Repetition Poems | Examples

Premium Member A Well Paid Collapse

The alarm clock sounds off to the tune of Neil Young’s, There’s a World. 
A place that is non-existent in today’s life of a constant upwhirl. 
Our dreams and aspirations are put to the side.  
To get ready for the day of demands and haste for pride. 
We enter our vehicles to begin a long drive, tiredness and red eyed. 
To a place called work. 
That requires you to do the tasks for that special perk. 
No time to think. 
No time to blink.  
Your life is full of deadlines, distractions, until the pen runs dry, out of ink.  
For hours on end, is this constant repetitive action.  
You’re told what to say.
You’re told what to do. 
Colleges are fighting over who is using the offices favorite glue.  
We are all in this mess together.  
Bound like pieces of sewn up stitches of leather.  
All for the reward. 
A paycheck to continue to do it over and over again. 
Feeling like a dartboard. 
Designed, controlled in the trap. 
It is the life of a well paid collapse.
Form: Ballad

Insightful Praise of a Pretty Little Liar

Chiaroscuro ballerina,
Rond de jambe in chaînés
Jeté, jeté
Grand jeté

Mariana Victoria,
Your Seiren eyes speak in
Adamantine lies
Forbidden apple gates

Amina Afrikana,
Runes enjambed in chains
Adamantly denying
Grand opries

Bloomeria guro,
Your six-petaled cries sing
"Beaujolais, beaujolais!"
Forbidden pomegranates


Premium Member Chains On The Gate




Each day is the same; we all sit here and wait,
listening for the sound of the chains on the gate.
You see, that’s our signal; that’s our cue;
that’s how we know what we're to do.
We all soon learn what each sound is for,
even before someone's open the door.
We get excited when the laundry is clean,
the high point of our week is the day we get canteen!
For an hour of TV, we all rush to line up;
even to take a shower we have to sign up.
Everyone gets quiet when they're doing mail call,
maybe good news for some, but not for all.
Yes, each day is the same, we all sit here and wait;
listening for that sound of the chains on the gate.
One day soon, they'll be sounding for me,
and I'll walk out these doors, finally free!
Form: Rhyme

It all dpends

I know you can groove
but I wanna see you
dance
i wanna see you dance
I wanna see you dance
Dance
Dance
Dance for me.....
---------------------------------------

It all depends
and those who
so evers
and whats going on
and who's deemed clever
taken in account to
the calender
your plans and mine
and to what
each prefers
it al depends
it all depends

Giving consideration
to your cumstance
I'm opened to agreeing
dancers need preparation
lyrics need beleiving
it all depends
how the music takes it's
groove
whether they wanna shuck
and jive
or the people wanna
party and groove
it all depends
it just all depends

shoo be doo whop bop
skit doo be dooy
ah uh ooh we
doo be do be
shoo be doo woop woop
ah doo we doo we
ah doo we do ah
ah shoo be doo we

It all depends
in such consideration
what are we doing
what are saying
what's the rules
to what obligations
it all depends
it just all depends
Form: Ballade

Premium Member FlipFlop



You make me happy/
You make me sad.
You treat me like a queen/
You hurt me bad.
You want me to stay/
You tell me to leave.
You say you trust me/
You don't believe me.
You're caring and sweet/
You're cruel and degrading.
See,I'm on my feet/
Now feel my love fading.
Form: Rhyme


Rowing Through The Pain

Rowing Through The Pain

Row, Row, Row your boat gently down the stream
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily life is but a dream

Row, Row, Row your boat why can’t I scream
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily perfections not how it seems

Row, Row, Row your boat forever never ends
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily my pain never mends

Over, Over, Over again until I go insane
Barely, Barely, Barely, Barely rowing through the pain


No, No, No you don’t go crying a river of tears
Hear me, Hear me, Hear me, Hear me crying for all these years
Form: Other

Beneath the Iron Veil

Echoes of the holy grace, for this place,
Endless woe of devolution,
Forever entice, your grace,
The moon is your solution. 

Confined in this space, of endless grace,
Under the moonlight, it is illusion,
Illusion of woe, forever retrace,
It is all persuasion, or is it union?

Shadows creep, where darkness breeds,
A symphony of sorrows, never-ending,
Lost souls wander, planting crushed seeds,
A tale, forever transcending.

Repetition

Once is never quite enough,  
Once again feels more like trust.  
Once more, close to sure—  
Eat, has eaten, ate, will eat—  
Breath itself repeats,  
A ritual done compulsively,  
Yet never fully satisfied.  

Like tasting twice, the second time charms,  
Knowledge grows through shifting views,  
Education’s pulse is repetition’s arms.  
Sometimes, a new truth breaks through,  
But the next generation—  
History rewritten, old made new.  

To learn just once is perilous, my friend,  
To keep vital truths alive,  
Stay curious, hungry—for what you think you know,  
It’s not fresh facts, but the rhythm that thrives.  

From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse—  
Not enough, I seek a retake,  
To still the mind’s restless whispering.  

At its core, the brain’s a tireless gossip,  
Finding joy in repetition’s simple act,  
Without it, a vacuum swells with doubt,  
So we repeat—to anchor, to trust, to act.

Premium Member Who is right and who is wrong

Somewhere, a poem exists in our minds about love, life, politics, natural disasters, religion, and contentious issues.  

Suddenly, political uprisings and wars emerge, with ISIS and figures like Donald Trump acting as modern crusaders.  

Here we are, as citizens, once more feeling disheartened, striving to discover beauty in life amidst chaos, seeking a balance between who is right and who is wrong, caught up in the obsessions with politicians like a game of tic-tac-toe.  

Somewhere, there exists a poem, one that is waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting.  

There are too many words and not enough ink to print them, with too few people who care about such issues.  

The ups and downs caused by natural disasters stem from the manipulations within the political landscape, the missing emails, the concealed birth certificates, and the beauty queen who gained weight.  

What about the real issues? What about the economy, war and famine, child molestation, bigotry, and deception?  

Suddenly, political uprisings and wars arise, with ISIS and figures like Donald Trump as today's crusaders.  

Here we are, as citizens, feeling disheartened once again.

Our roots

It can be coily it can be straight 
It can be parted many ways
It can be texturized or revitalized 
Our hair is reversible 

Cultural, unique, a symbol of power
You can braid it up, twist it up, loc it up 
But you cant mess it up!

Cycles and routines

Cycles and routines
create a loop
it can be positive or negative 
the loop that is never ending 

You can be stuck in a cycle of
progression or degression
seasons they never end
thats just how the loop
Begins.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Again

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, hurtling through hell
and paranoid, abused, confused
and all this spell-shook. All things fused,
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Failures Colossal

     Nine months after October 6, 1973
     PM Golda Meir of Israel was history
     
     For an intelligence failure colossal
     She became a political fossil…

     Fast forward to October 7, 2023
     When Hamas went on a barbaric spree

     Killing more Jews than any day since the Holocaust ended
     Yet PM ‘Bibi’ Netanyahu’s had his term extended
     
     Where is the leader to end Bibi’s reign
        ~ flush him and his generals down yesterday's drain



     __________________________________________________
     On October 6, 1973, Egyptian pontoons crossed the Suez Canal
     into Israeli-held Sinai, unchecked by Israeli forces, a colossal 
     intelligence failure on the part of Israel's military. Prime Minister 
     (PM) Golda Meir and Defense Minister Moshe Dayan were sacked 
     nine months later---despite being heroes to much of Israel's 
     populace.
Form: Couplet

The Quiet Things That Saved Me

I was saved by quiet things—
The rustle of the morning breeze,
The way the robin spreads its wings,
The golden drift of autumn leaves.

I was saved by threads of light
That touched my skin through broken blinds,
By distant stars that pierced the night,
By echoes I had left behind.

I was saved by falling rain—
The softest tears the sky could spill.
Each drop a whisper in my brain
That life could move, and I was still.

I was saved by silent seas,
By moonlight painted on the floor,
By all the things that asked no pleas
But held me when I asked no more.

I was saved by open hands—
The strangers’ smiles, the quiet nods,
The random footprints in the sand,
The laughter shared in fleeting odds.

I was saved by little songs
That only sorrow’s heart could hear,
By knowing pain does not belong,
Yet teaches us to persevere.

I was saved by seeds that grew
Inside the ruins of my chest,
By learning endings are not true—
That every grave gives birth to rest.

I was saved by love unseen,
By gentler winds, by whispered grace.
And though the hurt has always been,
The quiet things still find their place.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member In the Mouth of Desire

in the mouth of desire, inverted spires
lean toward the grots of Hell.
tongues forked, skewered with sapphires
in the mouth of desire, inverted spires.
Adam's apple burning cores, as moths for martyrdom's fires.
on the path to perdition: many had attended well. 
in the mouth of desire, manipulation stirs.
the crone fanning her cauldron 
a hot vat of ruin, Wiccan shrieks and whirs.
in the mouth of desire, manipulation stirs - 
a warlock's cherished heart of burrs,
tears of crocodiles, his every gentleness abandoned.
in the mouth of desire, sirens sweet, curses 
lure purple wearers and weavers, beasts with saints,
low_down to the broad gates, gilt black, swinging purses.
in the mouth of desire, sirens' sweet curses 
but wisdom's rare jewels, bereft in their verses.
for want of wisdom, man's sovereign will faints.
Form: Rhyme

Specific Types of Repetition Poems

Definition | What is Repetition in Poetry?

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