Rewrite

I thought it would be fun to have people rewrite their first poem.
Write it in the style and views you have now ^^
You can post a link to the original if you like.

The one with the best rewrite wins

Good luck

Here's mine ^^

Just a Puppet (Rewrite)

I tried to be what I could not be
Because you didn’t want me
But after all this time I see
I am better off just being me

I was left broken on my knees
felt so stupid on strings
For years I tried, for years I failed
Got so sick of living in hell
Said your man mistreated you
But went running back when he missed you
While he was fucking someone else too
Guess you didn’t want to face the truth
You were being used and I was too
For letting myself be your puppet

Maybe all that time I was just being foolish
I wanted to be more, but now I know, I was being just a puppet
On strings nothing more than a puppet

Somehow I hurt you
When all I wanted was to keep you safe from all who wronged you
Guess I was wrong that time
Should of never tried to get in your mind
Made myself vulnerable
Trusted in someone for they could just lie
So I moved on, just left it all
But I still think of those letters
Wondering if you do the same

Please Call (Rewrite)



I was upfront and asked you if you’d like to meet for coffee

Said you were an interesting man I wanted to know better

You were keen, said yes, so I gave you my number

We both had travelling booked, returning within days of each other

I waited but you never phoned

I thought ‘that’s it, I’ll never see him again…’

Six months later I saw you and was told you were with another




http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/163979-please-call/

Love it seek ^^ Great job with the rewrite :-)

Here's the original that I actually wrote exactly 4 years and 3 months ago : http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/162525-does-love-need-a-title/

It's not technically my first poem (the first one was actually an acrostic I wrote for my childhood crush in middle school, that I'd actually be interested in rewriting aswell, just out of curiosity for what I'd write), but it's the first one after that, and the first that really meant something to me. And still does.


I used to be only your friend
But then I got to be much more
I thought that glee would never end
Until you struck me to the core

Now I know
What you're thinking
Now I know
How you're feeling
And I don't know
Why I'm smiling
But no one knows
That I'm bleeding

And it doesn't matter
How deep the wound
'Cause what stays after
Is the flower that bloomed

Thou art anon, a part of me,
And I believe that I'm ready
To finally accept thee
Platonically

Now that I've learned
The lessons you taught,
I finally have
The answers I've sought.

And all I want,
Is us to be
No strings attached
Just you, and me

Never will I, ever,
Ask anything from you
Except for your laughter
To stay true

What we have is so much more
Than this bleak thing that we call "Love"
I want us to be like before,
When I rolled, while you drove.

I won't give up on us
No matter what the future's made of
And if that is what it takes
I will give up on love.
But first, I'd just want to tell you that...

                                              I, still, love you.

Both pieces were wonderful 😁 Also love that it has a deep meaning to you.

My burning waterfall was a beaten stone.
My fallen cloud, who was so pushed by stars and thrown by God.
She's been blinded by a stagnant, opaque mist
and her fingertips stretch out to find some source of comfort, a needy child.
In the darkness that breaches the sands of clear thought
it seems no calm can find you or I, she won't let it.
You light me a cigarette and violate the miasma to find my lips. I am still jaded - half-way gone,
I cannot see you yet still I trust your defiance, your voice, your unwillingness to lose.
It moves around me, an infinite noise
and it makes no sense to passers by
seeing me talk to myself, and then talk to her.
If they only saw how you tried and how I pushed you away
your cloud that blankets me, and how I will it to stay.
I think they would wonder why we bother at all,
why you keep feeding me cigarettes and heeding my call.
Certainly they'd wonder why she follows me around,
worrying for me and staring me down.
For, you know, there is no cloud to infringe, just some medicine to take
via a fresh syringe, that steals away your face and your name,
your cigarettes and our beautiful game.
She stands there weeping, loving me still, whilst I
show more love to my pretty, loose hinge.

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/10297-loose-hinge/

Both are messy but I think this at least ties up the message, a little clearer. Thank you for enabling me to do this.

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/234505-power-in-a-poets-words/

Power in a Poet's Words   (Rewrite)
 
A poet has a heightened imagination
unrestrained and never confined
because it’s hard to free our intimate thoughts
when we’re restricting our minds.
So we disrobe on paper and strip on stage
wearing only words.
We stitch thoughts that become fabrics of emotions  
cloaked in poetic apparel from tailor-made experiences  
with the sweat of our pen’s brow.  
Speaking sentiments, amplifying metaphors-
making those cognitive explosions surge fluently,
syllables curved mental images just to get through to them.
We paint images for readers to inhale the words we speak
breathe in the verbs, strengthen the depth of their lungs
and fill their rib cage with calligraphy impressions.
We become sorcerers that conceal and confess between
the seams of lines,
manipulate lyrics to advocate impartiality  
because words just can’t choose sides.
We vent our frustrations, rant our rage…
celebrate our joys, then pen some of our worst days.
We created fantasies that becomes an observer’s wet dream
molest others flesh with passion from residue of  
spouses, lovers and distant flames’ reminiscent steam.
Our muses manipulate the tempo within our poetry
but it’s more than that.
Spectators can fill emotions vibrating in our souls,
ascribe to secrets un-kept,  
the results that spills out when the cause is erect.
We ink the symphonies of strife, quill the orchestras of our life
and unbeknownst to us,  
we have become oracles for readers and listeners  
who sit in quiet calm to read our words…  
or listen attentively to the tremor of emotions in our voice.
There’s power in a poet’s words.
 
Rain~







http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/129549-a-poets-power/
Note: *I deleted all my poems a couple of years ago but left this one. It's actually the first poem on the page.*


A Poet's Power

We stitch thoughts that become fabrics of emotions
Cloaked in poetic apparel
from Tailor-made experiences
with the sweat of our pen’s brow
We Labor hard, in scorching fields of ink
Collecting melted vowels and consonants
Metamorphosis of words, burning relevance
Into the minds, hearts and souls of our audiences

We disrobe on paper and strip on stage
Wearing only words
Exposing our inkwell for all to witness
As poetry flows through our veins
Revealing personal secrets and battles scars
Coaxing us to pen our victories in beautiful bold fonts,
So others can see that giving up, is not an option.
We are strength,
courage,
hope and inspirations; in words

We arm ourselves with lethal words
Release them through our poetry
Creating abstract art; painting belief on despair’s canvas
with the brush of a poet’s soul
Molding words of motivation
Stirring passion and evoking intimacy
With ballpoint pens that drip fantasies
Our words are powerful and weapons of change
 
Unbeknownst to us,
we have become oracles for readers and listeners
who sit in quiet calm to read our words…
or listen attentively to the vibrations of emotions in our voice.
We touch so many....
with simple words


~Rain~

Sorry it took so long to decide but the winner is!

Tristy

I think all the poems are winners in their own ways. Each one had deep meaning. Loved them all!

Thanks to all who entered