as much a treasure as a blood diamond,
love on the run recaptured,
caged lest it flees again
like a sunny day
before the weather changes . . .
the man Mom once knew
To this day I still recall my strongest childhood memory. Dad is driving us to the seashore.
The sun follows us, a happy fellow, beaming in the mid-morning’s azure sky. In the back seat with my two sisters, I’m looking out the window as I crunch on Mom’s homemade salty Chex Mix, anticipating the warmth of salt spray from the waves I’ll be jumping on this beautiful day -
"Life is a beach" not yet even in my vocabulary.
We are now at the shore, a large blanket laid out, Mom with her bright red hair tied back with a brighter red checked scarf, and my dad, dark-haired and handsome, smiling. So rare is this happy countenance he wears today! For a while I sit as if entranced, watching the waves roll in.
But eventually, and predictably, my joy ebbs like the tide.
Dark clouds are gathering; gray begins to envelop the sky. I look over to my dad; the gray has recaptured his face. In the vanishing sunlight, familiar dark thoughts invade my mind -
Dad, can I see you be happy just once for a whole day?
the man I never knew
living in my memory . .
a sad sunless day
When fractures replace rapture
‘tis a dismal day ~
Love’s never recaptured
Snippets
of the truth
being a
little bit pregnant
In the
promise
of a dream
eternity sleeps
Freeing
tomorrow
with each moment
recaptured
All time
in an instant
as the music
— begins
(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)
In this, the death-prone winter of our discontent,
the world lay languishing from mitotic chaos
and malignant uncertainty---spreading a pandemic
cancer of destruction over the body of our moral humanity.
Infected rebirth cells of ancient crusade history
scatter world wide---blown like dry leaves
in chilling winds of cold war seasons.
Here, in the frozen season of time, Armageddon
stalks democracy in the chilled midnight hour;
while in the twilight of the eve of destruction,
world watchers waddle the time away: constructively
engaged in spotlight moments of warming scenes.
With a bloody but unbowed head, let not our world wallow wearily
in the mirage of winter’s defeat; nor allow her frigid blast
to shatter the bruised reed of hope or out the burning wick of love.
Let us stare adversity in the eye, rekindling the spirit of unity;
let us refashion the crumbled, rejected stones of our moral society;
we building a new and better world where we hold it to be self evident:
peace---perfect peace, is the dominant ethos of our recaptured humanity.
Stealing from a thief
those phrases gone
Scales rebalance
words in song
Once recaptured
then released
The chorus joyful
— the world at peace
(The New Room: September, 2024)
Seeing — Unseeing
the words drift away
far into the current
of what’s left to say
Passing my cortex
and into the void
where blind recognition
awaits to destroy
Familiar or foreign
once stopped in their tracks
new meaning escapes
with no looking back
The Poet’s eyes squinting
as light filters out
transcendence recaptured
ascendance remounts
Through slivering darkness
a vision appears
and mocking the order
old images clear
Those words once discarded
reform juxtaposed
through eyes resurrected
— released from the flow
(Septa R5: July, 2024)
She lay serenely on the cold slab
Elegantly dressed in white,
A secret smile embossed upon her lips
That even death could ne'er erase.
I looked at her for quite some time.
My memories dwelt for a time long
Of by-gone days when we were young,
Days fully lived and justly savoured,
Days of exciting, enticing emotions,
Revisited and recaptured mostly in my past.
Alas, she's gone forever now,
The finite sands of time ran out,
As spring and summer always do.
Life was spilled now and hope died,
Still no dreary dirge for me,
But rather squander time in living dreams
So I often indulge in my autumn days,
You will always be on my mind.
Once the moment passes
It can never be recaptured
Neither dissected ~
nor resurrected
Imprinted flash of thine eye
Painted on vastness of sky
Embrace of warmth and limelight
Radiates my sullen night
Recaptured treasures of hope
Withstand all debris of slope
Basking under the lagoon,
Reminds me of lovely moon
A moment is a frame of time-
that captures tears or joys, sublime.
Although it passes very fast-
it adds to memories that last.
And like a film, our moments flow
as faded ones or those that glow;
recording happiness and strife-
our documentary of life.
Each moment adds to this, our reel
of memories, retrieved to feel
the in-the-moment frames we find
recaptured safely to unwind.
Each one, retained- forlorn or blessed-
we play again- with gloom or zest.
WORD OF FAITH
A time of lack of Faith
Refusing to believe
Plenty of doubt
From Ancient to present
Heaven’s Faith recaptured
Through motions of the spirit
From reflections from above
It took time after time
Even when souls were drinking wine
It wasn’t an easy task
Through revolving time Faith came fast
Suddenly Faith had a meaning
But it took convincing
From past tense to current tense
Faith was tested within itself
Faith is independent and is its own self
Testimonies confessed
Miracles supported on contest
Victories became conquest
Faith found its way into the world’s heart
Believing was the key start
Accelerated from one heart to another
Faith goes to every I
But can Faith be maintained?
Here are the key elements of Faith
F FULFILL
A ACTION
I INSPIRE
T TEACH
H HOLY
Barefoot in the sand I walk the seashore, carefree
taking mental snapshots of you and me;
Living in the sanctuary of your natural agility
I am a womb in you, both beautiful and free.
When you pour me out my soul refreshes,
some say you are water but I say you are life.
Recaptured, I regain my sanity and dignity
and for this, I thank you water;
The seashores are quenched by your ebb and flow
and your eternal movements, are my Saving Grace;
You are self sufficient and unanimously rhythmed
and in your cadence even the mermaids rejoice,
as they dip their tails and siren your decree.
Oh sea, you are just a kiss away from me,
when I'm in your presence nothing in this world
matters, anymore.
there
are still
traces
of slow
minded
memories
of you,
recaptured
and brought
to view,
whispering
softly
to my heart.
Making love to my memory
each tryst redefined
Perfection recaptured
reenvisioned sublime
Forever unwavering
all pain reconceived
The future rekindled
—my heart’s reverie
(Dreamsleep: July, 2022)
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.