"recaptured" poems
Car packed and ready to go;
on leave so we thought but it wasn't so;
I suppose it wasn't just meant to be;
T Air Defence Battery was going to sea;
Across the south Atlantic Ocean;
Well at least that was the notion
One hundred and ten ships all packed to the top;
Commandoes, Paras, Guards, Ordinance, Artillery, the lot;
This is it lads. We're going to war;
But nobody knew, what was in store
And all those mixed up feelings inside;
Were **** near impossible for us to hide.
We landed at a place called San Carlos Bay;
In nineteen eighty two. On the twenty first of May;
To repel Argentine invaders from the Malvinas;
Anxious, proud and scared. You had to have seen us.
Across the Falklands, the Task Force did travel;
By air, sea and foot and not as a rabble;
Objective Port Stanley for the final shove;
First taking Tumble Down; Goose Green and Bluff Cove
We recaptured the Islands. They were British again,
And amid all the glory, cheering and pain;
We now look to peace for as long as we reign
And no more hostilities, that drive man insane
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 11:36 AM UTC
Is this not what it's all about?
Waiting in the wings,
stretching, turning, churning,
anxious and adrenal,
living for the dream,
wishing for the dream,
being
the dream,
dancing on beams,
beneath the streams
of lights and fans,
arrayed like a bird
in tulle, crinoline, silk, satin and linen
white plumage,
acting only on command,
the music soft and flowing
their frail, slender figures
take to air,
arms and legs,
torsos tender,
slender necks,
wisps of downy hair,
melding colours,
sights and sounds,
the stage a pedestal of fate,
their beauty
captured
in gilded cages
for all to watch and see,
recaptured yet again,
by the artist on the easel'd window
of his canvas,
a maestro of sorts,
tapping his baton-brush,
coating the blankness with sweet
inspiration,
like angels heavenly
brought to earth,
serenaded by strings,
life from the blankness begins,
covers the void,
bejewels the mind's eye
and beckons the ballet
rehearsal to begin,
yet shall in oil paint now
and for all time
never cease to be...
"Art is not what you see, but what you make others see."
Edgar Degas
____________
Inspired by the painting by Impressionist artist Edgar Degas,
The Rehearsal.
--to view the painting:
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/degas/ballet/degas.rehearsal.jpg
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 3:24 AM UTC
My lala sassy Coco beloved.
queens of purple heart mine.
to those loving me near or far.
~~~~~~~~~~~
And you sweetheart
You the awakened one when I fought to stay alive eons ago precioso mio.
Don't worry you woke me up
this thunderous hail winter
upon waking up opening my eyes
transforms to eternal spring.
And as the decades passed revealing so many secrets that you scattered of gold bars and treasures throughout Earth
for enchanted frog little me
in a tini pond destined to search you in your ocean
All treasures now conceived in thought understood grasped too late,
slide like water through my fingers
lost in inaction
Recaptured
in memory thought apeacing me giving strength.
The mind makes everything that's gone very real.
Amorsitos, hermosos you have many names I know you by a few
my precious king of hearts
I own only my heart of gold
jewels are my kids all grown-up
I love your family jewels.
Cariños mios your hands your voice
the way you walk talk as if you sway me and visit me unexpectedly
and it happens often
~~~~~~
Lover long sun kissed limbed
It all lingers true and clear.
Any woman queen Angel or scribe
would go nuts just hearing your tantric sensual voice
but not the way like I can.
Holding your hands loving me imprinting me with
your fingers kissing your palm prints
all over my pristine remote
unexplored seashores.
In your Island for private
romantic lovers you and me
You must feel safe here dear
just a poetess dreaming of you.
My mind make it all real.
and it does again and again..
your voice bridges any gaps
Our dream breathes and lives
when I hear your voice you melt
me or freeze me evaporated me
I cry and laugh and hear God
speaking to me in your voice
it's all so amusing
And bittersweet
I miss and love you all so much
tini litt baby girls and boys mine
"I give my life to save yours
if only any of you ask, you wrote"
I love you adore you.
Te amo the amo.
~~~~~~
By Karijinbba
All rights Reserved
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 5:32 PM UTC
His light house amidst
his mystic fog, signals belated
in triumphant decore,
Enamoured with ancient joy
of his blue green dreams
I chant.
“His rod and his staff
comfort me and all surrounding
gore departs.
I breathe in gasping
about my true love.
as he spots my battered
vessel into the wind sailing.
Ecstasy twinkles his teary eye
in the magic water dancing glare,
of our mystical full moon light.
For too long I've traveled
jeweled triumphant
yet unable to reach
his promised treasure vaults.
To the greed of legions on
treacherous paths all alone I wept,
through enemy's territories,
but all those from me have fled.
I roamed alone yester woods
I reach his safe private harbour
his peaceful shores.
As trustworthy jeweled queen
regardless of grave loss.
Willfully he reveals his home key
to come open up his door
as photographic memories
on new calming waters
get anchored deep.
At last I shall rest in love
on my bittersweet bed of roses
red, and flowers wild;
white sad lilies on hand,
saluting my beloved glories
recaptured and retained.
Enduring rhythmic ways
with courage, heart
brain and hope and off my
survival modes into éasier dwelling
into my grave but neither there
I shall trod alone no more.
~~~~~~
By Karijinbba
All rights.
Mar 29, 2022
Mar 29, 2022 at 7:53 PM UTC
It’s the way the sun bounces off the gravel and the smell of wet moss mixed
With the edge of old cigarettes and tree sap,
It’s the gap between memories and fuzzy impressions
Of past existences mixed with recaptured instances
And empirical proof that my childhood existed.
In the way light moves heaver through the air there
Until branches from the walnut lift and you can hear scrub jays,
And the echo of cans that rattled
In perfect belonging with the march of smacking sandal shoes
Chasing along black pavement toward dirt roads
And children’s kindred spirits running after water.
The heavy sent of fresh fallen rain on old pain and yellow
Paint and trumpet flowers that play silent music
To the ears of a young person discovering existence
Exploring persistence and resilience and
Coming forth out of darkened nights with the
Resurrected brilliance of the maimed sick and twisted
Soldiers of life from these former generations.
Never has a place existed as hell and heaven
Like this museum of familial dysfunction.
I stand here at junction between, panic struck sadness,
And the will for the gumption to say goodbye
To a past with dwindling survivors
And sour memories. Praying a thank you to dark space
For the fond thought of their wrinkled faces
And a grandeur lesson of all that I want not,
And for the first thing my life to stay in one place
For the duration of its chaos.
Sweet wicked, loving woman ,
The remnants of my childhood will die with you.
I assume I will hide my tears in your memory.
My past my memories myself, I hate the parts I love
And fear a kind of numbness at the loss of you
At the loss of this chunk of myself
And of all the things that will slip my grasp
When so much of my life is confined
To the constantly desecrating atmosphere of my mind.
And when I turn to find
The first cornerstone of my existence,
My support and experience I will
See only shadows and the pasts of real things,
And I will miss you.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
*how this came and come to be,
from gone to come to gone rediscovered but unreleased,
a passage thematic that birthed
fully formed, formal in its inception,
contented in its first appearance and
its primary coincident deception
who wrote this? not me? could not be!
yet a scented hint of
eau d’familiarité
suggests that I may have
inadvertently
plagiarized
myself
this old poem mine,
we certifiably have never met,
but nonesuch a hail fellow met,
that upon our (re?) acquaintance,
the heavens marked the occasion with
hail and neither of us deemed it strange
so we well recall our ancestor’s words*
”there is nothing new under the sun”
adding our brand new imprimatur
”not even June or the Moon or other iconic loons”
*we may have borrowed from the insights,
recollecting what happened to us when separated at birth,
envisioning like the prophets of yore what was implanted
long before we remembered it well
upon its birthday
our intertwined twinning
fate befallen*
postscript
**quaking heart, trembling pointer
dawning and dying
simultaneous
neither tissue, cell, molecule,
i am but a composite of
letters, alpha bits and bets,
recirculated songs and tunes born
like me,
compromised, bridged,
newly un and recovered,
lengthy and unabridged,
my appearance faulty,
my eyes ****** ruddy and red,
my fingered tips blend and bleed
words acquired, words invented,
marching before me,
old lands recaptured,
new ones set free
take and give -
there’s no difference -
intimation, initiation,
all
bring me home
to where my boundaries begin**
<•>
this one, for the ladies who loved its
predecessor
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2367267/the-temple-of-you/
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
It happened in a flash!
Down a winding mountain road.
A trio of vacationers,
Basking in snow-draped vistas
Pulled off for a photo or two.
Their tires quickly locked in icy snow
And after the whirl of spinning tires,
The undeniable truth sank in:
They were most sincerely stuck!
In moments, multiple door slams
Echoed across the valley,
And an ad hoc commission
Convened and began to shovel.
A half hour of elbow grease later
Amid vapor-clouded cries of:
“straighten the wheel,”
“slow on the gas” and
“all together, on three”
The car eased back on the pavement.
No one called "meeting adjourned"
But as quickly as formed,
That ad hoc gang of lesser angels
Dissolved into the greater band
Of good folks bonded together in life.
E pluribus unum!
Jan 29, 2022
Jan 29, 2022 at 1:22 PM UTC
The Loss was beyond MY understanding AT THE TIME.. How could she have been taken away so Quickly?? She had only been gone One hour, when The Call came in.. A Raspy voice,,Speaking Slowly, Asked,,"Missing Something??" My Heart raced within me, My Mind trying to gather it's senses. The *Voice said "If You want Her back,,,You *Must follow these instructions". "BUT First",,the *Voice Firmly announced ,, "You Must answer the following questions.. Do You Really LOVE Her, Miss being able to talk to her everyday, Miss kissing Her Lovely lips, Miss the Touch of Her hand, Miss the Sound of Her voice in those *Precious *Private moments ??"___The *Voice then was quiet for a few seconds,,,,,,As I had had answered Each of his questions in the Affirmative!! I Forced myself Not to say anything else,, but just answer his quieries...____The Pause seemed as if minutes!!_____THEN,,the *Voice Announced in a STERN WAY,,,,"WHAT if I took Her away Forever?" My Heart was now Pounding as I tried to Calmly Say,,,,"I Would Miss Her Terribly!!",,THEN I Quickly asked "What do I need to do,, to Get Her *Back??"______Another very Long Pause as my Mind was racing in *Prayers... The Pause seemed Dark and Ominous! *FROM NOWHERE!! I felt this sudden Pain Hitting the back of my Head!! Nextly, AS if from out of a Cloud,,a Womans Voice,,,"SIR,,SIR!".. Thru Blurring Tears,, A Nurses uniform appeared before me,,"SIR" she continued,,,"The Heart transplant was a success".. *Death had been Calling for My Love,,,BUT *GOD's Hand had "RECAPTURED HER"
Aug 25, 2010
Aug 25, 2010 at 3:51 AM UTC
I stand in your eyes
Looking out for the whole world to see
With the fabric of death staring at me
Its just you and me
On the edge of heaven
Mending distances as we begin
Ghastly gray hours littered my ears
Intensly intrusive and ******
The shadows spill stringently
Stamping the sky with feelings of insufficiency
The bitter breeze dreamers, protesting for peace
Beyond all countries and downward dreams
We heave our head, heart, and soul
The handfuls of gestures surrender the way
A taut twine traveled behind
With waves coiling and bending my mind
Dying eyelashes recaptured my memories as they danced upon my face
A once swollen spirit is a ripped fragment away
Consenting with out my say
Death burst your core
The life of limbs, once excitable and strong
A strong windswept set my ambivalence at bay
As I lay trembling, Soft secrets are told
Relief from bottomless sufferings
Loved ones long lost reunited with me
My tounge has say much to say as words sail
As the wisps of heaven begin to show me the way
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 1:32 AM UTC
you are everything
you are everyone
you are every cliche
you are the sun,
you are the stifling heat
that cannot be escaped
you are valentines cards
misdirected and misshaped,
you are hotmail,
you are myspace,
you are my face,
hungover and exhausted,
you are lost kids,
you are something that was fun,
you are not getting shotgun,
you are beer
that's been in the sun
too long,
you are a sad song,
that's not been made better,
you are the hole in my sweater,
or my pockets,
you are the chalky sugar that's
passed off as rockets,
you are the first drummer of the beatles,
you are evil,
and i don't mean that jokingly,
you are choking me,
like turtlenecks,
or high stake bets,
made on the wrong team,
you are what seems like
a good idea at the time,
you are past tense,
you are jeans caught in the fence
preventing teens from sneaking in,
you are cold wind on a dry winter's day,
you are Coldplay's last two albums,
you are too much talcum powder
you are convenience store flowers,
you are forced,
you are hoarse
voices in place of song,
you are wrong,
you are the weakest link,
you are outdated references,
you are beverages,
that have lost carbonation,
you are hesitation
that leads to regret,
you are the new york mets,
you are first impressions
that i make on the elderly,
you are Beverly Hills Chihuahua,
you are foie gras,
you are aqua
and their music in my head,
you are cold beds,
warm beer,
empty freezers,
old tears,
fake appeasers,
new fears,
you are the moments
when it feels like no one's near,
you are searching for Waldo for hours,
you are any buildings "bigger" than the cn tower,
you are fake,
you are first date awkward silence,
you are last date awkward silence,
you are violence,
you are hybrid suvs,
you are bees,
you are black flies,
you are forgetting an event is black tie,
you are something nice to forget,
you are socks that are wet,
you are the slow driver in the left lane,
you are fame,
you are fleeting seconds
never to be recaptured,
you are the man on the corner
screaming about rapture,
you are actors selling out,
you are stains on a couch,
you are lost remotes,
you are failed attempts to save face,
you are everything
that has ever graced
this time and space,
here and above,
you are everything,
you are love...
Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 5:12 PM UTC
A Fantasy within a fantasy
Two bodies entwined
With no purpose but to
Put off time with a joy
That never leaves a complete
Trace in the memory
The recall of the ********
Never enough to stop
The wicked cravings
Born within us, this desire,
This destiny to multiply, but
Somehow changed into
Cries and whispers, screams
That hold no pain
Or perhaps a pain
That the moment is never
Recaptured easily, it takes
So much to find a pair
Mandy/Roberta
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 11:28 PM UTC
and in the days that are now few
nights hold old dreams
hope is a vanquished relic
the attic fills with
the memories of moments
that can never be renewed
or recaptured
I crave the flashes
of a long ago lover's smile
her touch, her whispers
accepting the ache
that shadows these moments I summon
I will not let them pass so easily
I will hold dear the gift of love
the gift of life
upon my return
and in the days that are now few
I speak with ghosts
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
Steeped in frigid air,
The winter breeze thrills me.
This sweeping force of change
Has left the landscape unrecognizable,
And barren,
Devoid of people
And as still as the breath of dawn.
This dreamland of snow and ice,
As far as the eye can see,
Tempts me;
I long to abandon dignity,
Control,
And launch myself into a giant snow drift,
Or create heaven on a wind-blown sidewalk
Staring breathless at the starry sky above-
Or possibly assault some poor passerby
With a snowball to the parka.
I just want to soak in the glory of the quiet streets,
The glimmering clouds,
Hanging,
So still in the night sky,
To skip down the streets as though I wasn't freezing my **** off.
I want to pretend I'm a dragon,
Glowering at the pathetic humans
With their bundled ignorance,
And their pitiful resistance to cold.
I want to dance,
And leap,
And play forever,
Ignoring the idea that I'm supposed to be doing something important right now.
It is a wondrous feeling,
To live in the moment,
To revel in the small magic of recaptured youth-
But tearfully,
I turn away from the window;
The vibrancy of youth is wasted on me
In these bleak and stress-filled hours,
Slaving away like the pitied adult that I am.
I can no more abandon my learned responsibility
Than I can turn back time to my long forgotten childhood;
Like the winter outside,
I am frozen-
Stuck like a tongue on a flagpole
To this monotonous drudgery;
Day in,
Day out.
But today,
I think ill share a secret with myself;
I still have that awestruck child within me,
And I don't need permission to let it out
To scamper across the blank hills of snow,
Laughing and shrieking in chilly delight.
I won't be an adult today;
I will let the snow take me,
And like the snowman I used to build when I was small,
Mold me into a new shape,
From a forgotten age.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
Back Beneath The Lilac Tree
Not much has changed
It has not been that long
But the Lilac Tree remembers
Its roots being firm and strong.
The night that he had disappeared
That is when the tee started to sway
The moon and stars my witness
Sealed in the Milky Way.
Now the blossom sings out
It sings to another tune.
Its blossom is now pink
And has recaptured its perfume.
No regrets, no none on my part
Why should there ever be.
I much prefer pink to blue
It goes with my eyes, you see.
I cannot though, for my eyes have tears
And the tears roll down my face.
Now I remember the hurt
The hurt is written on this place.
The Lilac Tree feels my pain
And its branches touch my soul
I turn and look for one last time
Remembering has taken its toll.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
You can't see it
in the room, not on the floor
you can't see it anymore
in my sheath, the wound
of his blind attack
it's over, I am
myself, my body
washed, my home recaptured
ready for the fight
with you, whoever you are
you follow, until I release you
until I release myself
it is my bed, my belly
your pleasure has to wait
for what I want
because I didn't want to
not to see, not to feel, not to remember
I wandered over the ceiling
the nothing of nowhere
I was not there, not at home
in this room, on this floor
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 2:02 AM UTC
As hands twist, stumbling through doors locked made of
wood pulp and ink and the light underneath seems to
illuminate the sleep in our eyes, it reveals too the cracks in
the corners, the silver slithers and the rust.
To dart across country remains the aim but now many an
Inn will beckon with its burning hearth each more
welcoming than the last. The food more exotic, the crowd
merrier.
Crackling azure wraps and warps, and their eyes glow
with milken dullness. Bereft of colour this solemn matter
thirsts and hungers to consume, to gorge, to shine
postcards of brightly spotted watercolours.
No longer can we trace a finger down the side of a tree, to
remain locked in a single room melting wax and judging
hats.
The wood swung and thus the rope, born 200 years too
late, when was the last time we heard wanderlust not for
the road? The jailer has recaptured us not with wooden
sigils but copper rods and numbers. A primordial beast
slain not by magical tome but by black powder. The
renaissance is over.
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 11:25 AM UTC
Subtly and quietly, uncertainty has recaptured its place in my mind.
Just as soon as I thought I was happy,
When I thought the sun was shinning over the horizon,
The gloomy impenetrable clouds of uncertainty and indecision return into my view.
I know that somewhere beyond these clouds there is light.
But, why must the clouds stand in the way?
Why must they frequently return?
Please, let me be.
Let me enjoy.
Put my mind at ease, and allow me to feel fervently.
Allow my emotions to ravish me in pure ecstasy.
Let the light consume every single part of me.
Fill me light, until my cup is overwhelmed. Inundate every part of me!
I beg, and I plea! Light, please take me!
Allow me to soar past the darkness that constantly captures me, that enshrouds me, that eviscerates the entirety of me!
Please, ominous and petrifying clouds of indecision and uncertainty…
Please… let me be happy.
- j.m
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
*I walked with my daughter, yesterday.
Hand in hand, as when she was a child.
Her mother, guardian once more, I give her hand
a double squeeze; get a double squeeze back.
Her child’s bubbly giggle
inside her adult laugh
shatters time’s persistent grip.
She is five, once more.
Living sweet memories from before,
our break from battle; recaptured innocence.
“I do that with my sons, too.” so softly said.
“Like you. I squeeze twice, and they squeeze back.”
Simple things, lovingly engaged,
become our trademarks.
Unplanned inheritance enriches us,
blossoms in the bouquet of our lives;
the endurance of love, to become
heirloom offerings to the future.
Lin Cava©*
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 6:56 PM UTC
Not much has changed
It hasn’t been that long
The Lilac Tree remembers
It’s inner self still strong.
The night that he had disappeared
When the tree started to sway.
The moon and stars as witness
Verified by the Milky Way.
Now the blossom sings out
Plays to another tune.
The blossom’s turned to blues
And recaptured its perfume.
no regrets, none on my part
Why should there be?
I prefer pink to the blue
It goes with my eyes you see.
But my eyes have new tears
And they roll down my face
They remember the hurt
Connected with this place.
And the Lilac feels the pain
Its twigs reaching my soul
I turn and look one last time
Remembering has took its toll
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 3:27 AM UTC
It's odd how we- being so full of life- put so much value into things that aren't. In this world, where everything can be made again, few things stand out as truly irreplaceable. Because deeply embedded within that object is a memory, a sensation, an emotion. And with the destruction of the object is the release of a memory. Now lost and unable to be recaptured. So be sad at the demise of those which can be replaced, but shed a tear for all your broken souvenirs.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
exactly one day and a lifetime ago
you stood before me with your lips hung ajar
awaiting my kiss, with you eyes lidded low
at the age of eighteen how'd we possibly know
one moment could reach so impossibly far
exactly one day and a lifetime ago
if i knocked and walked in and recaptured the glow
of our love in your heart, it would not have been hard
awaiting my kiss with your eyes lidded low
one kiss in one heartbeat would alter the flow
of our lives, of our dreams, what we were, what we are
exactly one day and a lifetime ago
we meet again, smiling a pleasant hello
you lean in and offer a cheek from afar
awaiting my kiss, with your eyes lidded low
One universe over I kissed you, and so
you took my hand. I drove you home in my car
exactly one day and a lifetime ago,
awaiting my kiss with your eyes lidded low.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
Rows of rogue gladiators
Recaptured and crucified.
Muscles, grit and warriorship
Beyond that of any centurion,
Humbled, humiliated, spat upon
By the wine-greased gears of a
Machine the size of seized continents
And cultures crushed to crumbs
Within weeks -not centuries.
The stuff of contemporary tales and
Future feature films. Justice -not
Unlike poetry- is a purely man-made
Concept. But so very unlike the
Other; as frail in its mortality as
Man's own justless Self.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
Harvest old love letters
Separate timid words like seeds
Save those for Spring planting
Passion's bulk pull out as meat
Provisional muscle is for roasting
Adjectives become good gravy
Stamps and envelopes licked
A dessert of dearest's DNA
This savoring of paper junctures
Recaptured affection, even agonies
Wooers of commodious cursive
Pen pushed to olden days
I relish reading your languid thriving
Though you are long gone
Reacquainting these letters habituates
Deliveries of your love
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
Messy dread-head led to embed threads of ancient alchemy upon our awakening galaxy
Wings growing through formidable fields of ecstasy
Trekking through a souls migration towards a land of redemption
In a state of rapture, opening ones heart to be recaptured
The moons essence swallows it whole, slowing down to feel the beauty unfold.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 8:57 AM UTC