Long Replays Poems
Long Replays Poems. Below are the most popular long Replays by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Replays poems by poem length and keyword.
She left, and took the season with her breath,
Now every corner murmurs only death.
The walls have drunk my cries, the floors my fall
And silence is the loudest ghost of all.
The roses rotted black beneath her gaze,
Their thorns remain, to mark the better days.
Her gown still hangs where moonlight dares not tread,
A shroud for all the words I left unsaid.
The portraits weep with eyes that mimic mine,
Condemned to stare through time, unloved, malign.
Each step I take replays her parting sound
A heel, a hush, then absence most profound.
I walk through rooms she left without a glance,
Each one a tomb where echoes dare to dance.
The curtains hang like grieving widows’ veils,
And even air seems thick with whispered tales.
No light beneath these eaves has dared to shine
Since she renounced this house, this heart of mine.
I keep her final note, her shadowed veil
The script of sorrow death itself set pale.
The stairwell groans beneath my every tread,
As though the house still mourns the love we bled.
Each creak, a curse; each step, a dirge unplayed
A hymn for all the vows we once obeyed.
The wind slips through the cracks with aching grace,
As if it seeks the echo of her face.
It curls around her chair, her empty place
And leaves behind the scent of her erase.
She was the storm that broke me into prayer,
A requiem I breathe with each cold air.
Now love lies buried in the earth below
And I, its mourner, dressed in endless snow.
As the last man on the planet Earth,
Time has become my mortal enemy.
A whole world to walk silently alone,
In fruitless reflection of what was.
The streets are fully empty now,
But I can still hear the traffic.
The stampede of marauding vehicles,
At the mercy of synchronized colored lights.
The rhythmic sound of pedestrian shoes,
Clip-clopping on busy city sidewalks.
With everyone speeding along at such a frenzied pace,
We became oblivious to the oncoming corner.
That dark and ominous corner sealing our fate,
And nominating this narrator of our story.
It's a story no one will ever hear,
As it replays in my tortured mind.
A tale about the tiniest of creatures,
Bred in the bowels of a secluded lab.
This viral giant that was let loose,
To reak havoc on an unsuspecting populace.
Three billion dead in the first month alone,
Leaving a scattered and tattered trail of corpses.
Not even the government or media had ample time,
To prepare us for our impending demise.
The sudden end was just the beginning,
Of my permanent and involuntary solitude.
Why I alone was granted this final reprieve,
Is what haunts my every waking moment.
And, with all other animal life victims too;
The dead silence has become as maddening,
As the deafening crescendo of tinnitus,
Which echoes in my persecuted ears.
But still, I continue my futile search,
In the hopes that someone else survived.
I travel by whatever vacant conveyance available,
That isn't littered with mannequinned remains.
A bleak journey over a vast fading nation,
That I somberly and reluctantly traverse daily.
What fools we were to blindly believe,
We had the power to control our destiny.
The countless novels written to commemorate
Our struggles to overcome the multitude of obstacles.
The many sad pitfalls and glorious victories,
That smelted and forged us into who we were.
Now, at the dusk of my wayward wandering,
The sun begins its inevitable slow descent.
Yet, I find myself humming a familiar tune,
As I walk towards the horizon of another day.
She watches but doesn't see the crashing waves,
Awe and Wonder in her eyes as her mind replays.
Time's nightmare, Love's dream;
If only time and love could happily meet.
A beautiful sight, the sun setting over the ocean, a painted perfect image reflected on water.
She gives it one last look then turns away, feeling a desperate and sudden need to wander.
Time's memories, Love's ache;
Yet time and love were always too late.
He walks along the shore, his eyes distant, teary and bright.
His gaze rests on the the birds high above the water, wishing he could join them in their flight.
Time's cure, Love's phases;
If only time and love could find a way out of their hazes.
He goes on as dawn turns to dusk, the moon shines on the ocean, as if looking into a mirror.
He feels his heart race, knowing his final days of youth are nearer.
Time's prison, Love's hell;
Though time and love were once partners, the end came and they said farewell.
Form:
When growing up I remember being told
that I will see all when I grow old,
that I will feel both the heat and the cold.
For once in my head, I thought that would be great.
I just could not wait for that date.
I wanted to be an adult without a doubt.
I was a child, not knowing what it was all about
running out of patience waiting to finally spout.
That was the stage I could not wait to explore,
till the day I finally stepped on that door.
For a while it was good, all was perfect.
Suddenly, bit by bit I started losing respect.
Confusion began but I never thought of such an effect.
I felt old enough, became a leader of a squad
Whenever parents warned me, I would just nod.
Knowing exactly what I was doing, was inappropriate
Had my heart filled with hate
After some time, I felt uncomfortable in that RULE.
A rule of being known for bad behaviour
The load was now a bit heavier.
Wanted to change as I had lost so much in school.
THE SQUAD laughed and called me a fool.
I swayed my hand on them and focused on my name,
which I had ruined and filled with shame.
Now, even though I have left all that behind.
all I did still replays on my mind.
Could not see what I was doing though I was never blind.
For some memories I laugh and for some I cry
Because I hate growing up and only a few know why
A ceaseless exhibition that stings,
Amongst matchless marvels on world screens,
A pleuritic pain to my soft breath it brings,
Subtle slight pulses caught in baleful scenes.
A blooming rushed pseudo sketch,
Like a snap in harsh lights at a clumsy stretch,
False fury flows through spectators’ veins,
With replays, the cloud of claims still rains.
The loud, jarring noise engulfs the lone truth in flight,
The sleeping streets stir at looming blight,
An unfairly tale, in ink it seals—
An art too stubborn for truth to repeal.
Whether the clear lines finally chime,
The intense stormy atmosphere claims the rhyme,
An erosive strong wind whirls the hail falls,
But a wonderful nature it remains, bravely it rolls.
Sometimes I look at you and I want to ask you
"May I have this dance?"
Sometimes you mesmerize me
To the point where all I can do is nod and smile
Even when you ask me something
I don't dare answer
For if I said anything you would have to decipher what I meant
Take my hand
You say you're not a good dancer
But I disagree
Your dancing replays through my mind
Every movement more graceful than the last
And when the light hits you
I swear you're the epitome of the word cinematic
Shall we take the floor?
Your lead or mine?
Your hand in mine?
Shall we slow dance?
Or something more complex?
Sorry I know I can be clumsy
I'm tripping head over heels for you
When I'm with you
I find myself dancing
To a new but pleasant tune.
I stumble on contradictions and attempt the impossible
reflections condense as composure sings its ragged tune
a cacophony unfolds from the many voices in my head
´think you lost soul employ rationale logic and reason´
yet ´cogito ergo sum´ fails to reap desired conclusions
silent replays of consciousness search for virtue in vain
emotions challenge my path to balance and harmony
like sore synapses they stick to their sorrowful script
transmit dubious pathways in the quest for my centre
like a novice juggler I drop memories and anticipation
a trapeze artist losing his grip under the circus tent
sentiments and intuition yearn for tumble’s free fall
polar opposites and contradictions jumble the process
peripheral vision reveals blind spots and optic illusions
my safety net tangles antinomy’s unshackled threads
paradoxes parade in front of my eyes mind and spirit
yet they commend and complement mutual respect
inconceivable reconciliation remains a step on the way
I dance in moonlight sunshine and obscure darkness
Luna seeks solar fulfilment but trajectories interject
for a moment though I think and feel eclipses no longer
28th August 2020
Theme: Irreconcilable Paradox
Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 22 - Lyric 2 - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Edward Ibeh
My Lord the end is near, gone within have I to thee…..
multitudes of bright, lemon drop, sweet tarts pave our way.
Choosing now to remain, linger, going deep with in the ocean free.
Forms incorporeal above me rise to celestial sea.
The earth bathes now in rarest form portrayed.
My Lord the end is near, gone within have I to thee…..
While Hosanna’s fade from still whole memory
with outstretching hand a mate for me waylaid.
Multitudes of bright, lemon drop, sweet hearts pave our way
Alpha and omega will we be, and from all sin have we been freed.
For we seek the harder path the joy delayed.
My Lord the end is near, gone within have I to thee…..
Yet, He abandons we, “NO He does NOT!” a different fate have we.
And, with golden kisses each soul drops as they pray.
Multitudes of bright, lemon drop, sweet hearts pave our way.
The larger scheme of dark and light replays with joyous glee.
Deep with our Lord, His Love He does display.
My Lord the end is near, gone within have I to thee…..
Multitudes of bright, lemon drop, sweet hearts pave my way.
Day in, and day out, from the ripe old age of five
I’ve take to sharp objects and whittled at their sides.
Plotting the precise angle with penetrating gaze,
the slant of slice, just so nice, as memory replays.
With curt tongue and tireless ire, I shred the sages
Burroughs, and Asimov, the Shakespeare past ages.
Butchering with rare delight, the language on the page
lancing every metaphor and simile upstaged.
and so I've arrived her in rhythm and in rhyme
killing the English language as other people dine.
*Nibbs are the pointed ends of fountain pens
as well as being an important or self-important person
There’s always a victory, no matter the outcome
For the victory in defeat is where character’s from
Some, see it differently, but me I particularly,
Would much rather be, the kind that takes lightly, the curves
Thrown by life, throughout the day and the nights
Whether its dark of its light, I keep my pride
My dignity, justified, but still inside, there’s a war raging
On the outside, things are moving feelings constantly changing
The choices we are facing, make us stronger by the minute
The decisions that we make are lead by the internal spirit
You feel it and believe it, no matter what it may say
Guiding our hearts through the hardships of each day
Forever there’s anger, but through the spirit, it slowly fades away
And makes happiness stay, unexpectedly, the joy strays
And again, the anger replays
Despite war and anger, the spirit is strong
The very thing that keeps us holding on
Holding tight, the character it unfolds
The pride defeat brings, loud and so bold