Long Replaced Poems
Long Replaced Poems. Below are the most popular long Replaced by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Replaced poems by poem length and keyword.
~The Fruit of labour~
A frail body rests upon the bed; silver grey hair spread
on soft pillows; the fan turns lazily as her mind
travels slowly through memory’s winding paths.
Under the blue sky she toils in sundrenched fields,
bent and aching, brow dripping, eyes stinging.
She wipes her face, stopping to rest, then back to work.
Sitting on the porch watching the setting evening sun
and her young boys play, she runs her hand across the swell
of her belly, feeling the faint movements within,
anticipating the pain of an imminent deliverance.
Change of scene, and a relaxed smile strays on her face
as she recollects the abundance of harvest’s crops,
the laden crates of colourful, juicy, mellow fruit,
the threshing floor where golden straw and grain are strewn.
One last liberating push; as a cry fills the room
her husband’s anxious features soften with relief.
The pangs of childbirth now replaced with satisfaction,
she holds her little daughter in her hands, tenderly.
A smile still plays on her lips; her eyes flicker and close.
Her breath is soft as she slowly slips into peaceful sleep.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
18th June 2015
Contest: Sweats & Sweets
Sponsor: Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Placed 1st
The twigs we collected burned.
It seems the nature that we knew turned.
Our babies were in the tree, not this year for you and me.
The hole that we dug flooded.
I don’t know why this happened my love.
But the river just seems too high, our babies perished in the flood last night.
The flowers just didn’t bloom.
For everyday until death loomed
I tried to make the hive work.
Too many gone, too much work.
The flight drained all my strength.
Our hedge has been replaced with a steel fence.
I can’t find anywhere else to go, since you didn’t arrive I guess this year I should be glad to be alive.
I asked the human ‘where I could go’
He just shrugged his shoulders and said:
‘I don’t know’
Jaded Dragon
Beneath the silver glow of a liner gentle light,
A lone figure treads through
Whisperwood'endless night.
Through tangled vines and ancient trees he roams,
His footsteps hushed by nature's muffled drums.
When suddenly, a flash of jade catches sight,
Guiding him toward secrets cloaked in twilight.
His heart pounded fierce, primal dread unfurling wings within his breast, yet he paused, transfixed by emerald fire burning bright against the gloom. Those eyes-oh, those eyes!-held him enthralled, twin lanterns illuminating am ageless sorrow and untold mysteries swirling in their depths.
Against his will, he found himself ensnared,
Drawn to the dragon's gaze, a siren's glare.
Fear melted away, replaced by curiosity,
As he stepped closer, pulse racing wildly.
Emerald flames flickered in the moonlight pale,
Reflecting ages untold in those windows to her soul.
With scales like polished jade and eyes that pierce the night,
Thou dost command my feet to draw ever near.
Through wisdom bids me flee from thy sight,
I find myself ensnared, unable to retreat.
I am Draconis Harperantrix, last of my kind, banished long ago to dwell in shadowed realms,
"Many moons have passed since I last beheld the light of day, handsome stranger. Too long have I dwelled alone, haunted by memories of happier times turned to ashes."
"Why seekest thou my lair, bold mortal man?
Hast fate entwined our paths in ways unforeseen?
Or dost mine eyes ensnare thee, like a lure cast wide,
Drawing thee ever closer, to my side?"
"My heart doth yearn to trust in thine intent,
Yet fear doth grip me tight, lest 'tis mere fleeting bent.
Too often have I seen compassion turn to scorn,
When mortals learn the truth of my eternal morn."
But in thine eyes, I see a light unfeigned,
A pure compassion that doth make my spirit wane.
Perhaps 'tis destiny that hath brought us thus,
Two lost souls seeking solace, bound by an unseen thread.
So let's seize thus chance, this slender thread of hope,
To heal our shattered halves and lay our burden down.
"For in each other's presence, we shall find,
A balm for wounds time left upon us.
So let us dare unfold thus story,
Hand in hand, face whatever lies beyond compare."
Home invasions resulted in
Jamaican Mexican thieves
taking my children immunization
records marriage certificates
and identification cards by
gods grace I reported the
cards stolen they were comprised
immediately voided replaced
decades ago veterans helping
veterans retired senior master
sgt henry williams took
me to replace my identification
cards when I relocated to Florida
with a broken hip this is fir jay
Townsend Johnson Henry you
and severe repeat hard drugs
manufacturer MEXICAN
VIOLENT OFFENDER stabbing
five persons blood was everywhere
I am blessed to be alive blessed
I survived your violent terrorist
attacks on my life home invasions
you and your vicious violent offenders
are welcome to keep those old
expired cards they have been
voided for decades your threats
on plates is quite twisted that
identity you stole doesn't exist
back off you are a fraudulent
imposter gum on my slippers
you're dangerous obsessed
twisted stop sending me threats
shred my old identification it's
really a crime to use them return
them immediately I don't need
old expired identification cards
they are voided non legal tender
for years I wondered who actually
took them and why thanks for
you threats it gave me clarity
J63 J52 J72 J58 J69 J34 J59
J67 J66 just how many identification
cards have you actually altered
Justice department can help
stop identification fraud scum
In the quiet moments, I sit and trace
The lines of time etched on a familiar face,
Once unburdened, with dreams like the sky,
Now shadows of worries are creeping nearby.
Days roll like rivers, swift currents abide,
Carrying laughter and love as they glide,
A playground of childhood now overgrown,
Where echoes of innocence softly intone.
Old photographs dusted, the colors have faded,
Yet memories linger—both joyous and jaded.
The swing set that creaked, the treehouse so tall,
Now sits as a ghost, where the wild things would call.
I walk through the hallways of my own shifting mind,
Retracing the steps, the lost and the blind,
Friendships that blossomed, then withered like leaves,
Some stayed for the summer, while others just leave.
Time molds us in silence, yet speaks without voice,
It whispers of change, like a heart's whispered choice.
We grow and we falter, we rise and we break,
But every sweet moment, there's something at stake.
The town that I knew, with its small bustling streets,
Has grown into something—new rhythms, new beats.
The café replaced by a chain with no soul,
Yet deep in my heart, the old memories roll.
And as I peer closer, the mirrors reveal,
The echoes of youth, the passage we feel.
For though we may change, and the world may renew,
The essence of time shapes the me and the you.
So here’s to the seconds, both heavy and light,
To the laughter, the heartache, the dreams in the night.
For in every heartbeat, in every year’s flight,
We find that through time, we can shine even bright.
Official Dish - Didactic
This dish is clean, comes with an official seal of approval
It must be kept away from others on the shelf
Nothing good can come from disobedience
When using dish detergent… Don't!
Be sober when you get close
Wash it frequently with chocolate soap
It is not nice to break it, rape it or lick it when you're through
Keep this dish from direct sun light
Away from loud children with hammers and knives
Weapons of mass destruction are not advised
It comes in a hermetically sealed box
Follow the instructions on the top
Make love to it if you must
With proper protection and gloves
Don't place hot meals on it or talk dirty
This dish is for display purposes only
If it breaks it can not be replaced
Take it for a walk on Tuesdays at 3:00 am
If it objects Wednesdays will have to do
Official dish has no intentions of its own
Didactic dishes do not own telephones
Are not interested in any thing but poems
According to their owners
Which is questionable based on what we understand
It is best to leave them alone
Official dish is one of a kind
Non political, round and flat
And that's a fact
That's all you need to know
I’m desperately hungry, hungry for truth,
Hungry to have all of the choice.
Choice to say the words in my book,
To share each page with a voice.
Page twenty three is one page in my book,
A page where I’m happy and kind.
It’s better than page forty five,
The page where I’m losing my mind.
Then a few pages on, at sixty six,
I come over all evil and bad,
And of course at page sixty seven,
I end up feeling sorry and sad.
Some pages I’m lost, alone on my own,
For those pages I’m living in fear
But those pages are quickly replaced by
My laughing, my joking, my cheer.
My life is a book, an emotional book,
Each page is an emotional guide.
A guide that has a small instruction to:
Open up and enjoy the whole ride.
History moves in cycles, tides of energy
And interest, passions and powers.
What was becomes replaced
With what is
Until it too is replaced
Often with just a reborn version of the old.
But symbols hold more than mere meaning
They hold power, or rather unleash power,
And so when old symbols are reborn,
So too are their powers released.
So with the return of the goddess,
The pagan forces of nature,
Once replaced in full by something
More spiritual and new,
Now rise in a secular materialism
An idea and ideal of a Heaven on Earth
In the form of Marxism, Fascism,
Communism, Feminism, Environmentalism,
Globalism, Post-modernism, Hedonism
Or Shedonism. But whatever the ism,
The gist is always an obtainable dream
To have and to hold, here and now.
So we get equality and equity for all
Regardless of who actually deserves it.
We get a women’s lib
Which in effect takes on the worst aspects
Of masculinity, or rather applies
The distinctively masculine
To what is by nature its opposite and complement.
The result, of course, is the expected chaos
Of women acting like men
And men acting like women,
And I don’t mean trans,
Just simply hard and soft.
What was always yielding by nature
Has become rigid and tough
At least on the surface
As the heart inside withers and cries,
A virtueless victim of its own desires,
Its body in need of healing
Futile rituals of body-count reset,
Like a baptism of renewal
In endless lunar cycles.
But no amount of reset purification
Can make you really feel like a virgin again.
The goddess has returned
But it is not the form
Of a pure and chaste Athena we see.
Instead we have Inanna-Ishtar,
But now an Ishtar on the pill.
And if she somehow manages to get herself
Knocked up, then heaven help us,
Because her form is then likely to become
A child eating Lamia.
You shudder and laugh nervously
Or in outright derision of a repressive
And repulsive patriarchy I see,
And yet don’t you see, all around us now
The goddess has returned, but not
To her sacred core, instead in outward flight
With a vengeful attitude and score.
History moves in cycles, tides of energy,
And on the tides
All the flotsam and jetsam
Of the past rides too.
(10/7/26)
I thought I could create perfection -
I was wrong.
It wasn’t my fault -
No, not really,
I tried to make allies with a system that hates my colour,
And tried to fit in to beauty standards that never carried my size,
I played god with my body -
And in the end it didn’t work out,
I took out my weaknesses and replaced them with strengths,
Turns out my strengths were my weaknesses,
And my weaknesses were my strengths -
A lesson I learned too late,
A lesson I can’t replay.
Fate was an opponent already chosen by destiny,
Now when I look myself in the mirror,
The girl I see isn’t a winner,
I see a girl who once skipped dinner,
That led to a slippery slope of wanting to be thinner,
Her body saw her as a sinner,
Tried to heal but health came with a price, she got bigger,
Now she looks in the mirror disgusted by her figure,
And only then she would realise, she only looked good when she was sicker,
Happiness or health? - That question would forever linger.
Marta’s other pets were jealous and sore
They had been replaced by one she did adore
A stupid pig! Groused the myna bird.
The dragon was angry, but said not a word.
yellow cat waited for her chance to annoy the pig, named Pooh.
She tore up the kitchen and tried to blame him too.
Marta saw through it and gave the cat a dustpan and broom.
You will clean this up and also the dining and living room.
Now the cat was irritated, and tried to complain to the dragon.
He knew better than to get involved, he rode away in a wagon.
His last owner had also fallen in love with a large pink pig.
He decided to live with a new family, Mr. and Mrs. Dig.