Resurfaced Poems | Examples

fulcrum of a rose

the pivot shifted when emptiness gave way
to acceptance that the heart is a treasure chest
of fragrance that comes with perfumed aroma
sweet smelling crises at turning point for love

their union had commenced like pink cotton candy
paradise made in heaven and soft silken sheets
pheromones of adventure passion and longing
inhaled from petals of sentience and youthful desire

as time passed and droughts threated the marriage
resentments fear insecurities and anger resurfaced
and they came to regret not having planted alongside
lavender sage and marigolds to salve and to savour 

thwarted by such negligence and self-righteousness
pink blossoms dried up as thorns pierced their hearts
and when they sought refuge in arguments and booze
poison intoxicated what had once been a blessing

cut down to pitiful size at loneliness’ fulcrum 
tears alone would not rescue the rose from demise
the rest of such floral narration is written with blood
of salvation and the miraculous gift of honest recovery

THE PRODUCT OF GEN X

I am from a generation they call X
Not because it marks the spot
But because it marks the best
We are eccentric because we walked the moon
And because we shared lust as an essential need
But wait until you meet your resurfaced acknowledgement
A frantic existence you call Technology
Generation X from 1965 to 1980
Where Charles Manson, the flower childe
Meets the notorious Ted Bundy
Richard Nixon and watergate, who actually knew
That this was an era of being a shrew
The birth of individuality
Known for practicalities
Known for informalities
The ghosts of the Vietnam War
Known for diversities
The civil technicalities
Henceforth, a generation of creation is no more.

Wabi - Sabi

We wander through so many gardens,
doting robins, ignoring the crows.
Our personal oasis is an unfinished poem.
Plastic flowers may last longer, but their dead scent,
cannot compare to freesia and frangipani.

In fading grey sunset,
I crumble, crouching in musk air.
An arch frame with withered wood skin
and paint peeling in need of black dye,
but still Shalimar honeysuckle wraps like a quilt,
weaving around amber roses and velvet clematis.
Battle scarred thorns may stick and prick
these gangly timber legs, but each blemish 
is soothed from butterflies floating from petal to petal.

In speeding winds I rock like an armchair,
helpless to save cherry blossoms falling,
creating a carpet of pink upon flakes of green.
Knotweeds sneak through a resurfaced pebble path,
but my dandelion heart seems fond of its purple tint.

Midnight raindrops sting like sake,
but I know dawn will bring bright blue skies.

Haunting Hues

The walls felt like it was caving in,
The coldness of the room gave me shivers,
The dimness of the room that once comforted me 
Now leaves me distraught.
Stepping in, I felt a surge of anxiety;
The bad memories that I had once suppressed resurfaced.
And it felt like I was going back 
To those days I've tried to forget.

Sleep and Slumber

I slumber, wee hours mostly
I sleep, wee hours always
No other places to visit
When undressed, past
Present, future
Dreams are Real, 
Dreams are fantasies
Dreams are of other places
Glue binds 
The brain stores
Desires, at times
What you have, all
Is what you get, some
Temporarily hidden resurfaced
Youthful sugarplums, few
Adult accumulations, many
Will flowers and sweetness
Be my dreams as I age
Hopefully
Accumulations surface
Memories
Pleasant 
and not so

Copyright © Wilbert Webb

Bloodstained Childhood

Vines curved around the thin pillars,
 Which supported the house that once held a family of three, 
And was now merely inhabited by insects and prickly weeds. 
The roof was bound to cave in at any given moment, no longer stable,
Just like the family it had once housed. 
The faint aroma of freshly baked bread still lingered in the air from that fateful night.
 Faye could feel the presence of her mother through baking wafting right beneath her nose. 
The tire swing swayed slightly,
 A hallucination of a young child kicking its legs gingerly, 
Clouded her vision. 
Shattered pieces of the silver ashtray were scattered across the porch, 
The familiar sight of her father crushing the butt of a cigarette
And his dignity. 
Fragments of that night resurfaced in her mind. 
The cloying scent was suddenly replaced with a metallic one. 
Crimson liquid coated the round black tire now.
 Her father’s dignity was now so splintered 
That his hidden derangement had peaked through the cracks; 
All on that one night, 
Which was supposed to be filled with love, 
Now stained forever in her memory with blood.

Its the Best

he was pouring at the happening and usually there is a fair amount of disdain for the enthusiasts 
who like to sidle up to sample the snacks, libations and what have you goodies.

he was a wisp of fair blond - a hippy kid.

he asked me if I would like him to crack my can of brew
I told him that this was not necessary

I looked at some stuff and listened to some other stuff
trying to maintain a bit of elbow room 
while the crowds swirled and yammered
 biding some time before refill and then I went back for another and he 
cracked this one for me and said "cheers"

I drank it down and went for a walk down the street
I did not want to appear to be too gluttonous so I gave it some minutes

when I resurfaced in the crowded room and foraged thru the groups back to my man
he smiled and said "I grabbed this one at the bottom so that its chilled and now it needs to be shotgunned".

I laughed and retorted with double thumbs up
Impressed that this cat accurately assessed my quench and provided a 
responsive and congenial atmosphere in one that can be rather unpleasant and clannish

my man had it
and I salute him for it
the damn hippy dippy 
had it

kindness

Legend

The mine drowned the holler,
many reallocated
to trailer parks along the Interstate.

The school dwindled,
ran out of children
became a garage for dead trucks,
then a beer barn, then a Meth lab,
bubbling feuds resurfaced -
shotguns aimed at open secrets.

Oxycontin mules crisscrossed cricks.
After the sheriff left with a bag of money
the missing went unreported.

The ‘Craft’
(a legend as ancient as flint arrowheads),
emerged from clapboard covens
ginseng and moonshine were sacrificed
for white powder.

Glocks flourished among the Hummel’s.
Traditions persisted
like red paint on wooden signs.

An outbreak of opaque cottage industries,
led to skins inked with blood oaths.

Old women retreated into the mountains
with their recipes.

Spirals of distant smoke
rose from iron cooking pots,
no one spoke of the children.

Dark Place

Nobody knows the place I'm in
Or all the dark days there's been. 

God please help me
And forgive my sins, 
I need help cuz I can't keep this in. 

For some time I've been on my own, 
Struggling so I'll tell you about it in my poem. 

I can't  admit I've been crying, 
Smoking and feel like dying. 

Trying to find my peace
I don't know who I am or what my purpose is, Or why my brain resurfaced this. 

I need to go for a while and handle my life, In my own style. 

I have extreme fear of abandonment 

And I'm trying to hide it

I gotta go I'm crumbling even though I'm running I'm stumbling. 

Everyone has become a stranger, 
But I have to go so I don't blame them. 

I know someday I'll be ok, 
I'll be fine what else can I say. 

Still Looking for better days.

She Will Fly Again

When her son died she was broken…like a wounded bird
unable to fly as her sorrow and her anger
wrestled with each other to be heard.

Some days her sorrow would win…and her crying would not stop
Other days it was her anger that climbed up to the top.

So many question left unanswered:
Why did this have to be?
Why take one so young and innocent?
Why him…instead of me.?

It was anger and sorrow and sorrow and anger…until she reached a point when…
she began to wonder if happiness would ever return to her again.

But her happiness was patient…it gave her all the time she needed to grieve
until slowly, quietly, gingerly…back into her life it did weave.

Then one day her smile resurfaced
It’s as if her heart that had stopped…resumed beating
and she began enjoying her happiness again
even if, at first, those moments were fleeting.

And though she will always be wounded…
she knows once again she will soar…
She knows once again she’ll spread her wings and fly….
just never as high as before.

My Battle

I sensed your reservation 
But you were too sweet to tell me so
Still I pressed on with my agenda
Oblivious of concern for you though

My faults and failures resurfaced
And once again, I feel remorse
Lately, it feels like a recurring battle
But the indiscretion's all mine, of course 

It's not often I act impulsively 
But at times, I react when I should pause
You see, with you, I have a weakness
Perhaps our connection is the cause?

I suppose the reason doesn't matter
The bottom line, I need more self restraint 
I'm lucky you don't give up on me 
When I struggle with boundaries in place

June 28, 2020

Please Edit My Story

Please edit my story he whispered 
It's the story of an orphan child 
Who lost his way home in the noon 
On the lonely road left alone 
A mile away from home he walked 
His story to be edited 

Edit his story and tell him that 
Tomorrow is a good day to behold 
To remember his home alive 
And rewrite his history of the home 
Away from home he had lost 

Edit my story that I had survived 
Away from the home I resurfaced 
That life was a mystery and a conquest 
In many ways it writes our stories 
But Please edit my story 
And I will retell my history

Resurfaced

finding his old letters
at the bottom of my drawer
caught me off-guard ~
it took me a minute
to catch my breath



AP: Honorable Mention 2020

Posted on June 16, 2020

Hurt

Never have I been so brutally hurt
Feeling my heart pound right through my shirt
Things in the past Ive buried in dirt 
Now it’s resurfaced I can’t even work
What do I do ,feeling so below
Like I am all alone drowning because nobody knows
Who could know this pain 
Trying to figure out what you were trying to gain
We had it so perfect and all figured out 
Now I am lost just walking about
My body is numb and my head keeps pounding 
With so much at stake 
How much can I take
Where do I stay 
Where must I go 
It’s a new day 
Still I don’t know

See Me

SEE ME


Could you?
I pray 
on my knee
I fiercely plea 
could you
SEE 
ME?

Really see me?
Know the real me?
Try to be me?

Could you agree
to take the dive 
see where I’ve been
wade in my skin
let that sink in?

Not to accuse
or misuse
Not a command
just god’s plan

By his decree
would you take my hand 
sub-merge with me 
into an unsoiled sea
drowning the fear
that suffocates thee?
Be purified, revived 
reclaimed   
SET 
FREE?


Yes
I will choose
to capsize my view
surface clues              
the heart can’t refuse
I will wade in your shoe
drenched in each step
I drew renewed
flooded by river truth
til my saturated heart
could clearly
start to
know you, be you
SEE
YOU!

No debt to weigh
or fine to pay 
no hidden lies
or fake disguise

See what a sea 
of abundant love
can do?
For one and all 
not just a few
Float unfettered hearts
resurfaced anew
kissed by the dew
of time and space
engulfed in the current of
God’s quiet place

WE
stand 
face to face
embraced
 in a 
heartbeat of grace

I SEE YOU
YOU SEE ME
WE 
Emerge
Transformed
as
God’s Heart 
SET
FREE.

• Short Resurfaced Poems
• Famous Resurfaced Poems
• Best Resurfaced Poems
• Read Resurfaced Poems
• Long Resurfaced Poems
• Resurfaced Quotes