The fabric of space-time and the Cosmos,
remembers everything we do and say,
it is the way of the Son, the Logos,
whose aura shines like the light of many days.
What happens in a lifetime never dies,
as words and deeds forever are written down,
like inscribed monuments that stir the wise,
to noble acts of grandeur and renown.
But if this song be misleadingly false,
this bard will move heaven and earth to prove,
that the Creator dances only a true waltz
of physics that time can't erase or remove.
Though life and death demand a heavy cost,
the Universe recycles so none are lost.
at every chance
nature recycles life
nothing is wasted
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
nature recycles
a
b
o
v
e
ground
&
ground
b
e
l
o
w
no collection fees
cities bubbling with their stories
life playing out with all its drama
characters come and go
behind every curtain falls a hero
at other times a villain
the city recycles bit parts for show biz
in one continuous stage production
AP: 3rd place 2025
Submitted on June 19, 2025 for contest 1391 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - Honorable Mention
He walks the dark alley's, unforeseen roaming
His life finds worthless circumstances to nature existence
Belly rumbles hunger, need a dying sleepless thirst
Once on a path to something before nothing
Stricken from life the dignity must swallow
He crumbles in streets, his pain felt deep
What am I but a man of worldly demise
That my needs, materials a must feed like food
To live its happy life, what my purpose being
Except I am here who is to blame
My God who leads or price of life I pay
Struggle of reality wise eyes see truth
Can not hide among society dragging streets
Clothes ripped like trees from earth
My breath, my faith in hope lingers
I breathe, therefore I am not dead to life
But a gasp of air that recycles through
Here today, gone tomorrow's time unknown
Minutes ticking the wilderness I lay
No doubt I am more, emptiness void tingles
I am heart, I am love, I am man
The old man of life's creation till death
The forgotten innocent to pocket change
Beneath your feet I walk the shadows
Hang on, You're nearly There!
I'm giddy, spinning around,
So near, yet so far.
On the slippery spinning
dip of serendipity.
Making do with the hoodoo of déjà vu.
I've seen that scene before!
On endless recycles
of somewhere when and there.
My prospectus is shod
with slithery wooden clogs.
Tripping, toppling precipitous,
edging ever closer to flying
right off the roundabout
by the whirling surge.
Whizzing around in circles
on the impending.
Barely holding on
with hands and arms,
billowing and centrifuging
in the passing wind.
Reaching outstretched to catch
just what and when,
could be just happening,
could be just passing on by.
our daily experiences of...
times change-ripples
be...
to observe their recycles...
as echoes of all
the...
patterns existent in all life...
form differences where-in
no...
two time changes can be the...
exact same since
any...
time change be of irrational...
constants transcending
all...
stan sand
And so it goes
from cradle to grave
From baby’s wail
to funeral laid
We reason, ponder,
dissent, and cry
As time repeats
and years go by
Sages offer
their grand excuse
In what’s left wanting
to feed the muse
But one thing’s certain
to never change
Death recycles
— the same old game
(The New Room: May, 2024)
The universe swallowed my thoughts
In another instant of uncertainty
Truthfulness and doubt together were something
Morphed into a new creation of nothing
As if my time itself were the black hole
And I, a dwarf star in the infinite sky
Waning in the moment’s loss of control
Where another hope was left to die.
Shapeless and unseen in darkness
Lost in the infinite, recessive light
A contorted mass of possibilities gone
Like the dim light of a rainy dawn
Ambitions and plans stricken by loss
And I, a fading star in a familiar crowd
Carrying an even more familiar cross
To be convicted of the sins I’ve avowed.
Brighter stars illuminate without me
Much like the brilliance I once exuded
A new creation of barely something I’ll be
With much less to adore in low luminosity
And as the universe recycles these thoughts
Uncertainty strangely becomes known
In all my doubts, I have become a have not
With my mistakes left with me for which to atone.
Breath
Life begins not when we exit our mother’s womb,
not when we are severed from our mother’s body.
Life begins with a gentle tap from a stranger.
We gasp, we begin to breath. And so, life begins with
our first precious breath.
Breath is Expression
It is the wind on which the voice sails.
The zephyr from where song floats.
A sudden gust that carries our laughter.
The roiling tempest that thunders our fury.
A warm breeze that whispers our passion.
It is the hush that conveys our grief.
Breath is Life
Breath recycles life and refreshes the soul.
Each breath is a new start, a precious gift.
An offer to make each new moment better than the one before.
Breath is Dying
One day, we will take our last breath.
For some, that last precious breath will be
a gentle sigh of relief, a slow billow of regret,
a soft whisper of endearment.
And then life will end as it began, with a precious breath.
Roger White
I evacuate
sitting on a throne
of waste…
till something live
emerges – taking
inspiration, wherever
it comes from…
the writer strains
filling bowls
and wastepaper baskets
inspiration navigating
internals and beyond
I am a Literary Proctologist
claiming from recycles
deciphering bottomless spirit scents
From the moment
You met him
Til the moment
He left me behind
You wondered
That one is wonky
Wayward, away from the norm
Isolated, uncontrolled
Willful without a cause
A free radical
While you allowed
Joy to swell up and out
I sunk, deeper in the void
Knowing nothing, being no one
Alone without a path
Funny how resurrection
To the system
Set you aflame
With false confidence
And me, still lost
Not this one
Not this time
There is no return
I have seen it
With LIGHT
In here, there is nothing to learn
...where matter collects and recycles
Written by Trudy Schrader on 03-13-2024
Florida recycles Summer heat,
a slower version of a hot beat;
Fall’s still smoking;
Leaves crack and dull to brown
skipping the colors of Autumn;
Southern sky’s daunting;
September’s a soft shadow
with hollowed flames to follow;
Serotonin’s falling;
Freckled skin still a bit warm,
season has no time to transform;
Sunburn’s resurfacing.
Nature's the beginning and end of life
Consummate wisdom nature recycles
Summer's zenith fecundity is rife
Orbital spin seasonal revival.
Spring and summer glorious renaissance
Freshly beautiful with colours galore
My heart uplifted a joyful response
Magnificent moments to be adored.
Orbital spin brings autumn and winter
Orange rust debris falls littering ground
Recycled autumn, weather turns bitter
We are riding nature's merry-go-round.
Snow softly falling white landscape relished
Deep winter sleep, nature rejuvenates
Spring will arrive buoyantly replenished
All fate does Mother Nature orchestrate.
It's All About Three Q's
Poetry Contest
How many syllables checked
Theme: Nature
1. Quatrain 4 line stanzas
Sponsored
by:
Constance La France
14/07/2022
Pixabay image by:wineguide 101
No pigeon in my hand cage as wheat eater
It’s far away now except the white feather
Eat; eat but assorting good one for the health
She tells it as the emblem of peace to be wealth
She goes and I go too, she comes back and I too
She flaps and I sweep, she flies and I grow up low
She picks up from the clean pot and I look after all
Queen of quills she offers and I keep behind the doll
Now, it becomes fairy wings with embroidered loom
Now the grain of stagnation dries up in mite’s dome
The cage of words swarm on the memory of thriving
Slowly, timer zone show the end line of everything
In the groove of winds recycles the life and death
Simultaneously the thought is alive is grateful fate
© Mahtab Bangalee
27 January, 2022
Chattogram
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.