Long Rephrase Poems
Long Rephrase Poems. Below are the most popular long Rephrase by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rephrase poems by poem length and keyword.
Another lost noon,
engraved as unforgettable
memoirs within my mind,
I’m rethinking of rewriting
and rewinding revoked
reflections of a love rekindled.
My eager heart
is now hanging in the void,
yearning to swirl
through desert dunes
to exhale one more
dandelion dream
in the same air as you,
where quill and paper
were no longer needed.
For times that I
was inking
meaningless phrases,
were buried
deep down under,
as you were softly
scribbling dewy verses
of desires upon
my desolated skin,
rescuing darkness
with starving sincerity,
illuminating and hydrating
my urges with
prolific praising,
moulding every
imperfection of mine
into an abstract art,
naming them
with prismatic gems
on the night of confession,
beneath a sky full of stars
that were burning.
I’m now left with no
adjectives to alliterate,
how this sunflower
soul’s cry bloomed
within your
healing embrace,
where hailing
emotions were eased;
I knew then,
that’s where
I’ve for so long
wanted to belong.
The whirling gusts of
greedy gardenias
may say
roses aren’t fragrant,
but why am I yearning
to be the Juliet rose
in your graceful garden,
where petals glow
like rainbow-hued stardust,
I’m on a virtual venture,
wishing I had
Aladdin’s vintage lamp;
to grant me my
dose of you and I.
If only I could ride
above Arabian valleys;
on an amethyst
magic carpet,
stitched with
crystalline crescent sequins.
If only you could feel,
I’ve been dreaming
of daisy meadows
and dahlia lawns,
where memories
are fatal,
pushing me into a
labyrinth of
mourning magnolias,
searching for
balanced brightness,
although you
still wander
through a
foreign land~
faraway from “us”.
I hear your wings
adorned with
orchestric ornaments
ascending into
the celestial fields,
leaving me in an
astral connection,
with a jar of memories,
where I still keep
falling for you,
time and time again,
as you are my
beginning and ending,
the amorous poet
that wouldn’t
take love for granted~
like the pirates of
this heart-shaped odyssey.
And I shall forever be reliving
the fabulous February,
spent in your golden presence;
although, days together
were somewhat short
and nights were long,
we will rephrase this romance
relentlessly
into an everlasting love story.
Dr. Smith,
Friend and colleague. It is to my compleat and professional embarasment.
That these vicious rumors that have reached your ears...
That I through these many years
secretly admired you
And upon news of your engagement
was reduced to tears
I have become the butt of office laughter
Putting in question my career and professional standard
under scrutiny ever her after
Let it not be said that I did not value your friendship
or in secret hope wish for something more....
Let me rephrase that .
That I did not always wish for you the best.
And that when opportunity presented itself
that I would try to prevent
you from going through the door.
Please, do not believe the rumors
that say my heart is sore
If marriage makes you happy
then be happy ever more
Please don't think that after your marriage
any less of a friend I'll be
I'm sure that in time
my loyalty you will see
and as for those tears everyone did see
They were tears of happiness
from me to you, you see
What else could iI have ever dreamed
when it comes to you and me
Sincerly
Dr. Lang
(To Be Continued)
Form:
the sky resonates
with what’s written in the silk of stars,
in pulse-burned pensiveness,
penned in poignancy,
personifying pain
with yellow-gold dust,
where lament liquefies and softens
into an ethereal lake,
chronicling it with surging blue sparks ~
an evening elixir, enveloped
in confetti cravings…
this l o v e knows not
the ingredients of
ephemeral effervescence,
as the thriving tip of twilight
manifests the magic of want,
whilst I tremble,
engrossed in the thought
of moon-flame touch,
brimming,
brewing,
breathing
across cups of catharsis,
concocted with caffeinated calmness ~
aligning the inner innocence
still longing in loneliness,
amidst seated strangers
lost in their own appetizing lyrics,
clothed in cold cobalt colors,
unaware of the emptiness
they feed their mindless muse
from superficial spoons
filled with smoke and silence ~
like scattered illusions,
illustrated with surreal ink…
what if I hold onto forever fallacies
hiding within?
would I be promised
a peaceful plate of patience
beneath ineffable iridescence ~
for I’ve feverishly struggled
to rephrase the verdicts behind
faces phasing in the haze of life,
sipping sorrow
as if it were mocha ~
balmy, bittersweet,
burning in sync with my
Swarovski crescent crooning
lullabies to diamonds dancing
in infinite nebulae,
carrying secrets the table holds,
served in sincere oblivion…
and I am still learning and healing
the soul’s breaking lines,
to leave lovelorn reveries
without losing the light of lucidity,
letting go of their narrow narrative
of me and my ache ~
of us and our heat,
as even the routined routes
could not erase what’s
handwritten in a heart made heavy…
so wait not for the
rise of supernova sanguinity ~
I am not the warmth of woven woes.
I am a charismatic chameleon,
~ c o m p l e x ~ cautious ~
catching comet-notes,
camouflaged in melancholic versions
of humankind,
hiding vulnerability
within firm flares of vivid vibrations…
O beloved night,
on this terrace, I devour, not alone,
but evermore lonely,
i m m e r s e d
in the forlorn frequency
of stellar fire…
I d r
e a
m away
from the golden-laced drapes,
tracing smoke-veiled cloudscapes,
reminiscing rainbow reveries,
raining with musical laughter,
mirroring the sun within
my maternal spirit,
drawing cerulean smiles
across the kaleidoscopic sky
with initials of my
beloved June child.
As in acrylics, I find happiness,
and in palettes of pastels
I feel the twilight twinkles of time,
revealing rosemary reasons to rhyme
in rhinestone radiance,
releasing runes ~
ricocheting colors
of my hibiscus heartbeat…
O kismet constellations,
I breathe glitters of gratitude
to the sapphire stars
and swirling sparks
drifting through shifting monsoons,
cradled in the
blissful sighs of my son.
For in his presence,
murky mists of melancholy
fade into neon nothingness;
in his words,
a thousand gardens glisten and glow;
in his eyes,
I see hues of hope ~
ballad of a seraphic summer.
Perhaps, the voice of this
unconditional love remains
the synonym of happiness,
the syllables of zen,
and the metaphors of euphoria,
bound to the skin ~
of rooted truth,
truth of a mother
dressed in the dulcet dews
seized from the dawn
when he learned the light of life…
So let me rephrase,
in redundant dialects,
to write in coherent cadence,
of the warmth I weave,
of the peace I paint,
within jeweled lines of lavender…
I smile not because I see no sorrow,
but because my existence
is a mere iron-arched
gateway to guide astral rays
above the island shores
where his footprints echo,
porcelain patterns,
erasing fringes from
the blemished blurs
of grieving moonlight
caressing the sanguine sea
rippling with turquoise tranquility ~
a tale of teal tomorrow...
How does one measure a day without shadows
Is there ever one day to hold in the sun
Or are we assigned to rewrite the story
Untangle the knots that kidnap the mind
Arrange fragile moments, unravel the twine
Where everything wonderful would fall into place
Choreographed order in every small thing
Where we could rephrase all the words we have said
and pretend to accept what lay ahead
Where we could take back each reckless thing we did,
take back each careless step we took
and not be caught in the timeless vine
roping around us to be resigned
It might have changed the future then
if only we could undo then
There would be a different road out there
snaking its way through different hills
where snow would still sleep atop an alpine peak
and the road would end here at our feet
What was then
would not be was
Perhaps if I had known back then....
what was learned in time, somehow...
It might be,...
oh,... so different now...
________________________________________________
Contest: Resignation
Sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron
tell me when your heart whispers love
i want to drown aimlessly in it
i, the brokenhearted, found the antidote for blue in you
i lessen the selflessness within, and i thank you in New Colors
tell me when your heart whispers love
i want to go down shamelessly in it
i, the object of onanism, found the nucleus for the climax in you
i lessen the worthlessness within, and i thank you in New Hollers
tell me when your heart whispers love
i want to expound brainlessly in it
i, the unbeknownst guru of rephrase, found the Eye of A True Blessing in you
i lessen the loneliness throughout, and you improve me to accrual....similar to New Dollars....
I've tried to make words rhyme at the end of their stanzas,
but rhyme wasn't too perfect for those impersonal stanzas,
the Iambic pentameter was right, but it required rhyme for intensity,
so rhyme didn't agree with Iambic pentameter in every verse;
I paraphrased every stanza with a rephrase,
but frustration stepped in with a must of an exact phrase,
oh, can't a stanza rhyme with syllables without a count?
Not exactly the rhyme of Terza Rima as in The Divine Comedy!
Was Dante a perfect rhymer or an impulsive dreamer...
while his love happily played the lyre?
And did that lyre ever fail Beatrice so refulgent and proud?
Or did lovely Beatrice break the lyre?
Then again, vowels became consonants ironically,
and vowels and consonants all out of idealism;
and stressed and unstressed syllables created a strange idiom...
of consonants and vowels spelling out eccentric idiopathy:
the disease so unknown in literature, not idiocy,
but idiopathy became idiosyncrasy...oh, you figure, reader!
His blood wasn’t red
At least in my head… that is what I said
To myself, believed, accepted
As fact – absolute proof that he was better
Than the mere human, the simple man
The one who took my hand when I needed him
His sweat didn’t smell
But, oh, my heart did swell… never would repel
This heart who loved him so
Knew he was like the sainted ones
Despite his addictions and secrets, the darkness
That whispered doubt from his soul when I prayed for him
His light wouldn’t fade away
Never giving in to dread or delay… a soul who would betray
Reflections of kindness and grace, inspiration
Faith that soared over the hesitation, the suspicion
To make a way through each conviction,
Destroying the grief that lives inside bitterness and resentment
His life wasn’t honored by praise
There were worries and tears to rephrase… they amaze
Bold fears who haunt like dog days, more than just a phase
They left my spirit gloomy and breathless
With the feelings that bled dark red, crimson stories
Reminding me he died from his revulsion to hope
A lover
Not a fighter
Excuse me, I rephrase...
He does fight, not literally
But for a love
He used to call his own
His gentle hands
Has never held a rifle
for there's only love
In his searching eyes;
Eyes that have never seen
The ravages of war
He wages a battle
In love's battlefield
A love once his
Now someone else's
A white flag of surrender
He'll never wave
Until he captures again
His former lover's heart.
Date written: 08/29/2001
I’m having a garage sale
Though I don’t have a garage.
Come check out all my offerings –
You’ll see a strange montage.
I have similes and metaphors
So old that they’re clichés.
There are sentences and verses
Budding writers can rephrase.
From a stack of nouns quite towering
Are so many you can choose;
Mix and match with all my adjectives –
You simply cannot lose.
There’s a vat of verbs just waiting,
Some with adverbs still attached;
And a box of prepositions,
With its lock no longer latched.
There might be a spare conjunction
Hiding underneath the rhymes;
As for interjections – Ha!
They’re rare as Mercury-head dimes.
Yet if you pay me a visit,
You might find the words you need;
I’ve been cleaning up my clutter
And there’s good stuff, guaranteed.
So come pick through my possessions
‘Cause I’m lightening my load.
Then feel free to write a sonnet
Or a limerick or ode.
For garage sales held by poets
Are, to me, the most inviting,
Since your purchases may point you
To the pathway paved with writing.
Ilene Bauer
September 6, 2012
(this was accidentally deleted from my poems list, so i wanted to reenter it)