated
pastel and neutral colors
replaced flock and wainscots,
yet bricked-over alcoves
still dripped a dried red rust
of long held rumors.
The house concealed itself.
In its fiber and pith
conduits continued to throb-on
echoing an older heartbeat,
the retelling
of long unsolved crimes
thinly painted over.
Under a smother of dark clouds
a city skyline sinks,
there will be no starshine
the lights of a million windows
must drain and replace another blanked out evening.
The eyes of stray cats fire up,
it is time now for noise to hunt silence down,
for the garish to consume the subdued.
Shoes, new and old, scuff grime
into renovated store fronts, where shadows
cling to the detached hissing
of neon signs.
It will be dawn when the shoes bleed,
when the stars return to briefly gutter.
There are rodent tracks that arrow
between gray blocks of masonry
where nocturnal crimes crumble
into obscurity.
The metro subway is empty yet full of ghosts,
but just for a moment,
only a moment.
Shapes, colors, and surfaces have long nature shone.
Anthocyanin in plant sap gives blossoms their tone.
All tones in the universe bear upon humankind.
Waves and waterfalls etched them and mixed their shade.
Convey the can as you scale the stage.
Time-frozen iconographies suggest a swage.
Plenty of vivid glass catches the glow.
Irate particles romp on men's mental stow.
The reflection turns into a textual kaleidoscope.
Colored focal points require fewer scopes.
An orchestra of renovated wedded couples.
Flawless faith, hopeful person sees are ambles.
Portrayed as intelligent, smooth, and vesicated
Heartfelt, tribute, neologisms, and undefeated
Breeze, arthropods, tomorrow existence.
Immortal, everlasting, fluid, and uniqueness.
I cross the means no less than six times each day.
Shading hidden by business has changed our stay.
Medication and nutritious food scoundrels sell in the media.
Helping and executing purchaser lunacy mania.
A softness showed two similar views, one on each side.
The right eye sees truth while the left sees hatred.
Genius is connecting light shards social joy and bliss
He was imprisoned in an application's abyss.
Intriguing gizmos enrapture an expansive client base.
Fresh iOS and Android pimps are joining the robot race.
Expertise has supplanted skill in this serene stream
Rough labor, uniqueness, and prior heresy are extreme.
All these are linked to the hues glass and kaleidoscope.
Vision has shifted as a result of the modernity slope.
A lively soul distinguishes a plasma from a flower.
Portray our creation with the original god's power.
Written: August 20, 2021
August 2021 NA's Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Kaleidoscope Poetry Contest
Judged : August 23, 2021
SHENIKA SIMS
rushing away in the spirit of you has helped me grow
into a woman of power and passion wich draws souls
to me like a hummingbird to whatever flower chosen
nowadays i enjoy feeling free with contentment collisons
for breakfast similar to slowtake in constance that reverts
me to a rebellion that is helpful to My Self like True Soup
MALAKI MEZCLAR
adjoining river vibe, soothe me
conjoining vapor rhythm, move me
loving the fusion takes me to places
and as a result i am easy to deal with
expresser, i am your smiling diary source
hug me if you need that release to vent
know that i know that you know known in notice....
MARTY KING
a lighter depth ago, i met myself
i was lingering on a dusty shelf
i thought i was neck deep in an invincible wealth
in reality, i was confined to a distasteful disgrace
it was then that i discovered the foundation of solace in prayer
God's Ears Cried The Tears That Were Long Hidden In The Endoskeleton of My Fears
the Red Phoenix hovered over me with a Reassuring Smile
Healed, Willing and Able, I Resume Walking The Renovated Mile....
Modern migration and intermingling of races and cultures has trashed ancestry.
The world has become a mishmash, a hotch-potch
as cultures and languages fuse, blend and meld.
Knowing your origin and roots now means very little now
as what was there before, your origins and ancestry, have long gone.
It is so sad to see your old home renovated, or worse demolished.
In Queensland, Australia, many of the old wooden Queenslanders
get transported and sold off in old home parks.
There they are aligned in rows in a plot in park, for sale,
ancestral homes rid of memories and context.
If you are very smart you can trace where your old Queenslander went.
You can go on a trip and see it lobbed into its new address.
Very disturbing, to see your home transported and in foreign hands and lands,
But that is all that is left to do, to trace and refresh your memories.
We expect the past to be just the same as it used to be
like a photograph we expect our ancestry to be frozen in time.
But time marches on trashing the past, insensitive to how we want it to be.
Isolation is what help cultures develop their unique identity
In Australia, there were about 600 different clan groups or 'nations'
around the continent when Europeans arrived, many with distinctive cultures and beliefs.
Most have now gone, now there are fewer than 60,
many, many languages and cultures now lost, forever.
Modern mobility and movement of people means that no new cultures can develop in isolation.
In the past the isolation allowed two human cousin species to co-exist with *****sapiens in ancient time.
*****naledi lived in isolated pockets in Africa.
*****floresiensis lived isolation on the island of Flores in Indonesia.
Now that would be something,
to trace your ancestry back to one of these ancient species.
Humans have stopped evolving through inherited variations
both physically and culturally.
Ancestry is now an endangered species, fossilized.
Morning shades summon
Beginning your mistranslation
This transient dream wafts into view
And the tincture of words loses their color
Desaturation begins its own day
As it pleases, begging for an explanation
Recurring memiors of remanded mists
Through the years their fading tints
recurrently speak
Until one morning you wake up and get it
Now you should speak
It’s all about the lake isn't it?!
The lake where you have lived your lives
Side by each your whole life
Each one from but never quite in
on the wrong side of the mirror
There are rocks and rills and roaring glens
Renovated relationships
And other reticent plans
That you haven't the balls for
You found there a cigar box of
Forgotten photographs, latent as
colors you have never seen
At the lake there shines a naive light upon
Dormant mansions with day-glow gardens
From whence you’ve oft pluct
A single white rose, and indulgently
Thorn-less and obliging
They always indulge you
They lower their gaze
from your stare
Like they do
And do things to a man there
Which he nurses until the day he wakes up
Until the name of the Source of all colors
Can no longer linger upon his breath
Good luck with explaining it
But you should step up to the easel and try
ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING
My husband had a restaurant
For thirty two years,
Much frustration, kitchen hell
And staff in tears.
The Oasis was a place to dine
Of note,
When exhausted, we drove down,
To the coast and surfed the waves on our boat.
He was renown,
From Limpopo, to Cape Town!
But the time had come to relax a bit,
So he could read the daily newspaper,
And actually sit!
We sold the Oasis, renovated
Our kitchen so it could be his
Own place,
And of course space,
Where I am occasionally allowed
To show my face,
But only to make dessert or taste,
And with a kiss of somewhat haste,
Retreat to let him do his
Own thing,
And enjoy an absolute kitchen
Fling!
He cooks with his hands, soul and
And heart,
And he always dresses for the part,
Be it kitchen hand, chef or
Restaurateur,
He is, and always has been an excellent,
Interpreter,
Of any recipe as far as Beijing,
In fact he can cook anything,
From any Nation, culture or creed,
He has a flair that none can
Exceed!
And looks so cute,
In his dinner suit!
It’s time to serve dinner in style,
Which takes a while,
First he lights candles, then gives
Me a hug,
Pours me wine from our silver jug,
Serves us both and eventually
Sits down.
He had previously told me to
Dress in a comfortable gown,
I guessed he had some surprise
Up his sleeve,
For it was the eve,
Of our Wedding Anniversary.
A bell rings, it’s our front door,
There stands a chauffeur and behind
Him a limousine ,
I still didn’t know what was in store.
Until, the limosine turned towards
the airport,
My husband had packed my suitcase,
And brought my passport,
We board a plane and then he
Discloses,
To me with a bunch of roses,
That we were off to Mauritius for a week,
And, gives me a kiss on each cheek.
He had asked the pilot to please hide,
The roses, everything was so beautifully planned,
I just cried!
Happy Anniversary darling, he said.
I also had a surprise for him,
For he filled my life with such
Happiness, to the brim,
But I would keep this secret until
We arrived,
Happy Anniversary sweetheart
I replied!
For the contrived inducement of fixated being,
the transmuting tenet of uniqueness,
the personified indented identity,
changes in the self-devised palette
of metamorphosed color mélange,
while the conjured chameleon slyly cocooned,
paints the shifting façade of deception.
In the ostensible enactment of life’s incredible drama,
the performance perfected in one-act play
with the obsession of passion professed,
gilding the consequence crafted by alchemy,
the surreptitious shift from one actor to another,
is an axiomatic drive of the dormant design.
Out of the limelight, the clandestine colors fade
on the tangible visage of virtual makeup,
the pallid original face morphs mystically into
the veracity mirror of fragile actuality,
reflecting the real rendering of identity,
rinsed with the primal hues of persona
of the distinctive disposition embodied once.
The spasm of schematic perception splits the mirror,
the shapeless shards of shattered pretence
scatter as discarded debris willfully abandoned.
Transformation creates the deluding entity,
an alien in its own renovated realm,
completes the illusive paradigm of contrast.
pounding
grinding
drilling
sawdust
plumbing scraps
empty boxes
strewn from
bedroom to bathroom
and everywhere in between ...
a miner's shanty once
propped up
on timbers with
no firm foundation ...
that's okay
jack it up
pour a footer
it has one now
reroofed, rewired, re-plumbed
remodeled
renovated
and added onto
more than once
it was never
big enough
when it wasn't
just me to love
now I need smaller spaces
to snuggle up into
like my suv a.k.a "campmobile"
the rv I sold
the fishing boat
where I spent
Alaskan summers
yeah...
so... split it
in two
her half is big
light
and airy
my half is minimal
dark and quaint
her art, her birds,
her cat, and her dog
fill her space
my space I
don't like sharing
thus the divider and
kitchen I'm building
I'm also fencing her dog out
of my backyard
the laundry's all we'll
share
stylish as she is
her vintage isn't
washed that often
(or it's when I'm gone)
as for me, I sneak into
our common kitchen
say hi, use the microwave
and pet her kitty
but I'm mostly gone
and she doesn't like it
when I'm away
says she feels safer
when I'm here
young introvert
who tends bar
plays games
and burns lights 24/7
that's okay
(she pays for it)
yeah, the pounding,
grinding and drilling ...
they're almost through
I'll be soon
washing my own dishes
and missing her kitty