Long Repainting Poems
Long Repainting Poems. Below are the most popular long Repainting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Repainting poems by poem length and keyword.
Frozen flames pressed between each sheet
I flip every page while taking notes
Censoring every event in my past
I fall deep when staring at the painting on the wall
Every blink feels the same when in love
However, on this one night, I stumbled
On a certain page, I found my heart beating twice
The roof at this moment allowed the moon to illuminate inside.
A memory unfolded while I held your hand,
Repainting our years, a devoted love
At the heart of everything, I've forgotten this feeling
The canvas opens more than an old chapter
the beautiful canvas, tied by solid gold.
Flames brush every wall as we age as one
In perfect harmony. TOGETHER
Laminating our love forever
1-06-2016
Ambivalent pink heaven
merging softly into ethereal earth’s stratosphere
With a vibrancy and star plunk,
repainting the world with glittering hope.
Sprinkling it with love stars,
surrounding the dreamers with uplifting majesty.
God smiled benevolently as He watched His angels at work,
Revitalizing His young…
We are reclaiming them one soul at a time,
His positive cupids assured Him. He knew.
They were on a mission,
inspired by the despondency and greed
they had witnessed.
The souls began to arrive in glitches and gasps,
nurtured in the heart of heaven,
As their flesh bodies slept, not realizing their souls
were in full astral travel mode,
Being cosmically corrected….
Written 2-12-2019
Contest: Tell Me What Do You See Sponsor: James Edward Lee Sr.
Another storm threatens to come in,
feeling my responsibility
for uncaring
and unresponsive history
Fearing you
more than loving us
Setting out your pails
and plastic tubs
to catch cold
and dreary drips
Impaled remembering
past wet enemies
becoming darker spots
as moist tears terrorize,
building mold untold
as yet
by angry contagious lips
Dripping windowed frame ups
and ceiling fractured fixtures
of your felt losses
not equally carried
by more comforted me
opaque with more tender crosses
Buried
in how lonely
love can feel
hidden in Earth's evolving top,
improbable to see
Our together threatening
leaky roof may drown,
which you would have fixed
some months ago,
if you could do so
on your own.
This storm pauses
and brighter rays suggest
a sun still shining
behind dark uncivil distress
Clouds could uncover
our disassociation,
poor and hovering
coveting a sun-drenched recreation
Calculating our assurance cost in cash,
but not in minds and bodies
to stop stormy smothers
of inside raining
draining issues,
deep core tissues
thundering crash
Warning we must get this done
before another wild wet storm
fearing you
more than loving us,
undone
Darker clouds build to leak again
while I explain why
you still can't trust me
to invest in unstormed peace
A contenting roof
unconditionally solid
and synergetically done
So all EarthTribe
can safely put away our pails
and nails,
defensive weapons,
buckets,
overflowing pans
and spans of climate panic
Now rumbling receding thunder
of fearing you
more than loving us
Turns toward replacing damaged health,
repriming stains repainting wealth
of more warmly wild respect
while together musing
about who is bare surviving
so not win/win thriving
with what prestorming care,
Remembering who is dry
and fair
and prosperous
and why
we fear this tragic cold calculating storm
more than loving softly weathered
wet yet warm.
I spent October inside, until fall had fled
Stresses proliferated, and a hospital bed
I missed the foliage on the Adirondacks high
Yellow, orange and red against the blue sky
I remembered where I had seen colors before
Just 40 miles from my cottage door.
An old Dutch Church, built in 1697
And the graveyard behind, a waystation to heaven.
I made my way south and walked up the hill
Between mausoleums were trees and the color would spill
copper and red and orange and gold.
I let it sink in, and peace took hold.
A stone path opened up a Hudson River scene
I was the only one there, it felt so serene
Then a cloud drifted west, colors lost hue
Like a muted repainting of that grave-framed view.
I've seen death before, and one thing I knew
The saddest words in life were "nothing more we can do"
I wondered if those words were sometimes incorrect
and I thought just coming for colors might show disrespect.
But many come to see the place, most for history
to see the resting place of Irving, Celtic cross of Carnegie.
And we all join the ranks; we all pay life's cost.
There's no going back, once the river is crossed.
There should be an idle Olympics,
one where you don't cycle or run,
and instead of diving, there's synchronised skiving
where teams of four get nothing done.
A training camp for doing little
would certainly pick up my vote,
full of amateur loafers sprawled out on the sofas
not caring about where's the remote.
Gold medals for staring at ceilings
that have needed repainting for years,
a silver for shirking, a bronze for not working
with an audience too idle to cheer.
No sports fitness coaches to nag you,
or physios to massage your joints,
starting gun's in the drawer
should you need it- what for?
As we all shrug, and say 'what's the point?'
I'll put my name down for team GB,
her indoors says 'you've nothing to prove,
you're already a winner' as she makes my dinner
and I can't be bothered to move.
These words, here before me,
Carry meanings, so free.
That phrase, over there,
Evokes images, so rare.
This sentence, so precise,
Paints a picture, concisely.
Those expressions, beyond,
Stir emotions, so fond.
I ponder these terms,
Their elegance, it yearns.
You hear them, so clearly,
Their impact is so near.
The rhythm of speech,
These words, they implore.
Flowing, ebbing, with grace,
Captivating this space.
In the dance of langue,
Beauty's song is sung.
Words that enchant, enrapture,
Their power, they capture.
These symbols are so bold,
Truths they unfold.
Repainting the world,
With hues, ever true.
Oh, the beauty of words,
Their splendour, is stirred.
In this language, so grand,
I find joy, close at hand.
I would ride a rhinoceros for you
ride it to Timbuctoo
and bring you back
all the golden sand of the desert in a bottle
I would overcome an octopus for you
dive it to deepest Atlantis
gathering up
pearls, sapphires, coral and rubies in a shell
I would bridle the biggest eagle for you
fly it to the cheese-green moon
collecting
shooting stars and sunbeams in a fine feather basket
I would sing a silly song for you, or
write a pretty poem, a nonsensical novel,
a dictionary
of brand new words to describe the lexicon of you
Moving faster than Wonder Woman, I
would go around the world in seventy-nine days
saving a day just for you
(bringing it home, wrapped in spices of the orient)
I would - if you asked me to -
stay up all night for a year, repainting the stars;
leaving them in your room to dry,
just to light up your dreams with silver.
Kim James
7-Feb-2000
Though years slip by through time
if you live long enough and rewind;
you get to see that history
is ever a repetitive cyclic mystery.
Refugees and immigrants raped
always seeking some escape
when faith, land, house and home
do not withstand the change and roam.
What is it about faith and land
that we take life so easily
in a self righteous stand?
The earth and sand lies troubled
drenched in hate and fear and bloody rubble
unable to grow lush in unseen lost beauty
as the seeds of change die in duty.
Man progresses and reconstructs
where earth of promise begins to self destruct
repainting it in greed and desire disabled
as Cain rises again once more against Abel.
Why does the story of brother to brother
never seem to change
and the good in humanity is smothered?
Those finally set free only in retreating
still find their fate unfound and fleeting
and in the end revealed the truth believed
and permanently lost remaining unachieved.
Slip sliding footsteps of the aftermath
trace imprints in the well trodden paths
and new found short lived peace
forever lies stolen and fleeced.
Why does the record never teach
lessons learned
to be continually un-reached?
We have been here before
resettling the same score
forever destined to repeat
living in our self conceit.
Seize the day, the changing times
stand and hold true to new paradigms
all are equal, deserving of the moment
giving hearts, trusting minds with eyes open.
We have been here before
lets learn the lesson at last
once and for all, evermore.
If you're good or you’re bad
If you’re happy or sad
If you’re angry or glad
You are human
If you're bald or you're hairy
Or fearful or scary
If you’re brave or wary
You’re human
If you hate scrubbing floors
Or repainting your doors
Then you are indisputably…
Human
If you sing like a lark
Or your voice is a bark
Or you howl in the dark
You are human
If you’re normally nice
But you’ve made a device
To put rats on ice
You’re still human
If you order your cat
To go catch that rat
Then you’re daft as a bat
But you’re human
If you locked all your doors
Due to Texas Chainsaws
Shunned the sea after ‘Jaws’
That’s just human
But if you, unlike me
Didn’t cry in E.T.
Then I hereby decree
You ain't human
Those chairmen are in the tower of babel again
Painting and repainting the future of our land with crooked hands
Laughing at things as the world pass us by.
Those chairmen are in the tower of babel again
Writing us messages that have no bloodline.
Although black oil runs in our veins like water of vegetation
There is a sunstroke in our land.
We dream of cassava songs in the market
We dream of an open vehicle that could bear the tiredness of our souls but we are at the verge of things.
Our chairmen our flag bearers of fences
Translators of black dreams with European mirror.
The white house is open for destitutes, kindred of destitutes that are china in African sun.
Those chairmen are in the tower of babel again and there is a sunstroke in our land
The scorching heat is against banana groves.
Look and see children on a hungry march in the metallic road.