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Hans Ho Nov 2020
Adventurous is fun!

Camping is adventurous
Growing up is adventurous
Travelling around the world is also adventurous

With loads of fun and awe
We go dig adventures
thispanman Feb 2020
this is a kind of poem I'm not-so-good at, so hope you like it
​I still haven't found land. I steer my crew in circles, drunken and adventurous, hoping they never see how hopeless I am. I cannot handle this power without something powering me; I cannot see straight and somehow that's less blinding than my own doubts. Than my insecurities, and pain I deal with. I'm afraid their trust will decimate, that this ship will sink. Far down, far away. I dream of the clouds being an island to me. A home. Familiarities I rarely feel in these murky, vast waters. I've let my thoughts wander.. farther than I should have. Do you blame me? I always knew my life held a bitter end. A small fight before the ocean enthralls me once more, capturing me, and I sink. Lower than I ever have. Losing my life to the very thing that kept me from living-
I hope yall like this one. there was a lot of pain and thought put into it.
all feedback is welcome and appreciated
Colm Aug 2019
Rarely do I understand
The beginning as it begins

Rarely do I comprehend and recognize
The middle of any consequence
As it leads to its inevitable, relatable, end

Rarely is how I would say
And without breadth
Is how all great adventures begin
Unplanned isn't always a bad thing, so much as it is an occasional necessity for some people.
Words' Worth Aug 2019
I'm different from the advertisements
I'm different from being able to check the diffident
I'm differently formed, coffered the affidavit
The defendant left me in a spell of the time that I had lost
Imbibing my guilt in the adequate alacrity, inevitable wasn't it
The loss of my sensible sagaciousness and I took it to curtsy for my childish grin
Smirks and lenience were standing upon at gaze, in the confused crowd
Only you, you were standing in the surface flowing with troughs of tridents of storms
Making choices beyond your gayness, and pristine condition was your choice of gentleness
noun: arrival
the action or process of arriving
a newly emerged development or product.
Shlomo Jan 2019
Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,

But they were very much conscious.

Loving every minute of vacation,

Thoroughly adventurous.

An act that seemed to revive not just their souls,

But every atom, cell and ***** in their bodies.

Lived for those nights huddled up in arms (Goals!)

Even though time just couldn’t care less.

Carelessly dashing by without regard (its new foes!)

Even as this act would lead to many more worries.

Fast forward now; and they craved it more than ever.

Would it happen again, or am I forever trapped in nevers?

Can’t handle the pressure, brain’s got a fever.

At this rate, gonna be swiping left and right forever.

Bones dry, deep down I crave love and connection.

Sorely waiting for those sparks to keep an *******.

More like an ***** sin.

Caught between a rock and a hard place.

A truth I once held close, feels like a lie I’m locked in

(I’m everything and nothing)

For where do I belong? Everywhere and nowhere

Except with my first love.

I long to meet someone like you.

Soft lips, beautiful eyes, luscious hair,

and a strong, gentle soul that softens the hearts of the hardest of men.
More about this poem on my site. There is also a link to an audio performance of it there!
I rolled
in on
my hog
while today's
traffic was
through the
bog like
wheels in
heresy laid
upon the
road in
stride as
she was  
a notorious
surprise what
wagered my
tires in-between
A Harley -Davidson
Madness Viarti Jul 2015
The woman of power, of the final hour,
Stood upon the gaping edge of death,
Savoring her final due breath,
Recollecting her spent time, as the demons beneath, did climb.

The woman, once unknown, many must atone,
With a simple display, she tore the lights that held the night at bay,
For nothing as powerful as she, should anyone but agree,
Resting upon her belt, the stars forever dwelt.

The woman, demur of the end, a challenge to death, she had penned,
A game, we shall partake, with eternal lives at stake,
For if I do not wish to die, your purpose, you must defy,
With a stolen piece, her years did increase.

The woman of blackened markings, her mind of ever-workings,
Stood tall upon her mare, chased with twisting white hair,
Upon her belt, rested pouched treasures, glittering fondly with pleasure,
For her company never to shake, as her pale eyes did forever take.

She was the woman of Cree, far beyond The Black Ink Sea,
The taker of stars, leaving naught but empty scars,
She was the winning player of Death's Game, her rewards, to gain,
With the twisting marks of power, deep to the pit, she did glower.

For nothing of its sort,
Shall ever hold her short,
From any a task within her aim,
A woman such as I, victory shall I claim.

And with that thought dancing across her mind,
She leapt, and left the mortal world behind.
This is a legend I created for my story, Same Story Different Fools (
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