Rebirth Poems - Poems about Rebirth

I watched every twig, every stick, carefully placed - I watched Every branch left its mark, playing its part like a symphony— melodies whispering notes of peace, while harmonies voice the dissonant echoes of war-- So subtle I watched Every limb dividing, thriving slowly depriving every ounce of oxygen from the air it never once tasted, but now hoards mouthfuls as its own. The period of starvation ends. It calls,...

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a man, aging yet still of play for he, a piano plays he and piano plays he well but die does our aging man for he, dead, yet playing on and piano plays beyond as born is a child born for he, a piano plays he and how plays our child well a gift, piano, barely learned but known in this child as once known in...

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april brings us its share of miracles of life that sprouts in shades of green every year the cycle like clockwork rejuvenates yet we are always in awe spring give rise to our sense of salvation and of hope that we have not been forsaken posted on April 7, 2025...

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"Tides of Magic" The morning spoke in softest hues, As waves embraced the world anew. The sea lay calm, the sky stretched wide, A sacred peace stood by our side. We traced our names upon the shore, Then drew the star, a circle more. A sign of love, a bond...

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I’ll scrape this mud off of my heels - That’s caked from years of trudging. And soak these wounds in orange peels - To persuade scabs into budging. This bar of soap, my sword of choice - Will slay bruises that have haunted. Replacing aches with citrus’ voice - Who soothingly tunes the daunted. This plunge of water, warm and welled - Will calm...

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Thought by thought Word by word Piece by piece I will put myself together Because I am reborn Loud and fiery Colorful and sane, this time I will reshape myself No, I don't need your help Swaying I will succeed Laughing I will speak I will adore myself Free as a bird Spirit of the wind I will adopt And I will become myself. _ Ridah Tariq...

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Rebirth is God's work alone for He#'s the chief architect of it all only God can change the heart from within redeeming lost sinners from Adam's fall Rebirth is an invincible work for this is all of God and Him alone as He is sovereign in all His ways to achieve our new birth our soul to atone Rebirth is an irreversible work what...

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A Winter's Morning in Kansas January's trees stand dark and bleak, stripped of Spring's bud and Summer's leaf, and Winter's wind rattles bare and dry twigs, deep crevices quarter newborn Earwhigs. Lower clouds hang brown and grey. Higher clouds catch the morning ray and the silvery light of the coming day. I sit on my porch watching squirrels at play. Old age is now...

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Winter's, Compassion blooms, For my lost warmth cradled, Yet hope stirs deep within flakes heart, It's life...

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Morning Fog This morning when there is much to do inside, there is fog outside my window. The fog I sought two mornings ago that caused me to dash to the car in hopes I could grab a coffee and sit by the lake, witness to the softening of the world, treetops indistinct, not yet awakened from their dreams. By the time I reached the...

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Apparent air in tug-of-war with passing butterfly wings; It is the music from the story my heart daily sings. For I awoke in love today, so deep I know that I will drown. Welcome Trident’s Touch, as much, as life’s new whispered sound. For no time now exists of which I fear. All burdens past belong to burdens past. Fleeing...

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The caterpillar never prayed— it coiled around the bark, turned aside the whimpers of wings a-flutter, and created a moat of silence. Promises? It made none— to itself or to the universe. Transformation was not a melody or a plea, just the still rebellion of survival. As the chrysalis cracked open, it wasn’t a triumph. It bore no grace. It was escape—raw, fierce, and unapologetically its...

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It's the weekend. So here's a brief distraction for those needing something to read and absorb. Salute. Q: What made you write poetry? Was it an unconscious calling? A need or just a natural progression of self-expression? Or maybe even the 5 stages of post-traumatic growth from a break-up or bereavement? Or just a need to change? In my opinion, there is no...

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"WILDFIRES" Hark, supreme peril. Breath upon an ashen heap. Burning new growth....

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It's almost my birthday, and somehow I'm still here, barely, but breathing - after a year of mental carnage. Depression didn't knock, it broke in, set up camp in my chest, while psychosis turned the world into a funhouse mirror, bending truth until I didn't know what was real. I drowned in thoughts that tore like glass, sharper than anything outside my head, clawed...

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