She entered the ballroom, her nerves on fire,
Her synthetic dress fit her like a dream,
Rustic, she knew nothing about desire,
In silence, she stood, a classy extreme;
He entered the ballroom, dressed like a prince,
Wondering how these dances to avoid,
When he saw her, his eyes he couldn't convince,
She, a timeless beauty, he, overjoyed;
He reached her amid the swirling dancers,
She looked at him with blue eyes astounded,
They danced till midnight, searching for answers,
Could love blossom this quick? Left confounded;
The clock struck twelve, it ended too soon,
Love's illusion came to a sudden end,
Silver rays emanate from the wan moon,
She ran away from him, his feelings rend;
Who was she? Where could he find her again?
Questions bombarded his lovestruck mind,
Her glass slipper came to his help and then,
His lovely Cinderella he did find.
Categories:
retold, cinderella, love,
Form: Rhyme
As youth’s bright flame slowly fades to gray
Time’s hand weaves its threads of silver hue
Each dawn’s the same, we count another day
Our memory cleaves, and aging faces view
Yet with the years, comes wisdom’s gentle grace
Experience, a gift, well worth the cost
Wrinkles and fears, stories etched upon each face
Our spirits lift, in memories embossed
We may grow old, but love remains the same
In tender hearts, it’s flame forever burns
Through trials so bold, life’s ever-shifting game
Our friendship starts, and loyalty, it earns
So let the years advance, let them unfold
For growing old is life’s sweet tale retold
Categories:
retold, endurance, life, sweet, uplifting,
Form: Rhyme
I'm younger than I look but big
a food desert will get you large
but not in a good way.
I'm fair for a black boy
but the hoody hides my race
into just a blur of ethnicity.
I could be a kid or a malignant killer.
I am 11 years older
than nothing at all.
I took the bus to school,
got myself into a fight.
Now I am on this street
playing with a gun -
it shoots water.
When the cruiser pulled up
next to me
the muzzle was pointing
waving its way.
A cop was shouting
he seemed scared.
I was just staring.
Now I’m dying
a bullet in my chest
burning another hole
through Chicago.
Categories:
retold, poetry,
Form: Free verse
By day, Turtle is coincidental
he sits outside of a Chinese restaurant
by the side of an ornamental pond
that is always empty of fish.
The traffic creates
a dusty coat on his stone shell,
yet his eyes are wide open,
they do not blur the world
as it cascades along in its rumbling boxes,
its leaking mechanical lungs.
The still night does not land here
until three in the morning,
then Turtle disappears, changes form,
reappearing in a dark and empty barroom,
there he spins whisky and ice in a glass,
until dawns first yawn
then gulps he the whisky down.
When light creeps under the rooftops
Turtle returns to the oriental pond,
sits upon the edge
tries to recall what will come next,
shudders once
before turning back to stone.
Categories:
retold, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The insects grew gigantic.
Athena loved them too much,
she blew them up
like party balloons.
Gnats and ants had swords for teeth,
neck ripping nails were the rule.
Nothing could live long;
insectivores consumed all.
Prometheus gathered
a few trembling mammals together,
gave them agility and cunning,
then he found a way
to shrink the bugs.
Seeing the mammals thrive,
Zeus got mad at the boy.
Something about rocks
and chains - really fuzzy stuff.
Later after all the silliness,
a small minor ape stood upright
and said quite clearly:
Bug off Zeus, we got this.
Categories:
retold, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Playful though the children
Inquisitive though the children
Mischievous though the children
Too serious and sophisticated
though the advices
They will be remembered
Throughout their lives
To be retold
To their own children
As they love their children
Just as their parents love them
As they love their children
Just as their god loves them
Sometimes
Love can make things look different
Love can make people change their minds
Love can achieve great things
Love can give people surprises
Categories:
retold, childhood, children, remember,
Form: Free verse
There once was a girl named Red,
Whose grandma was sick in bed.
She packed up some goodies,
Put on her red hoody,.
And made haste before Granny was dead.
Now Granny lived in the woods,
So Red skipped as fast as she could.
A wolf blocked her path,
So she gave into wrath,
And pummeled the beast where it stood.
Red hastened to her destination,
But to her great consternation,
The wolf had survived,
And subsequently arrived,
And was waiting with much anticipation.
Granny was sitting up in bed,
As she saw the wolf approach Red.
The wolf said "I'm ready to eat",
Granny said, "I'm packing heat",
Then proceeded to fill him with lead.
The wolf was a problem no more,
Which thrilled Red and Granny to the core.
Now Granny, she got well,
And everything turned out swell.
Their story became a part of folklore.
7/13/21
Categories:
retold, fantasy, funny, girl, grandmother,
Form: Limerick
What
is this
vibrant void
of no-thingness?
Fret not, oh hermit!
The truth is thus revealed:
the visible world is thought,
which is preceded by desire,
birthed by our narrow ego cravings,
a dream world, by our thought thus created.
Why then, is there so much suffering here?
The answer, hermit, lies in the breeze;
flowing without pausing, with ease!
Movement, life; stagnation, death.
Indulgence in desire,
cause of suffering.
Let us then flow,
embracing
vibrant
love!
28-November-2020
Categories:
retold, spiritual,
Form: Etheree
The thread of love and understanding that grows thin with distance is very fragile
Unless anchored well at both ends.
Just as a spider weaves her web with but a few anchors to support her beautiful creation, so must love be built.
But, as a spider lovingly starts over if her web is destroyed by whim or nature, man or beast, so must love be built.
Sometimes she begins anew in the same place.
Yet, sometimes not.
Categories:
retold, allegory, fantasy,
Form: Free verse
there is a story
passed down mouth to eager mouth
ready to retell.
Categories:
retold, art,
Form: Haiku
“Grandfather, grandfather! At school today,
a classmate hit me with a book.
The teacher made him stay inside
for recess. She said he was a good boy
who did a bad thing. What did she mean?”
“Grandson, I will tell you a story.
All men have inside of them two wolves.
One wolf is all that is good in the world:
the bravery of our fathers,
the strength of our mothers,
kindness toward friends,
compassion for our elders.
The other wolf is all that is bad in the world:
the hatred of one man for another
murder and theft among the clan
envy, sorrow, regret---
all that is evil among man.”
“And Grandfather, which wolf wins?
The one that you feed, grandson.
The one that you feed.”
Categories:
retold, beauty, evil, grandfather, grandson,
Form: Verse
The glorious Christmas music
Rings out o’er all the earth
Proclaiming and exulting in
The precious Savior’s birth.
Each year our pastor takes a rest
And lets the children tell
The story of the Baby’s birth.
Small voices tell it well.
The little children in their robes
Sing of the Heavenly King
As did the angels long ago
The happy tidings bring
My flagging Christmas spirit
Has been refreshed today,
By the singing of the children in
Their little Christmas play.
Categories:
retold, faith, children, christmas, children,
Form: Quatrain
Insane
I turn around
an amputee
to live, for not living
fighting the inner war
speared,
lacerated,
like neanderthal in cave
my weapon
the serrated moon
cried in fluted dark
a glimpse of bare bones
the ash of a bleeding dawn
my shuttered courage
in urn
there was only one evening
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
retold, adventure, allegory, angst, animals,
Form: I do not know?
The glorious Christmas music
Rings out all o'er the earth,
Proclaiming and exulting in
The precious Savior's birth.
In every language, every mode
The Christmas tale is told
And it is just as new to some
As in those days of old.
Each year our pastor takes a rest
And lets the children tell
The story of the Baby's birth.
Small voices tell it well.
The little children in their robes
Sing of the Heavenly King
As did the angels long ago
The happy tidings bring.
My flagging Christmas spirit
Has been refreshed today,
By the singing of the children in
Their little Christmas play.
By: Joyce Dec. 06
Categories:
retold, holidaychildren, christmas, children, christmas,
Form: Rhyme
Insane
I turn around
an amputee
to live, for not living
fighting the inner war
speared,
lacerated,
like neanderthal in cave
my weapon
the serrated moon
cried in fluted dark
a glimpse of bare bones
the ash of a bleeding dawn
my shuttered courage
in urn
there was only one evening
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
retold, adventure, allegory, angst, animals,
Form: I do not know?
Related Poems