Revisits Poems | Examples

Thought of the day

memory revisits the erased past 
who does it address: ego or our soul 
let this not become the ego’s repast
lest we are deflected from our life’s goal
which is rekindling light scriptures extol 
simply present in thought rested silence
our soul’s shielded from thought borne violence

Gwendolyn Revisits The Golden Shovel

...after Gwendolyn Brooks & Terrance Hayes


In this dim-lit hall, gathered close, we
Chalk our cues, faces worn but real.
Eight-ball in the corner, staying cool,
Brothers in the game, that's who we

Are. Schoolyard dreams we long since left,
Traded books for pool cues after school.
In this smoky haven loitering, here we
Find our place, amongst shadows we lurk

Quiet-like. Clock ticking, hour grows late,
But time don't matter much when we
Line up shots, aiming for that strike,
Playing it cool, playing it straight.

'Round the table, huddled close, we
Share our stories, raspy voices sing
Of life's hard knocks, fleeting joy, hidden sin.
In felt-green world, for now we're free, we

Hold on tight, though hope grows thin.
Raise our glasses, cheap whiskey, no gin,
To friendship lasting. Together, we
Make our music, spinning pool hall jazz.

Summer's ending, farewell to June,
We play on still, knowing in short time, we
Might not be here, where dreams can die,
Our final game coming too soon.

Kissed By the Passing Breeze of Awakening

Kiss by the Passing Breeze of Awakening

Dust of divine whimsy
Flutters softly on unconscious cheeks
With ephemeral dawning
Fleeting like the flash of silver sandals
In moonlight - here then hidden -
Stepping out of the opaque
Soul stirring from oblivious daydreams
Stepping into moments of classical
 Lavender-rose moments.

The leaven of breezes in stardust essence
 Flares in lambent clarity
Caches of chimera, that drain the heartbeat,
Shrivel in bursts of cheeky shooting stars.

Aroused from the depths of sleepwalking,
Grace notes float on rose scents 
Harvested in potpourris for strangled screams
Scrambling through midnight fogs,
Sentience revisits in soft swirls
Awareness, roused by reveille,
Stirs caressed codas in soft preludes,
Awakes in fresh mindful raptures
Nurtured by a passing angel kiss.

Souls of Strangers

Often, as I lie awake
Silent in the stillness of night
I think of you

And I ponder how
Through the gift of reacquaintance 
Our lives entwined and unravelled
Priorities widened and waned
Worlds synced and separated

My mind revisits 
Every late night, spent close in connection
Every challenge confronted 
Every emotion uncovered
Every depth of feeling shared

And now, here lies a superficial shroud
In darkness and depression
And an emptiness echoes between 
The souls of strangers

@katlady_t
February 6, 2022

Railway Station

A once proud and busy place 
built to help the daily race, 
railway tracks, like welcoming arms 
always there day or night. 
Stationmaster always busy 
sweeping the platforms, picking up litter, 
tending to the flower gardens 
oh so proud of all his creations. 
Came the day such sad news, 
no longer needed what would he do. 
Looking up and down the tracks 
no sounds of approaching trains, 
birds still sang no changes for them 
station would become a memory. 
Grass and weeds take over a once loved place 
no humans no trains such a lonely state. 
Windows like eyes peered into space 
why me, why me, winds sang imaginary sounds 
changes called progress, sweeping the land, 
railway stations joining history. 
Dead of night, the wind pays a visit 
imagination like the sound of lost souls. 
Stationmaster revisits his domain, 
broken glass, rusted gutters 
hanging down like tears of disaster. 
He imagines all the scenes gone by 
he falls asleep in the peaceful scene 
never to wake from his wonderful dreams.

Master Exit Art

All have to depart
Sooner or later
None stays forever 
Key is to master Exit Art

Soul sans body
Continues Divine journey
Revisits earth in another body
To mitigate balance 'karmas'

Birth-Death cycle continues
Till 'Karma'* balance nullifies
Soul then loses
It's identity to Nothingness

You are a tiny character
In infinite cosmic illusion
Honestly, play your role
Before curtains are down

Drop all desires and vices
Truth, Love, Peace, Right Conduct, Non-Violence 
Should be non-negotiable Values 
Master core of Art of Dying nuances
________
*Karmas - as per Hinduism and Buddhism, sum of persons action in this and previous States of existence decides their fate of future existence.

Rabid Raven

sheep sleep surreptitiously 

spiders spin shredded silken seances

song birds sulk soporifically 

rabid ravens rave rapturous rhapsodies


capriciously caught in clangour

I die dire deceptive dreams

tepid tears tear through torment

viscous vapours vacate venom

pus pelts my pitiful pillow

oozes omnipotent oblivion


alliterations alight anger

freeze fervent fear

reiterate raucous refusal

ruminate reverberate rancid rile


I wake the wake of weary waste

recycle random rubbish remonstrate

then morning mourns Morpheus 

mocks mountains of morose meanders


day dawns dubious daunting delight

as I tease temptation to take a tally

send syllables into space and shuttle

to morphing metaphors from my mind


until excruciating echoes become echelons

of cumbersome circuits and contempt

when restless rest revisits and revolves 

recoils at respite and the raven raves


20th December 2020

Throbbing Sentimental Pangs Trigger Nostalgic Memories of Yesteryear Deux

Now at an advanced crotchety age
namely three score plus one Earth
orbitz around the nearest star,
yours truly revisits
poignant episodes foisting
launching snapchatting

one after another crisis
sidelining ability to cope
pursuing life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness
whiz hard by at light speed.

Though just a kid during third industrial revolution,
I remember feeling lost in space (age) and agog
at being on the cusp, when infrastructure
(regarding blueprint describing 
information superhighway,
technological/computer transformation
would when soon after graduating
Methacton high school
(mine alma mater)

quickly usher The Fourth Industrial Revolution
a way of describing the blurring of boundaries
between the physical, digital, and biological worlds,
a fusion of advances in artificial intelligence (AI),
robotics, the Internet of Things (IoT), 3D printing,
genetic engineering, quantum computing,
and other technologies.

Sacrilegious Transgression Against Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

I generally mean mine mien mental state
moost occasions heavily marinated stupor
long established as external trait
psychologically time tested trooper
impossible mission to kickstart sanity
doppelgänger regularly revisits his soul asylum
hellbent antimatter he cannot vitiate
despite therapeutic laxative merely exhausts

well bred literate smoking doobie brother
eliminating aforementioned pablum
witnessed courtesy one floundering grouper
among plenty of fish schooled
hyphenated (high finned haggled)
burn hushed scaled poem
courtesy one unionised rebellious party pooper.

Spellbound with colossal mental grippe
(i.e. all-consuming figurative cerebral
obsessive compulsive forced membership)
magnetic resonance imagine indicated jagged blip
and/or nsync microscopy
showed telltale genetic authorship

regarding above stated mental health crisis,
whereby Sigmund Freud analyst did flip
lid freeing leeches imported courtesy Philip
Hansel and Gretel a mere slip
o' lass whose nose she always did turnip.

Hints of Grandpa

When I was young, my Grandpa sometimes used
expressions that seemed corny at the time.
“The Lord gave you two ears, but just one mouth”
revisits me each time my face turns red
because I used my mouth more than my ears.

Fast forward fifty years. It’s very late.
My aging bones won’t get the rest they crave
until the lines my lamp illuminates 
convey precisely what I long to say. 
I then will lay aside my well-worn book
and favored pen, released to seek sound sleep.

Slight hints of Grandpa often make their way
into my poems. Those, I plan to share
with grandkids, who will smile and say, “That’s good,”
but not with much conviction! They will learn—
I hope—as I did, many precious gems
lie waiting to be mined from “corny” lines
composed by aging poets in the night.


Date posted: June 25, 2020
Poetry Contest Title: The Old Scribe    Placed 12th of 13
Sponsor: Craig Cornish

Never Too Old

When she was young…just a little girl
when life was more innocent and free
she believed in castles in the sky
in fairy tales…and fantasy.

She believed from the sparks of a campfire fireflies were born
She believed in happy endings
in mermaids and unicorns… 

She believed in houses made from gingerbread
that every sentence ended in rhyme
She believed rubbing a lamp could summon a genie
She believed long hair she could climb.

When she was young she believed in Santa Claus.
She believed her grandparents lived in a world of black and white.
She believed in the magic of a kiss.
She believed her blanket would protect her at night.

When she was young she’d play outside for hours.
She’d come home with scraped up knees.
She believed she could see the entire world when she climbed to the top of a tree.

And when she grew up she still believed… 
In happy endings..in fantasy…and play
but the duties and responsibilities of life often got in the way…

Which is why now that she is older
she loves to find moments when her fantasies are reborn…
moments when she revisits her fairy tales…
and finds her unicorn.

A Mothers Memorial Day

A MOTHERS’ MEMORIAL DAY
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS


The Is No Measure with Which to Gauge the Pain
Nor the Silent Bitterness Which Will Always Remain
In the Grief Stricken Mother Having Lost a Son
All the Dreams N Tomorrows, Suddenly Gone
To Lose a Son at Far off Place, Far from Home
Her Thoughts: Did He Die Quickly? Was He Alone?
Did He Suffer? Was He Conscious? Was He in Pain?
These Recurring Questions Will Always Remain

There Is Little Consolation in a Commendation
Posthumous Medals Are Small  Compensation
What Is the Cost; Losing Future Smiles and Joys
Chasing a Capped Superman Playing with Toys
Giving Him a Bath, Getting Soap in His Eyes
First Day at School, Bellowing Frightened Cries

Recalling Memories Bring Agonies and Joy
Each Moment a Mother Revisits  Her Lost Little Boy

An Age Ago

 I still recall the still waters that mirrored my reflection on that lake
Time sure goes so quickly and only leaves memories
Memories that bring joy and others that bring tears as one revisits the stories
Oh how my mind has changed, now i do realize how foolish I was back then

I open my eyes and see so much beauty in the world we make
How many days have past
From sun rays to couldy overcast
Life is but a stage, so many roles one could take

The wind careses the soul
From the sky falls the rain that drenches the earths thirst
My love I wont ever forget you, for within my heart you were first
Only you made me feel worth someone

I close my eyes in hopes to dream
Perhaps a image by your side
Of when we sat and loved one another and watched the sun set againt the tide
Life can be at times very mean

I often imagine of what it could have been like if we still were
If only I knew then what I know now
Silly of me for I know our paths were only meant to cross not stir 
Slowly I realize you left an age ago

Into the Woods

INTO THE WOODS

A wolf entered the woods with waning sun.
The thick of forest green and food besides.
Before the moon fades out his life be done.
For now the creature lurks where man resides.

Out of the house, into the deep dark space,
A young woman will meet her tearful fate —
Teen’s milky white smile with a hairy face.
Oh, she was charmed earlier by her date.

But now the woods, its limbs and bark, so wrong.
She turns to run. He howls and tears her dress.
Another smile and sneer - her father strong -
This pretty girl reclaimed...out of this mess.

The moon revisits haunt of wolf’s dark plot
and ivy shoes scold girl — dad keeps them taut.

1/7/2019
Silent One - sponsor

Revisit

the short night
revisits the sheets
— two beers in hand

8/8/2018

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