Memories lost within a frozen mist
are recoverable if you can
make your way out of the cold mist of
overwhelm, pain and discouragement
and warm yourself in the sunshine
of hope, inspiration, and motivation
Categories:
recoverable, hope, inspiration,
Form: Free verse
My dearest, possessing a divine pedigree,
You strive for impeccable integrity.
You shun evil to achieve absolute incorruptibility,
Wherein you will find total tranquility.
I watch as you aim for flawless righteousness,
Admiration grows as you disregard all timelessness.
When you reach for irreproachable honesty,
There is an air about you of complete modesty.
The ease of which it became convincible,
Was that true virtue can be invincible.
It will be invulnerable, what is attained,
And absolutely recoverable what is gained.
You acquire an aura of vestal security,
As your spirit takes on unassailable purity.
James 3 : Verses 17-18 Holy Bible.
17 But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere.
18 Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.
Categories:
recoverable, desire,
Form: Couplet
Finding Time VS Making Time
Written: by Miracle Man
December 2, 2020
Time, once spent, is a non recoverable item,
it’s like retrieving words spoken in haste.
We lack power to recover or augment,
so we waste this precious commodity, then bemoan.
Time lurks in the shadows of our priorities,
dependent upon what we
consider our priorities to be at a given moment.
We halfheartedly search for time to accomplish the distasteful,
while making time to do the things we find pleasing.
For the lack of time, we place opportunities on the back burner;
The graveyard where many an idea or opportunity has fizzled,
and became entombed.
Tom
Categories:
recoverable, time,
Form: Blank verse
Land of lost time... dark isolation
Unobserved recuperation
Not recoverable worry
Nonrecordable story
Unused daily recreation
User only designation
Wasted, postponed, cancellation
Collected space... never to see
Land of lost time
Equal time delineation
Priceless in evaluation
Time forgotten and not to be
Barren fields for eternity
No need for negotiation
Land of lost time
August 17, 2018
Rondeau Contest
By Joseph May
Image #4
Categories:
recoverable, history, lost, time,
Form: Rondeau
After all these years,
is this poetry?
Words written down on paper,
sketched with ink and pen,
inching along a blank page,
exerting feeling and emotion,
sadness, laughter, tears
and even melancholia.
Prose and poetry cannot be regulated
by rules and guidelines and grammar.
The mind drifts in inner contemplation
circumspect with life lessons.
The heart beats with anticipation
cognizant of living life well.
The spirit wisps in the breeze
clutching, holding onto the wind.
The soul languishes
in search of meaning
and purpose
of futures yet to be
of pasts now lost
and recoverable.
Is this poetry?
Only the reader knows.
Categories:
recoverable, poetry,
Form: Blank verse
In my young years I knew nothing of
The unloved or unlovable.
I'd like to live those tender years again,
But they are not recoverable.
My mother dad and brothers
Held me close with tender care.
"She is a girl, she's breakable.
Don't drop her, don't you dare."
No one has had a better home,
No one has been loved more
Than that little girl of long ago
When she was just three or four.
The love I knew, those tender years
Has been a blanket all my life.,
That I can wrap in gratefully
From the world and all its strife.
The pure love in my first home
Has been passed down through the years,
Down through all the generations.
It's still there to soothe the tears.
If a child's loved in her tender years
She'll have a firm foundation
And will be a better mother
And good citizen of her nation.
12/18/12
Joyce Johnson
Categories:
recoverable, child, daughter, love, love,
Form: Rhyme
I was planning on going to Azania to die like you
No one would transport me
Away from the rhetoric, and Fidel left before
I knew. So I wrote on walls
Endless missives of declarations for freedom.
I made words into missiles
But saw no gore, nor body bags, and I wept.
If mine was only a mask I would be another them
The drums heart throbbing would tell me nothing
Except where to board the ship and work my fare
Until I stood in cordite fumes and carbine glare.
I say it securely, but I am not sure
How much of me is recoverable from the past
And how much of you was lost
There are so many broken things in a broken history
So many false images in the cobweb of lies
If thinking becomes a chain
Unless I think like God again.
What would you say Zimbabwe now, this global mirror
In which we must adjust the self against the self?
What would call a man that keeps no vow
So that he may keep a vow?
Is not all love a compulsive obsession
When you believe in its truth?
I am hanging mask on wall tonight, I am going out
To look up at stars and name them all after you.
Categories:
recoverable, tribute, me,
Form: Free verse