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Retelling Poems

Seeds Of Fear, It's Raining, It's poring

It's raining, it's pouring,
The old man is snoring,
He went to bed,
And he bumped his head,
And he couldn't get up in the morning.

It's raining, It's pouring,
His family are mourning,
He is dead,
He bumped his head,
and he didn't wake up in the morning.

Rain, Rain, go away,
Come again another day,
He went to bed,
Heart full of dread,
and he didn't wake

Categories: retelling, death, nursery rhyme,
Form: Other

Echo and Narcissus retelling Ovid's the Greek poets account

    Oh Echo why, did she beguile.
    Queen Hera with loquacity.
    Thou mountain nymph whose winsome smile
    Did mask Zeus from complicity
    With sylvan nymphs, his sole desire.
    Those dalliances once revealed
    Set jealous

Categories: retelling, mythology, solitude, spoken word,
Form: Rhyme

Retelling Sacred Stories

Telling
and retelling
our story,

Where we are from
and where we have gone
from there and here
and now 
surprisingly uninfluenced by choice
and education,
nature nurturing where
and when,
why
and how, our story begins

When my voice speaks with SkyMother
and FatherSun, by mutual choice 
personalities
only visible in prehistoric time,
then prophecies predict our eventual return,
by co-arising awareness
in EarthBound enlightening Paradise.

When my story
begins with CreatorGod
in regenesis

Categories: retelling, earth, environment, god, health,
Form: Political Verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

The Retelling of the Myth of the Legend of the Mythical Icaphus

"MY ARMS ARE SORE!" 
*silence*
"HEY!! DO YOU HAVE ANY OTHER ROCKS?!?!"
*silence*
"FINALLY. I DID IT! *HEAVES* "
"CA-CAAW!"
"No. You have to be kidding me. This absolutely sucks."

Legendary Icaphus then forged a knife from a broken bone,
And legendary Icaphus slayed the bloodthirsty raven!

The wings of the bird still intact, she sewed them into her spine
and she ascended -

Categories: retelling, myth, mythology, silly, strength,
Form: Free verse

A Retelling of An Unfortunate Event

The water of the firth
Glitters; glinting, clean.
Messenger of joy and mirth,
Yet tyrant,
cruel.

An ideal place to fish
for a young boy and his friend.
They are seven years old - grinning wide,
their rods well-tended.

But, what’s that? Some money
has dropped into the froth:
“Fear not lads, I’ll be two ticks!”
says dad, his boots still on.

That day the sea played tyrant.
Life

Categories: retelling, absence, confusion, courage, death,
Form: Blank verse

A Poetic Retelling (Very Unfortunate)

This is a poetic retelling of an athletic 
	Event (a race)
That breathtaking
Nerve racking
Repetition
On a circle (tiring)
I don’t dream of things like this
Unless I’m an insomniac
I don’t deny that’s what I want
(because) it’s wretched

I don’t deny what’s dirty (just)
Because it contains dirt
Which, in a bucket, silently sits
For a tornado to topple

No, (I) don’t silently sit—ever,
Well, anymore,

Categories: retelling, people,
Form: Free verse