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#beautyoflife
Early May greens the poplars tall; And birches wear their earrings bright. And tender hues embrace the soil, While ants now crawl the path in sight. From its hive crawls a sluggish bee— The sun gifts sparkling rays of light! Oh, how beautiful life can be, When warmed by love divine and bright!
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Mar 15, 2025
Mar 15, 2025 at 2:28 AM UTC
Early May
Every man is an omnibus in which our heirs ride Every now and then One of them bursts a cherry And reveals Jehovah's magnificence
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Jan 22, 2021
Jan 22, 2021 at 6:16 AM UTC
Baby Boy
Have you ever thought about the qualities that silence shares? I haven’t, but I’d like to someday. It reminds me of Earth’s luxuries How everything was created to show us the signs of becoming when Light runs its deepest course Sitting with the pit of a fruit in my stomach Looking to the space between Knowing someday that you and I will be under the same sky Resplendence To imagine the day when a soul finds itself   in another Merging into an embrace of Silk Silhouettes Hands held tightly around their bodies They just know. Nothing ever comes to us without accepting the space exactly the way it is Loving it and all the beauty it allows Eternity an ever growing thing Grateful for such moments Infinite patience A tiny ladybug painted peacefully on its stem A higher power believing it has you to rely on..
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Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 11:22 AM UTC
Appreciate
You're right We as poets are Self-amused entity   Sane in thought   Breathe with passion   Dream circadian   With the torrent of emotions      We as poets Look toward an open sky   Communicate with cosmos   Question lucidness   Get something from nothing   Glorify average, as special   Feel everything, closer   Spell, when have to   Stay silent, when need to   Touch, the untouched   See, the hidden   Honor: blood, sweat and tears   Revive, the beauty of life   Heal, the suffered   With the recipe of words   We as poets   Yes, by default   Go beyond norms   Forget a lot, but not what should not   Despite everything   You're right
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Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 6:33 AM UTC
Fluidity
The most beautiful thing about life is, That life itself is a lie. That vanishes, When death arrives. But still gives you, Reasons to smile.
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Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 4:23 PM UTC
Life
By nabs There's a girl dancing to the music of life. Summer eyes, summer child. Playing air guitar with imagination, drumming her little feet to the earth. Dancing her own little rituals. Hops and twirls. Giggling. Jumping and clapping, letting the joy course through her little body. The girl grinned impishly at me, mischievous glint in her eyes. She run towards me and grabs my hand, whisking me away to dance. Each spins and hops, Taught me how to laugh. How to stop and wonder and dream and dream. How to let life be breathtaking. I didn't realize I had forgotten the simplicity of joy. There's a little boy with sparrow wings. Woven from the stars and the shadow. Hands full of carefully gathered sand, golden golden sand. He let them go, slipping through his finger tips, watching them get swooped away by the wind. "Why do you do that?" The question slipped out of my mouth. Like an eager bird flying for the first time. That startled me. I thought I had long forgotten how to let my questions out. The boy gaze at me, His eyes swirls like oil spills with it striking rainbows that looks young and old on his face. He doesn't smile, he doesn't need to. He take my hand and guide it towards the ground, sinking it down the golden golden sand. Gently closing my fingers to cup at them. They feel soft, like silk and lips. They tickle and I loosen my grasp. As each grain flies away from my clutch, Flashes of images floods my mind like a storm of wings, each was made from memories and carries feeling. The birth of a daughter seen by the father, the first time someone went to the sea, the giddiness of two people falling in love, the sunshine reflected on your eyes. A hand brushed a stray tear away. The boy doesn't smile, he doesn't need to. I didn't realize I was crying. He looked at me and I understand. Like little kids saying goodbye to their friends, Memories are meant to be let go. To not clutch them tight as to not destroy them. Memories are too easily tainted. So I open my palms again and said goodbye. I'll know they'll come back, like little kids know their friend will be back the next day. I have never felt this free before. There is a baby with a tuft of black hair on top. Bundled with innocence and wonder. She had her eyes open, she giggled. It's her first laugh, it sparkles like fairies. I picked her up and hold her close to me. I run and run and run until there's wing on my back. Taking a leap of faith, and jump. Soaring toward the blue blue skies for the stars with life pumping through my veins.
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Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 6:43 AM UTC
Repainting Skies
By nabs There's a girl dancing to the music of life. Summer eyes, summer child. Playing air guitar with imagination, drumming her little feet to the earth. Dancing her own little rituals. Hops and twirls. Giggling. Jumping and clapping, letting the joy course through her little body. The girl grinned impishly at me, mischievous glint in her eyes. She run towards me and grabs my hand, whisking me away to dance. Each spins and hops, Taught me how to laugh. How to stop and wonder and dream and dream. How to let life be breathtaking. I didn't realize I had forgotten the simplicity of joy. There's a little boy with sparrow wings. Woven from the stars and the shadow. Hands full of carefully gathered sand, golden golden sand. He let them go, slipping through his finger tips, watching them get swooped away by the wind. "Why do you do that?" The question slipped out of my mouth. Like an eager bird flying for the first time. That startled me. I thought I had long forgotten how to let my questions out. The boy gaze at me, His eyes swirls like oil spills with it striking rainbows that looks young and old on his face. He doesn't smile, he doesn't need to. He take my hand and guide it towards the ground, sinking it down the golden golden sand. Gently closing my fingers to cup at them. They feel soft, like silk and lips. They tickle and I loosen my grasp. As each grain flies away from my clutch, Flashes of images floods my mind like a storm of wings, each was made from memories and carries feeling. The birth of a daughter seen by the father, the first time someone went to the sea, the giddiness of two people falling in love, the sunshine reflected on your eyes. A hand brushed a stray tear away. The boy doesn't smile, he doesn't need to. I didn't realize I was crying. He looked at me and I understand. Like little kids saying goodbye to their friends, Memories are meant to be let go. To not clutch them tight as to not destroy them. Memories are too easily tainted. So I open my palms again and said goodbye. I'll know they'll come back, like little kids know their friend will be back the next day. I have never felt this free before. There is a baby with a tuft of black hair on top. Bundled with innocence and wonder. She had her eyes open, she giggled. It's her first laugh, it sparkles like fairies. I picked her up and hold her close to me. I run and run and run until there's wing on my back. Taking a leap of faith, and jump. Soaring toward the blue blue skies for the stars with life pumping through my veins.
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69
How beautiful it is to live in a world where nothing lasts forever We must learn to fall in love with the inside us Only there, Every moment living, will be.. Every moment.. worth dying for.
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Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
The instant of a blink