"replenish" poems
And your soul will be replenished
once you're showered with
what you crave
and yearn for the most
Your roots spread
and dig
and grow
You'll spurt into the tall blades
into the night sky, even
Your curled petals
will open to this world
What do you need?
Your stretched petals will tell you
And so will the sun,
the great source in the sky
Grow and grow through the garden
The garden is your home
to rest
to replenish
You need a home
You need others akin to a home
Flowers need love
And love you shall receive, child.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
darling girl,
why do you cry yourself to sleep every night
praying for someone
to come along and give you love,
to stay up with you till three in the morning
and listen attentively
as you list off all of your
passions, worries, burdens
to be envious of your attention
to kiss your forehead
and hold you without judgement
to be there for you
when you feel alone
to assure you everything will be okay
and remind you
that every sunrise and crashing wave
is a chance to make things right
when I’m right here
waiting for you with open arms,
ready to replenish
every empty space in your heart
because although you’re imperfect
and you hate the way
your front tooth is slightly crooked
I see you perfectly
darling girl,
why haven’t you opened your eyes to realize
that I’ve been here for you
all along
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 12:48 PM UTC
is like no other early morning, man reborn, in the delivery
room of sky blue, the offsetting water deeper bluish hue,
the trim-all-around of the mixed salad greens of the staff's
scrubs as they usher in unity, with no imp-unity, the risks,
while the supervisory sky, disperses cumulus clouds in
peppercorn patterns of white chains, or big wide solitary
brushstrokes on a a ****** canvas, gettin' the feel in the
palm of the heft of brush, the viscosity of the paint, the day's
palette reflecting available colors in order to create a uni~cued
original of what has been painted an uncountable times before,
and before…
tho short weighted, was the sleep of the prior night's restful,
he awakes to the early morning light, the sounds of early
island rouse him, even, arouse him, for the August chill
foretells of the early onset of memory loss of the peculiarities
of this summered simmering, human warming and baking
and natural braking of the slowing of the heart rate, to better
accommodate, nature's hints and hidden reminiscences
of the true purpose of the summer's intervention upon our
collective and unique bottling, our individualized containers,
un~lidded, uncovered, eager for the fuel of sunrays replenish-
ing the length of our lives by the elixir of the summer
it is a chill 63 Fahrenheit at this time of day as we crossover
to the nigh day, from the cooling air conditions of dark,
the occasional helicopter intrudes upon the morning's calm,
the water placid, the geese honking regarding my watchful
rewarding presence, a slew, a bevy, of female vocalists, to
ease this transitory performance unfolding, and though one
feels the existential of his solitary singularity, as he thinks,
nay believes, he is the only one in attendance at this ritualized
emergence, he takes in the cool of, the heat of, the admixture
of both, the clashing integers of each, and he, fully invigorated,
goes silent, for once more, he has uncovered new combinations of
old words to accept and describe a new day's creation, miracle of miraculous, defying the odds of this ventures's success, his own continuance on this sheltered but open all around island implanted tween two tines of land, as if all the surroundings were created just to protect this, wholly holy place…
7:00am
Silver Beach
Shelter Island
Aug 19 2025
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 8:00 AM UTC
My heart bleeds tears
So yours doesn't have to.
It opens right up to every piece of joy
and sadness and injustice and inspiration.
Gushing tears....flood waters for the dramatic.
No use in trying to hold them back.
They burst all barriers and reinforcements.
My heart beats pain....thump thump...thump thump
Louder now. THUMP THUMP....THUMP THUMP
Innocent children destroyed in all corners of society.
Pump. Pump. Pump.
Poisoned by our own government with lies
Imprinted at a young age and we believed them. For a while.
Pump. Pump. Pump.
An aorta so large that tears mainline my existence.
It bleeds for you, your children, me, my children, our animals, our planet.
Some days it stops all together in a moment of silence for the ethereal
shedding their tears as rain on us all.
No tourniquet could stop the strength of my pulsing heart
My forceful, stubborn tears.
As I bleed out
these tears nourish
the ugliness around my shell.
Souls who are born with a heart like mine
encase an ***** strong enough to hold, release and replenish
tears of pain and joy over and over again.
It allows us to not just see beauty but breathe it.
It allows us to feel love so intensely
that our teary reservoirs are life forces beating Universally.
My heart bleeds tears so yours doesn't have to.
Apply pressure with an embrace or your own beaming light so my heart beats in unison with yours.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
i cannot explain the flames that lick your eyelashes,
bright eyes.
and i adore that you're not as passive as i am.
and that your heart isn't as big.
there's less space to break
and more room for the fresh air of the world to fill your lungs
besides, hearts are wild animals
and that's why we need ribcages
but you, you're a creature of kindle.
and i get the feeling you know how warm you are.
i do.
if a river like me ran all around the world, do you think i'd get golden slumber, or just bronze sleep?
would i be famous, or just used, with more and more boats put on me?
i wouldn't shiver in Siberia, with you
i would replenish the deserts, with you.
but without you, i have no reflection.
what is a river with no sunrise, but a river?
what is a sunrise, with no river?
still so beautiful.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
Have you heard the story of The Five Elements?
There was Water to replenish the Earth, quenching his thirst.
Fire was jealous, so he had to burn Earth, and this only dried Water up.
Wind had no interest in sides, and he played with Fire's flames, causing them to grow. He made ripples in Water, causing her to come back with waves.
With Water's waves, she put Fire out. Fire and Water are always fussing, like an old married couple.
Wind enjoyed messing with Earth, as well, blowing stuff around and destroying rock - although that took some time.
Earth did not mind any of them. Water gave him life, and also helped him start anew with floods.
Fire also helped Earth, by ridding of the dead and helping the living start over. Wind also helped Earth.
Wind helped spread DNA and helped things begin life.
Spirit had no place where the others were concerned. She was wiser than them all, but she could not destroy, like Fire, Water, and Wind.
She did not hold them all together like Earth. She could not quench thirst like Water, and she could not help start populations like Wind, nor could she rid of the dead like Fire.
Though, Spirit is what helps them keep going. She is the animals, the insects, the plants.
She's the soul and everything of the like.
Without Spirit, Earth would be barren.
Yes, the other Elements would still exist, but there would be no point.
No one is better than another. No, they hold each other together.
Fire may love Water and Water may love Fire.
Earth and Spirit are the eldest and have been around the longest; their love is the strongest.
Wind is not a child, but he has the will of one. Nothing can tie him down.
Their family is not perfect, but there would be nothing without them.
This is the story of the Five Elements.
Alone, they are nothing.
Together, they are stronger.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
Not many things are as satisfying
As peeing when you're drunk.
What a rush.
I always realize how lightheaded I am
And that makes me laugh.
Then it's back to the kitchen to replenish
My body's alcohol supply.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Sequestered stream flows tranquil
It’s journey from an unknown origin
Traveling through varied landscapes
Carrying stories from lands afar
Listen to faint murmur with keen ears
Narrates the stories from its chronicle
You, an unknown traveler, alone
Waiting by its side to drink from the stream
To quench the thirst that’s within
The contradictions and distractions
Casualties of the unrelenting world
Finally, your steps have led to this stream
It flows, in spite of the challenges
Cuts through every hurdle with resolve
The messenger carries stories and life
Breathing life with its tranquil presence
Drink from the stream, replenish your resolve
Think not of the hurdles and distractions
You are to flow through this life
Carrying the anecdotes and memories
Be like the stream, and rejuvenate every life
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
Hoping, dreaming,
Wishing, praying,
Fasting, petitioning,
Crying, weeping.
A hundred days,
Bygone.
Hoping we could once more see your face,
As impossible as it sounds,
Dreaming, that someone, somewhere, some place,
Finally finds you, and that you're at last home bound.
A hundred days,
Of excruciating pain.
Wishing against the logic of the world,
That you're still fine, and you'll fall into my arms once again,
Praying to God, gods, goddesses, deities of the world,
That even if you're not lost forever, you're still okay, not in pain.
A hundred days,
Of sleeplessness.
Fasting, maybe not because we believe it'll help,
But food does not replenish anymore,
Petitioning to the saints above,
To ask the angels to hold you, forevermore.
A hundred days,
Of yearning.
Crying for that solace only closure brings,
That somehow its not a conspiracy and that the truth is revealed.
Weeping for every single person, every heartbroken family,
Who's dreams and aspirations lay now buried, concealed.
A hundred days,
Of timeless sadness.
They say time heals,
The say it will get better,
But nothing can better what we feel,
Not even time.
A hundred days,
Without conclusion.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
I'm an escapist
Who indulge in escapism
But no matter how far I run
My demons, they take chase.
Into the waters I hid
Drowned by the sound of water pouring
Yet they came to me
In forms of crimson red
Dripping as I slipped.
So I went up high
Onto the mountain top
But they followed me up
And made me want to fall.
I couldn't bear it longer
I dived deep into books
Hoping words would bore them
As they so oftenly do to plenty.
It worked for a brief moment
But they found the tiniest hole in my head
During rests
They race into me.
It seems like no matter where I go
Or what I do
I can never shed them off.
All I ever wanted
Was to **** them all.
But they seem to replenish twice the number
Of the minute I've removed.
I don't know what to do anymore
Escaping no longer work.
**I am an escapist
Trying to escape escapism.**
(c.c)
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
And I sat on the shore
Watching the families
The mothers greatness and deep love
Fathers fountains of knowledge and abundance of affection
And I wondered
What if I'd have been chosen
To be a mother
To care for a child
My child
A million times more than I'd ever cared for myself
What if the mountains had realised that I too was strong enough of heart
Brave enough of soul
Overflowing with courage of the ocean
Capable to create a bond
Never to be broken
What if I'd been gifted a child
A moment so precious, tender
Instead of the loss
Empty womb
Dark spaces
Always checking
what I may have forgotten
something missing
Never awoken
I've learnt to catch the water from my eyes
and replenish the sea
Strong tears are needed
For the heart to be free
Never knowing is destruction
Always wondering is pain
Emptiness is darkness
But I've learnt to smile
In these moments of rain
Jul 1, 2021
Jul 1, 2021 at 12:56 PM UTC
i cry after i *** now
and when i smell make up wipes
or look through your likes
someone tried to give me
advice
the other day
they said
i should find a new hobby
something that i didn’t do before
or during you
so i started planting flowers
and i find it very interesting to watch them grow
i sit outside and cry next to the ones that don’t
i bury fallen petals into soil
to decompose and seep
into the roots to replenish others
i find myself posting their colors
and their growth
online
for everyone to see
including you
i always check if you’ve seen
i guess that defeats the purpose of my hobby
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 7:50 AM UTC
Hourglass cage holding me like a love,
Hold me closer, tell me of forever.
Sing to me of time, not my lack thereof,
Just lie to me with soft lips so clever.
The sands sub sole sink as the skies expand,
Stretching higher and higher as I shrink.
People are slipping through my open hands.
My tears are now sands that run when I blink --
They replenish but cannot save the past
Slipping away like my grip on the glass.
Each grain like a timer I can't outlast,
I place all my faith in falling morass.
Grasping memories, hands, hourglass walls,
I hang above the darkness like a doll...
'til I simply fall.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
It started with Guitar.
It ended with Snarky comment.
Guitar hit Song.
Song hit Smile.
Smile hit Happiness in a time of sadness.
Happiness hit Laughter and Laughter couldn't help but tip too fast.
Laughter hit Feelings.
Feelings hit Observation.
Observation hit Friendship, but more like Crush.
Crush hit Heart.
Heart hit Words.
Words shook a bit, but hit Send anyway.
Send hit Waiting, but Waiting brought Maybe.
But Maybe wasn't stacked right.
Maybe never fell.
But the other ones did.
The ones that didn't spell your name, but his.
Love hit Replenish.
Replenish hit Happiness.
Happiness hit Life with my true love.
Your name just lingered there, Maybe still standing.
But then Maybe toppled.
Maybe hit Conversation.
Conversation hit Doubt.
Doubt hit Curiosity.
Curiosity hit Coincidence and Coincidence was just too big to miss.
But that was the last part. Coincidence.
Because his name was prettier, nicer, and actually said yes.
But Coincidence just kept begging. Coincidence decided to get there anyway.
Coincidence pushed Alcohol and Alcohol tapped Texting on the shoulder.
Texting plummeted into Conversation.
Conversation hit Argument.
Argument hit Apology, but instead of Apology hitting Acceptance, it hit Snarky comment.
And that hit Resentment and a bit of Anger too.
Started with Guitar.
Ended with Snarky comment.
A Domino Effect into Catastrophe that I think about everyday.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
Yeah it's one shot one ****
Plottin' against my enemies will soon to be killed
Bullets feedin' ya last meal
Dope rhymes sedatin' like pharmacy pills
Since hataz got no chill heads I'll drill now you leakin' out like oil spills
Or a radiator angelic caters none could create a
Flows nasty as mine poppin' a multiplicity of shells I'm one of a kind
Thoughts intertwined
****** into a demons intervention contenders in suspension from the soul lynching
Caught in the realms of heaven and hell & you can smell
The ashes burning fermentin'
time runnin' slower than molasses
My murders be classic enemies dramatic causin' static
Shoot more than Bird combined with Magic
Workin' my Johnson on the tracks tonsils sittin' as a hip hop consul underground magul
**** longer than Repunzels hair follicles
Cookin' up sigils into a *** of gold no rainbow snortin' sir nose
D'void of Funk rattlin' the earth from the bass in my trunk blazin' skunks
Abraxas I'm embracin' one of my goetias when facin' ain't no replacin'
Fools givin' chase
and to tastes of demonic faces
My flows replenish like **** laces
Blunts turn into ashes dump it out on the masses
Epidemic mase deaden your pace hazardous like toxic waste
Adversaries don't wanna face
Off like Nicolas to Travolta livin' in an ultra violent culture
Cleatin' into ya flesh I be the stalkin' Vulture mulchin' ya
'til ya
A dissembled particle blank photo in the article from curvin' emcees with my surgical
lyrical sickle stare into ya eyes as the blood trickles
Down ya body you easily brickled rhymes artificial
My soul sour as a pickle no tickles
Could move me or influence thee my legacy
Lay cinematography like A. Hitchcock in the 50s huh
Ya soon to be a death reel for thrills
Rememeber
All I need is one shot one **** forreal!!!!
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC
There are so many shadows on the planet.
The ones of the living, bodiless, moving along, appreciating the complicated road the humans are taking to enjoy each beat of their heart. But then there are others.
Shadows inside of those who live.
Hiding beneath the flesh lies an empty carcass of what used to be the poem of a life yet to be lived. Hiding beneath lies a ruined soul waiting to be picked up by death. You do not always recognize those who have died inside. They know how to put up a front, but… the inside is rotten and empty and sad and destroyed and I wonder how you can possibly live a life like that.
The real question, though… is how that happens? How do you die inside? Does it happen all at once?
Someone tells you they do not love you anymore, and everything goes through you, your heart, your soul, your happiness, everything vital just crushes down and breaks all over the floor in an invisible flood of despair that swallows your entire being?
Or is it done slowly, almost imperceptibly? You go through the motions, you smile and laugh, but somehow, the laugh empties itself out, as if, suddenly, you only had one reserve that would never replenish. The reserve runs out and the laugh is empty. The smile faints into a neutral expression, and then it's gone, too. The rest follows the same path. After a while, every gesture, every word, every look is empty. But the change is so subtle, almost natural. And no one notices. And you are the last one to leave. Your body is a shadow and you are gone.
"As good as dead".
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:13 AM UTC
A lone wolf searches for Innocent victims just to replenish One's inner world that one lived it For a long,long time ... Hatred never builds glories Simply because it means only that Huge collapse of one's morality anytime and It fuels others' anger for those bad things That come out of that ugly hatred anytime ....
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
Once, they rode strong on the plains
Before conquistadors bent their will.
Strained their backs, cracked their whips
Made them wear strange hides and speak strange tongues.
Refrain:
But when the time is right
To turn the tide
But not without great loss
To turn the tide!
Part II:
Come again, oh strong one
Strengthen your will, stand tall
Remember the Lost Ones and the glory!
Restore freedom in your heart
Replenish well your table, love the earth
Ride free again and tell your story!
Pick up your arrow, shoot it straight (x2)
Forced to swallow all the shame
And leave dying ashes and broken pearls
So once, they rode strong on the plains
But now, there's dying ashes and broken pearls
Broken pearls
Broken pearls.....
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
*“If people bring so much courage
to this world the world has to ****
them to break them, so of course
it kills them. The world breaks every
one and afterward many are*
strong at the broken places."
A Farewell to Arms,
Ernest Hemingway
<>
struggling with so much,
then this scripture of writing sent
by some unfamiliar, a providential
provider; and I am realized, this man
is broken in ways you have no idea,
can~not comp~re~hend
understanding floods, healing
required, for I too have been killed,
my trust and beliefs, trashed,
too many fools who think that
moral equivalence is a thing,
that the unspeakable is justified,
hatred makes me so broke so low,
how,
justification is not justice,
nor an excuse to do whatever
cross the street, and believe,
that drivers will honor a red,
a stop sign, but plenty think
this don’t apply to me, not me
getting on the back of a line
is for fools, people who cannot answer
the arrogant question of the insistent
“Do You Know Who I am?”
I know who I am, yet the ponderance
of evidence says that is not enough,
I
am insufficient,
I am less
than human,
I am
undeserving,
because of my
ancestry
And I will spare you the precise definitions of these statements,
for it should be unnecessary, you should be nodding in agreement, clear eyed understanding, intuitive, in your own broken bones felt!
But,
my bones are broken, and the healing needs a source, a “see here”
directive, explain me how my insane madness is not a proper
responsa to the
weight of hate
my eyes see, seen,
and that my own
eyes
are not lying,
but believed.
but intuitively understood
that my broken bones can be
healed, each in their own way,
so I will retire, perhaps return
when, even if not fully recovered,
sufficient to care enough,
ready to be rebroken, again,
for this! this! is my
true poetic ancestry
thousands of years have not broken us,
and never will, for it is not fear that will
prevent our resurrection, for we immunized,
for what unimaginable have we not known, and yet recovered,
this,
I believe,
my healing will be quiet, solitary, removed
from the distractive noises of invective infecting,
but I will be present,
for my children, and my children’s children will
look to this ancestor and learn that his blood
and bones deeds them the self-healing properties
that always has and always will defeat those
who seek to destroy your future
1) the DNA of your ancestry
inherited inherent in your bone marrow
and bone tissue is continuously remodeled
through the concerted actions of bone marrow cells
2) Stem cells in your red bone marrow
(hematopoietic stem cells) create red and
white blood cells and platelets, all of which
are components of your whole blood.
so here is our truth:
when,
***The world breaks every
one and afterward many are
strong at the broken places!***
our whole blood will replenish us
Nov 17, 2023
Nov 17, 2023 at 10:09 AM UTC
*Waters fall, angels weep
What makes them cry
Is it the sadness for us
For every mistake we make
Or is it the happiness
Of our accomplishments
Drip drop, one by one
The harder they fall
The less of misery
Replenish, renew
Drink as you may
For the angels above
Gave us this in repay*
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 12:56 AM UTC
Under the blanket of slanted waters, streaming down,
Behind the silver linings of the distant thunderclouds
The eternal sun lies suffocating, sheathed by the storm.
The rain smears the gray heavens. The world
Drowns behind the endless battery of the downpour.
Each trickle, each moment, quickly falling. Fading
Into the cesspool of dirt and debris. The pit
Of emotions and forgotten truths, washed away.
The leaves twist and turn at every droplet's touch
Crying out in soft thuds on the heavy roofs above.
Like the tin roofs and the sun and the heavens
And like the leaves and the dirt and debris
I gently whisper my pleas to the deluge:
*Rain.
Purge me.
Douse the embers
of false passion and ire.
Absolve me.
Cleanse this melancholy.
Ease these memories.
Purify me.
Rinse away the guilt.
Sink these doubts.
Restore me.
Clarify my vision.
Refine my thoughts.
Heal me.
Replenish my soul.
Bring about forgiveness.
Rain.
Revitalize my roots.
Soothe my mind.
Soak my bones.
Calm my spirit.
With your perennial blessings,
Bathe me in your sacred waters
So that peace
May finally find me.*
Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 12:35 AM UTC
I sought love.
Drinking from the cup of your hand.
I learned to replenish which you pour.
I made sure your hands were always full.
Continuing to hold what you've poured into life.
My life.
Finding a language stirred to life.
To confess what's on our mind.
It takes a steady hand to fill the gap of what's missing.
Your hand to my lips.
An ideal devotion to being our natural self.
Finding ourselves half full.
Our thirst softening the more we pour
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 8:00 AM UTC
I'm scared, said the earth to the moon,
I think I'm going to die very soon.
There's a constant haze in my blue sky
And that's what happens before you die.
The air has become so stale
That it's difficult to inhale.
The pollution makes it heavy and thick
And I'm beginning to feel quite sick.
They're razing the forests, hundreds a day,
And the rivers and seas are full of decay.
How can they expect their children to endure
When they've sentenced me to a death so premature.
Suffocation is imminent, I'm afraid,
The oxygen supply is going to fade
Without the trees to replenish the air.
My demise is certain, does no one care?
How sad. Never again to feel the breeze,
Or watch the rain, or touch the cool seas,
Or smell a flower, or welcome a new spring,
Or see a green field, or hear a human being.
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 10:53 PM UTC
*Let your heart drown in tears
To cleanse away the wound
From it shall spring eternal fountain
Of inspirations, to open your heart
To Love, Hope, and inspiration
Muses will come to drink from it
And poetry shall flow through you
Every particle of you enamored
By the sweet water, flows eternally
Replenish the soul and turn the tide
To delve deeper in to self-belief
And, embrace knowledge to fight a stormy world
Poetry is the panacea for a recuperating soul
For there is the eternal fountain to drink from*
© Amitav (Radiance)
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC