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Maria Mitea May 18
Today,
I plainly could see your infinite demure.

Today,
I understood your yearnings for bluejays and loons.

Today,
You cuddled me with all your splendor and virtue.

Today,
You loved me as your own child.

Today, Canada
I am crying with tears of joy.
We are all dreamers and long for exploration and challenge, and yet it can take some time until we find grounding in our new home.
Another sunset spans the sky
Deserting its view of shambled streets,
Fleeing the dark silhouettes and wires pierced high.
On feathered wings it fades and bids good-bye.

What a reminder is sent to us each day,
As sweeping clouds look down before dying,
That beyond this desolation, they still will stay;
No human form can stop their flying.

The eye is jarred by every scene,
In which the darkening hulks arise,
And yet are conquered by the sky, it seems;
We are left to dwell below; to guard this prize.

Who, staring aloft, would never desire,
To rise up and dwell among the splendor,
Rather than stay below in tangled squalor?
Yet we must be content with remembered fire.

(Not finished)
This was based on a walk I took on a December evening, along with some great photos of the cirrus clouds and twilight. The buildings in town were all silhouetted black against the sky, emphasizing its beauty.
Ron Gavalik Dec 2019
I’m a *****
who sells himself
for the privilege of food.
Existing in your world
of surface beauty
and splendor,
that’s the only payday
I’ve ever known.

–Ron Gavalik
The moon light shines,
A twilight night,
But even the beauty of the darkness,
Cannot compare,
To the Splendor of my lover.
A page filled with nonsense
in a book of standard things,
How's one to get lost in a jungle
lush and teeming with all these
mind boggles and heartstrings?

You're in for a surprise, splendor
Forget-me-nots by the ardent river,
Babbling, waiting, plucked to give
Placed on a grave of your spring,
Winter is coming, as fall retiring,
Set in for your rude awakening -

You're meant to outgrow within
The child dies, but the man refuses
To go out and start - he fears to begin.
Sharon Talbot Aug 2018
The faded beauty,
a desiccated blush
Still seen by you and me
was evidence of
a scarlet flush.

But the season is over
And the mating done.
Splendor still hovers
Until the two are one.

But who are we to stand and gawk,
Though they rest in shade and know us not?

Their hour is spent in the maiden sun,
And we arrive after the race is won.

Stoop low to gather useless information
about magnetism and procreation.
We are nothing more than nature's shields
And the guardians of whatever she yields.
Wided Ben Jul 2018
And sometimes I feel like my heart is bursting from all the lives I’ve lived for others, I’d abandon the comfort of the familiar and the approval of herds
for the enchantment of new faces, new songs and the mystery of new roads, escape from the tyranny of morality and sanctity, and lose myself to the beat of the soul and the pulse of desire. I want mornings that don’t remember yesterdays and a present that exists for itself, days that don’t hope for the future because the moment is so full of my mother and all the love she has for me, all the wrong that’s born out of splendor and a God that has no expectations but to see us surrender to the wildness of our spirits and the softness of our being.
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