Short Revising Poems

I work with women who are
( needs revising)...

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Revising my life 
seeking what really matters 
letting small things go...

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Desperate candidate
invited firefly at night
to light for him books
he was revising for tests...

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I sit in the study, a typing
The students around me revising
I punch at the keys
For as long as I please
My mind and body aligning...

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but it was not that time forgot, 
when he went to spend a penny, 
a woofer pulling down his pants ,
e said is name was Denny, 
but that wasn't quite right, 
not any...:)   Don

Re: Ruben o "It May Arrive Late -- Revising"...

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Each Day Is A Test
Miracle Man
4/19/2024

Each time I view the morning sun rising,
I ready myself for an unknown surprising,
sometimes its a test,
That requires my best.
At times God thinks my plans need revising.
...

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I wrote a poem that alleges
that I left her a little too rough around the edges,
and would I kindly try to rewrite.

So, all night long, I added and deleted,
moved around and repeated,
till she finally said, "Yeah, that feels just about right."
...

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Tests, tests, tests,
We really do our very best,
Revising for hours,
Can't marking be ours?

Can't teachers do tests,
instead of picking on us,
And let us go home early on the bus.

But oh tests, tests after test,
We always do our very best,
Every week and every day,
"Down with tests!" I say....

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Stopped for a moment 
   Took the time 
to write some verse 
Without revising  I 
   send out this work 
Surely you realize that poetry can change 
   life's leaden metal into gold 
Like a silent symphony 
   it can grab 
your heart 
Like a musical concert
    it blasts the senses with love
Fly with poetry!
   Feel the transformation!...

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I am more than better
I can do better
I will do good
I can make it
I am a survivor
I am Me
You see
Life is good
I am not just a survivor
I made it through
tribulations revising life
I am I am
Life is a puzzle
Friends come in dozens
Genuine is true
Sky is blue
I am loved by God above
by unconditional genuine love
I am....

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Changing my writings the first words written
 innocence  initially intended   
changing the format,  the colors 
leaving emotions openly displayed 
Changing the long to short ,  revising all thoughts
for it is left for the readers perception
always in changes one opens a door
through changing I will learn through a lesson
Is this poem worthy of mention ?...

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Candy cane collector cooks confections
Accepting others' ideas with affections
Revising and rewriting recipes regularly
Creating candy concoctions creatively
He is our baker the neighborhood said
All the December candy he made in red
March candies were green clover shaped
Super hero cookies were aptly caped
What started out as a Christmas thing
Ended up as a profession with extra zing...

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A ballad for Franz Dolp

His exercise was forestry
His initiative was art.

He painted his forest in trees,
composing four seasons of song.

He searched his right balance of trees
revising rhythms for harmony's poem,
Mothers of Deep Rich Women.

A writer of therapeutic forests
written in trees with good roots.

Franz was a poet 
rebuilding with forests,
artisan trees 
forming long-healing words....

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striving for perfection
hours, days, months flew past

always revising, never satisfied
tears came, so did smiles

when she finally finished
emptiness grew within

what would she do
now that she’d achieved perfection

loneliness followed
her brush left in a closet

no goals yet to reach
she succumbed to idle musings
of that one day
perfection took her zest away 


*December 14, 2018...

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Changing Weather
(Get Used To It)
Miracle Man
January 2024


Today begins with the sky smooth gray,
and a morning mist appears here to stay.

A precursor for days that soon will come,
those house bound days engulfed in glum.

If the sun comes later it will be surprising,
My outdoor plans will likely need revising.

The visual I have is of a north wind biting,
maybe I’ll do more weather induced writing,


...

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(for all poets who cannot stop revising)

I am not finished
I am never finished
In the poet’s head
I am kneaded indefinitely

I am not finished
often typed
put in writing
spread imaginary
I am always one step
ahead of the poet

I am never finished
forever young
because the poet
smooths my wrinkles
forever and ever

But am I finished
when the poet is finished?
Or do I get a legal guardian 
and an unwrinkled future?...

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Polar bears dying,
Governments lying,
There's plastic in oceans,
Its like were drinking these blinding potions,
We seem to think it will all be ok but;
When will we come to our senses,
When will we remove these blinding fences,
Sea levels are rising,
Trees are dying,
but instead we're wasting our paper revising,
What kind of world have we made,
We're sitting back watching it fade,
When will we come to our senses,
When will we remove these blinding fences,...

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I'm coming back to the beginning,
revising the very essence of my imagination,
delving into a personal creative time
where my dreams were free to flow.

The glorious return of the misunderstood,
treading again into uncharted territory,
expressing in words what my quest entails,
awaiting what my adventure will reap.

Rebirth seems a difficult process,
as I turn the pages in a new direction.
But to my surprize the flow is natural.
Bound to a repetitive nature....

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