"reoccur" poems
The eyes of tearful past
Gaze upward, past small faces
I watch him
He begins to rise himself
Off the coldhearted bench
Gazing through the distance
Thoughts reoccur in his fading mind
He lays back down
Roaming, helpless and scarred
He lost himself in fear, and that alone
Links of steal and agony
They fall beneath earth's eye
What's left alone to pity
Has nothing, than to die
Tears of saddened hearts,
They are, but a target
The world, they are the darts
Piercing happiness, in the eye
He grazes, in weathered grass
Throughout a darkened tranceless state
Left to gather thoughts
Expected sadness, on the contrary
He is dead to the world
What are you
Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 10:32 AM UTC
Muggy murky dawn clogged with gloom the abbey
Where his grampy sleeps ,
Through
the drizzles fizzle
As native orchids embosoms and blossoms in his lost vault.
like a curfew drawn in the church
The pew lost its crowd
With the paws of time.
Lone man sleep
In deep latin chants they petrify you
Before sheol purifies you
And litany literature lecture limbs you
When in overprotected embankments of battlements
They dry their garbs
Where your lore forayed growth
And sweat smeared smelt breathed wealth
Chagrin dreams washed ashore
lay as upon a cold mornings recollection on a tabloids sold column
which drew your freckles bolder
In a savour of remembrance
For your zealous zealots
Who on an another 'all souls day' reoccur revisiting
the truth of their establishment
in prayers
The good Lord adorn you
Let Lekker dreams cradle you
Your consorts concert never consume you
And earth never haunt you
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 1:47 AM UTC
I am a boomerang.
You throw me out into a blur,
of unanswered questions that reoccur.
No matter though, I turn around,
and come back to that unsteady ground.
I am the song you sang.
The one that got stuck in your head,
that you hummed softly as you went to bed.
From time to time though, forgot it,
the words would gradually lose their pitch.
I am that scarf you hang
The one so easily covered,
that suspended there amongst the others.
They cater to your separate needs,
since weather changes so drastically
from summer to winter or in-between.
I’m now an overhang
I see above everything,
and the waste of time it all did bring.
The cloud that loomed over my mind, (is gone)
can’t bring you back around this time.
I’ll no longer be the blood on your fangs,
I’ll no longer be your boomerang.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 11:05 AM UTC
You've made me forget why I was so guarded,
+ you have made me forget how it felt
to be broken-hearted.
You've helped me remember how it felt to love,
+ you have helped me remember how one can feel
on cloud 9 + above.
But you see,
that was then + this is now.
Now everything is switched;
now everything is but a memory.
Your memories . . .
They're like toxic drugs:
they give me hallucinations of comfort + joy,
but they really hurt me, much more
than I already was.
Yet,
I choose to relive them in my head.
Your hugs. Your words. Your smile. Your scent.
Just please.
Please, make me forget you.
I do not want to remember.
I will not allow you to stay in me.
You made me remember what you made me forget
+ I did not see that coming.
My stupidity is no excuse.
You told everyone we were only "friends,"
so I suppose this is where that
"friendship," must end.
Because you're nothing.
Like a burnt-out flame or a forgotten memory.
You're nothing except history
that unfortunately had to repeat itself
for a reason I cannot explain.
But more importantly:
you're nothing to me.
Everyone knows history must happen
for us to learn
from the mistakes
from the past
so they will not reoccur.
But what you must understand is
this passage has happened to me
too many times + I'm afraid
I will never learn from my mistakes.
The only way out of this is to burn
the history book
or myself.
Which is easier?
I have not decided.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
They flurry fashion clad around him,
Bashed and bumped he is upon his knees,
Nought but an obstacle to their purpose,
Just mechanised utilitarian’s ****** into abstraction.
The mishap stagger jounces loose a depth,
A profundity in a shallow weakened him,
His hollow cavern caves into consciousness,
To behold thumping polychrome dances of light.
The wash of sludge slinks down his hands,
In the puddle on the mid of his legs he gapes,
It is a fall of falls to end his deaden tumble,
As he stands he knows not what next to do.
He had death marched his life to a timber box,
Crafted career, projected home for expected wife and child,
He weighs an unlike life of who knows what,
Just not this one where he supposed he was alive.
Wind begs for his tie and so he lets it free,
Looks to the looming tower block prison,
Through the militia of totalitarian drones,
He runs and he runs and he runs.
Through the bustling paves he is a sketched dash,
It is the most paramount of hurries he’d ever began,
His heart flourished as he saw not where he was going,
Knowing only that he would not ever reoccur.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 10:01 PM UTC
Did I tell you how I prayed
on knees before the morning came
and listened to by bells that rang in mighty decibels
and fell to crush and stay my uttered syllables.
Where in the singing of the psalms did blood appear to flow from palms
and calm this torture
played out as a platform game on X box three or was it me
who could not grasp the significance
of an abeyance I would deign make
what if fakery was the order of the day and would then the bells ring out to say in sixteen chimes or as many times as I could bear
Would the lines that led to crucifixion day be written any other way?
Did those legionnaires despair
or on the darkened unlit stairs did they rejoice at choices made?
And we fade as thus we shine and in another time we'll do it,did it been there and bit by bit we bid this happening to reoccur
so we the unfit,unloved,unwashed,unholy,outcast ones can join in and share
the melancholy felt by those the ones who knelt before the cross
in the loss of things
or in the losing and the grief it brings another lonely bell rings out
with heartfelt pleas and once again I'm on my knees
and giving thanks for these the moments when the light has flashed
and bells have crashed to smother me with talk of other times
the chimes
the chimes
and would there ever be the time to hear them all before the call was sent
Did I not rend the air with blasphemy and would he see the truth behind the curses that I spat into the gutters
when in utter abject poverty
blinded by those who could only see
the misery and not the man?
I wonder if that was in his plan to make the beggars saints and vice versa
or could it have ever been the plan to make a man who felt so bad
that man who knelt would go quite mad
and wrap into a bundle tight
to trundle off with head down in the night.
I kneel before the altar
altered irrevocably
I don't need to see what others see
I now see me in my many faults
for I have walked and talked deep within the vaults of introspection
and selected only those the pieces suitable for my inspections of my soul
and now the hole there was is filled
and stilled the raging mind
and stilled the storm and tempest
instilling what is best and disregarding all the rest
I go to take my rest
and am at peace.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 1:55 AM UTC
There were still little words grated in the brush, ourself riding around, a great black horse,
the eyeliner, and an iris forest escapes. I am the flowering fire, a sunset westcoast in the twinkling
airwaves, or radiowaves, and so we can breathe the literal mass of wind. The green carressed and
aerially blessed, deepness and depth; what is truly grey.
The powerlines stretch hungrily for days, we see the purple glow and thus it exists-- we graze like
ghosts or bugs and try to find the blessed. We wind up and clear the smoke, and blindness is only
black until death peers through, and calls the bird call, a shrilling through the spiritual silence.
I can see you on maps, you reoccur the same, giant and all. You are the same story and dwell
in roles through my brain.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
Leave me like past eventide
and reoccur like morningtide
so that I can rest in the faith
of seeing you one more time.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 3:10 AM UTC
It stopped.
Your mahogany façade now encases
more than the minute intricacies of time,
preserving something besides stale,
wooden air. Abiding now is an essence,
a moment,
an instant that will never
ever, reoccur.
What ghostly hand grasped your swinging
metal heart? Oh towering vision.
The cogs that are inside us continue
but you are dead. For now.
Frozen at 11:09 last Tuesday.
©Thomas Gabriel
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 10:41 PM UTC
You were like a dream.
Magical,
Brief,
And too good to be true.
And just like the best of dreams,
They can never reoccur.
So I'll shove you out of my heart,
At least the best I can.
Because just like good dreams, you think about the best ones every now and then.
Always knowing they're too good to be true, and actually exist.
They're theories of a perfect world. Making you ache at reality.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
Salty eyes,
Eyes filled with salty water,
If only they were happy salty drops,
But not,
These salty drops reoccur,
Every night,
Salty drops filled with stories,
Meanings and hurt,
These salty drops for attention?
But yet forces the salty drops to fall alone,
In dark, quiet rooms,
Tucked so close to fabric,
That the salty drops just roll off,
And soak themselves into pillows,
Blankets and teddies,
Why?
I ask myself, can't I stop?
With these sad thoughts,
Keeping me so low and ruined,
But then how?
Who? When? And why?
Share these thoughts?
Others will comfort for limited time,
Before they remain the reason why,
I cry.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
Since I didnt choose it,
I cant change it.
But there something bothering me today.
When things happen,reoccur,shape and
demobilize on a special day around you,
do you feel like changing the day?
And if you can change the day,
it will be something like you have
changed your birthday!!!
How does it matter anyway,
its all the same day right?
but then, why birthdays are so
special to us unlike the other days??
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 3:09 AM UTC
I look at the pictures
Wishing I was with her
It shows me of what we are
I can hardly wait for our reunion to reoccur.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
It was raining, thats all I knew,
I was heading home to see my baby boo.
It was stroming as I walked up the drive,
Thats when I saw her and another man begining to look alive.
I stopped and began to smoke,
It hurt so much I began to choke.
They decided to go out for the night,
I headed toward them, maybe she would see me and we would reunite.
It was a mistake,
Him and I began to fight, I was as swift as a snake.
When other guy was down, I went to claime my prize,
When I faced her there was only fear laying within her deep blue eyes.
I ran off in a rage, feeling hurt and sick,
She helped the other guy walk as he leaned on a wall made of brick.
I ran into an alley and broke down,
The rain becoming an overwelming sound.
The other guy went to search for me,
He rounded a corner and saw me, his face went grim.
I faced the other guy, and was suddenly slapped,
The snake was now trapped.
The other guy beat me senseless,
He didnt know that her and I shared a connection, and that he was hitting her aswell.. she was defenceless.
I thought of her,
All the memories of her and I began to reoccur.
The other guy kicked me once more,
He then walked away and didn't care anymore.
I lay there short of breath, the rain feeling as cold as death,
That was when I took my last breath.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
is this a fad,
or newfound freedom?
passions pass
and reoccur (occasionally).
but this seems solid,
something to heave in the heart
and sit as a warm stone in the stomach.
hope this owl sticks around. his feather pattern still relatively unknown.
hope he remains on his perch
until i, too, can fly.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 1:47 PM UTC
The words from the paper jumped off and took a hold,
squeezin' at my heart, and snatched up my soul,
the content took me by such a surprise,
numb, is now what i feel as i just watch the moon rise,
trying to grasp my own thoughts, swirling in my mind,
the words written, and the cold feels deadly, combined,
contemplation, followed by some aggravation,
and the determination, to not let it happen,
now with all the pressure, my heart is misshapen,
as I stare at the icy waters below,
and feel the arctic chill of the snow,
sparkling around me and the mountains across the bay,
I'm still trying to comprehend, why you chose to speak on paper, and why to me, you could not say,
I will get through, cause I always seem to,
but may need some help to raise my temperature, to change my flesh back from blue,
with the start of it at my fingertips, the cut caused by the ice of your words,
not the page itself, and the way i'm feeling at the moment i wish would never reoccur,
so i let you and your pages go and reclaim my soul,
I'm okay that you let me go,
just didn't agree with the form, that you let me know.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
Two thousand graves all in narrow rows
Which one is my dad's? God only knows
Who is buried where, no one could be sure
Please tell me mummy why dad went to war
My poor dad was flown out early one morn
Mum was pregnant, I still hadn't been born
Wasn't long, he looked down the barrel of a gun
Dead at twenty two and never got to see his son
Ambushed they were, certainly never had a chance
Had absolutely no warning as the enemy advanced
Machine guns, grenades, cannons and lots of mortar
Just before dawn, it was like lambs to the slaughter
Two thousand died that day, mostly young men
Sure hope our country never suffers like that again
Lonely women at home pregnant or with a small kid
Such a tragedy should never reoccur, heaven forbid
Today is dad's thirtieth birthday and we shed a tear
Should be with me and mum celebrating with a beer
Why must they fight, do countries have to go to war
Not just me without a dad but many thousands more
Only a kid and I'm walking around the cemetery in a trance
Can't all the world leaders just try and give peace a chance
War has made me lonely and my dear old mum is a mess
Trying to find dad's grave but sadly she'll need to guess
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
When you emptied yourself inside because things outside made you cried.
When your sacred self startled shattered to stutter without flutter.
When no one hear this mumble yet fumble and tumbled to hear me as troubled, but why instead themselves wanting to become more humble.
Who is everyone that added anything and everything to my voice; screaming stopped, yet heartbeat ignition, and grumbling papers with and without written symbolism.
I needed you to be here with the gem of treasure and filled with muse of your soothe and yet I waited to hear your amused with joy and listened to this delighted sadness of how really isn’t something to be amused or nor abused.
Wanting to wait for the return of the u-turns, so I became emblems of I said I’m sorry but it was actually an reoccur of it not being the chance to say that was my own turn.
Tears, aches, and screams didn’t swivel, its shriveled.
Yet, the eyes of the stars dreamt of awakening beaming bright, and if so it's beneath dimming the lower lights.
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 8:54 PM UTC
Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of love,
of time, of hope, of faith, of promise, and the beauties
of my yesterdays...
Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of grace,
of joy, of peace, of forgiveness, and the dreams of
my former slumbers...
Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of you,
of when we once loved, of our youth, and the desire
of a forever...
Of us; in the seasons of summer. The warmth of knowing
your bright smile. Of the spring; in the skips of steps towards
a future.
Do any of which; ever reoccur as like memories... Or are we
just moments; soon to be forgotten..
_Will I reoccur in those memories..._
Apr 3, 2022
Apr 3, 2022 at 8:26 AM UTC
expected it sooner
we are all made of clay
chaff,dust
too ***** to be clean
I swallowed all guile
hoping for good
held on to shadows
until this day
my eyes flew open
I stagger to stand
it won't reoccur
but I'm too weak to know
expected it sooner
my tears won't flow
not even for joy
that moment happened
I took my stand
the verdict so true
I guess you'll doubt
so sorry but its true
the little girl has grown
now words can't reform
I'm sorry but its true
I left fear behind
at home with the maid
now bye to you I say
anything holding me is gone
swept,crushed in anger and gone
i'm finally free
free to fly, to soar
I knew all this since dawn
but will this really last...
i'm clay and I remember
can I bear his piercing gaze?
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC
expected it sooner
we are all made of clay
chaff,dust
too ***** to be clean
I swallowed all guile
hoping for good
held on to shadows
until this day
my eyes flew open
I stagger to stand
it won't reoccur
but I'm too weak to know
expected it sooner
my tears won't flow
not even for joy
that moment happened
I took my stand
the verdict so true
I guess you'll doubt
so sorry but its true
the little girl has grown
now word can't reform
I'm sorry but its true
I left fear behind
at home with the maid
now bye to you I say
anything holding me is gone
swept,crushed in anger and gone
i'm finally free
free to fly, to soar
I knew all this since dawn
but will this really last...
i'm clay and I remember
can I bear his piercing gaze?
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
The poets hour
Where thoughts reoccur
When sins are committed
Memories run wild
Regrets break your smile..
When wanting feels like needing
And all the broken hearts are bleeding.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 5:23 AM UTC