"renewing" poems
Remember all you see each day
All the things that are around you and
Keep close to all the friends you have
in the bubble that surrounds you
Simple gestures, little things
The stuff that's out of sight, most days
it flows on by without a look
in the bubble that surrounds you
Don't ever take for granted anything you have and hold
It's only through respect and love, that straw can turn to gold
You're my first though in the morning dear, up with the rising son
You're the last thing that I think about, when the moon says day is done
I never say "I love you" dear
not as much as I guess I should do
After time it is an unsaid thing
although you know I still do
A gentle kiss upon the lips as you are on your way
forgotten in the winds of time, but just enough to say
the words now left unspoken as we trundle through our life
Now, a touch, or look's "I love you for saying yes to be my wife"
Breathing, seeing, hearing things
the smell of coffee brewing
things we never think about
and vows that need renewing
There'll be a day when I wake up
And you just might not be there
If I don't treat you like I ought to now
I have to show you that I care
Don't ever take for granted anything you have and hold
It's only through respect and love, that straw can turn to gold
You're my first though in the morning dear, up with the rising son
You're the last thing that I think about, when the moon says day is done
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
As I walk along the sea of life
I pass the soft blue water
against the pale blue sky
I think of the sea creatures,
the ducks, the seagulls,
the seahorses and starfish
the myriad array of shells and stones
bringing me gems of wisdom...
The carefree breeze as the
water splashes on the shore
relaxing and renewing me...
I meditate on the serene tides
bringing me calm and focus
The sea is intense but still
as it enters my inner
and outer worlds,
but even though there
is an end somewhere -
it seems like an eternity...
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
The weather is sunny
The sun blazes the call of Spring.
Awakening out of my Winter frame of mind
I gain more youthful Energies and Glow Like
a Ring Made of Gold.
I feel renewed
A newer version of myself,reborn.
For that's what Spring is all about.
Renewing one's self and feeling free to tell all
From even the tallest mountain top with a glorious shout.
Fresh ideas, conversations with friends and loved ones, and the start of even new true love.
Spring brings me a heart that beats knowing that I am fresher, newer,
and somewhat "Reborn."
To rewind our clocks and forget the past. It's time.
To enjoy not just a new and fresher season of sun and warmth..
We should understad that a new foundation for our futures is being laid...
Right under our footsteps.
For such is Spring and the rest will all come to reward us in just time.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 5:15 AM UTC
Look up and breathe it all in
The sky is crying, exploding
with a torrential waterfall.
Inhale natures’ showering
an unblemished symphony
The black cloud’s unavowed weight
lingers invigoratingly overhead
Emotions ebb and flow
with the moment’s
immanent spirit of light;
there is a liberating sensation
that excites anticipation
of the sky’s impending
purposefully fated release ...
Heavens… flood down holy water
in a drenching act of baptism
a merciful drowning in a river
of celestial tears
Dowsing rains wash over
in a cleansing rain
Refresh the dust and ashes
the fallow summer leavings
What once was a blossoming presence,
evolving into a dimming
cold winter reign...
Now all that remains is but
a shadow of what once was;
hearts and bones nearly eroded away
by the years of fallen tears
To rinse away unrequited love’s
stagnant inversion, washing away
the invisible bonds that bind
to the loathsome heavy ball
of an unforgiving chain ...
Know the cleansing rain
is the spirit of love, washing over
a malnourished heart of soul;
exposed and bared naked
to a remiss world
Looking out with thoughtful eyes
into the boundless universe
Never to stop believing
rejuvenating dreams course beyond
this long road
Imagine the storm clouds
parting in the ominous
threatening sky
as an uplifting awakening light
comes shining through;
renewing the promise
that surrendering to love
shall renew purpose
and it feels like rain...
baby can you feel it (?)
December 2012 © harlon rivers ... all rights reserved .
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 7:24 PM UTC
They told you to fear forest fires.
They told you how dangerous it was.
How destructive.
But they didn't tell you how
it's the earth's way of renewing itself,
of ridding itself of the grit,
so it can rise anew.
I want a forest fire to take over my heart,
to let it burn the walls,
to purge the sorrow,
to take away the mud seeping through the cracks.
It will not be a pretty sight.
Flowers will be set ablaze.
It will destroy
but it will bear.
You will see me standing
in the middle of the trees reborn—
the one who set the forest ablaze,
the one who rose up in smoke.
Changed.
Radiating.
The wind at my command.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC
Highway Heart
Mobile Replacement Specialists,
Exchange and Mart
‘Phone for personal quote.
Highway Heart
Can offer you Life,
By renewing That Part
With a razor sharp Knife.
Highway Heart
Buy and Sell,
For the sake of Art
Sometimes never tell.
Highway Heart
When you begin to Fade,
We’ll give you a new Start
Never mind who paid.
Oct 10, 2009
Oct 10, 2009 at 12:15 PM UTC
I inhale
Your Intoxicating fragrance
Pheromones entice
Lingering passion
Sun and sky sweet
I am delirious
Dancing in your
Wakening melodies
Bouquet of pearly-white peaks
I Awake
In your quicksand soil
Scattering seeds
Delicate sea legs
Wobbly wooden stalks
Germinating roots
A newborn flower
Porcelain
Fragile, Fertile foliage
I swallow
Your clear spring geyser
Brisk diamond water
Raining sky water
Relieve my parched
Withering body
Swimming
Stealing grace
Sea of Fertility
I Rejoice
Your Renewing promise
I am breathless
Wild ecstasy
A Cacophony of birdsong
My petals
Gorgeous milk fluff
A canopy of tranquility
In the shape of a heart
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 6:14 PM UTC
building purist æsthetic
proselytizing solar-powered heliolatry
commemorating historic concert
sensing dark forces
fokken lekker antwoord
pumping sensory overload
featuring high-tech dee-jay
admiring gelato micro-truck
laxing laying lazing
"doing something nasty"
continuing quality content
entering another cathedral
journeying without borders
"exactly one year
since visiting vatican"
appreciating full-time gigasphere
awaiting pyongyang performance
depicting unlikely crowdsurfer
foreseeing exponential improvements
furthering esoteric agenda
sensing profound incompatibility
data-mining people's infidelities
anticipating futuristic caffeine
perfecting invisible propaganda
researching mind-control techniques
polishing psycho-social weaponry
sensing social embargo
flourishing frantic fanfare
admiring longitudinal monument
parodying marketing slogans
cycling through österreich
eyeing dystopian disneyland
streaming crosswords extended-play
herding glass kittens
deleting idiosyncratic fragment
loremipsum-ing laconic loudmouth
receiving ultramodern telegram
eigo-ga wakarimasu ka?
guzzling duck-fat fries
encouraging panic selling
(juxtaposing past incarnations)
getting black-and-white privilege
renewing boutique account
relishing cinema poutine
re-entering hibernation mode
opening old windows
continuing zoo motif
absquatulating excessive excesses
nullifying originality claims
proliferating protean persona
disappearing sidewalk alphabet
shrugging opprobrious moments
enjoying vertical alignment
re-entering cyberpunk paradise
approaching island sun
soaring beyond monoliths
trivializing extraneous argy-bargy
decreasing character limits
dumping generic accounts
uglifying commit message
escaping into idiosyncracy
moonshining great lake
exuding idiosyncratic propaganda
living nineties' dreams
making occidental cuisine
envisioning idiocratic president
expropriating your time
ascending homely helix
singing fat lady
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Among trees i rest
and wander through
scriptures of olde
pouring over ancient
words of grace and peace
of love and compassion
where can this be found
outside my leather bound
at a green picnic bench
i read and marvel at
the words of Peter and Paul
two thousand years removed
in my semi-secluded sanctuary
just off the bike path
among trees i rest
and wander through
the works of Ezra Pound
language beautifully poetic
but nothing is found
to my liking except
of course
a line or two scattered
with no anchor
that is how my
mind rolls you see
gathering bits of inspiration
followed by digestion
which gives birth
to a renewing of my
mind and soul
refreshing as i ride
my bicycle down
the path of enlightenment
aided by the words of
poets, prophets, and priests
culminating in fervent
meditation
among trees i rest
and wander
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 3:22 PM UTC
Now all the years of continued appreciation and near awe is to be sweet mingled with burning tears
Sugar cane can represent a lot of things to a lot of people and everyone has a different level of
Understanding how much it really means and then you factor in the tender years the Age of Aquarius
The coming of age standing in the sugar cane is one heck of a ride even greater with two wonderful
People in the front driving a 56 two tone Chevy love was new it was all consuming even from the side
View advantage when one projected a certain aura a mystique that was all of charm pure and simple
Fantastic vibes the dark night had a deeper *********** and knowing cumbersome had this distillation it
was one hundred proof it burned all the way charging changing you at deep levels the thing that over
Years was always renewing itself year by year the world has a wonder about it she was and is part of it
And always will be she was the sweet storm that could and did break every so often that would clear out
The heat and aggravation that is part of your summer of youth she always spoke and stood for truth this
Natural part of coming of age was developing in her character the very membrane of sugar cane I would
Think truly she was the finest quality I think they call it private reserve that special one that grew alone
but did all the richest sharing wait not in longing the true vine and stalk bears with preciseness to the
need of the land we have that in abundance life twist and turns seems at times to reel out of control but
Not so the divine hand holds the life steady all the days and then at harvest when they burn the sugar
Cane what unattainable value is found and then only then it pours clearly and vital worth
Unprecedented the gold separated from the dross is now possible for it to dwell and take its position
Among the other Items of true glory this was created over protracted time with love and patience it
Developed right before our eyes and a t times we knew it not but now we know fully well our profit pour
Out the benefit what life transpired thank you savior for sugar cane we are in disbelief of such greatness
in Our midst take care of it as only you can do !
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 7:05 PM UTC
Another Autobiographical Anomaly✍️
My memory, how is it working?
Reconstructing what I will,
But no matter how I will it,
Using tricks or keeping still,
It goes downhill while lurking.
Mostly, I can’t get the date
Or the event - details I railed at,
Smiled or wailed at.
Where I laid the pen just used;
That is NOT amusing.
Histamine.
I read that histamine boosts memory.
Priority.
What do I prioritise with ear, nose, eye?
My husband tells a story
But his story and the history keep changing.
Joke?
Sheer smoke based on illusion in the first place?
He’s an honest man.
Why change the plan or plane?
How to help boost our brain!
Enigma
And for some a stigma.
Diet, food:
The marvel is the wondrous good
It does in spite
Of all the things we don’t do right.
We’re losing neurons constantly
From ages six- or seventy.
Exercise:
Training. Learning.. Instrument.
Being bent on something! Anything!
For just about all/everything is heaven sent.
That’s what I read
And what I think,
And where my intuition and my instinct lead.
Anyway, this poem is just another way to do it.
Renewing bits with any course available,
And one in which a syllable will stick.
The main thing is to get a kick
Out of the rhythmic lyric of our life.
Yes?
Another Autobiographical Anomaly 2.11.2019 Pure Nakedness II; Arlene Nover Corwin
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
*stepping back into the west
chills reverberate up and down my spine
chiseling open obsolescent padlocks
dangling with dust
on ancient treasure chests
pallid colors in the attic release
a blossoming familiarity
faint hints of retrospections float on faded paper
granting me access to roads
where no map is needed
as i peruse the streets
my heart flows coalescing with the vicinity
caressing each detail i transform to fluid
and fuse with the past
through fresh strokes of watercolored memories
recollections flash before my eyes
revealing antiquated stories
though thought forgotten
an etched history endeavors to define me
renewing itself as i turn each corner
i shudder at some remembrances while encompassing others
through synchronicity realization hits
that I am all of it
yet none of it
at the same time
familiar faces paint meaning onto me
no longer do they know me
yet they airbrush vestiges of yesteryear
and coat me with connotations
i allow them to think i am whatever they imagine
i morph into their canvas temporarily
then break free in multi-dimensionality
they don't hear me with a new listening
no longer invested in their projections
once sharp triggers now appear in soft focus
an auspicious mist lies around the edges
of my former life
it is as if i never left
yet traces of the east lie sandpapered in me
a maturation commingles with my former self
flushing out on my skin
tethering newfound emotions
a gentle gratitude for home territory
nestles softly
inward
i listen to the clicks
of my scuffed cowboy boots
on acquainted yet somehow distant sidewalks
the echoes layering multiple impressions
glimmering with the utter beauty of this terrain
as I wander through the majestic rocky mountains
drinking in the quaking aspen's crimson edges
interfacing the evergreens
hushed whispers of autumn loftily rest
juxtaposed neatly against futures waiting to unfurl in the wind
an amalgamation of intimate sights and scents
dance in open wounds
dazzling
homesickness cured
a wholeness returned
as winter's crystal dawn blooms
i realize the depth of my growth
for in leaving here and returning
i cherish the west
my home
©2016 janetaylor
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 3:50 AM UTC
In these quiet spaces,
I become temporarily deaf
to the meaningless noises
that seek to define me.
In these quiet spaces,
my soul is nourished;
surrounded by silence,
my spirit soars upward.
In these quiet spaces,
my focus turns inward,
knowing that His Presence
is co-mingled with mine.
In these quiet spaces,
the renewing of my mind
occurs as my life, is…
humbled before Him.
In these quiet spaces,
His divine, sacred wind
envelops my frail essence
with indescribable peace.
In these quiet spaces,
consumed by His Presence,
I sense undeniable power
of God’s authentic Love.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Matt 6:1,6; Rom 12:1-2; Jam 4:8;
Heb 13:15-16; Psa 46:10; Phil 4:7
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
Such a rare sight,
In the dead of the night,
When all is resting and nesting,
pushing past all the testing,
is the one delicate flower,
not a plant revolved around power,
but more faithful strength,
embracing the renewing love
of its father.
This flower,
the rarest sight,
gave off one thing,
one small thing,
that meant the entirety of the world,
one
single
tear,
for it was made alive,
healed,
restored,
by the fathers caring,
tender love.
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 5:54 AM UTC
Is there another world for this frail dust
To warm with life and be itself again?
Something about me daily speaks there must,
And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?
’Tis nature’s prophesy that such will be,
And everything seems struggling to explain
The close sealed volume of its mystery.
Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace
As seeming anxious of eternity,
To meet that calm and find a resting place.
E’en the small violet feels a future power
And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,
And surely man is no inferior flower
To die unworthy of a second spring?
2.1k
I am a completely different person than I was seven years ago.
Physically, yes, because my cells have been dying
and renewing so much that
everything is gone and I am new.
Mitosis took care of that in the way that
everyone is a new collection of cells
every seven years.
But we're still the same collection of memories.
I am also different mentally.
I am not a simple eight year old anymore,
but what is a simple eight year old?
I want to be a stem cell,
blank and waiting for instructions.
Either I want to make my own decisions
and take control of my own life
or I can recognize that I don't know what I'm doing
and any control given to me will be lost.
I want to stay blank, ready to be programmed
and have a job
and a purpose.
But maybe I don't want to be a cell
and I want to be the collection.
Maybe I'll find my purpose.
Maybe I'll find my job.
I want these seven years to pass so I can be this
new human.
Maybe they will know what to do.
Am I the stem cell, hidden in the nasal cavity, or am I the human?
Am I really that different from my simple eight year old self?
Am I really different at all?
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
The Many Stages of Life.
Shakespeare wrote: that in Life,
we pass through seven,stages,
and for each stage, we fill many pages.
Recording details, joyful and sad:
of deeds done, be they good or bad.
Lifestyles led - be they short or long:
a mournful dirge or joyful song?
they’ll mark times of joy and strife
each book recording a stage in life.
But of all events therein, there’s no doubt,
The Rhythm of Life, runs throughout!
Herewith my attempt to describe poetically,
the Seven Phases, of life in metred rhyme:
A baby’s first cry, a Mother’s sigh,
a Father’s joy, be it girl or boy!
The Rhythm of Life - renewing.
Tho not adept, a toddler’s first step:
an excited giggle, a hesitant wiggle!
The Rhythm of Life - exploring.
A chilling dream: a piercing scream:
a splashing bath, a show of wrath!
The Rhythm of Life - revealing.
It’s off to school, playing it cool,
friendships made, twixt lad and maid,
The Rhythm of Life - inviting.
In the Class, shy looks pass:
Girl dates boy, flirting coy:
The Rhythm of Life - delighting.
Embarrassed flush: a girlish blush.
With proposal made, plans are laid,
The Rhythm of Life - maturing.
Lovers matched, a wedding hatched,
with banns said, the twosome wed.
The Rhythm of Life - inviting.
Twixt a couple paired, love is shared.
Next it’s three, maybe more to be?
The Rhythm of Life, expanding.
Heaven be praisedACA, the family’s raised,
then comes the desire, to retire.
The rhythm of Life, now slowing.
After happy years, and some tears,
walk grows slow, soon time to go.
The Rhythm of Life, is waning.
When The Reaper calls, the curtain falls:
being time to leave, some will grieve.
For The Rhythm of Life, has ended!
Rhymer. May 23rd, 2018.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 7:43 PM UTC
Snowfall
Whispers
In mountains high,
Promise renewing
In a healing sky.
How often we seek
Solace
In Forest deep;
We feel akin
To a world
That cannot help
But weep
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 6:25 PM UTC
My sleep is healing and renewing.
Slumbering contently,
I am wrapped, in peaceful comfort
and divine safety.
Every part of my being....
is rejuvenating and preparing me,
for the glorious,
new day.
Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 10:30 PM UTC
High above the Holy River Ganges
where the water flows like Brahman itself,
is an ancient cave, a place of sacred pilgrimage.
Entering silently, our small gathering
sat together, meditating here where the great
sage himself transcended in deep samadhi.
Wrapped in warm shawls, dhotis and saris,
eyes closed gently in the stony half-light.
Early hours had seen us awake, readying
for this auspicious day, and the sleepiness
of a little child began to overtake me.
With that same innocence, a childlike feeling,
I curled down into a woolen bundle, asleep
in the inner depths of that holy, dark place.
Sleep was sleep, and not sleep,
as awareness shone within me.
Limitless akasha unfolded inside me now,
and the ground where I rested expanded
into that same unbounded, cosmic space.
From far beneath the cool, damp earth,
a radiance travelled into my small frame.
Renewing energy suffused and blessed me.
Bowing in my heart, I touch the lotus feet
of Maharishi Vashistha. His darshan
shines on into our present day, and
throughout all of Ved Bhumi Bharat.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 12:16 PM UTC