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"allured" poems
Benign, benevolent ballerina bubbly bathing by beautiful blossoming balsams. A gander I took and I was a statue, still, allured, and enchanted. my lips basted by beauty, before her I was an apparition, lost in forests of adulation. A vanishing spirit soon to be a vestige of a vestige. I shall wage wars, arm myself and battle my way to her hands that can melt the glaciers residing in my heart.
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
MY HEART IS HERS
Her eyes radiant and sensous, she proudly wore them. Her eyes allured praises, and conquered the art of flirting. She looked at him to flaunt her eyes. Which, she knew will tantalize him. She wanted to arouse his highs, and have him fantasize about her. She looked at his eyes, assuming it's just another fling. Powerful and authentic were his eyes, but also strangely familiar and gently captivating. Her eyes met his eyes. For the first time, her impish and sparky spirit felt something alien. His eyes were all that were focussed for, the rest of the surrounding faded. She didn't feel the air. She didn't feel the ground. She only felt the gaze. Her always rambling mind went thoughtless now. Her burning desire to keep doing more was suddenly extinguished. She went quiet. Neither into an uncomfortable silence, nor a painful silence. But a peaceful silence. A satiated silence. The haunting memories from the past, the gripping fear of the future, all dissolved and energised the ecstatic present. She no longer wanted this to be a fling for, she knew she was captivated. This was the first her flirting failed. And she knew she couldn't be bailed out from what's to come.
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May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 1:18 AM UTC
When Eyes Meet...
On the land molded by footsteps and ruled by obnoxiously bleached clowns, Visited by swarms of neighborhood guttersnipes and the opulent from uptown. Allured by the traditional Irish circus music and the grinding of rusted gears, To arrive at dawn and to leave only when the night sky is tired of fireworks and flares. Skittish and gleaming eyes would roll on the floor, struck by daze and lost in wonderment, At the marvel of giant steel rides and god forsaken and socially foretoken genetic mutants. The word of a woman with two faces and the boy with a tail would make any catholic priest run. Amusing the rational ones, alongside the man with elastic skin and the girl with the forked tongue. The opera lady with outlandish proportions and tumorous lips sings to break a piece of cheap glassware. Little do people know,that the magician’s red gloves are actually stained with blood of rabbit that disappeared. Their noses get caught in the medley of fragrances from the exotic perfumes shop, Blended with the saccharine tang from the stall that sells candy floss and soda pops. Indulging over the overly priced confectioneries at the stall of the baker with the forbidding grin. Try it a hundred times,try it a thousand,you’ll never get the fifth one right in the game of rings. People will come out screaming from the haunted house,only to laugh about it later, Little do they know,that skeletons that drove them pale and white couldn't get any realer. They’ll jostle and struggle to make their way through the crowd to various rides and attractions. Hustling to navigate through the maze the carnival is, encountered by countless illusions. And once your body wears out and senses give in,that’s when you've truly entered the carnival state of mind. Your ears stinging ,nose stifled,tongue baffled, eyes exhausted,and your sense of judgment blinded. That’s when my masked act begins,the most profitable act at the carnival, Diving into the heart of the crowd,to draw an act of brilliance lasting an ephemeral. Slithering across the crowd in a different disguise every hour,concealed by stealth. Sneaking into every nook and corner and slipping my furtive hands into your pockets for a little bit of wealth. Only to dine with the clowns and the carnival family at the haunted house at the end of the day. And of course, rabbits for dinner,if the baker may
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May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC
Carnival
On the land molded by footsteps and ruled by obnoxiously bleached clowns, Visited by swarms of neighborhood guttersnipes and the opulent from uptown. Allured by the traditional Irish circus music and the grinding of rusted gears, To arrive at dawn and to leave only when the night sky is tired of fireworks and flares. Skittish and gleaming eyes would roll on the floor, struck by daze and lost in wonderment, At the marvel of giant steel rides and god forsaken and socially foretoken genetic mutants. The word of a woman with two faces and the boy with a tail would make any catholic priest run. Amusing the rational ones, alongside the man with elastic skin and the girl with the forked tongue. The opera lady with outlandish proportions and tumorous lips sings to break a piece of cheap glassware. Little do people know,that the magician’s red gloves are actually stained with blood of rabbit that disappeared. Their noses get caught in the medley of fragrances from the exotic perfumes shop, Blended with the saccharine tang from the stall that sells candy floss and soda pops. Indulging over the overly priced confectioneries at the stall of the baker with the forbidding grin. Try it a hundred times,try it a thousand,you’ll never get the fifth one right in the game of rings. People will come out screaming from the haunted house,only to laugh about it later, Little do they know,that skeletons that drove them pale and white couldn't get any realer. They’ll jostle and struggle to make their way through the crowd to various rides and attractions. Hustling to navigate through the maze the carnival is, encountered by countless illusions. And once your body wears out and senses give in,that’s when you've truly entered the carnival state of mind. Your ears stinging ,nose stifled,tongue baffled, eyes exhausted,and your sense of judgment blinded. That’s when my masked act begins,the most profitable act at the carnival, Diving into the heart of the crowd,to draw an act of brilliance lasting an ephemeral. Slithering across the crowd in a different disguise every hour,concealed by stealth. Sneaking into every nook and corner and slipping my furtive hands into your pockets for a little bit of wealth. Only to dine with the clowns and the carnival family at the haunted house at the end of the day. And of course, rabbits for dinner,if the baker may
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26
The scent of the pollen allured her, hanging in the still air of the morning. She would stop in her travel and visit each flower that she found. The precious nectar oozed from deep within the petals and she would thirstily drink at each one. She would gently land in the scented shade of each blossom and coax the precious nourishment from it. She never gorged, but rather drank from each flower what it was willing to give. Some were full and over ripe and bursting with the honeyed juice. Others had a smaller treasure, but she would drink lovingly of their gift leaving them an offering of pollen as a thanks. Her small, delicate tongue would gently lick and probe the recesses of the flower hunting the sweetness inside. The pollen on her coat would touch with the very deepest innards of the bloom and enter its very core. Her gift, as she suckled each part, was imparted into the scented womb of the softly petaled blossom. Each flower awaited her coming and spread wide it’s scented opening for her to enter. Their swollen pistils would be gorged with the potential for life and their gently glistening stamens would tempt her to feed on their sticky juices. The soft buzzing of her wings caressed the delicate parts of the fragrant blooms with a gentle breeze as she drank her sustenance. She sheltered in the colored shade of petals, hung round her like colored sheets, as she took what each one had to offer. When she was done she would move on to the next, slowly and deliberately milking the juice of life from each one. Every flower needed her and each one did what it could to tempt her in. Some threw heavy fragrance into the air so she could catch their scent while others bared their large and swollen glands so she could see their abundance. She traveled from bloom to bloom, sometimes enticed by the shaded shelter, and other times the sight of glistening pollen. But she fed on each one, large and small, and in each one she left her gift. The pollen that she carried would be imparted on each ***** stamen as she fed. The glistening end of the shaft was soft and sticky and waiting for the pollen that would carry on its life. While she fed each day, there was a gardener who tended to her plants. He took gentle care of them, weeding and pruning and tending to their needs. The flowers that she fed on were his future sustenance and he tended her as well. He would follow her sometimes through his garden and watch as she gently buzzed from plant to plant. She was used to his watchful eyes as he watched her drink from each bloom. He knew that his crop depended on her and he would peer into the bedding of petals as she caressed the sweetness from each one with her tongue. Her long tongue would probe deep into the recesses of the fragrant flower and find every drop of nectar. The gardener watched as she carried on the cycle of life for him and would wait for days to see the swollen fruits of her labor burgeoning from his plants. When she left each flower satisfied with their delicious treat, she would fly off to the next, not knowing that a seed would be swelling in the gorged pistil that she just left. And so it went as the bee buzzed her life away every day. The gardener would be there among his carefully tended crops, watching and waiting as she moved among the flowers. His gaze would follow her as she traveled through the foliage and landed amongst the blooms. Every day he would watch as she coaxed the sweet nectar from each one and left her gift in return.
0
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
The Bee
The scent of the pollen allured her, hanging in the still air of the morning. She would stop in her travel and visit each flower that she found. The precious nectar oozed from deep within the petals and she would thirstily drink at each one. She would gently land in the scented shade of each blossom and coax the precious nourishment from it. She never gorged, but rather drank from each flower what it was willing to give. Some were full and over ripe and bursting with the honeyed juice. Others had a smaller treasure, but she would drink lovingly of their gift leaving them an offering of pollen as a thanks. Her small, delicate tongue would gently lick and probe the recesses of the flower hunting the sweetness inside. The pollen on her coat would touch with the very deepest innards of the bloom and enter its very core. Her gift, as she suckled each part, was imparted into the scented womb of the softly petaled blossom. Each flower awaited her coming and spread wide it’s scented opening for her to enter. Their swollen pistils would be gorged with the potential for life and their gently glistening stamens would tempt her to feed on their sticky juices. The soft buzzing of her wings caressed the delicate parts of the fragrant blooms with a gentle breeze as she drank her sustenance. She sheltered in the colored shade of petals, hung round her like colored sheets, as she took what each one had to offer. When she was done she would move on to the next, slowly and deliberately milking the juice of life from each one. Every flower needed her and each one did what it could to tempt her in. Some threw heavy fragrance into the air so she could catch their scent while others bared their large and swollen glands so she could see their abundance. She traveled from bloom to bloom, sometimes enticed by the shaded shelter, and other times the sight of glistening pollen. But she fed on each one, large and small, and in each one she left her gift. The pollen that she carried would be imparted on each ***** stamen as she fed. The glistening end of the shaft was soft and sticky and waiting for the pollen that would carry on its life. While she fed each day, there was a gardener who tended to her plants. He took gentle care of them, weeding and pruning and tending to their needs. The flowers that she fed on were his future sustenance and he tended her as well. He would follow her sometimes through his garden and watch as she gently buzzed from plant to plant. She was used to his watchful eyes as he watched her drink from each bloom. He knew that his crop depended on her and he would peer into the bedding of petals as she caressed the sweetness from each one with her tongue. Her long tongue would probe deep into the recesses of the fragrant flower and find every drop of nectar. The gardener watched as she carried on the cycle of life for him and would wait for days to see the swollen fruits of her labor burgeoning from his plants. When she left each flower satisfied with their delicious treat, she would fly off to the next, not knowing that a seed would be swelling in the gorged pistil that she just left. And so it went as the bee buzzed her life away every day. The gardener would be there among his carefully tended crops, watching and waiting as she moved among the flowers. His gaze would follow her as she traveled through the foliage and landed amongst the blooms. Every day he would watch as she coaxed the sweet nectar from each one and left her gift in return.
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1
1279 The Way to know the Bobolink From every other Bird Precisely as the Joy of him— Obliged to be inferred. Of impudent Habiliment Attired to defy, Impertinence subordinate At times to Majesty. Of Sentiments seditious Amenable to Law— As Heresies of Transport Or Puck’s Apostacy. Extrinsic to Attention Too intimate with Joy— He compliments existence Until allured away By Seasons or his Children— Adult and urgent grown— Or unforeseen aggrandizement Or, happily, Renown— By Contrast certifying The Bird of Birds is gone— How nullified the Meadow— Her Sorcerer withdrawn!
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6k
The Way to know the Bobolink
Some time ago in the furnace below Grew restless the ruler of sin; He dug through His closet Composed a composite Consisting of a violin. The underworld rang with Delectable twang As Lucifer plucked on His strings; E'en angels flew down Allured by the sound Til Cerberus plucked off their wings. Eventually Satan grew bored of this, too; That thrill-seeking ******* must capture the new; So up to the land of the living He flew; Disguised as a figure whom everyone knew. First on the agenda of any pretender: Extinguish the genuine soul; He arrived in Genoa Disguised as a boa And silently swallowed him whole.   With Europe His playground The Devil, He made sound That no one alive had yet heard; He fiddled and plucked, Gambled and ****** Until inside Him syphilis stirred.   His physical shell He now had to retire; Back to the depths of the black and the fire; Forever above will the humans admire; The legend of strings; the king; the sire.
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Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 12:48 AM UTC
Paganini
black bee head first in a hibiscus flower waxy pollen beads dabbled down its gleaming back foraging done it shimmies out to spy the next allurement darting and hovering as it chooses its mark close enough to feel its pulsing whir breeze the hair on my arm I hover too allured and unfurled before turning to dart through this shimmering world Tom Spencer © 2018
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Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 7:03 AM UTC
black bee
Assembly, advice, never white fiery sparks ignited The shooting star, comet's orange setting ensemble Tasted like juicy melons tender invisibility scents Town wards were asleep walking upfront the castle's Dust mingled with powder    honeysuckle flower allured Honeymoon to burst out of White Elfs knee long silver hair round Black Elk's belly caressed Pixie had Mahogany Henna Hue red tongue and bluish evanescent Saga of White Elf and Black Elk meeting Honeymoon Pixie Dust
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Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
Honeymoon Pixie Dust
How beautiful is the life With all its vibrant colours The colours which define its creativity Life is colour,colour is life Shades of translucent rainbow Casting his grace on embellished life The allured tints of the moring sun Captivating the vivacity in people's life How abhorent the nature be Enchained,restricted without the colours Blemishing the ornamentation garnished from heaven But suddenly the grandness breathed for its life As colours started to play an illusive vibe Awakening the sluggishness in one's life Unfolding the colours honesty with ecstasy.
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Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
Colours
I can acomplish anything in my dreams I forgive you have slept with one woman and two older ladies later surprisingly sweet charming you had me for the dessert after the same aged chest dune planet was innocent awry, happy, subliminal not occuring our sensory receptors need to be more open accepting Nomens as lucid Omens stars in your eyes and a bright mass within waves of the mind germinatrix sensual aroused awareness honey. . . your tower seems like a marvel of a slick bridge growing inside me well gourded fortress silent for many ages, here, archaic oak doors stand, imposant, aged by translucent rains horsmen, ladies, light steps, the perfume of ever crying branches thrown to the winds of time even heaven's allured by this wildest dreams, oak entering yearns for a sweet melody, sound sang by the horseshoe shaped ~ aum ~~ knock tock         tock tomp               tomp thump               thump thump               thump we are rare devotional flowers growing toward the Sun's love our curved green bodies are coloured little skirts, our petal veils listen to every raindrop's fall. Feel every one of them heavy light unbearable beauty within awe stricken garden's architecture
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Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
Garden Ascension
How can I learn how to fly When all the sky Belongs to you? How can I learn how to speak When all the words seek You and only you? How can I learn how to smile When all the reasons to cry Are coming from you? How should I know When it's time to laugh, When enough is enough, When time is a serious bluff? You smile, talk then grow Words hidden in a cough. Decissions, questions, start over - Grab my hand, again then hover; Games and dices in your net, A vivid lie it's all I get. How can I be What you want me to be? I have my own words, you see: I can't become the allured sea In a plain desert of thee.
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Sep 10, 2011
Sep 10, 2011 at 6:51 PM UTC
Identity
Just a little, just a small, just a bit Exuding burst of energy Embodiment of brilliance Manifested in human flesh Wondering while we walk Trembling trying to talk Mankind mostly marred momentum Humanity how humiliating, hiding Forefathers frowning, from our fabricated forget Refusing redemption, requiring rancor and retribution Always armed, allured, awaiting angry accusations Derailed doves, these daggers drag down Losing level landings, lacerating learning's lifting Just a little, just a small, just a bit Exuding burst of energy Embodiment of brilliance Manifested in human flesh I implore indignation, it's incarceration of our intrinsic immensity At the core of our conception, captivating creation captured Anyone, everyone, afraid of the amazement accrued under our armor Profoundness, endless as the universe, favoring our existence Just a little, just a small, just a bit Exuding burst of energy Embodiment of brilliance Manifested in human flesh
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC
Embodiment of Brilliance
555 Trust in the Unexpected— By this—was William Kidd Persuaded of the Buried Gold— As One had testified— Through this—the old Philosopher— His Talismanic Stone Discernéd—still withholden To effort undivine— ’Twas this—allured Columbus— When Genoa—withdrew Before an Apparition Baptized America— The Same—afflicted Thomas— When Deity assured ’Twas better—the perceiving not— Provided it believed—
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2.2k
Trust in the Unexpected
Transfixed by your gaze, Enticed by your word, Allured by a promise, I yet to have heard.
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Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 1:24 PM UTC
Unspoken
my thumb pushing down on a lighter is more calming than a small hand holding said thumb watching anything burn is more entertaining to me than the dancing flames
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 3:47 AM UTC
allured
*Allured by the witchcraft of your auburn curls, hit by the corners of those swift piscine eyes, submitted to your canoodling with my secret desires; the last straw was your pouty, luscious, ruby lips!*
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Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 1:32 PM UTC
Her conquest
Let me pull you back into me arms, Let me breath in your perfume; I want to always remember your scent, So I am able to last the day without you. I know I seem so clinging, But I simply can't live without you. Your eye's and lips, They have this softness that Hypnotizes me. Your hair and skin is like silk, I am allured by them; Making me want to reason out and touch. Your words they are like witchcraft, The keep me on the edge and in a trance. Oh my dear can't you see, I am under your enchanting spell, I shall always be Hypnotized by you and the way you are.
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Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
Hypnotized
she touches me and i am lost in her hair, her mouth, her eyes, her skin— she is quicksand, she is oasis. she speaks to me and i am allured her voice lily of the valley, daring tongue soft and subtle lethal as i drink her in no longer can i give anyone else what i so eagerly give to her
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Aug 15, 2022
Aug 15, 2022 at 10:11 AM UTC
fragment #2
Step into my world & see what I see Suit up in my armor & role play me Once there, you’ll be shocked & alarmed When you see him, allured & charmed You’ll see my love through stormy eyes Hold your ground, you may be surprised For in my world, it is only him that is there But, you’ll discover his love he does not share He is the storm in my eyes, furious & surging But, the fire in my heart continues my yearning You’ll feel the way it jumps out of my chest In my passionate world, not such a thing as rest For I will not rest until his love does return I’ve acquired to him watching me as I burn From the fire within him I become impaired He is a bit frightening, but don’t be scared Just suit up in my armor, don’t make a sound Take a walk in my world on my alluvial ground It may be left destroyed from his endless rain So try being me, I bet you can’t handle the pain Though you'll have my armor big & strong Darling even with that, you won't last long.
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Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
My Armor
Thy effigy was so charming It can grips a heart Thy face of youthfulness It can tranquilized a war Many roses envied thee Their complaints was loudly burst That blessed was unjust That you owned a beauty, to them ugliness Thy prettiness a weapon Can  slave a kingdom But it feared someone The monstrous beast - the time Thy beauty was rotten The one that allured thousand kings Thy effulgence doom A star that used to be dream... written: July 31, 2001 at 7:00 pm Mysterious Aries
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Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
Once A Star (2001)
Will you be my savior? Or maybe my downfall? I dont know just yet, Though I'm at your beck and call You've treated me great. You've treated me divine. But all this happened, When I thought things were fine. As I sit here and cry, You hold me in your arms, Because you caused this, And I'm allured by your charms So even when its you, That's causing me pain In your arms I'm happy. Your like a drug in my veins So I sit here waiting Confused in sorrow and joy, The only thing I can hope, Is that I'm not used like a toy. But I know you better That's something you wouldn't do But you may just go... And I can't live without you You mean so much to me I think of you every day of the week. A life without my Summer Skye Would leave my life very bleak You are the only one to make me smile when my life was at stake. So without you in my life, my heart would just break.
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May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
My Summer Skye
The twilight’s inner flame grows blue and deep, And in my ****** over leagues of sea, The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees. Twilight has veiled the little flower face Here on my heart, but still the night is kind And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast. Am I that Sappho who would run at dusk Along the surges creeping up the shore When tides came in to ease the hungry beach, And running, running, till the night was black, Would fall forespent upon the chilly sand And quiver with the winds from off the sea? Ah, quietly the shingle waits the tides Whose waves are stinging kisses, but to me Love brought no peace, nor darkness any rest. I crept and touched the foam with fevered hands And cried to Love, from whom the sea is sweet, From whom the sea is bitterer than death. Ah, Aphrodite, if I sing no more To thee, God’s daughter, powerful as God, It is that thou hast made my life too sweet To hold the added sweetness of a song. There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace. I hold my peace, my Cleïs, on my heart; And softer than a little wild bird’s wing Are kisses that she pours upon my mouth. Ah, never any more when spring like fire Will flicker in the newly opened leaves, Shall I steal forth to seek for solitude Beyond the lure of light Alcæus’ lyre, Beyond the sob that stilled Erinna’s voice. Ah, never with a throat that aches with song, Beneath the white uncaring sky of spring, Shall I go forth to hide awhile from Love The quiver and the crying of my heart. Still I remember how I strove to flee The love-note of the birds, and bowed my head To hurry faster, but upon the ground I saw two wingèd shadows side by side, And all the world’s spring passion stifled me. Ah, Love, there is no fleeing from thy might, No lonely place where thou hast never trod, No desert thou hast left uncarpeted With flowers that spring beneath thy perfect feet. In many guises didst thou come to me; I saw thee by the maidens while they danced, Phaon allured me with a look of thine, In Anactoria I knew thy grace, I looked at Cercolas and saw thine eyes; But never wholly, soul and body mine, Didst thou bid any love me as I loved. Now I have found the peace that fled from me; Close, close, against my heart I hold my world. Ah, Love that made my life a lyric cry, Ah, Love that tuned my lips to lyres of thine, I taught the world thy music, now alone I sing for one who falls asleep to hear.
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1.6k
Sappho
The twilight’s inner flame grows blue and deep, And in my ****** over leagues of sea, The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees. Twilight has veiled the little flower face Here on my heart, but still the night is kind And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast. Am I that Sappho who would run at dusk Along the surges creeping up the shore When tides came in to ease the hungry beach, And running, running, till the night was black, Would fall forespent upon the chilly sand And quiver with the winds from off the sea? Ah, quietly the shingle waits the tides Whose waves are stinging kisses, but to me Love brought no peace, nor darkness any rest. I crept and touched the foam with fevered hands And cried to Love, from whom the sea is sweet, From whom the sea is bitterer than death. Ah, Aphrodite, if I sing no more To thee, God’s daughter, powerful as God, It is that thou hast made my life too sweet To hold the added sweetness of a song. There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace. I hold my peace, my Cleïs, on my heart; And softer than a little wild bird’s wing Are kisses that she pours upon my mouth. Ah, never any more when spring like fire Will flicker in the newly opened leaves, Shall I steal forth to seek for solitude Beyond the lure of light Alcæus’ lyre, Beyond the sob that stilled Erinna’s voice. Ah, never with a throat that aches with song, Beneath the white uncaring sky of spring, Shall I go forth to hide awhile from Love The quiver and the crying of my heart. Still I remember how I strove to flee The love-note of the birds, and bowed my head To hurry faster, but upon the ground I saw two wingèd shadows side by side, And all the world’s spring passion stifled me. Ah, Love, there is no fleeing from thy might, No lonely place where thou hast never trod, No desert thou hast left uncarpeted With flowers that spring beneath thy perfect feet. In many guises didst thou come to me; I saw thee by the maidens while they danced, Phaon allured me with a look of thine, In Anactoria I knew thy grace, I looked at Cercolas and saw thine eyes; But never wholly, soul and body mine, Didst thou bid any love me as I loved. Now I have found the peace that fled from me; Close, close, against my heart I hold my world. Ah, Love that made my life a lyric cry, Ah, Love that tuned my lips to lyres of thine, I taught the world thy music, now alone I sing for one who falls asleep to hear.
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58
I'd like to tell you the story of the eyes that changed my world. It wasn't hazel but instead it was sunken bloodshot eyes. His eyes were heavy-lidded and fringed with incredibly long lashes. It was deep and empty yet it was penetrating my soul. Invitingly mysterious and all I could think of the first time I laid my eyes on it, I was love-struck. It was restless yet it makes me breathless. Allured by a round burning brown-eyed. I for sure was bewitched by his unusual ***** of sight. I was lost in a hollow passage of his soul. The colors that are painted beneath his eyelids was full of sorrows and chaos. They are beautiful but it was cold and dark in it. It carries his heart and draws everything in it. It captures all that I am and makes me see things some can't. A hurricane in his eyes yet it laid my nerves calm. A very familiar and miraculous jellylike pair in a bony orbit. It harbor the lonely skies, enigmatic as the universe itself. His eyes were unconquerable. You get lost and you get found.
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Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 10:30 PM UTC
Gateway of the Soul
She had seen him there At the party Dark eyes watching her From the corner As she danced He had not been there When she left Dark skies blanketed her And stars lit the way As she began her walk home She had not taken this path before To get home A glowing field allured her With nearly fluorescent flowers So she took this shortcut He had seen her approaching Full of new memories Then stopping Hesitating to make the decision To go left through the field She had soon felt him Among the treacherous flowers His dark presence in the wind His words soon blended in As he moved in closer He had not lingered To see her awaken On the grass outside the field Red mixed in yellow **** seed dust
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Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 5:29 PM UTC
**** Seed
At daybreak, the messenger was killed by my hand; I grasped and cleaved the life where it once grew, Claiming it selfishly for my own eyes to view. Violet allured and the desire began to expand. Each morning the secret scent of future days Secretes whirlwinds of intoxicating haze. A lustful hunger overtook what was planned. Before snapping root to stem, a final call ­before the knell: The delicate crocuses whispered, “Spring,” then softly fell.
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Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 5:47 PM UTC
Guilty