"reword" poems
Someone once said,
"A good pun is it's own reword."
But a bad pun
makes me want to strangle a newborn kitten
and then dropkick it into the Cretaceous Period
where it will hopefully be eaten by a Velociraptor
then **** out in a pool of molten lava
and preserved under the earth for the rest of time
but forgotten and ignored by all.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 7:54 AM UTC
After a long day of making candles, the candle maker decides to bring a candle to life as he rests for the evening. After some time the candle begins to talk and asks the candle maker what its purpose is. The candle maker let out a slight chuckle and says, “Isn’t it obvious?”
The candle feels a bit disappointed by the answer and decides to reword the question, “Why did you light me if you are only going to ***** me out?”
The candle maker realizes that the candle doesn’t know its true nature and decides to tell the candle its true purpose. He moves the candle to a table next to a window and parts the curtains. “See the stars way up there? Some of them already stopped giving light, but from here, I can still see them.”
The candle’s light flickers for a moment and says, “But I’m a small light, nobody is going to see me.”
The candle maker smiles and says, “You’re missing the point. It doesn’t matter if your light is dull in comparison to a star. What does matter is that light is infinite and even though your wick is snuffed, your light will go on forever. You see, light moves in and out of small things to give them energy and then escapes fully intact. It’s the key to life. Without it movement would cease. So you see little candle, your light is important and will never vanish.”
The candle wanes as the night progresses and then finally says, “Thank you candle maker for giving me life. I know it’s about time for me to go.”
The candle maker smiles and says, “Bless you little candle as you journey through smaller things.” The candle maker pulls air into his lungs deep and exhales over the little candle’s flame and says, “Good light little candle. Good light.”
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
Everyday I hang myself
I nail myself
I staple myself to the wall
Everyday I bleed myself
I let myself
I rub my blood out in the hall
Everyday I hate myself
berate myself
I get out of bed and mandate myself
to update myself
to curate myself
Artist the **** up and create myself
Everyday I design myself
define myself
I put on my face and outline myself
Everyday I dissect myself
I correct myself
Take out my parts and infect myself
I change myself
rearrange myself
I paint all my organs and stain myself
Everyday I reword myself
martyr myself
Use the strings from the Beats to suture myself
I collect myself
Resurrect myself
My volition in life; to perfect myself
If I fail myself
derail myself
I'll have nothing but a cheap veil of myself;
*a shattered bulb
a melted fuse
a pack of matches burned and used.*
No supernova,
glory,
fame.
No concrete star,
with golden name.
Forgotten, faded,
dusty muse.
Mona Lisa,
cut and bruised.
My blood still smeared all down the hall,
my skin still nailed up to the wall.
My body scarred from mutilation,
mapped attempts at self-creation.
A jagged,
torn up,
constellation,
The Hero of Humiliation.
Don't we all fear failure's kiss?
For if you shoot
for the moon
and miss,
you'll rot away in the abyss.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
No one has ever taken a chance with me
Some have danced with me
But most are quick to be real slick
And change their stance with me
Fake people making noise
And playing games
Calling names, pointing fingers
And placing blame
Little realize
While they're fixed on displacing shame
All this nonsense stays constantly
Suspended through my veins
They burst open with the worst notions Contorted emotions to mass explosions
Like mixing large proportions of gasoline
Fire driven moths-to-flames
And my response is to conjure
Create, contemplate, and maintain
So please run along and carry on
Like you never knew my name
Because saying it will curse you
When you mention it in vain
Don't react or erupt like 'this' was abrupt When you never said 'this' to my face
Don't act surprised or try to hide it
Like you missed it or tried to fight it
Like you have any right to deny it
Now that you've finally been erased
I'm tired of all the back-thens
And back-whens
You're a has-been, and I'm laughing
Coming out of the woodwork
Some leaving without a trace
Like a blank space could ever replace
Everything you didn't make work
In the end we didn't mend
So I guess I wasn't worth it
At best we could jest, try to forget
Let's say that I deserve it
I wasn't perfect and then again
I'm not a ******* servant
Should I reword it?
Use different verbage?
Change my perspective respective
Of your verdict on the time spent?
I wouldn't know
Because you never showed
And I'm too busy living in ('this') moment
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 6:48 AM UTC
I feel so tired,
I feel so lost.
Give my heart time to defrost.
I'm on the edge,
I've broken down.
I'll never get back up,
I'm going to drown.
We're left to think of an escape
As if the cut is a minor scrape.
Where do we find a cure?
I know people care,
I'm sure.
And if those were the last things I ever heard,
would you care to reword?
What if I was gone tomorrow?
Would you drink to drown your sorrows?
Those last words, what a shame.
Aren't you to blame?
If I can't find my way
If my path has gone astray,
Then whose to say I'll get out safe.
Hidden from my gaze
their words ring in a haze.
"We're here to help,
We're here to save.
Drop the knife,
Please be brave.
Please drop the gun,
They haven't won.
We want the best,
We want a smile.
You know that thing's been gone a while."
Just tell me it's alright,
Only for tonight.
My way out has been delayed,
Honestly I'm afraid.
Who's going to save me now?
And if those were the last things I ever heard,
Would you care to reword?
What if I was gone tomorrow?
Would you drink to drown your sorrows?
Those last words,
What a shame.
Aren't you to blame?
Aren't you to blame?
What a shame.
I'm gonna be gone tomorrow,
Please don't hold your sorrow.
Those last words were just a game.
Maybe you won,
Maybe you're to blame.
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 9:10 PM UTC
As Elvis put it,
A little less conversation
A little more action please.......
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
I used to type,
freely,
without hesitation.
But you stopped me...
You burned me,
abused me with your savage neglect.
Now I pause,
Hesitate,
Re type,
Reword,
My words are broken-
meaningless and empty...
searching the void of memories,
yelling at nothing,
accomplishing nothing,
nothing,
but a blank space
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
This poem is still a work in progress.... I need some thoughts... Is there anything I should reword or change?
A Visitor in the Morning Fog
Written by Adam M. Snow
Oh what a stage this morning break
Waking to a smoke-like sight
So thick it covers the dawn opaque
The freshly gold now blight
My heart is weak, I feel it ache
Upon this morning sight
Unlike the sun my heart don't hide
Nor in the fog it dwell
Even though and with my pride
This cruel heart I knew so well
Left me alone to stride
In this smokey hell
(more is coming soon)
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
When I write,
my thoughts and feelings flow.
When I write,
I'm lost in thought.
I say line after line too many time to count.
Reword, replace, move around, add and drop.
When I write I seek the best.
I seek perfection but imperfection.
When I write I want like,
I need hates and feedbacks.
When I write,
I want everything and nothing.
When I write,
my troubles leave me.
When I write,
I escape reality,
I'm freed from everything.
When I finish...
...I'm dragged backed to reality.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
Music is amazing art,
It shows how great people can be.
Music can break all boundaries,
And even for a moment make us completely free.
Music brings people together,
Excited crowd at music events,
And nothing else matters,
Only musicians and their instruments
Good artists are loved and respected,
In every part of the world and in every nation.
People enjoy, dance and find themselves,
In the songs created in moments of great inspiration.
People listen diferent kinds of music,
With diferent instruments and singer's voices.
Every music has its good sides,
I think that there aren't the bad choices.
Classical music for serious people.
Rock for people who like the sounds of the guitars.
House for those who like to party.
"Dark" people have their heavy metal stars.
Creativity is a blessing from God,
Inspiration is its biggest trigger.
Practice makes us perfect,
With experience we become bigger and bigger.
Life of artists is exciting and vibrant,
But it can be double-edged sword.
That pressure can be some kind of curse,
Or God's greatest reword.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 7:26 AM UTC
Cut this
Keep that.
This is clutter.
This so good.
reword this.
I felt you here.
This is awkward
This is powerful.
I'm being pulled in a tug of war between good and bad.
And sometimes I want to give up.
But I can't.
My piece must be as beautiful
As blown glass.
And even if I die getting there.
It will work.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
Our hearts
Are wild animals
Trying to break through
Their cages
Clawing
Grabbing
Biting
We're in too deep now
Please don't look away sweetheart.
Please
see
Me.
Please
Hold
Me.
Please
Let
Me
See
You.
Please
Let
Me
Hold
You.
Tell me darling
This won't destroy us.
Why don’t they put that on candy hearts?
Tell me darling
That everything will be all right.
Tell me darling
Have I frightened you?
Please
Don't
Go.
Can you hear me sweetheart?
Is the ink from this pen loud enough?
I just
Want something
Real.
Something that's mine.
No.
Something that's ours.
Can you give me that sweetheart?
Please
Don't
Reject
Me.
I don't need you to save me.
I don't need you to save me
From crashing
And burning.
I just need you to understand.
I just need you to understand
and accept
That I am capable
Of crashing
And burning.
I just need you
To be able to wrestle with
The flames
And to be able to resurrect me from
The ashes.
We breathe.
I pant.
I say
"I want you inside me."
You say
"I want to be inside you."
I'm nervous
But it's not my first time.
You find your place between my thighs
And lift me
Hold me
Carry me
To the bed
Still
Kissing
Still
Biting
Still
Clawing
Clinging
Scratching
Grabbing
Grasping
Gasping for air!
As the wild animal
Still
Rages
On.
Is this what romance
Feels like?
Is this what hope
Feels like?
This is new.
This is nice.
The candy hearts never told us
This will destroy us.
Ruin us.
But we need
To ruin
Us.
We need
To take
Us
Turn
Us
Reword
Us
Into something
we never were before.
Into something
We were meant to be.
I made your lip bleed.
Accidentally of course,
Always am I
A gentle spirit
That does things
Too hard
Feels too hard
Loves too hard
Too much
Too soon
Too fast
Too often
And I hope
You never have to remember me
By the taste of blood
In your mouth.
I hope
You never have to
Swallow glass.
I don't want to hurt you again.
I don't ever want to hurt you
But I want our rib cages
To be
Broken
And bruised
And busted through
And I mean that in the best of ways
Because the animal
Needs
To feed
To ****
To breathe
And I wonder darling
Will you need me?
Please
Need
Me.
Can you see me sweetheart?
Please
See
Me.
Are you scared yet sweetheart?
Have I frightened you?
Are the animal's teeth
Too sharp
Too hard
Too much
Too fast
Too soon
Too often?
Are you afraid yet sweetheart?
Can you see me yet?
Can
You
See
Me?
I say
"I want you inside me."
And the wild animal
Wants
Out.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
Saw it happen.
Witnessed it. Did not experience.
Yet, left with a more interesting outlook.
An objectivity can rise above. Settle down. Rework, reword, reward, rewarm.
WHY DID I SEE THIS. WHY WAS I CHOSEN FOR THIS RESPONSIBILITY.
Screaming in the large end of the megaphone.
Screaming for the world to let you down.
Clutching at the door handle, hoping to emerge into a forest of rifles, a city-hive of pollen pushers, an oasis of blood.
Suddenly it makes sense...communication without contact.
Words on a page, worms on a plate.
Wards an’ a cage, words in a place.
This is our medium, through which I can love you, for better or worse, the medium that is.
The medium carries a meaning without judgement.
The judgement, if and when the word is received, is irrelevant.
The last dead deer rises, taking back his rightful place as the last living deer in a dying world.
The green world empties its poison, sheds its thorns, ***** out its parasite.
The glass is half empty.
Now its half full.
The glass is empty of meaning.
Now its full of ****
My skin is raw and bleeding.
My love is as real as rifles.
They both hurt.
In different ways.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
I’m reading my dictionary with the pages missing
Of all the words that I’d much rather be dismissing
It’s much easier to ignore what’s been written
To stop the queue of a page that’s already printing
Listen
Cause we live where we can rip anything out that we don’t like
Take out words like bomb raids and hunger strike
My dictionary might be a little lifelike
It’s saying what I can and can’t do for a klondike
unlike
Sitting down and facing brown reality
Taking very simple things making hyperbole
To realize you might be a nobody
Cause there’s nothing that life can guarantee
Do you agree
To be afraid of a word in a book is nonsense
Maybe I don’t understand the context
But is there really that much weighing on your conscious
That reading is like consuming tons of toxins
Word
Everyone likes to tell me what I can and can’t say
But I like to disobey and I say it anyway
Any way that I can
To get my point across
Any way that I play
with word play
and words say
how much you can weigh
and can you be gay
or can you horseplay
on the Lord’s day
and hey
I take the highway
As my getaway
But the signs are on display
on where I can turn
and when should I yield
And still the words reflect
on my windshield
but what’s in a word
bird
I hear bird’s the word
But let me reword my password
Cause it’s too simple
To unlock the emotions of other people
When they wear their heart on their sleeve
Strung together with staples
And it is a staple
That I should be graceful
And tasteful
Not be wasteful of my words
Cause that’s all I got
and it seems I forgot
to boycott the
thought talk
and just keep it to myself
Because words are powerful
And I am not
And too often I hide behind them
And finally I’m giving it a second thought
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 2:11 AM UTC
Day after day
I bite my tongue.
I watch the inflated egos
of the "chosen one".
Day after day,
oh reader,
I read for fun.
But there's greatness here,
wit there, and some I wish
I had never begun.
Day after day
I log on.
I type, I edit, reword
each work
until it frees
truth from my soul.
Day after day,
I wonder,
How does spam become trending?
A sign of the times,
Advertisement disguised as rhymes?
Or maybe a sign
our time
is ending.
Day after day,
is there anyone even reading?
I'd love to know,
what makes you read
or go.
Are the clicks of your mouse
on these little hearts
misleading?
Or is the only reason,
for you fleeting
Devotion
to this site
your
" poetic "
ego?
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
Perhaps it is time, I return to my roots.
Abandoned the topic, never let it bear fruits.
I have grown thin, my feet unfit for its boots.
But linger no longer, I shall return to my roots.
The clockwork gears begin to spin and words connect.
The cobwebs severed, time repairs the neglect.
The pieces of the puzzle slowly conjoin, my pencil *****
I write down my lines, my latest project.
You know me as glue or Glueboi if preferred.
I know what you think, poems about glue are quite absurd.
But the line between glue and my soul has become blurred.
Gears are in motion, I've returned to my roots, no need to reword.
My effort is rewarded, the project is complete.
A poem about glue that no other poet can beat.
A poem which will be welcomed into the halls of the elite.
My victory tastes oh so sweet.
My anticipation rises, a chance to share with the world once more.
My magnum opus will be shared, my dark world will grow brighter.
It spreads its wings and soars.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 6:30 AM UTC
Ever sweet and ever loving-
The times were ever changing.
Malicious and fearsome-
The times were dense with resentment.
Tainted and taken;
Downward and mistaken.
Disillusions and inner turmoil-
Took control and destructed with mayhem.
The ever loving and sweet things were long forgotten,
And twisted and made rotten, through the illusions you’ve spoken.
The question remains, what have you to gain?
Perception has been warped and lies wired and reword with the intention to disarray.
The cloths of fabrication wrap perfectly along your body.
The deceit.
The resentment.
The lies;
The ill intentions-
have coveted the means for resonance and rehabilitation
In the sense of self preservation-
In the sense in which you lack and cannot maintain.
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 1:27 AM UTC
Only my words
Am I a nerd ?
Only on the third word
A lot of the time they are so blurred
I just want them heard
But most often unheard
Some that are absolutely absurd
With no fancy catchwords
All of the time I rewrite and rewrite
and reword
Never hip and forward
Some that make no since
and that are slurred
All the above does not matter to me
You see these are my words
And I will never be
Deterred
!!
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
Collect on the husks of my thoughts,
like maggots feeding on the
memories buried deep.
Then reword what you had consumed,
defamation of dead reflections
now wrote in decayed ink..
Your feeding on me,
and I'll never know as my words are cobwebs
of dead thought.
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 4:35 PM UTC
Hello, my name is Sarah
And I like to write.
Last night my wife
Caught me in bed with a pen.
"How could you do this?
We've a house and three kids!"
Red ink, dripping off my fingertips
I gave them a lick and claimed
"It's not what you think."
But she could see the proof
Written clearly on the sheets.
She cried, through mascara eyes
Blubbering about love and how it died
And I chimed with the I tried and lies,
How I wasn't satisfied with the path of our life
She knew words were my *****
My own personal vice.
So easy to change- to manipulate
I could take all of my pain,
Reword it inside my brain
And for a moment feel like I'm not insane.
Now she's throwing the blame,
And I'm the one that has to catch it
Boy, she's got great aim
Hasn't missed a shot yet.
Just one little slip and I'm hit
With the biggest bullet
"Get out of my house
And don't come back again,
This is the last time I'll ever find you in bed with a pen."
-SLuR
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 12:11 PM UTC
Your life sounds intense, so many fires to put out,
fences to mend, people to please and I wonder,
if you might need and deserve some rest.
Do you, can you, set limits with family, friends, co-workers?
Not sure it’s okay to decline just one more thing to do,
since you could be seen as selfish, even wrong to say no.
Rest assured, your unfair, undeserved shame is safe with me,
in this time and place, space is held for you, your pain, your truth,
why,
maybe it’s time to reword the story you made up about a debt
you never owed, the servitude, the obligation to "get 'er done"
are you a hard-wired, mass-produced human being, and you ask
why,
maybe it's time to acknowledge your existence was/is free of
charge, realize there’s no fixed set of dos and don’ts to be
successfully completed day in and day out until you die,
why,
maybe it’s way past time to finally oust the ancestral imprint
of shame you don’t deserve, a creation of foolish self-pride to
always do the next right thing, to amend old tribal wrongs,
even when you’re tapped way beyond empty.
Can you honor yourself, your life, finally, once and for all, can you
come clean, be real, do what only you can do, and set yourself free
from your own judgement, speak truth from your heart, then,
and only then, will you set everyone else free as well.
~ pe kaplan
Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 7:26 AM UTC
Expression a world spun clear of cosmo scabs.
The scar tissue mends fastens and clean again.
All of the best completion reword and wrote down to scabblers contentment.
My lens falls too fog sir wait i see it again.
The creation of matter, from noting is it possible how does a God, self creation of other self or his self.
He then stands in a happy way.
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 12:37 AM UTC