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#flowing
Rivers flowing down across the land to the sea have no other way __________
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Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 10:56 AM UTC
Haiku / Senryu 26 - River's Way
To be in mortal confusion calling for too much good sense, to be ingrained, confabulations anchored on a moral sense, since why is often asked… by innocents, defined as new to words, and by comparison to word users, speechless, slack jaw awe, so lacking fancy forming information, missing meanings while playing let us leave reality there, and think a while as us be am used, being as used to think a while be with nothing less than an instance in persistance once, another story started just right went off the cliff caused by persuasive withholding of information known, shown, by truth… per se… knowing uses fructify, by impressing motion picture sensibilities, by vision television using early fifties missionary zeal, jealousy with a z, and testimonies, on the radio in that 53 Studebaker test drive, we hit a buzzard, a turkey buzzard, feasting on a coyote, east of Yucca, headin' west, just listening to anything, to ease the tension in those times, no seat belts, windows down, the Sunday drives, to get in the mood, for the kids to take a nap.
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Dec 23, 2025
Dec 23, 2025 at 3:35 PM UTC
Thought thing being as if thinkable once
The water in my well is deeper and no longer bitter. The river of life flowing into me and flowing out from me is no longer just a trickle in a sunbaked riverbed. No matter how long and hard the journey has been I take back what I lost I take back what I wasted and I take back what was taken from me whilst locked in a universally human functionalized social and spiritualized trance. I take back my hope! I take back my faith! I take back my peace! I take back my joy! I take back what was taken from me!!!
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Jul 1, 2025
Jul 1, 2025 at 8:58 AM UTC
Taking Back What Was Taken From Me
Now, Know, Who, How, You, Wow.
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Jan 7, 2025
Jan 7, 2025 at 9:50 AM UTC
Scrapbook Poem #86
I write to be free, flows right out of me; when Inspired to write; It comes rapidly. My mind steady ponders, A world full of wonders, encouraged to Inspire, as I ever so desire. My pen steady moving, and minds steady grooving, it's as easy as walking, let my pen do the talking. B.R. 01/12/2023
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Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 4:07 PM UTC
Let my Pen do the Talking for Me
As you hold me in your arms Our fingers entwined together A current of energy flowing from your body to mine So strong and exhilarating I melt into you My heart racing my breathing erratic I feel like , I could explode From this overwhelming feeling & energy Your energy and soul connecting to mine I have never felt you like this before and , I can’t wait to feel you like this again ©Jennifer L DeLong 10/02/17
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Nov 11, 2024
Nov 11, 2024 at 11:54 PM UTC
✨Loves Energy✨
In my New Day I arose from my screen-tent-mole-hole-flimsy-bomb-shelter-for-my-soul and walked down to the banks of the mighty Missinabi River at the Mattice Landing with dog’s leash in one hand and my right hand leading lady’s in the other hearing and feeling tall grasses swishing against my pant legs and the crunch of course sand under my feet that once trod fields of green tall grasses swishing against my pant legs in the meadows and rocky woods of my childhood and youth where I spent summers working at my Auntie and Uncle's farm in Canada's Northern Ontario region and in the woods and along the banks of the Lackawanna River just over the **** behind the home of my childhood and youth in the Anthracite coal region of the American Northeast which is light years away from the land of my birth where I now live in this Northern Ontario port in the middle of a deep cold sea of countless converging never-ending rivers lakes trees swamps bogs muskeg and mountains of snow where snow white and black flies fly freely. I am always trying to go deeper into the trees and bush burning deep inside my heart of hearts to follow the Moses that is in all of us. This eternal Voice in pebbles crunching under foot and tall grasses swishing and canoe parting waters that flow deep in my mind and spirit ~ once only winding past burning villages where humans **** and pillage ~ but now also following a more pastoral idyllic and super-natural course. A vagabond never quite understands the working-class woman and man living their small dream with their offspring and slice of land. I thought they were all ostrich with head in sand. But I now see that we can't all afford to brood as I often do over the daily news. They must rise early the next morning alarm clocks not set on snooze. work ethic family hearth and home days of scent of freshly mown grass barbeques campfires tea kettle whistling coffee maker brewing children playing TV and music blaring dishes rattling in sink or swim in the lake Loosen the watertight mind drum and just dive into the crunch of pebbles under foot treading fields of green tall grasses swishing against pant legs... Not only wishing but going deeper into the trees and bush burning speaking to our primeval consciousness. This eternal Voice in pebbles crunching and tall grasses swishing The whooshing sound of wading in a stream streams through my soul as I savour the body taste of wet gritty sand between my fingers and toes crouched down wet-crotch deep waiting long enough for minnows to tickle fingers and toes as mosquito’s pin-prickle skin Watching creatures much smaller than I gliding even walking on calm still water which we humans can only dream of doing in our motorized sleep. I think I now understand: To not be constantly mourning the plight of the human isn't being ostrich with head in sand. I must keep gunning-off obsessions alluring stare. I must taste life Smell and feel life Enjoy life outside of my troubled mind against the backdrop of the latest holy war and the imploding creations of our kind.
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Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
Against the Backdrop of the Latest Holy War and the Imploding Creations of Our Kind
In my New Day I arose from my screen-tent-mole-hole-flimsy-bomb-shelter-for-my-soul and walked down to the banks of the mighty Missinabi River at the Mattice Landing with dog’s leash in one hand and my right hand leading lady’s in the other hearing and feeling tall grasses swishing against my pant legs and the crunch of course sand under my feet that once trod fields of green tall grasses swishing against my pant legs in the meadows and rocky woods of my childhood and youth where I spent summers working at my Auntie and Uncle's farm in Canada's Northern Ontario region and in the woods and along the banks of the Lackawanna River just over the **** behind the home of my childhood and youth in the Anthracite coal region of the American Northeast which is light years away from the land of my birth where I now live in this Northern Ontario port in the middle of a deep cold sea of countless converging never-ending rivers lakes trees swamps bogs muskeg and mountains of snow where snow white and black flies fly freely. I am always trying to go deeper into the trees and bush burning deep inside my heart of hearts to follow the Moses that is in all of us. This eternal Voice in pebbles crunching under foot and tall grasses swishing and canoe parting waters that flow deep in my mind and spirit ~ once only winding past burning villages where humans **** and pillage ~ but now also following a more pastoral idyllic and super-natural course. A vagabond never quite understands the working-class woman and man living their small dream with their offspring and slice of land. I thought they were all ostrich with head in sand. But I now see that we can't all afford to brood as I often do over the daily news. They must rise early the next morning alarm clocks not set on snooze. work ethic family hearth and home days of scent of freshly mown grass barbeques campfires tea kettle whistling coffee maker brewing children playing TV and music blaring dishes rattling in sink or swim in the lake Loosen the watertight mind drum and just dive into the crunch of pebbles under foot treading fields of green tall grasses swishing against pant legs... Not only wishing but going deeper into the trees and bush burning speaking to our primeval consciousness. This eternal Voice in pebbles crunching and tall grasses swishing The whooshing sound of wading in a stream streams through my soul as I savour the body taste of wet gritty sand between my fingers and toes crouched down wet-crotch deep waiting long enough for minnows to tickle fingers and toes as mosquito’s pin-prickle skin Watching creatures much smaller than I gliding even walking on calm still water which we humans can only dream of doing in our motorized sleep. I think I now understand: To not be constantly mourning the plight of the human isn't being ostrich with head in sand. I must keep gunning-off obsessions alluring stare. I must taste life Smell and feel life Enjoy life outside of my troubled mind against the backdrop of the latest holy war and the imploding creations of our kind.
Continue reading...
73
Channeling new feelings, to stay locked in the now. I am able to do this, though I do not know how. In any occurrence, I sneer not, nor cheer. I listen but judge not, on values held dear. Controlling emotions, when faced with despair. Aligns your three vessels, for constant repair. With any experience, you control what you feel. By being in balance, you then learn to heal. Start doing things other than what you've been told. You'll soon see the story, that's about to unfold. Enhanced understanding, burning bright as the Sun. Will show you this game, has already been won.
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Sep 9, 2024
Sep 9, 2024 at 7:44 PM UTC
Detachment
I dot my i’s and cross my t’s, a perfect ballerina dancing across the page. Graceful as a butterfly soothing like a summer sunset. Sweet, simple, flawless. But already there are scribbles, mispelings, blots of ink and suddenly this perfect canvas is no longer blank. Oh, to write like a wildfire, no remorse or formulaic meter! Just bared wide, torn open displaying my wholeness as us poets so often do.
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Sep 3, 2024
Sep 3, 2024 at 11:40 AM UTC
dot my i’s
TW: blood ~ isn't it amazing? put your hand on your chest now make a cut and watch yourself bleed bleed deeply flowing flowing flowing red pouring but that heart it's still beating feel deeply alive still alive despite the pain how?
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Mar 13, 2022
Mar 13, 2022 at 7:50 PM UTC
pain is irrelevant to life
While everything dissolves in a blur and everyone else is in a hurry, between the fast and slow footsteps on the street, yours just feel like water— flowing across minds in one step, through sands of time in two. Maybe they will find you cold and bland, but have they ever felt cold water on a sizzling day? And maybe, maybe I've swum in calmer waters, walked at a slower pace with many. But no one has ever swung my hand along a busy pedestrian street, or swayed me as gently as you did.
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Jun 15, 2021
Jun 15, 2021 at 6:24 PM UTC
Cold water
Water the Greenhouse Water the plants on the deck. Walk Autumn Moon. Salutation to the Sun Yoga on the deck Prayers Angel of Air Reading & Study with Ken Sipping herbals & he, his coffee. Pick up. Moving the living room furniture Rearranging. Sweeping. Mopping. Clean the kennel. Fresh bedding for Autumn. A break for Sevenfold Peace in the sunshine. Listening to the Holy Stream of Sound. Playing with Autumn. Laughing with Ken. Continuing with rearranging & cleaning Done! Another break With Ken, Autumn & Habibie By the firepit in front of the shop. Auti chasing water up and down and around. Walk to Alli's, talk and pick up the key. Cut broccoli, cabbage, carrots, & kale Add a few pods of peas Drizzle poppy seed dressing. Two bowls with 1/2 cup of rolled oats each Add cinnamon. Taking a teaspoon Half full with honey. Dipping it into the center of the oats Pouring boiling water over the honey. Into the oats. Stirring and stirring Watching the cinnamon spirals Mix into the sweet porridge. Small cacao chips, sunflower seeds A few raisins Sprinkled as garnish. Eating together Smallville, playing with Autumn Habibie resting near by. She maybe carrying kittens. Too early to tell. Tired. Good night. Sleep. 2:30 am. Ken up watching a movie on is phone. My, my, how times have changed. Return to bed. Writing, writing, writing….now it is done.
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May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 1:07 PM UTC
Flowing Movement
I have made my transition to another place, a place where beauty needs no explination. God’s great timing is everything; it may not be what we expect but God is always in control. Sands will flow through the hourglass, slow and steady, throughout our lives. Time will end and the sand will stop flowing, but God’s love for us is forever growing. I have worked all my life for this to happen, to see my Lord face to face. I’ve been accepted in this majestic place, where pain no longer has a hold on me. My eyes have adjusted t my new reality, I can see bright skies and butterflies. Don’t worry about not seeing my face, don’t worry abut not feeling my embrace. Hold our memories inside your heart, and know that our live will never depart. Cry for me, just for a while, but not too long, ‘cause I’m don’t just fine. My bags are unpacked and I am settling in, taking my place next to the Master. He said that he’d never leave nor forsake me, He kept his promise, I am with him now. He has taken my hand and opened up the doors; to a Paradise of beauty and love divine. I know you’ll miss me, I’ll miss you too! Just know dear hearts, we will be together again someday. Live your life to the fullest, and remember our love each and every day. Just remember your hourglass is still flowing strong. Do what you can so you can see, my hourglass is full again, this time my sand will never end!
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Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 10:47 PM UTC
Hourglass
Graceful, flowing Yielding, bending Growth and movement never ending Moments living Joy surpassing Rhythms, seasons, everlasting Mind awaking Harvest taking Every day a memory making Good creating My truth stating My wealth flows without abating
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Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 9:31 AM UTC
Never Ending (Prosperity Poem 88)
great words, today, are flowing from the authur what will be the message delivered, to you, the observer how will each individual interrupt what is composed it is not the author's duty to unravel written reflections the chore in the written word is subject to reflection what do you see? Brian Hill - 2020 # 218
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Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 9:13 AM UTC
Word Reflections
Everything that's broke And the flower buds which bloom, leave it to the breeze 💛
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Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 5:58 AM UTC
Haiku
I was holding Her Hands, as We walked the Talk. The Moon in the Sky, watched Us like a Hawk. Her natural beauty shone, all over the Place. My Woman was draped, in a German Gown of Lace. It was on the Silver Beach, Our Romance got Lit. Slowly and Steadily, Our Midnight Passions got Hit. I Unwrapped Her Desires, as the Cold Wind kept Blowing. As She wrapped around  My Arms, My Endless Love kept Flowing.
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Jun 25, 2020
Jun 25, 2020 at 8:05 AM UTC
Unwrapping Her Desires
I don’t know what it means But it’s something beautiful for sure Giving me your all, no in-betweens A little bruised, a little used, yet so pure I looked up and saw you grin A smile that touched my blue heart Your kindness like a gentle wind Slowly, tenderly, picking me apart Soothing my wounds, helping me breathe Building me up, dismantling my fear Showing me the way to feel free It’s so much easier when you’re here Wondering where you’ve always been Laughing, talking, touching, flowing Nurturing the hidden tigress within Helping, hoping, healing, knowing A force for good, to which I’ve clung The power you wield over me is strong and steady Oh please, let loose your silvery tongue! I was always here for you, and I now I am ready To give in, and to let go Let you color in the black Watch it heal, let it grow Show me you, and don’t hold back
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Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 7:31 PM UTC
Don’t Hold Back
Sometimes feels overwhelming Adrenaline begins flowing I hate having anxiety Fear and uncertainty growing
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Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 6:18 AM UTC
Overwhelmed
See a rich goblet of gold Empty and ready to receive Ancient in style, yet shining bright This antique treasure of old Belongs to you. Trust and believe And claim your prize in calm delight In your mind Become the goblet You are precious indeed Your lasting worth decreed Feeling your worth Made from riches of earth Fully fulfilled every day Spark of divine Your wealth is a sign Of life surely flowing your way
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Jan 18, 2020
Jan 18, 2020 at 8:50 AM UTC
Goblet of Gold (Prosperity Poem 62)
Kiss me like the moonlit stars, reflect and reach the Everglades, and embue with blue like the Sunday shade. Cool, crisp, refreshing, and new. Don't cut my leaves and curb my bite, to melt me into pasty walls of glowing white. Which will only hold the captured light of the sun which shines to rise. Don't let me fall without a trace. To meet my end in the shallowing streams of fading grey, where I could never dream of meeting thee, with such a wave. But take my greeting in from rooftops as a simple sign of life to stay, and fall like stars of burning Orr if you must. Frozen until crashing down, only catch me along the way.
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Dec 22, 2019
Dec 22, 2019 at 7:20 PM UTC
Flowing Words In Falling Skies
A photograph expresses controlled puppet moment. but we will express through uncontrolled flowing app’s. © Feelings Coated
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Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 1:54 PM UTC
Photograph