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"aloud" poems
Hidden within the earthy depth only emerges with time only dances in tangent now slips out with the butterflies.   Now the nightingales singing aloud! One has spoken out, one blew a kiss out off the dark seed. Ah, what then broke through? Up from the sky the blue-nymph   dropped down on the scene! One that hid blurring that's image on the mirror is that now been seen? Pouring rain singing down to primulas paints it with all the colours of the wind now the Spring picked up her paintbrush. Rain some colour blow a kiss of the flower paint it out of the mirror!
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May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
Paint it out of the Mirror
Think of nothing but this night. The blooded stars, blue leaves and red trees... Think of nothing... Nothing but tonightt. Close your eyes, Relax your mind... Unfold my lies And everything'll be fine My **** begins to rise As my moist lips drag along your neck My hand slides up your sides... Contemplating left, right or back down to your thighs Bite me Force on the aggression Grab me **** just simple persuasion. The night just confides As I pull your legs apart. Squeezing your sides Lifting you up on my hard **** Biting your neck As you moan aloud Squeezing your ******* As you gasp, with each insertion Aggression but pure passion, I throw you down. And force my **** in your tight, warm ***** Hearing you scream aloud, I **** you deeply. Open your grey eyes... Realize it's just a poem. Unfold my demise And know this night will come.
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Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 5:17 AM UTC
To you. From me. (Explicit)
The beach smells of tranquillity and salty sea air The rhythm of the waves gently caresses my skin The horizon seems elusive, a dream always chased Yet night foreshadows traumas waiting to be let in Oh where do I begin? *I love you I don't wanna be scared of you I'm waiting in the shoreline Please don't run away this time* I'm scared of silent reflections, solemn and reclusive I float futher from myself with each passing day I have a note addressed to myself taped to a mirror I'm scared of reading it aloud and being lead astray And I have to accept that it's okay *"I love you I don't wanna be scared of you I'm waiting in the shoreline Please don't run away this time"* Seashells coated in sand tickle the edge of my ear The fog carried on the wind sends chills deep inside The sun will always be there to break the duskiness Daunting across the sky and waking up the tide And the breeze slowly sighed Please don't run away,        don't run away from me Please don't run away,          don't run away from help Please don't run away,              don't run away from the sea Please don't run away,                 don't run away from yourself Angel wings take me further than I've ever gone before
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Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
Note to Self
(In a vacant church Little Girl and Big Man sit on a parish a few feet apart, in between them lies a book titled"My Feelings".) (The curtain opens. Little Girl sits staring at Big Man. Big Man gets up and goes to the statue of himself in front of them for a closer look.) Big Man: Will talking in person really make a difference? Little Girl: I like to think it does. Big Man:  (turns to look at her incredulously.) What wishful thinking, you're so naïve. (Little Girl opens her book and starts to read aloud.) (Big Man cuts her off with a noise every time she starts to say something until she falls silent.) Big Man: Just as I thought, it doesn't change anything. Little Girl: But you don't- Big Man: (cuts her off again.) You just can't let things go, that's your problem. I told you I didn't want to do this, yet you dragged me out here. It didn't accomplish anything! Little Girl: That's because you don't even want to listen or try to talk, you just want to yell and blame me! Big Man: That's enough, this conversation is over. (Walks off stage right.) (Little Girl screams in anger and throws "My Feelings" at the Big Man Statue.) (The Curtain closes.)
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Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC
Don't Meet in Their Temple
If I travelled, across the landscape of my mind, And, I chose to take you with me – guess what you might find? I’d talk you into many things, I’d make you see the sea. We would buy some wood Pay by cheque, which you would check And build an arc upon an ark. And you’d, set sail with me! Whether we had the weather or not We’d sail a week, and you’d feel so weak You’ll beg me for dry land! And so, we’d end the feat on our two feet And, tow; toe-to toe. Until ashore, we land. We’d shout aloud, if that’s allowed? To see if we’re alone? We’d find we are and start to panic But get woken by the phone. Steve Collins. 24/8/10
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Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 1:06 PM UTC
Homophone Dream
(thanx all for the great suggestions) <!> women who wink drive men to drink together, glasses clink tattoos follow in ink and that ain’t the only thing ~ the tiller tied & forgot, the slip knot jinxed the sailboat nearly sinks ~ he cries aloud “you minx!” I’m all done in, you’ve got me sminked,^ you winking whilst me sailing on the oceans brink ~ she smirked and laughed that slinky mink, “clearly you are confused - I’m a lynx, count to cinq, don’t overthink, join me overboard into the **** I’ll finish you off in the the kitchen sink where drowning possibilities are next to nothink promise, we’ll be quite in sync”
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Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
Please Help! This Poem Needs a Title!
I hate when I’m trying to be handsome, and a more handsome man stands next to me and handsomes harder than I can. ''Surely you can handsome somewhere else,'' I say in a handsome passion, to the man dressed in ridiculously good fashion. But he just stands there, handsoming harder than I could dare. Even if I were wearing some Prada underwear. So I turn up my nose and ''hmmph'' out aloud, then handsome off to a less handsomeable crowd. ''Oh, what a success I've found,'' I say in a handsome murmer, before handsoming away to be handsome further.
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
Handsome
The sun sets on dripping blood Shed for love And brought out from a gun Elizabeth is close to death Drawing final breaths She was so fine and so young Pedro runs across the barroom floor Bursting through the door On his way to the border by the sea His hand is still hot from rage There's nothing left to save All he can do is flee Now that heaven can finally breathe Resting on the sea While Pedro hides away from law Elizabeth wore Pedro's golden ring Along a silver string Yet she moaned among the farmer's straw Pedro shed the lonely tears Of a love lost in years He made a promise that he kept As he read aloud the vows she wrote With the heart she broke The sun set as he wept
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Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 8:36 PM UTC
The Quiet Love of Elizabeth and a Farmer
one glance thrown one heart gone insane one word said one beat heard aloud heartbeat is not supposed to be this loud is it?
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Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
heartbeat
Tell me that I'm beautiful, say it aloud tonight. Tell me I mean everything, confess I am always right. Say that I'm like magic, treat me just as a queen. Speak words I long to hear, let me live in a dream.... Shower me with promises, drown me in your desire. Whisper sweet devotions, tho I'll know you're a liar. Tell me how much you love me, say you will never leave... Feed to me these little fibs I want so much to believe~
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Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 9:46 PM UTC
Whisper
Have you ever felt A compelling urge To hug somebody? To just wrap your arms around them And never let go? You just want to drop everything And hug that person, Touch them, Embrace them. You just want to be near them. Forever. No talking. Just hugging. Because you seem to say more, Have deeper discussions, When you’re in each other’s arms Then when conversing aloud. That’s the kind of bond I want to have with someone Some day. Because the simplest of things Speak louder Than any words Ever will.
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Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
Hug
Clinking of ink bottles Scratching of quills Rustling of paper Pouring out knowledge Sweating students Angry teachers Swatting of fleas No more patience Old mad bat suddenly Shouting "Bring me the earmuffs!!" Laughing, crying, farting Interupting the quiteness "Why would you ask that?" Principal Harpy asks "Surely it isn't winter" "Goodness me, have I said that out aloud?" "I take it back!" "Kindly continue with your exams" But no matter, nothing was the same.
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Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
Vintage exam
& Then      ? & ........ (                                (                         •                             •               )                              )                                                   ( we fly together ! ) •    • Little girl Child of the forgotten grace and promises made By the ancient Elders /// The picture of a child / seed          planted purposefully In the DESSERT   Watered by LOVE •• Humanity is broken open And it is crying aloud The MYSTIC BEINGS come From out the SHADOWS And await For its YOU who MUST appear /:/ ( the first angel ) • IT IS YOU WE NEED •• From out the prostituted gore Of this abased and abusing treachery Called OUR WORLD /:/ We shall STAND OUR GROUND ! ( the EARTH is ours ) •• Understand Your Worth and your Power Are the same GOD's NAME IS YOUR NAME ! /// Is there PURE AND PERFECT LOVE HERE ? Yes ! Yes ! Yes indeed
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Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
simple tale
Anger, as black as a hook, overtakes me. Each day, each **** took, at 8:00 A.M., a baby and sauteed him for breakfast in his frying pan. And death looks on with a casual eye and picks at the dirt under his fingernail. Man is evil, I say aloud. Man is a flower that should be burnt, I say aloud. Man is a bird full of mud, I say aloud. And death looks on with a casual eye and scratches his **** Man with his small pink toes, with his miraculous fingers is not a temple but an outhouse, I say aloud. Let man never again raise his teacup. Let man never again write a book. Let man never again put on his shoe. Let man never again raise his eyes, on a soft July night. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never. I say those things aloud.
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12.4k
After Auschwitz
The house was haunted The family fled They couldn't find the priest So they got me instead. I read aloud my poems Full of sorrow and pain, About dreary things And nearly going insane. "My Gawd", the ghosts cried " This is fierce gloomy stuff, I thought we were bad But this, Enough! Enough! " Well they wailed and they shrieked And they wailed some more Then holding their ears They ran out the door. Even ghosts they desert me I thought After they'd gone They'd never even heard of a sorrow    so deep Or a pain as sharp as mine. I sat there all alone in the silent house With not a whisper, no! not a mouse When all of a sudden there came    something strange A little sound like that of slow trickling    water. "Have you something to say to me    House", I asked "Before I up and leave you forever", The little sound, it stopped all at once    and looked up As if very surprised at having been    discovered. I rose to leave But quickly turned back amazed When from down & out of the    chimney Crept this little voice so slight & warm    & tender. " Forgive me Sir", it said, "But I could contain myself no longer, That little sound you hear, the tiny    trickle Is but the teardrops from my eyes    dripping Such a pain and sorrow as yours I never heard before Those anguish drenched words They seeped through my walls right    into my heart They pierced me deeply, Yea, they pretty near tore me apart, I'll remember you Sir when you're    gone I don't think I could ever forget you". I listened and was sorely moved "Thank you House ", I said, "thank     you, thank you kindly" And turning again at the front door "Goodbye House, look after those    who'll live here, won't you". Outside the birds, they were singing And up in the sky, the sun The sun, it was shining.
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Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 7:10 PM UTC
The Haunted House
The house was haunted The family fled They couldn't find the priest So they got me instead. I read aloud my poems Full of sorrow and pain, About dreary things And nearly going insane. "My Gawd", the ghosts cried " This is fierce gloomy stuff, I thought we were bad But this, Enough! Enough! " Well they wailed and they shrieked And they wailed some more Then holding their ears They ran out the door. Even ghosts they desert me I thought After they'd gone They'd never even heard of a sorrow    so deep Or a pain as sharp as mine. I sat there all alone in the silent house With not a whisper, no! not a mouse When all of a sudden there came    something strange A little sound like that of slow trickling    water. "Have you something to say to me    House", I asked "Before I up and leave you forever", The little sound, it stopped all at once    and looked up As if very surprised at having been    discovered. I rose to leave But quickly turned back amazed When from down & out of the    chimney Crept this little voice so slight & warm    & tender. " Forgive me Sir", it said, "But I could contain myself no longer, That little sound you hear, the tiny    trickle Is but the teardrops from my eyes    dripping Such a pain and sorrow as yours I never heard before Those anguish drenched words They seeped through my walls right    into my heart They pierced me deeply, Yea, they pretty near tore me apart, I'll remember you Sir when you're    gone I don't think I could ever forget you". I listened and was sorely moved "Thank you House ", I said, "thank     you, thank you kindly" And turning again at the front door "Goodbye House, look after those    who'll live here, won't you". Outside the birds, they were singing And up in the sky, the sun The sun, it was shining.
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65
1. For my sister this Christmas, I wish joy and laughter, I wish you happiness and love, For now and forever and ever-after, I wish you the bliss this season brings, Everyday of your life, Every second you live, For my sister this Christmas, I wish these wondrous things. 2. Dear brother, hear the sleigh bells, Hear them ringing aloud, Watch the snow fall down in time, To the story that they tell, They tell of children smiling with glee, They tell of happy times, And the family that surrounds thee. 3. Father, may the memories stay, Forever in your mind, And I pray all the peace and wonder, You will always find, Will last until eternity, With every festive time. 4. You made this year so special, Mother, you made us all complete, You made us smile and be cheerful, You gave us food to eat, The love that surrounds us, Every time you are near, Will always be with us, Each and every year. 5. Andrew, at Christmas, I pray you are happy, I pray you are pleased, With all the treasure you receive, Look to the New Year, With hope in your heart, And cherish every moment, Every beat of your heart. 6. To a dear Grandmother, You always make us smile, We're always glad you're here, And at Christmastime especially, We're truly glad you're near. 7. Auntie, this is my Christmas wish, I wish that you know kindness, The joy of a Christmas wish, I hope you realise that you are dearly loved, So enjoy this festive season, With family, With love. 8. Sarah, it is Christmas, The snow begins is dance, The candle follows suit, Joining the chanting trance, The tree is decorated, In reds, silvers, gold's, This is a very special time, That in your heart you'll hold.
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Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 5:10 AM UTC
8 Christmas Poems For My Family
1. For my sister this Christmas, I wish joy and laughter, I wish you happiness and love, For now and forever and ever-after, I wish you the bliss this season brings, Everyday of your life, Every second you live, For my sister this Christmas, I wish these wondrous things. 2. Dear brother, hear the sleigh bells, Hear them ringing aloud, Watch the snow fall down in time, To the story that they tell, They tell of children smiling with glee, They tell of happy times, And the family that surrounds thee. 3. Father, may the memories stay, Forever in your mind, And I pray all the peace and wonder, You will always find, Will last until eternity, With every festive time. 4. You made this year so special, Mother, you made us all complete, You made us smile and be cheerful, You gave us food to eat, The love that surrounds us, Every time you are near, Will always be with us, Each and every year. 5. Andrew, at Christmas, I pray you are happy, I pray you are pleased, With all the treasure you receive, Look to the New Year, With hope in your heart, And cherish every moment, Every beat of your heart. 6. To a dear Grandmother, You always make us smile, We're always glad you're here, And at Christmastime especially, We're truly glad you're near. 7. Auntie, this is my Christmas wish, I wish that you know kindness, The joy of a Christmas wish, I hope you realise that you are dearly loved, So enjoy this festive season, With family, With love. 8. Sarah, it is Christmas, The snow begins is dance, The candle follows suit, Joining the chanting trance, The tree is decorated, In reds, silvers, gold's, This is a very special time, That in your heart you'll hold.
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66
*~ **Him sits in an arm chair slouched and relaxed, watching her with a glass of whiskey in his hand** ~ Her lays on the bed naked, long legs spread watching him watching her. ~ **Him asks her to do what he had been dreaming of even before seeing her naked. Beautiful scenery** ~ Her strokes light and feathery, at first delicate fingers tracing up and down while the other hand on her breast tipping her nip ~ **Him mesmerized by the show he takes a sip of whiskey the burn does not compare to the burn growing in his pants** ~ Her dips a finger inside, spreading the glistening liquid found across her inner lips increasing the pressure and moving from side to side ~ **Him doesn’t know where to look as she concentrates on her ****** pulling at the tip she gnaws her bottom lip he settles on her eyes** ~ Her picks up speed, the circles of her fingers smaller and smaller, focusing on her pearl shallow breaths growing rapid as she nears her peak ~ **Him slips out of his shirt he starts to sweat unbuckling his pants to release the growing pressure** ~ Her tilts her hips finding the optimal position to intensify her pleasure ~ **Him holds his breath to hear the gasping of her breath** ~ Her eyes on him, longingly, back arches, head falls back and lips part “Oh God” in heavy breath ~ **Him “Amazing” whispers unsure he said it aloud** ~*
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Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 8:05 AM UTC
Armchair Whiskey Scene
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is not a poem.  This is about a poem. Poems require words.  This poem does not require words. This poem requires memories' muscles. This poem requires what is called colloquially love. Learn that what we share here is not poetry. Your poetic senses that produce the words that mark you present are but surgical tools to extract, release the whole and the parts of you that help shape that single sense borning in your chest that defines you at any particular moment. Quæ est mater Laureat. She is the Mother Laureate. She is the boundary you must learn to cross to be more than a re-arranger of letters and alphabets, but a translator of the human essence and fill our veins with the a sense of awe and wonder felt when we read each other and think aloud, "yes, exactly, that was and is precisely what I was feeling." She is the glue that keeps us sticking here, sticking together, each of us sticking to it.   You do not know her?   No worries, she will find you when you least expect it, perhaps when you need it. This is not a poem.  This is a human who's a poem. Understand the difference and then you may begin a journey that has no destination other than weaving the connective tissue that makes us anticipating excited when we log on. Happy Birthday Mother Poet Laureate! I do not think I can write a better not poem for you.   Forgive me then, if going toward, I repost this every October 24th as long as the chemical composition of blood, God, spirit, logos or reason runs free within,   exiting as words encased in tears that formulate into human poetry. nattyman P.S.There are 800 poems here with Sally in the title, and least 700  are about Sally B.   If you like, please  feel to free to add yours, old or new.
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Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
2020 Sally's Birthday: The Poem that is not a Poem
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is not a poem.  This is about a poem. Poems require words.  This poem does not require words. This poem requires memories' muscles. This poem requires what is called colloquially love. Learn that what we share here is not poetry. Your poetic senses that produce the words that mark you present are but surgical tools to extract, release the whole and the parts of you that help shape that single sense borning in your chest that defines you at any particular moment. Quæ est mater Laureat. She is the Mother Laureate. She is the boundary you must learn to cross to be more than a re-arranger of letters and alphabets, but a translator of the human essence and fill our veins with the a sense of awe and wonder felt when we read each other and think aloud, "yes, exactly, that was and is precisely what I was feeling." She is the glue that keeps us sticking here, sticking together, each of us sticking to it.   You do not know her?   No worries, she will find you when you least expect it, perhaps when you need it. This is not a poem.  This is a human who's a poem. Understand the difference and then you may begin a journey that has no destination other than weaving the connective tissue that makes us anticipating excited when we log on. Happy Birthday Mother Poet Laureate! I do not think I can write a better not poem for you.   Forgive me then, if going toward, I repost this every October 24th as long as the chemical composition of blood, God, spirit, logos or reason runs free within,   exiting as words encased in tears that formulate into human poetry. nattyman P.S.There are 800 poems here with Sally in the title, and least 700  are about Sally B.   If you like, please  feel to free to add yours, old or new.
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28
Let me show you All the words I cannot find. Let me write them On your neck in faded lipstick stains. Close your eyes. Listen to my shaking hands. They have a code of their own, One that only you can understand. Listen to them rattle against your chest. Feel the heat of my breath Glide over your cheek. Listen to what it’s telling you. Feel my teeth tug at your bottom lip. Let me get as close to you as I can Without losing myself completely. I can’t say this aloud. Just listen to my body, Decipher the language it speaks, wordlessly. Somewhere in this mess, The purest love I could ever muster. A diamond In all of our rough.
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Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
Speechless
I was in love with a Poem: The poet lured her victims into her wild kingdom of Word, words, words, that became the forest of ****** illusion verses and verses that I never encounter; In this kingdom I never notice the Sunrise before Sunset The chanting before the protesters Lightening before the winds suddenly brought on by the rain, That triggers the mighty storms: The poetics effects of Similes, Hyperbole, Understatement and personification devices got my attention Pages after pages, line of words that opened my eyes, The mighty pen, a trending poem, and there I was a loyal reader With an amazing cup of hot coffee The poem took me through this much-modernized tale of Alice’s rabbit hole adventures Poems are to be read aloud, loving making is meant to be private So is mourning for the dead: Some things are just meant to be...private My love for the poem and my admiration on its poetic views Is more than human emotions, than my stimuli of brain *** I read the poem while sipping my coffee, Birth, death, politics and religion *** drugs and empty souls : human emotions, This much-modernized free verse poetry can causes multiplies  *******
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
I Was In Love With A Poem
“The Owl and The Fox” Silvery white shines the moon tonight As the sea caresses the shore And rain slips through the door The wind roars aloud At a ship sailing on a cloud My safety seems so weak For these walls are all i seek To guard against these forces strong But my safety will not last for long This hope I abandon in all And pray to God to catch my fall His hand i do not feel Though his help I know is real My castle is gone Standing alone I feel so wrong Secluded on this sandy stretch I look to my right and to my left Then looking to the water black I see a face that has no lack Of terror and fear That drowning is near Forgetting all thats been lost Saving them is my only thought Plunging into the icy sea I try to save them as i tried to save me Kicking back in hope of life The waves cease their strife And the wind sinks in its icy knife Looking down to face this man I see it was a woman i brought to land Taking her hand I lift her from the sand Staring at me she opens her lips Then speaks in a voice not honeyed or crisp Never the less her speech I can tell Is the voice of an angel chiming as a bell I try to let go of her hand lily white But she holds on so very tight And whispers so slight Nine words in my ear That I could barely hear “Thank you for saving me my gallant gray knight” Heart skipping a beat I knew that I would Love only her for as long as I could. I'm sure you can see Even though this may be A story far off way out in the sea I still hope in my heart its about you and me. From The Fox, To The Owl
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May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
The Owl and the Fox
“The Owl and The Fox” Silvery white shines the moon tonight As the sea caresses the shore And rain slips through the door The wind roars aloud At a ship sailing on a cloud My safety seems so weak For these walls are all i seek To guard against these forces strong But my safety will not last for long This hope I abandon in all And pray to God to catch my fall His hand i do not feel Though his help I know is real My castle is gone Standing alone I feel so wrong Secluded on this sandy stretch I look to my right and to my left Then looking to the water black I see a face that has no lack Of terror and fear That drowning is near Forgetting all thats been lost Saving them is my only thought Plunging into the icy sea I try to save them as i tried to save me Kicking back in hope of life The waves cease their strife And the wind sinks in its icy knife Looking down to face this man I see it was a woman i brought to land Taking her hand I lift her from the sand Staring at me she opens her lips Then speaks in a voice not honeyed or crisp Never the less her speech I can tell Is the voice of an angel chiming as a bell I try to let go of her hand lily white But she holds on so very tight And whispers so slight Nine words in my ear That I could barely hear “Thank you for saving me my gallant gray knight” Heart skipping a beat I knew that I would Love only her for as long as I could. I'm sure you can see Even though this may be A story far off way out in the sea I still hope in my heart its about you and me. From The Fox, To The Owl
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51
I want you to put me on your tongue and let me dissolve into you like the tiny white squares that turn those glossy hazel marbles into black holes and intense stares. I want you to kiss me and see negative colored rulers in the corner of your vision and I want you to have trouble making a decision between kissing me and observing me while I'm sitting on your chest and I want you to laugh like you did with your cherry colored lip curled over your childish grin over and over and over again and I want you to forget the conversation topic every time you close your eyes because the world inside of your mind is filled with blinking images that you can't quite explain aloud so you settle for little talks about Rosa Parks and Indian style kisses and how the ocean is the Earth's thing or the complexity of butterfly brains and whether or not they remember their caterpillar memories (they do). Describe to me the first time you saw your favorite color and what developed the affinity for it: yours, a glacier blue toy that resembled the ocean and mine, a lavender Easter dress that twirled when I spun. Tell me about your school crushes when you were four and what you got your clothespin moved to the sad face for and I'll write it all in ink on my knee caps because "God, we're such writers" and you'll check the clock in the gaps and search for tunes or lighters and I'll want time to slow down because the nights spent with you usually seem as though minutes are just a few seconds shy of sixty, which turns the little hand pretty quickly. I want hours, weeks, decades, to analyze the freckles on your face or the pace at which you move your tongue and precisely how it tastes. I want you to tell me that your brother would like me and about the mountains in Tennessee and maybe next time I'll try to stay awake, unless you want to listen to the way I breathe so fully when I dream. When I close my eyes, I want to be able to see what you see. I want you to keep burying the numb parts of you into the warm parts of me.
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May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
LSD
I want you to put me on your tongue and let me dissolve into you like the tiny white squares that turn those glossy hazel marbles into black holes and intense stares. I want you to kiss me and see negative colored rulers in the corner of your vision and I want you to have trouble making a decision between kissing me and observing me while I'm sitting on your chest and I want you to laugh like you did with your cherry colored lip curled over your childish grin over and over and over again and I want you to forget the conversation topic every time you close your eyes because the world inside of your mind is filled with blinking images that you can't quite explain aloud so you settle for little talks about Rosa Parks and Indian style kisses and how the ocean is the Earth's thing or the complexity of butterfly brains and whether or not they remember their caterpillar memories (they do). Describe to me the first time you saw your favorite color and what developed the affinity for it: yours, a glacier blue toy that resembled the ocean and mine, a lavender Easter dress that twirled when I spun. Tell me about your school crushes when you were four and what you got your clothespin moved to the sad face for and I'll write it all in ink on my knee caps because "God, we're such writers" and you'll check the clock in the gaps and search for tunes or lighters and I'll want time to slow down because the nights spent with you usually seem as though minutes are just a few seconds shy of sixty, which turns the little hand pretty quickly. I want hours, weeks, decades, to analyze the freckles on your face or the pace at which you move your tongue and precisely how it tastes. I want you to tell me that your brother would like me and about the mountains in Tennessee and maybe next time I'll try to stay awake, unless you want to listen to the way I breathe so fully when I dream. When I close my eyes, I want to be able to see what you see. I want you to keep burying the numb parts of you into the warm parts of me.
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5
I am breathing But am I alive? I see myself Laying there Lifeless Then I see you crying I wanna say don't cry but I know You won't hear me I am ghost now I turn around I hear aloud bang you take my hand we can be ghosts together (k.l)
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Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 4:49 AM UTC
Ghost
|**“lead into gold, good into dear, mortal into immortal” (where poems come from)”**| you charged me with crimes three times three, sorcery and witchcraft and doing god’s work plead guilty three times three not that I was successful, but a complex, candied marvelous failure not in my possession, the sorcerers spell, my dross and wordy dregs all sit sidelined, perchance perhaps, if you search with a leaden patience inhuman, you might just find a minuscule golden vein there’d unmined turning good into dear, an “anyone can do it” miracle, when you whisper with just one kiss those forever words, don’t be afraid, say it low and slow, I love you, and “I only want to be with you” and dare it to be become dear mortal into immortal, an order tall, for one knows his hiding places for all too human pockmarked weak, but having been charged and found in guilt, no one proffered evidence but they wanted a unambiguous unanimous verdict and proof is such an old fashioned truth notion happy accept your accusations and since confession is the best soul medicine, with glee, here and now reveal how immortality is achievable breathe poems  constantly instantly throughout the orifices in the skin cells and pore’d orifices you were god given; it is how we immortals communicate with what cannot be seen, yet drunken heard when spoke aloud taste the poems in and on tongues you can’t comprehend, the sounds fly skyward after infiltrating your eyes, then you can see your own immortality anointed rising all nonsense you plead, indeed, only immortals truly cherish and envy the human ability to create nonsense, the place where poems come from *******
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Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 2:31 PM UTC
lead into gold, good into dear, mortal into immortal” (where poems come from)
|**“lead into gold, good into dear, mortal into immortal” (where poems come from)”**| you charged me with crimes three times three, sorcery and witchcraft and doing god’s work plead guilty three times three not that I was successful, but a complex, candied marvelous failure not in my possession, the sorcerers spell, my dross and wordy dregs all sit sidelined, perchance perhaps, if you search with a leaden patience inhuman, you might just find a minuscule golden vein there’d unmined turning good into dear, an “anyone can do it” miracle, when you whisper with just one kiss those forever words, don’t be afraid, say it low and slow, I love you, and “I only want to be with you” and dare it to be become dear mortal into immortal, an order tall, for one knows his hiding places for all too human pockmarked weak, but having been charged and found in guilt, no one proffered evidence but they wanted a unambiguous unanimous verdict and proof is such an old fashioned truth notion happy accept your accusations and since confession is the best soul medicine, with glee, here and now reveal how immortality is achievable breathe poems  constantly instantly throughout the orifices in the skin cells and pore’d orifices you were god given; it is how we immortals communicate with what cannot be seen, yet drunken heard when spoke aloud taste the poems in and on tongues you can’t comprehend, the sounds fly skyward after infiltrating your eyes, then you can see your own immortality anointed rising all nonsense you plead, indeed, only immortals truly cherish and envy the human ability to create nonsense, the place where poems come from *******
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I don’t think you understand, because I don’t, this wasn’t what I planned. So I’m wondering how you can understand, when I don’t. I won’t lose myself loving you, I won’t. You’ve got me feeling too many different things, got me contemplating cutting our tethered strings. Falling in love has me tripping over my own two feet? Maybe. All I know is I’m slipping face first into this tangled mess and now guilt eats at me as I slip from your arms half dressed in the mornings when all I want is to escape, wishing I was Wonder Woman with that red cape. I slip away, but it hurts- but I’ve seen it; my family, we’re cursed. Concerning love, we’ve had no luck I can’t lose you, so I’m labeling us a causal **** I hear you yelling now that you know my reasons, promising our love could survive even the coldest season. But how can he be so sure? Doubts plague me as I slip toward his front door, because love didn’t come with a brochure. I hear you figuring aloud that I don’t love you enough. You come to the conclusion, “if this is how you feel, then I’ll set you free” I got in my car, driving around till the clouds were dark and the clock said three. Your words had been like knives, but then I started thinking about my dad’s four wives. My brain’s all jumbled, it’s like there was one second left, I was on the one yard line, and I fumbled. Is the risk worth it? Could my heart even take the hit? When I got home, in the dark I saw you standing my heart was demanding that I make my way over to you but my brain said these feelings needed to be subdued. I heard you say “I love you too much to set you free” It was then when I looked in your eyes, love was all I could truly see. My scalp tingled in realization, as I floated toward you with some type of natural gravitation. My heart had already taken the risk, without permission and that’s when I mumbled my belated admission; “I love you too and I’ll take my chances,” My brain finally conceded to your romantic advances. But really, truth was, I’d been under an illusion because our love had always been a foregone conclusion.
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Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
Catching Feelings
I don’t think you understand, because I don’t, this wasn’t what I planned. So I’m wondering how you can understand, when I don’t. I won’t lose myself loving you, I won’t. You’ve got me feeling too many different things, got me contemplating cutting our tethered strings. Falling in love has me tripping over my own two feet? Maybe. All I know is I’m slipping face first into this tangled mess and now guilt eats at me as I slip from your arms half dressed in the mornings when all I want is to escape, wishing I was Wonder Woman with that red cape. I slip away, but it hurts- but I’ve seen it; my family, we’re cursed. Concerning love, we’ve had no luck I can’t lose you, so I’m labeling us a causal **** I hear you yelling now that you know my reasons, promising our love could survive even the coldest season. But how can he be so sure? Doubts plague me as I slip toward his front door, because love didn’t come with a brochure. I hear you figuring aloud that I don’t love you enough. You come to the conclusion, “if this is how you feel, then I’ll set you free” I got in my car, driving around till the clouds were dark and the clock said three. Your words had been like knives, but then I started thinking about my dad’s four wives. My brain’s all jumbled, it’s like there was one second left, I was on the one yard line, and I fumbled. Is the risk worth it? Could my heart even take the hit? When I got home, in the dark I saw you standing my heart was demanding that I make my way over to you but my brain said these feelings needed to be subdued. I heard you say “I love you too much to set you free” It was then when I looked in your eyes, love was all I could truly see. My scalp tingled in realization, as I floated toward you with some type of natural gravitation. My heart had already taken the risk, without permission and that’s when I mumbled my belated admission; “I love you too and I’ll take my chances,” My brain finally conceded to your romantic advances. But really, truth was, I’d been under an illusion because our love had always been a foregone conclusion.
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