Short Reused Poems
Short Reused Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Reused by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Reused by length and keyword.
You can’t recall the stone,
Once it’s thrown
Emitted harsh words, can’t be defused
And Time spent, can not be reused.
MAN REJECTED
It's no surprise
I see in your eyes
WHY!!!
Can, can't I be in your life
The presence of you
And so you laugh
Now I cry
For you reused to be in my life
For you say I'm not your kind of guy
8/13/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
Treat trash as it deserves
with dexterity and cleanness
with the nobility of those who served us...
Trash is also rich
in recycling done well...
Don't treat it worthless trash
don't be sloppy verbose
Waste can and should be reused
there is something luxurious in trash....!
Back when I was young
Back when I was young
The toys were so much fun
Things were very simple then
We walked and cycled too, never drove
It was paper and baskets not plastic
Back when I was young
Fresh food we had, no prepacked
Toys were made of wood and tin
We never discarded just reused
Make do and mend was the thing
Back when I was young
3-5-19
God reuse me
Come to me
Embrace me in the glory of your wisdom
Nothing comes to me
Choosely I choose you Lord
I'll take the glory of your words Lord
I'm Just your vessel
I'm here to hear
I'm willing to share co-creating with you
Father come to me
Embrace me
Alphabetically
Come write with me
God reused me
10/17/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Illusory truth you cut through me;
'Be Kind.'
Doesn't seem to get you where you should be;
Humankind wastes away surrounded
plastic words discarded into a serene ocean;
Polluting the environment;
Reused, recycled, but never reduced;
Still we try;
Cordial behavior fades from memory
washed away by the waves; Toxic stays;
Muddy are our interactions now;
We cry out our illusory truth 'Be Kind.'
Suite Elegance
So refined
Reused spiritual
Fines so
Soradic fluorescent
Are the waves of misshapen
Broken hearts concave
And alast Young Beauty scorn
Cherishes is the Dew drops
Of early Autumn mourns
So I reverence as I caress this somber presence I'm a Witnesses floral flower essence
Beauty my spiritual love
11/05/19
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr 2019
Never underestamate the power of prayer
To have God talent sewn
To have others known
For you my dear
We knew we would get thru to that loving ear
Through the beauy of this year
I love you
Many times reused
Keep pushing on good news
Your help is bright
You saw the light
We believe in you
We love you
Your nobility
Was God royalty
Accept to walk in his heels
We shall climb to success to hold the wheel
REPLACING SADNESS
Sadness plays on the melodies of life
like broken strings on a violin.
We feel the discord and it shakes our being,
a trembling reaction to scratchy notes.
Try to remember the in between sounds
when sweet melodies lightened your heart
pleasant memories taken from a time gone by
and sealed within a deeper consciousness
to be be used and reused like a worn out pair
of comfortable slippers.
CAK 5-20-2013
Color me tears
These tears have been recycled-
not an environment saving measure,
they have been repackaged, rebranded,
recycled, reused but not reduced.
Not purified-they contain same organic
and inorganic substances.
My recycled - reused tears
which continue to flow-
from the day of the birthday suit ,to the end.
These gentle tears migrate like bottles in a depot,
Unrestrained, uncontained but never reduced
Before dawn, I press my palm
on the windowpane,
leaning gently into the night
feeling it slipping through
cold fingertips.
Later
when sipping coffee I glance out,
there are shedding's now,
fragments and scraps,
a littering of a flimsy
day breaking light.
I wonder how so great a thing
as the deeply fathomed dark
could be lost in its leavings?
My hand wants to say
something more of this
but its bones are sleeping
and cannot now be reused.
Something old,
Something new,
Something borrowed,
Something blue.
My dress was old,
Reused from prom,
I had no gold,
But I had Mom.
My nails were new
What could I do?
My dress was blue,
I used it, too.
My mom was there,
We curled my hair,
We did not care,
It was not fair.
They were not there,
They never showed,
Did not reserve,
Did I deserve
Deserve to be treated
Feel like I'm defeated
Now I'm just seated
I just want to feel needed.
Form:
Out they go, rejected plastic
bags and bottles. Off they float,
dispersed. Where to?
There's no control.
Wind and ocean current swirling,
gathering all those broken
fragments. Human flotsam drawn
together, trafficked at what cost,
deflatable, adrift. Ashore,
caste unwanted.
Are they biodegradable?
What of their diversity?
Can they be reused? Restored?
Evidence of waste upcycled,
more than plastic identity,
or plastic credit.
The refuse refugee - is.
I stare at the blues and oranges of the world
refusing to be pressured
there is such beauty in everyday things
even the rail road track signs
how many people have gone past this site
without seeing any of it?
how many people have cried tears here?
can they be scooped up and reused
or are they forever glued to this crossroad?
a car honks
impatience wants me out of the way
I am not ready
the time is now
and I am here for a reason.
I sit firmly, waiting for a sign.
I stare at the blues and oranges of the world
refusing to be pressured
there is such beauty in everyday things
even the railroad track signs
how many people have gone past this site
without seeing any of it?
how many people have cried tears here?
can they be scooped up and reused
or are they forever glued to this crossroad?
a car honks
impatience wants me out of the way
I am not ready
the time is now
and I am here for a reason.
I sit firmly, waiting for a sign.
Recycled poetry,
we’ve used all these spells before;
Abracadabra,
a whisper to make that cauldron simmer…
Calling corners?
familiar synonyms since the new are..
feckless;
We must honor the magick.
Memorable alliteration;
Innate skills aren’t teachable;
Feybound;
Like you? It simply belongs to the stars…
Remembered ritual,
a taste of what dances upon your tongue;
Phantasma,
you have always had the touch…
It’s not reused, it’s ancient,
it’s as spectral as abracadabra…