Over Again Poems - Poems about Over Again

The last couple of times we’ve had dinner with our family I have been enthralled as we sit and talk around the table…by all the names I’m called. Since James was given to me by my parents on the day that I was born. like most people I’ve had many names…many hats that I have worn In the...

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If you can breathe through it You can get through it If you can get through it You can rise If you can breathe through it You can see your way through it If you can see your way through it You can fly If you can breathe through it You can push through it If you can push through it You can begin…again ...

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If i fall there will be more With hope and love for all for sure I pillowed my hardest thoughts so i could hide in my dreams I fractured my guilt so sorrow could sing Never be content with what is missing Always ferment your anger, permitting Sure for what they forgot And try to claim in the dark what they bought...

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precious … days consumed … before they even take a breath or wink to waking … oh the wealth of life so squandered for white-hot agony behind the eye - hours stretched to inestimable eternity in nauseated darkness unavoidably focused on all that’s not being accomplished - all thats left withering in the sun and all those who resent this beast that robs you both of precious...

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like a Ruby-throated hummingbird as free as the southern wind love is humming through the heart again...

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My soul weeps again, calling out your name, Through endless dreams of silence. I lose my roots, no longer knowing where you are, My soulmate, from where will you appear in evenings? I write letters in the night sky, stories drawn in stars, On the canvas of life, I reconstruct the path to you. I wait, lost in twilight, where are...

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I like the heroic America of World War II;... The America champion of good technology... The America that freed us from the damned little mustache... The America of Hollywood, of cinema, Of black soul music, of Doo Wop, Soft rock of Credence Clearwater Simon, Bob Dylan Folklore... Woodie Guthrie, Peter Seeger, Peter, Paul, Mary, mixed with country and blues, Poets like Walt Withman,...

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~~~ Heartbreaks can give us inner strength in developing courage, self-growth, self-awareness and empathy or can break us physically and emotionally. ~~~ ...

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enslaved to the cyclical void, abused, confused, and paranoid of that endless—(somber schema)— cyclical void, enslaved to the? sheer gravity and that friendless somber schema.—Of that endless wicked, whirling, said wanton wheel and that friendless, sheer gravity of motion which sent atwirling said wanton wheel, wicked, whirling, hurtling through hell? a meager twitch sent atwirling of motion which shook all things fused.—And all this spell: a meager twitch,...

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One day… After the fires are done And the water has carried all maps away… Someone will find you. Not to save... To name again. And then, you will remember You were not lost....

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Everyone loves him. A nice amicable guy, as he is no relative, he is no refrain. He starts within a rhythm when often a melody is surreal and soars along the flight of the song, up high, high above, where God knows everything about eternal time, beyond the worldly cacophony and hustle and bustle....

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Come forth our Angel of the North Working class…but VIP pass…standing sentry for cricketing gentry Towering injury tarnished Talisman penury Revarnished..primacy rebooted for his mooted destiny and legacy Poetry in motion..the emotion The devotion..our commotion potion Rejuvenation India rue what Stokes does imbue Hadn’t got a clue what to do Trepidation…procrastination..then damnation Stewed…then skewed..eschewed..slewed and screwed by the Hullabaloo dude..voodoo feud…hoodoo mood and rude juju...

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ONCE AGAIN Once again, we cry; Again, a nation apart. Our togetherness has run dry, Whitered like a broken heart. Division kisses oneness goodbye, And once more and again, we cry. Greatness is in being together; Together, no matter the weather:- Once again, we must sow onement; Reaping a oneness that is God sent. ...

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The ink returns—not to defend, nor chase the ghosts I used to fend. Not to explain the aching past, but breathe through wounds that couldn’t last. It does not rise with pointed proof, nor beg for silence turned to truth. It flows because the heart now dares to speak in lines what once hid there. Where words once cost too much to say, a...

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Rowing with golden paddles The water glides with quiet grace Ripples shimmer like scattered diamonds Smooth sailing with no thought of Winter Summer forgets by design Winter does not ask permission Ripples stiffen into chop Chop grows into waves Winter crashes like a wild tsunami Blanketing Fall in a cold grey hush A long hibernation of silence Until we paddle out and meet again ...

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