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#slant
There's something sweet that moves the garden air, It fills my chest with embers of the sun. The morning dew clings light as starlit hair, Upon my face their luster softly spun. And yet I know the comfort of these hues That once had led me down to kneel and sow. The darkened groves beneath the wistful yews Have loosed me to the place where gardens grow, Where you, so sweet, compel my voice to sing With birds that soar along your tower's ledge; They've carried you within their loving wings, And clothed your heart with flowers of the hedge.   Beneath the stars my serenade begins,   For you whose roses kissed soft summer skin.
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Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025 at 6:10 PM UTC
Flowers of the Hedge
The Hardest Forgiving Slant <|> 9:19am Fri Sept 22 2023 ~ 8:02am Fri Sep 29 2023 commenced during the Ten Days of Awe <|> we debase our language daily, robbing the spectacular majesty [example] of awe with the common overusing vernacular of “awesome” especially forgiveness is degraded, we utter “I’m sorry” trippingly, costless, less than cheap, with even the snap-on veneer (1) of sincerity discarded, but move on to the next rudeness but today I will not permit myself an easy letting-off-the-hook, no shifting of blame to anonymity, or fast forward to tomorrow, when we can obfuscate our intrepid dishonesty one more time…again to forgive those who have injured us, not that hard, or the judging deities, who silently wink and nod, but offer no certitude beyond trying, itself a maybe, maybe not, truly tiring this trying tacking the constant requests so first an etymology explication on the tension inherent that very word, f o r g i v e As a word, as a sensed, intuitively- it is a Perfect Continuous Infinitive! (2) to forgive is perfect, to forgive is continuous,, to forgive is infinite! what a marvelous, perpetual past, present and always futuristic word (alas) The Hardest Forgiving? to forgive oneself so nearer to impossible, the first responders doing triage, leave people like me for last, as it a unconditional condition with no cure that can be effected indeed, by our very affect, they instant diagnosis seeing our very gestures, body language, or ****** expressions, all reveal the hopelessness of the never-to-be-given-grace, among us for a thousand years, I have tried and failed to forgive myself for the worst I’ve done, and there is no sword or club, blood-letting, that can dispatch the onerous burden I carry so I write poetry, a salve that offers temporary relief, while I write, imposed a momentarily distracting, a kind of dusting of self~spin, that chills myself just until the, this! poem is finished, the slant is drawn <§> Tell all the truth but tell it slant — BY EMILY DICKINSON Tell all the truth but tell it slant — Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth's superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind —
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Sep 29, 2023
Sep 29, 2023 at 8:12 AM UTC
The Hardest Forgiving Slant
The Hardest Forgiving Slant <|> 9:19am Fri Sept 22 2023 ~ 8:02am Fri Sep 29 2023 commenced during the Ten Days of Awe <|> we debase our language daily, robbing the spectacular majesty [example] of awe with the common overusing vernacular of “awesome” especially forgiveness is degraded, we utter “I’m sorry” trippingly, costless, less than cheap, with even the snap-on veneer (1) of sincerity discarded, but move on to the next rudeness but today I will not permit myself an easy letting-off-the-hook, no shifting of blame to anonymity, or fast forward to tomorrow, when we can obfuscate our intrepid dishonesty one more time…again to forgive those who have injured us, not that hard, or the judging deities, who silently wink and nod, but offer no certitude beyond trying, itself a maybe, maybe not, truly tiring this trying tacking the constant requests so first an etymology explication on the tension inherent that very word, f o r g i v e As a word, as a sensed, intuitively- it is a Perfect Continuous Infinitive! (2) to forgive is perfect, to forgive is continuous,, to forgive is infinite! what a marvelous, perpetual past, present and always futuristic word (alas) The Hardest Forgiving? to forgive oneself so nearer to impossible, the first responders doing triage, leave people like me for last, as it a unconditional condition with no cure that can be effected indeed, by our very affect, they instant diagnosis seeing our very gestures, body language, or ****** expressions, all reveal the hopelessness of the never-to-be-given-grace, among us for a thousand years, I have tried and failed to forgive myself for the worst I’ve done, and there is no sword or club, blood-letting, that can dispatch the onerous burden I carry so I write poetry, a salve that offers temporary relief, while I write, imposed a momentarily distracting, a kind of dusting of self~spin, that chills myself just until the, this! poem is finished, the slant is drawn <§> Tell all the truth but tell it slant — BY EMILY DICKINSON Tell all the truth but tell it slant — Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth's superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind —
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84
The partly frozen lake Still quite spry alive ****** and late mallards Temporarily reside Shared open water spare Disorder oft ensues Waterfowl in panic as The ****** glide amused Bare-boned branches bent By early Autumn winds Nature's karma paying For sultry summer sins Sun days in November So modestly are doled Joy is where the shadows form And winter is forestalled rc
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Dec 6, 2019
Dec 6, 2019 at 12:03 AM UTC
November Day
I count one, two, three and I can't believe We've made it this far; still such a dream Somehow, you treat me like a queen Look, my love, at what we've achieved: Moments together we can treasure Conversations I'll always remember All of the love and all of the laughter The closest I've been to "happily ever after"
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Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 5:08 PM UTC
three
We’ve all heard it The ups and downs Of life we’ve all felt them both And life right now Is like a boat That’s starting to overflow And yet with this This simple truth I would just like to say This slant of life Is going up And tends to go your way Do not throw out These words I say I mean them serve you well Your life is short So don’t hang on To when you are not well Alas it comes My parting words So please lend me your ear Don’t give up hope Don’t get so down Your happy days are near
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Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 6:47 PM UTC
Slant
Virginia, you're a state of mind A young girl with tussled hair and a warbling voice, I would've enjoyed kissing someone so kind But now Virginia, I believe we've both abandoned those thoughts I can't seem to find you anywhere in this building or this head Loping along, I wonder if you've drifted off It means so little, you're late afternoon confession It's easy to stand around and wonder what could've been When I ought to be working towards my unsteady profession Virginia, you're a whim on the wind One that I dare not belittle or forget or act upon I hope what you said wasn't meant to make me bend
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Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 7:39 PM UTC
Virginia
Head start on a frozen night we'll trickle slow down blighted                                   street ways and mix our crunching footsteps with our ever-rougher laughs. Grab a drink too tired for sleeping. Work weeks pile up, getting deep and I don't think apartment walls can contain us one more night. So save a drink for me, and meet me out on Longstaff Street I've got all night and an axe to grind You've got a case of cold friends                                  and a troubled mind so let's pace                     this neighborhood. Pull up my roots, we'll untangle yours from Knowles Street, right on Marshall                             walk and drink for hours 'til we sink                   that slant street moon Transplants grafted to this town we'll spread roots in these downer                                       regrets and spill our gravel laughter on the sidewalks with these beers. South, back home, a handful got it: rotten nights pave paths to coffins I don't know how many steps it'll take to cool our heels. So grab a drink for me and we'll go walking Longstaff Street We've got these drinks, we can disappear into a slant street night                       where no one'll hear how ****** up                        these days become. I still think back on Emerson Park that Summer night we fled from                    the cops through the dark when the Russell                      Street traffic hums...
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Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
Slant Street Transplants
Head start on a frozen night we'll trickle slow down blighted                                   street ways and mix our crunching footsteps with our ever-rougher laughs. Grab a drink too tired for sleeping. Work weeks pile up, getting deep and I don't think apartment walls can contain us one more night. So save a drink for me, and meet me out on Longstaff Street I've got all night and an axe to grind You've got a case of cold friends                                  and a troubled mind so let's pace                     this neighborhood. Pull up my roots, we'll untangle yours from Knowles Street, right on Marshall                             walk and drink for hours 'til we sink                   that slant street moon Transplants grafted to this town we'll spread roots in these downer                                       regrets and spill our gravel laughter on the sidewalks with these beers. South, back home, a handful got it: rotten nights pave paths to coffins I don't know how many steps it'll take to cool our heels. So grab a drink for me and we'll go walking Longstaff Street We've got these drinks, we can disappear into a slant street night                       where no one'll hear how ****** up                        these days become. I still think back on Emerson Park that Summer night we fled from                    the cops through the dark when the Russell                      Street traffic hums...
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44
Living life on a slant.  Things keep slipping   Just out of reach,    Looking like they are far,     Too far to be here or there.      Everything is unobtainable,       People seem like they        Plot against what you         Want for them and for your life.          Smiles seem crooked,           Sidelong glances lengthen,            And frowns look fake.             Nothing is clear when              The only perspective is               Sideways.
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
Wamble
My intention was not chivalrous, It was entirely amorous, So by letting you pass, My intention was to look at your *** And so… You gave me a show. And what an *** – it was. As I let you pass – it does. Some things to me. I slap my knee And I say: Oh Boy! Such a joy! And now that I reflect, I realize it was the object, Of something near perfect, When I pulled away I nearly wrecked, All because I was rubbernecked. Even your thighs, Gave me highs, They gave me sighs. So what is chivalry? It’s men letting you pass, Only to look at your *** And you don’t sass, Because chivalry Is not rivalry. And what an *** – it was. As I let you pass – it does. Some things to me. I slap my knee And I say: Oh Boy! Such a joy! We hold the door, At the store, You’re the decor. We stare at your *** And we let you pass. You jog across the street, My eyes aren’t discrete, They just watch your *** As you jog pass, Your round **** Perfect and plump. Tightly wound in those gray pants But I stare and I don’t just glance, Your *** is what I desire, Your *** is what I admire, Your *** is what I’m chivalrous – for, Your *** is what I’m amorous – for.
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May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
Jogging Girl