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.
Flitting in a distant flash,
a fleeting glimpse, seen far off for a second
is all it takes to shutter a flutter in memory banks.
To trigger recall, perhaps a deja vu replay brief.
Our mind constantly trawls
for associations in the swirls of a crystal ball
in every scene and furtive glance we see.
Nothing is a new release, a gala opening night.
All we see are shorts and replays,
snippets of this scene linked with that,
bits of past mixed up with present,
left-overs mixed with anti pasta.
How nice it would be to have
memories wiped clean like as hard disk crash
to see everything new again, untainted by recall.
To be able to switch memories off and on at will.
To choose what and when we want to be reminded.
To choose when we simply want to sip up the new with a straw.
To taste the scene devoid of context,
immune from concomitance.
Each night I suffer a horrible dream,
I'm lost in a forest and all alone.
Then a wolf appears and I start to scream,
He sinks in his teeth ripping flesh from bone.
I'm startled awake in a pool of sweat,
The vision still fresh in my tear stained eyes.
Well knowing the dreams I haven't had yet,
Are waiting to spring a ghastly surprise.
Night after night as I lie in my bed,
Before I sleep, I just cower in fear.
But the same dream replays in my head,
Resigned to the fact that madness is near.
With my nerves shot and unable to eat,
The days grow blurry and crippled by fright.
As I stagger along on worn out feet,
Still afraid that the wolf will prowl tonight.
Sure this nightmare will never be through,
Blinded by fear and lacking all hope.
I know there's only one thing I can do,
Now dangling at the end of a rope.
Its been many years
Since the bombs did their worst
As they exploded worldwide
In radioactive burst
Our cities lie flattened
Where once they were tall
Their population thriving
Now in radiation withdrawal
The lands lie poisoned
Where nothing much grows
As much of life
Is in extinction froze
Even the skies
Look so different than before
In bloodied red shades
Like wide open sores
Whats left of us humans
In walking decay
Our bodies misshaped
As evolution replays
Our newborn grotesque
In radiation mix
Will our world recover
From this river Styx
Our once lovely planet
Of green rolling hills
Fields of greens
And harvest crop spills
What can i say
There isn't much else
As i lay here radiated
A shadow of myself
Soon it will be dark
And i will eventually sleep
For every-time i look around
I internally weep
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-8.php
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.
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
They loiter
in memory's mausoleums,
old chants,
those gilded liturgies,
ready to resurrect
and eat through the ear
with promises
under the finery
of polished myth.
Grafted onto our very bone,
these structures scaffold history
and who we are.
Now, stripped of flesh,
they moan
and rattle the dark
when given voice
by savage winds.
I have heard
the haunting echo left
in the wake
of their going.
Emptied of substance,
these vacated vaults
house only noise
from human ghosts.
I have listened
for the faint whisperings
beyond the worn out
replays of the dead,
for something transcending
numbers and name -
hear only the wind.
I keep telling myself
this is enough.
a brain
a heart
COURAGE
a broom - to swoosh away witches, smother fires, trick the wizard
compact hot air balloon - a buffoon might leave you behind
straw - in case you get the stuffings kicked out of you
oil can - or alcohol to get the tinman talking
sneakers - ditch those heels. brick is hard on feet
Kansas apples - for eating or battling the trees
small dog - used to frighten jungle lions
crystal ball with microchip - replays the melting of a wicked witch
treats for the munchkins
note: practice clicking heels together three times, last time was awkward, couldn’t get out of bed for days
6/30/2018
“since thoughts speak in past tenses,
drop mind, rely on senses,
embracing and releasing,
pain pangs and pleasure pleasing” ~ Unseeking Seeker
The sun
w a n e s into the saline swell,
and the ether
undresses corseted ruminations,
while heart follows formless flames
illuminated with flares of
frankincense forgiveness
as mind replays recurring regrets
like vinyls~
spinning forlorn runes
laced with fallacious fragments,
clouding the intricate cycle of lunar~
intuitions with illusive riddles,
drifting into the eventide of agony…
So I drink and I dine
from the hyacinth hands of
the golden chalices
brimming with turmeric tranquility,
listening ~ in sync ~
with the soul of sanguine stillness
ricocheting with rustling repose,
erasing cracked crevices
heavy with ache
from soft smears of monarch-bliss strokes,
spilling picturesque pigments of peace
from Mona Lisa musings
to veil visions of vanity,
to mask mirrors of melancholy,
to soften scarlet streaks of sorrow…
Tonight I close the portals
of perplexed perceptions,
unlocking the crown chakra
like forgotten forests
glowing with faith and fireflies,
allowing stars to glaze
my inner psyche
with dusts of glistening gratitude,
fine-tuning the symphony of Kundalini
to musical mists of mindfulness,
cloaked in
crystalline clovers of clarity~
like an awakened fairy
flipping leaves of lotus love,
pausing the pulse of pain
beneath an empyrean embellished
with spiritual elixirs,
detached from darkness,
clinging neither to
the seraphic scriptures
nor the egoistic galaxies,
sprinkling superficial sparkles
of material mantras.
As enlightened ink r e m a i n s
reliving ~ sewn into the
seams of sacredness
like endless rivers rippling with
opalescent quiescence…
O divine almighty,
I vow to sow herbs of harmony,
engrossed in the timeless phase
of rose-wine twilight~
untangling twisted tulips
intertwined with
weathered willows.
As I seek nothing but lucid light,
soaked in petrichor musings,
resting in zealous zenith,
for I am a rhymeless disciple
accepting the reality
that kissed the silk of silhouette
amidst rain and warmth~
the celestial peaks of change.
I taste flavors of kismet,
swallowing spices of lament,
comfortably composed
in the mystical essence
of soundless rhythm…
This parchment holds your grip so right
as tears of joy behold our days,
and while the moon imprints this flight
when a splendor of time replays
beguiling nightfall's song, mid-air...
unconditional I declare
accepting you as is, so rare,
till kisses waltz in gentle sways.
For better or worse etched on sky
this promise of life I cherish;
that come fire and rain, we shall try
for love's seasons not to perish,
since years ahead has found true place...
Dearest beloved, I embrace
sweet thrill of life made from God’s grace;
Forever is ours to relish.
2/ 02/2016
Contest of Mystic Rose
A VALENTINE POEM OF YOUR CHOICE OLD OR NEW
With walker support he enters the door
He’s there every day, from 10 to 4.
Orders coffee and bagel’d cream-cheese
Then sits there for hours with hands on his knees.
He sits near the window and watches his past
Within his mind as old shadows cast
His vague recollections of sweet reverie
Which only his fading memories see
A smile now and then becomes his vaccine
Against reality’s attempt on the scene
To interrupt the flow of the past
Which for decades he worked to amass.
Loneliness he constantly wears as a coat
His only companion: memories remote.
So … solemnly, quietly he spends his days
He rewinds his memories into replays
Aged and wrinkled thin hands so frail
Around 4 o’clock his walker assail
Again he shuffles out the front door
Tomorrow … he’ll return, and be there once more.