"retake" poems
I made a mistake
Will you accept a retake?
Even if you don’t
Love you I will
Even if you don’t
Time will stand still
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Whispered body types
replayed melted melodies
Do you feel the jive above your head?
Stick, stick our toes
Where was that porcelain face in that cup, so bitter?
Trick them with polished giggles,
I know you.
Little, Insignificant, give me your
bones to crush and huff.
Forgive me. Not.
Candid rush of paint
retake, retake, retake.
That girl should have been a
reindeer, she's road ****
We are soft grunge.
Play it by fear.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
1, for the slumber that tumbles us round,
2, for the remedy, the musics bold sound.
3, for the tree that became your canoe
& 4 for the rain, it's ambiguous blue.
5, to escape, to a world we contrive,
6 for the tricks that I played to survive.
7, because heaven, is supposedly on earth,
& 8 for my mother, and her unknown worth.
9 for the failures, the faults & mistakes,
10 for the fears that keep us awake.
11, for my father, consoles me each night, whispers advice crystal clear, filled with insight- words on courage & kindness, love & delight.
12- when you wake but it's already night.
13 forever, with strength glory and might,
14 with wisdom, discretion, insight-
both numbers together sizing up every fight.
15, for my little sister, and all her turmoil,
15, for her spirit, the last one to spoil,
she and the world but water and oil,
15 for her soul, and like the mighty cobra it's coil,
deadly & graceful defends its home soil.
16 for the evil- the wicked & cruel, the endless hate they spin into fuel.
17, for reason, justice & art,
and all the other virtues life etched on my heart,
18, to redeem, to admit your mistake, to truly move on then perhaps to retake.
19 for that shame, always the same, so familiar it almost comforts my brain. 19, for the suffering, agony & betrayal.
19 true stories retold as mere tales- how they surpass logic and induce other's fails.
20. For my years. For the moment, for now. For to the past I salute, and to the future I bow; All with the hope that next year I'll know how
to do what everyone else can.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
It’s that time of the year,
To sit down, and to reflect.
I’m doing what I can,
But the pieces won’t connect.
Thoughts that were in my head,
Left alone for much too long.
Unwritten, unexpressed,
They rotted before I can write this song.
I should have written them down,
Captured those precious moments.
Because I can no longer feel them,
As though they faded in seconds.
How can I make reflections,
When I don’t know what occurred?
When I don’t know how I felt,
When my memories are blurred?
I want to relive those moments,
Retake the year’s journey.
To put together the lost pieces.
Lest they be left behind, those memories.
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
give the girl a cupcake
she wants a retake
smooth over all her mistakes
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 10:27 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, colors are the reason we're alive---at least for me;>
purple purple
in my mind forced hurdled
been scraped on my timeline
been worn on my curves fine
yes the archer in the water associated
stupid but for the imagination to retake it
on those eyes that looked into my defenses
affection in the caresses
of my defined tenses
rather than that of the skies illuminated on beach
or hairs on backs so hard to bleach
now I see clearly
nothing but the signs that come freely
butterflies that I hate secret narrows
walls already painted threatening arrows
already loving for them hollows
-------ravenfeels
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 5:15 PM UTC
long hair long johns of sad happy
clear fog is the dog god doggone dog
kind of you to kind of listen
kindling burns like Hong Kong midnight brightlights
whose birthright, or birthwrong
down-under daggers for flags
flagged
flagulation
creative sensory compensated penitentiary
forward lad landing laughter for the last log on the fire
the last day for earth to say
please plead for plaid shirts to pay for themselves
otherwise there will be ****** for you to see
summer in the winter if I sprinkle a little bit more wood on my splinter
sink or swim, sink and swim, sink to swim
swim to sink
ah
um
oh
ehhem
undo your dress and undo your last mistake
please retake the photo so I can stay awake.
don't, I mean, yes
yes
hands could be cold
but
then
a
g
a
i
n
I just call it what I must
plustwo double yous in a zoo for the future flu's to cruise like truce
11/11/11 armistice
missed the list when you kissed my wrist
I extracted bliss from the Buddha's jist
just
cause?
just call for the muse music
don't mind me
I mean
yes,
yes
motorcade king of spades I got laid to the silence
of a forest in the poorest richness I've never ditched this
**** zip
zap
my zipper is a little critter crawling through the litter on the city's twitter account
doesn't amount to much but I sound like I'm salted in breath
dead like MacBeth, the challenge was the shaken speare
sprained everclear of the diamond tear or the shattered cheer of ancient seers
truth
is greater than fiction.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 11:24 AM UTC
Drastic measures must be taken to overcome the afternoon lull.
Seventeen obscure hardbound essays to consume, spines flaking
and half-eaten by dustmites. Their goodies
can only be extracted by torture, but my instruments are dulled
by shriekless hours and the fuddy-duddies
beside me, who god help me I’ll never become,
though I’m already bearded, and have started showing some dome.
Time, I think, to give something back:
a single bogie on a lone mission
to retake Stevens’ Noble Rider and the Sound of Words.
A big ask, I reckon, but this mischievous frisson
is deepness: It’ll probably be half, or at least a third
of my life before anyone finds my sleeper, my double agent
Amongst horses shedding their coats for the summer.
I smile at no one in particular, and return to my stack.
Keyboards clatter like rain, drowning out what little glamour
remains of the microfiche, leaping silent
over centuries in a smallish room in the corner.
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 6:49 AM UTC
Derived from the remnants of sacrificed thought
fragmented reminders of lessons taught
**** the device used to rose tint our sins
and shatter mirrors that sustain fake grins.
With self painted visions, we are pacified
Convinced...
Horrors inflicted have been indemnified.
Tied to past convictions we cannot shed
commitments that exist solely in our head.
Painstaking attempts to make justified
the pain that we've caused that cannot be denied.
Who are the victims of decisions we've made?
If given the chance...
Our suffering for theirs, could we bear to trade?
Whispered snickers hint at retribution
offer redemption but no solution.
Mistakes which drizzled in unspectacular drops
collected in pools and drowned cultivated crops.
Prisms of pain inflicted by selfish choices
Cut deeper...
When we ignored the pleas in our victim's voices.
Pointed fingers say all that needs to be said
our peers may believe us better off dead.
But the harder we try to fix our mistakes
the more ground we lose, that we cannot retake.
With guns to our heads, and a knife in our back
No weapons...
Us against the world, and we're under attack.
Weight of responsibility burdens our souls
sapping our strength and confusing our goals.
Stripped of our artillery, naked and exposed
inside we're screaming but appear composed.
The enemy looms larger with each of our errors
Weakened by defeat...
Realization strikes, We are the true terrors
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 9:54 AM UTC
If i was to retake my actions
am I to expect no reaction?
If I was to live a lie
is to allow my current reality to die
Happiness may not be all of which I relies
but I need the comfort this position provides
I wouldn't want to live in some perfect life
with the ideal 2.5 children and fair wife
I may not like my choices of the past
but I know this hardship won't forever last
The results of our decisions you can see have rosen
not perfect, but it is what I have chosen.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
I do not know the sound
Of the train rumbling on.
I missed my time to board it
And now it is long gone.
I wander through the valley
Following in its wake
Hoping that at some point
I will my path retake.
But for now I endure
On this journey I want not,
And I have no single hope
Or any comforting thought.
I search and walk alone
In want of faith or friend
So now I ask, please tell me,
Where do the train tracks end?
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
Sometimes good sometimes bad
Often make one sad
Sometimes fresh sometimes faint
A picture they paint
We hide or flaunt
But the past is bound to haunt
Make new or retake few
But the mood goes blue
We quit but revisit
Somewhere in heart they sit
All memories
are ongoing stories
Jan 2, 2024
Jan 2, 2024 at 8:23 AM UTC
Sugar
A thousand colours combine
in a war, a rage against darkness
and nothingness, the evils and goods of this anaesthetised numbness
residing within me,
blinding with the promise of the blank canvas
the porcelain wrist before the cancer takes hold.
For that is what I am, a Cancer.
A breath of hot air against your innocent flesh,
suffocating, intoxicating.
You yearn for me in all I am
from the moment dark hands drag me from life
til your lips close around my scent,
an envelope of love letters
you never sent.
I am your addiction
(let me be the sugar within you)
your infatuation
(stir me into your tea)
your drug.
Let me in.
Let me in
and I will **** you from the inside out,
I will ignite your eyes with flames
and the world will marvel at your beauty,
like acid at the back of your throat
tears burning
like fireflies
like embers dancing
none but me will see the ashes fall inside you.
A black snow,
drifting slowly down inside you
A black snow,
nothingness has won; the war is over
as your speech becomes slurred
A black snow,
come
to make me grey
as I watch your mind unravel
like the wire of an old cassette tape
and wind around my neck.
You thought it made sense,
this story.
Like the words had an order
Like your footsteps had an order
as you danced across the ballroom of my flesh.
one two three
two two three
engraving your history
into my skin.
As though it cannot be undone,
Like the letters cannot unwrite themselves
Like you cannot find yourself
in a snare of black cassette wire
screaming
as it winds itself around the tree trunks and branches that scatter your mind;
piecing me back together.
Like the letters cannot unwrite themselves
the snow cannot fall upwards
the ashes cannot fall upwards
Like you cannot find yourself lost in the forest of this story you found yourself in
and retake
retake
your very last breath.
You thought it made sense,
this story
J.S.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
Here I stand,
facing my fears,
fighting back tears
that I've held for years.
Why did I make you?
It's time that I wake you,
to shake you and break you,
retake and remake you.
I stare in the mirror
as you get clearer.
You're the one
who's caused me so much pain.
Constricting myself
and conflicting myself,
Am I to be my own bane?
No.
I punch in the mirror
and pieces fly by,
as they draw nearer,
I exhale a sigh.
The cuts on my hand,
trickle with blood,
but this is my stand;
I've prepared for the flood.
The flood of emotions
that pass me by
are a welcome potion,
a lovely goodbye.
I will be okay,
'cause in my mind's eye,
I'll remember this day;
the day part of me died.
I've finally escaped the guilt in the mirror,
and now my reflection couldn't be clearer.
I needed to see who I really was,
and now I see what willpower does.
I escaped.
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
The Hardest Thing About Being An Adolescent,
Is Living In This Uncertain Present,
Kids Start Smoking **** In 5th Grade,
And Every Word Is Turned Into A Grenade,
Waiting To Blow,
Waiting To Show,
How Horrible Person You Are,
For Every Little Mistake,
So As I Wish Upon Every Falling Star,
Let Me Retake,
The Test Of Life,
Let Me Strife,
Through The Night,
The Moon Glowing Bright,
So I Can See My Way Down This Desolate,
Path Of Being An Adolescent
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 8:25 AM UTC
Waiting for the big restart.
Imagining a corner pocket with the lights off, all drinks served room temperature. Harmonica in my pocket, an acoustic leaning on a seat made of worn leather. No politics, no war, no religion, no John Lennon songs necessary. Just empty homes and never-watched, stocked pharmacies. Walk-ins preferred, no prescription necessary.
Boredom would be our only enemy, bibles our note paper. God packed up and left. It's a great neighborhood to raise your kids.
Nobody needs a bomb shelter when the bombs have all fallen.
Sitting in a lawn chair, with a good friend and no cares, watching nature retake her world.
I am waiting for that day to come.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
I sit at my window and look out at the
snowflakes; they fall vertically, horizontally under
the grey black sky. I watch the dog break open the
bone and lick the marrow out. I watch the
big white cat sleep, snore, maybe dreaming of
a fat sparrow in his mouth. I think of taking
a bite of the sunset, living in a cave; the way
a marimba sounds when I’m haunted,
how Hamsun took bites of his hand in hunger.
My mind drifts to Van Gogh’s potato eaters,
the ***** that rejected his ear, Lautrec’s withered
legs and beautiful heart. I think of the falcon in
the city, the stranger in the mirror, the brutality
of man and the wonder in the doe’s eyes.
Anything but algebra, I took the compass test for
college, 99% in writing, 96%.in reading and 17% in math.
I have to retake the math and score a 25% or better.
I despise math, my girlfriend says, “You love math, it
gets you loans and grants.”
My brain bleeds with numbers and equations,
but she’s right,
I like loans and grants.
So I’m back at it, like a kid to
the dentist, and math does its job,
it pushes me back to
the word, the line, my dirt road
through the madness.
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 12:53 PM UTC
I'm a fish,
hooked to a bait,
I can't go else where,
for its too late,
I bit the hook,
and that's all it took,
for me to no longer be able to retake,
all the feelings that the thought of you makes...
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
read his stuff
https://hellopoetry.com/r-2/
n.b. nowadays I write here only in praise of others,
as the rewards are far greater than any of the meager
stuff I got laying around.
a poem for his summer soul-stice
<>
self-confessed to the priest, we us, both, meeting
in the confess-urinal, wee needy for a solid projectile
purging, me, cause, I’m a plagiarist of inspiration
**** it every time a ce r tain poet writes,
its a sock to my multi faceted square sided~head,
discoloring my eye shadow, my maskara crazy running,
frustration, admiration, mortar and pestle pounded
into a white powder of unadulterated adultery with a
frothy topping of a jealousy muse laughing face, at me,
cappuccino made from bitter herbs and pink sea salt.
in eight lines the man accomplishes
what would take me eight, eight full
poems, even then, not coming close
still failing to retake his brevity skills,
his summer solstice way of seeing,
by keeping the dark away,
by inviting the dark in,
making it under duress,
spill the beans of his life’s
ironies, some hellish,
some not, all well kept,
in Georgia granite stoney face.
the softest steeling of words that irritates
me into a fine frenzy... what’s the use,
point made, in how he undresses
the eyes
into just outright gasping,
and that is the only
permissible comment emoji.
______________________
r
Her verse
I need to taste the salt
of her soliloquy
be drunk on the sobriety
of her verse
those words she writes
behind my eyelids
makes me want
to crawl inside her skin
and listen to her heartbeat.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 8:22 AM UTC
Many are asleep. Many are awake. Some lie betwixt, straddling the waking and dreaming worlds.
Yet all is one. And all will always be one.
The myriad of tendrils extending from the superorganism of Gaia throb as one single heartbeat. This is the ancient way. A tide of lifedeath, receding and reseeding. One recent manifestation of the infinite and her ever-fecund complex of awe and beauty are a small band of lunar vamps gone rogue, renouncing the Order of Crimson Red for Opal White, death's blood for life's milk. Gaia, mother to all living things, has tended greatly to this particular green strand of hers; She wills it forth and it obediently flourishes in response, despite the race of humans and blood vamps and their respective patriarchal death cults of never ending consumption.
Something is afoot. Wheel of time grinds to a halt. The Atman is -now- nudging man and his greed. New epoch emerges. Third eyes wide shut begin to narrow open. Beauty will again retake it's rightful place over the usurper, truth, putting it under her foot. Transformation beckons Earth, parting lips sealed, opening her up, seeding her anew till sleeping snake at sacrum bottom uncoils and slides up, up to be lit, enlightened, ecstatic, rolling milky eyes to the back of the head.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
By AB
All I ever needed was a pretty girl,
All I ever needed was a care in the world,
All I ever needed was a good group of friends,
Turned out to be ********
So I made some ends,
And in the end,
To end the end,
Of what your end is,
I was real ,
But you pretend,
Wrong answer,
Retake the pop quiz,
I was careful the first time,
When I met all of you,
And so begins,
And for that,
I'm coming for all of you,
The mafia is crumbling,
Melanie found the forbidden fruit,
Ate it then died,
The ***** was never bright,
So true,
I knew one day I would become a better leader than you,
Your display of putting together teams were so despicable,
Prisms,
We rise above whatever you put out,
This year is also mine so give it all you got,
The mafia should know that it always goes south,
Since the ************* throwing little slick shots.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
Denials fears receipts
Lies betrayals deceits
Expectations loss resentments
Perception destruction commitments
Adoration longing craving
Yielding accepting braving
Politics labor expense
Logic confusion dispense
Care concern keenness
New life new world seamless
Divinity concealment hate
Regret trust late
Forgiving losing retake
Patience understanding heartbreak
Dealing retracing abiding
Life God residing
Emotions thoughts dissent
Judgments wisdom repent
Memories traces slaughter
Heart soul fodder
Empathy retraction deafness
Body mind breathless
Oxygen air amiss
Blood veins remiss
Promises sensations overlook
Death sadness overtook
Redemption reprisal regret
Untreated unlearned unmet
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
And I told you
They were coming
And lo!
Look!
Here they are!
!!
AND STILL YOU DO NOT SEE!
••
It is NOT because of greed
It is NOT because of lack of love
••
WE ARE BEING TAKEN DOWN BY ALIEN FORCES!
-----
(Can't you see!---------I told you they were coming!
Now they are here!
!!!!
(How else could it be happening?
How to explain the sudden surge
Of weapons and technology?)
NO OTHER!
••
We must unite and resist!
Isn't it obvious?
••
You have actually been trained
To cut yourselves with razor blades and to think its cool!
IT AIN'T!
So?--------//////----I am led to assume you have been
taken over by Alien Entities!
••
YOU HAVE!
••
Cease your purile Denial
MEDITATE
RETAKE YOUR BODY
RETAKE YOUR WORLD
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
squiggle
wiggle
etch
sketch
shake shake shake.
make a box
long lines
paint some
"i'm fine"s
shake shake shake.
if i could define
the rhyme
and meter
of my life
there'd be a knife
in there
somewhere
shake shake shake.
break
broken
breaker
empty
lake
shake shake shake.
rattle the sand
inside of me
mix it up
try to hide me
shake shake shake.
kick the wall
say **** it"
cry in the hall
of your school
get laughed at by some tool
in skinny jeans
quake
shake shake shake.
retake
try to erase
that last mistake
(who's to blame?)
remake
everything
but it's not the same
shake
shake
s a e
h k
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC