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#noble
Father Geoffrey, bless me— Bartholomew. Constantine, noble Geoffrey. Constantine, noble Geoffrey. Father Geoffrey, bless me— Bartholomew. Constantine, noble Geoffrey. Constantine, noble Geoffrey. Father Geoffrey, bless me— Bartholomew. Constantine, noble Geoffrey. Constantine, noble Geoffrey.
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Nov 26, 2025
Nov 26, 2025 at 8:48 AM UTC
Constantine, Noble Geoffrey
A tiny cube, so white and neat, Sat waiting for a warm, sweet treat. The tea arrived, a steaming brown, The cube went in, and tumbled down. It gave its all, a sugary grace, To sweeten up that watery space. It melted fast, with gentle sighs, Then vanished from our wondering eyes. The tea was sweet, the flavor bright, The cube was gone, a selfless light. A noble end, a sweet release, To bring the tea a moment's peace.
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Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025 at 4:16 PM UTC
The Noble End
In the once noble house, almost all is taken except The walls, the lath, now held on by a cleat of wood and lace that redeems the letcher, denizen of Sussex wetlands. Of late the chalet is latched only by hate, and the letch chats with outlaws in the storm's eclat of thunder far off. No knights or maidens remain, nor any ruler of demesne and the treasure is born off to other kingdoms. The well is dry and fields are bare. And in the end, all depart. leaving doors open to the wind and gate down to the woods. And broken the way down to the sea.
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Jan 8, 2025
Jan 8, 2025 at 12:31 PM UTC
Chalet
Robert Herrick, Poet and cleric, Wrote numbers that were noble When they weren't ignoble.
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Sep 20, 2024
Sep 20, 2024 at 3:30 PM UTC
Ignoble Numbers
Xəyallar bir at olsaydı, At tək nəcib, güclü, yüyrək, Səyirdərdim sağa, sola, Bir-bir tərkinə minərək. Xəyallar bir at olsaydı, Vəhşi bir at, dəli bir at, Çapıb ötüm qorxuları, Arxada qalsın qaramat. Xəyallar bir at olsaydı, Xəyallarımsa at deyil. Nədir, özüm də bilmirəm, Sərgərdan, nizamsız, veyil.
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May 29, 2023
May 29, 2023 at 5:06 PM UTC
XƏYALLAR BİR AT OLSAYDI
Rich, powerful, with stunning beauty of a goddess, That's you. Yet, I do not hold any permanent loyalty. I give them to anyone I see fit, and you---are not worthy of that luxury; "Not anymore."
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May 14, 2021
May 14, 2021 at 4:35 AM UTC
Mistress
The tiny red ant scampers In a forest of greenish mold Its bristly legs carrying Biological modules: A head with pincers An imperceptible thorax A swelling abdomen. It has nothing but a laborious drive A pheromone-induced servility For the queen: the lazy, bloated tyrant! The sole purpose being The laying of eggs. The noble red ant Moves on to scavenge Blind and dumb Oblivious. To the ruthless cycle Of its existence.
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Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 11:32 PM UTC
The Red Ant
There is something undeniable about this new aesthetic: Barefoot and barely presentable as I slow-dance in the kitchen at 3am Nobody but me, my shadow and a gentle grey kitten who patiently watches me pour another cup of coffee. I stir in cinnamon, a taste that's heedy and all too sweet against the roof of my mouth. So strong it makes me want to gag, and yet I sing under my breath: old tunes I have no business remembering and lullabies brought to me on the wind [singing] all you have is fire -and the place you have to reach. My mother wanted a girl she could put together like a jigsaw. A girl who would sit still and patiently endure the effort it took to construct the perfect plat, perfect updo perfect winged eyeliner, perfect blush perfect poise, perfect dress, Perfect daughter. Instead she had me a muddled and confused thing with a tangled mess of curls and eyes that couldn't quite look away. Something with ***** fingers that knew the give and take of every leaf and blade of grass something that couldn't sit still on creaking church pews because for all the beauty they pursued, she'd seen the unmatched grace of rolling thunder and the indisputable life of the ocean. While other girls watched the boy chase the girl to a perfect kiss she worshiped the women who took up their weapons and refused to keep their peace. - A child raised on a steady diet of Victorian poetry, Greek myth and poison. Stitched together with images of Artemis, Scottish women and a heathenish name. My mother would lead me in prayer each night before bed, hoping against all hope to change what was in me. But my father made me wonder if I could be a knight one day, taught me to sing their vows of honour and justice during those ungodly hours when sleep was far. The hours when his blood called to us both in its ancient tongue. The hours where his stories became my Bible. The hours when the smell of lemongrass and rain filled the house. The hours when I would be barefoot and dancing in the kitchen Barely presentable yet undeniably free.
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Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 7:01 AM UTC
Noble Maiden
There is something undeniable about this new aesthetic: Barefoot and barely presentable as I slow-dance in the kitchen at 3am Nobody but me, my shadow and a gentle grey kitten who patiently watches me pour another cup of coffee. I stir in cinnamon, a taste that's heedy and all too sweet against the roof of my mouth. So strong it makes me want to gag, and yet I sing under my breath: old tunes I have no business remembering and lullabies brought to me on the wind [singing] all you have is fire -and the place you have to reach. My mother wanted a girl she could put together like a jigsaw. A girl who would sit still and patiently endure the effort it took to construct the perfect plat, perfect updo perfect winged eyeliner, perfect blush perfect poise, perfect dress, Perfect daughter. Instead she had me a muddled and confused thing with a tangled mess of curls and eyes that couldn't quite look away. Something with ***** fingers that knew the give and take of every leaf and blade of grass something that couldn't sit still on creaking church pews because for all the beauty they pursued, she'd seen the unmatched grace of rolling thunder and the indisputable life of the ocean. While other girls watched the boy chase the girl to a perfect kiss she worshiped the women who took up their weapons and refused to keep their peace. - A child raised on a steady diet of Victorian poetry, Greek myth and poison. Stitched together with images of Artemis, Scottish women and a heathenish name. My mother would lead me in prayer each night before bed, hoping against all hope to change what was in me. But my father made me wonder if I could be a knight one day, taught me to sing their vows of honour and justice during those ungodly hours when sleep was far. The hours when his blood called to us both in its ancient tongue. The hours where his stories became my Bible. The hours when the smell of lemongrass and rain filled the house. The hours when I would be barefoot and dancing in the kitchen Barely presentable yet undeniably free.
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32
To aim your place and chase with haste Whilst many face the angst and grace Informed techniques befit your crest Smash through with force Opposing guests Controlling breath Patience met The journeys long to ascend Focus on the foes ahead Destructive forces with intent Defeat dealt out inside a zone Hate and venom will be spent A noble art to call your own
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Mar 4, 2020
Mar 4, 2020 at 6:52 PM UTC
Jobey
it is the death of time, weeping beauty cries her grief and grace up to the sky and back on Earth, moons are the ring in melted void of time, weeping again, a world in rain and harsh deluge, entrancing flesh, the life is short and temporary, I cry with the urge of the apocalypse, my noble soul belongs to the beauty of the infinite, come back on Earth, water the land, choir of butterflies, honey and grapes would burn the evolution of a mind, seeds in the darkness, mouth full of birds fly after time, dark veil and beauty in the dark, it is the death of time and space.
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Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 9:10 AM UTC
The Sensuality Of Death
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) - 77 BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem Oh the Sacred Holy Mosque' In your Shelter, every created being Obtain their divine peace and direct path. Oh the Sacred Holy Mosque' Every direct call from your noble house, Represent undoubtedly the active faith of every beginning! Allah Khair..... Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem Ummah Thurab - Badshah Khan. ©UT-BK 2019
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Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 5:52 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) - 77
Every day I sit in chem class, I fall asleep who knows how I pass I eat lots of snacks And take short cat nap The only thing Noble 'bout me is a gas
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Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 11:43 PM UTC
Noble Gas
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 43 BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem There are naturally no specific causes for sincere love. Sincere love is virtuous, as an Eternal light of his Divine Creator. Sincere love is uniquely Noble, as His Own Creation. Nor’ it’s eagerly evaluating proper time. Nor’ it’s naturally seeking any rind. Love offer life to my Noble Soul, To merge seamlessly in His eternal love. Nor’ there is rightfully an another divine creation like Him. Nor’ there is wisely any ultimate end apart from Him. Sincere love is eternal, as he himself is sincerely love. Who do I declare heartily him as my Beloved! He undoubtedly defies the key reason of my poetic creation. And He will properly represent the ultimate end; of my own creation; He is refined and He is noble. Have a look in my glittering eyes; I am naturally in sincere love. I seamlessly merge my stable core with my loved one. Who is undoubtedly my Beloved! Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan. ©UT-BK 2019
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Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 5:07 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 43
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 15 BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem I am worst of all worst, but you came and shaped me in a perfect look. You transferred me from imperfection to perfection. You are the source of light’ that I am walking towards my beloved path. In you, I can see clearly and feel the blessings of my Creator and my beloved. As you naturally become my faithful ally, and; my possible existence towards all formidable hurdles, in my chosen path, No words, can be described’ about your sacrifice, all I can say that, I am blessed by the Heavens and Every Noble Creation of my Creator! Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan. ©UT-BK 2018
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Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 11:56 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 15
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 11 BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem Ya habibi , eindama ‘aqra shiftik. ‘Astatie ‘an ‘akhbar milyun qisat , bal ‘udris majmueatan min Al’kutb. Al’maerifat , ma ‘aseaa ‘iilayh , laysat min Al’kutub, Lkn, ‘aseaa min Hakimat Al’Nabilat. Daeuna najlus maeaan waltahaduth , Ya min Al’Nubla’ Baynama tatahadath , daeni ‘alsaq wajhak la’uktusab maelumati. li’anak ‘ant ‘ahbati! ‘Ant li’Mehbubi! Oh my beloved, when I read your lips. I can tell a million stories, rather I study a bunch of books. Knowledge, what I am seeking, is not from the books, But, I seek from your noble wisdom. let’s sit together and talk, oh the noble one, While you talk, let me glaze Your face to gain my knowledge. As, you are my loved one! You are my beloved! Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan. ©UT-BK2019
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Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 11:49 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 11
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 9 BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem The Noble descendant’ always finds its roots towards his Noble descendants! Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
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Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 4:49 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 9
Rubaiyat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 8 BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem The heaven and earth decorated on this noble month. (Rabi’ al-Thani) Your feet are blessed, for every guardian, and to this world, Blossoms flourish in your love even in a dry land, Oh Jilani, all guardians, gathered to welcomes you, As you are the king’ to entire guardians, Everyone welcomes you with utmost respect. As your are Jilani, my Loved and a respectful Friend, Let me, hold your noble feet in my heart and walk on this earth. As dust, of your noble feet’ Oh my Jilani! Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
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Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 4:47 AM UTC
Rubaiyat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 8
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 1 BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem Oh the Noble one, Oh my Beloved, I left my nation in your Love, Being royal I left my all senses, Seen the beauties of creation, but none like you, With the elegant face and serene eyes, I lost my all sense after what I seen In my time, I never seen anyone like you, Your looks, your smile, made me slave And made me cosmic in your Love, oh my beloved! I Ummah Thurab left my nation, left my comfort, In your search, Grasped the dress of rags From Badshah , I become a wanderer (Faqeer) My heart and soul wandering in your search! Been slave and psychic and lost as a dusty Nothing stops me from being in love with you Only once, show me your radiant face, Let my arid core quench his thirst, Let my soul taste the life of being I don’t want to see the heaven’s or the comforts Don’t open my mind or my eyes, just Grab my soul , and take me whole Oh my loved one! Oh my beloved! Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
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Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 4:04 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 1
Please no more fighting We're friends with cruel intentions But friends always first We love each other Eventually we leave Knowing another Men must prove worthy To defeat evils within Training means nothing Do not leave yourself Accept the body and mind As one entity
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Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 11:54 PM UTC
Haiku collection
Mahalo fellow poets.... I've come from centuries away to thank you all and let you know there's no Bible in our day. Our most sacred text is based on these.... the poetry of yesterday. The more you write the better we become by reading truth, not lies that leave us numb and dumb. So I'm begging all of you don't ever stop.... pour it out til the last drop. It will become nutrition in years to come as poetry becomes our biggest crop.
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Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC
Poet Time Traveler
Twas accursed destiny since birth alack nascent emasculation abominable barrack emergent deus ex machina, viz zit ting older sibling counterattack thirteen plus chronological gap eldest sister struck like diamondback surrogate "mother" role assumed tubby exact protectorate pseudo fullback against cruel beastie boys bullying barbs comeuppance giveback pummeling spongiform gray matter (yours truly) fisticuffs she didst highjack proxy mothering kept corporeal essence intact jilting nefarious nemesis aligned (maligning) and stalking, this fee-fi-fo-fum ordinary bean sized Jack are runt (arrant) cowardly (non lion) nerdy lad owning a knack courage lack this glum older married chap doth adumbrate satisfactory accomplishments lack king, where crazy quilt aimless wandering described purposeless multitrack thus, sympathetic to hue men/women nonblack or decimated aborigines once populating Australian outback existential nihilism would, undergirding hypothetical unwritten paperback with little need to prevaricate, nor appear as quack *** one measly **** sapiens, who accrued millennial palimpsest zeitgeist where, punctured disequilibreated psyche dust rack asper protean (in utero) multitudinous setback soundlessly resonating with concussive thwack as this rickety ship of state (a haunted junk ket) unwanted emotional ballast to unpack asseveration, asper assiduously preferably welcoming dry suction no vac jar this pawn (knight wannabe in his bishop rick) torrid me psychological wrack king within (castle keep) complex edifice shackled in dungeon with repast constituting.
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Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
Mine Gerund Tilling Illogical Weltanschauung
Twas accursed destiny since birth alack nascent emasculation abominable barrack emergent deus ex machina, viz zit ting older sibling counterattack thirteen plus chronological gap eldest sister struck like diamondback surrogate "mother" role assumed tubby exact protectorate pseudo fullback against cruel beastie boys bullying barbs comeuppance giveback pummeling spongiform gray matter (yours truly) fisticuffs she didst highjack proxy mothering kept corporeal essence intact jilting nefarious nemesis aligned (maligning) and stalking, this fee-fi-fo-fum ordinary bean sized Jack are runt (arrant) cowardly (non lion) nerdy lad owning a knack courage lack this glum older married chap doth adumbrate satisfactory accomplishments lack king, where crazy quilt aimless wandering described purposeless multitrack thus, sympathetic to hue men/women nonblack or decimated aborigines once populating Australian outback existential nihilism would, undergirding hypothetical unwritten paperback with little need to prevaricate, nor appear as quack *** one measly **** sapiens, who accrued millennial palimpsest zeitgeist where, punctured disequilibreated psyche dust rack asper protean (in utero) multitudinous setback soundlessly resonating with concussive thwack as this rickety ship of state (a haunted junk ket) unwanted emotional ballast to unpack asseveration, asper assiduously preferably welcoming dry suction no vac jar this pawn (knight wannabe in his bishop rick) torrid me psychological wrack king within (castle keep) complex edifice shackled in dungeon with repast constituting.
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58
Let gratitude be a great star-pin on your soul.
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May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 4:30 AM UTC
Lesson Learned #91