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"artistry" poems
Kashmir Delirium Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we, For each act of benevolence shown to us. Your gilded sweet words describing, The beauty of Kasmir, land and people. Mention in books and talks of it's riches, Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth. The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir, Treasure of resources in every sphere. To elevate each aspect, our wish for life, As every acre of this land is worth millions. Full of treasures and recreational value, Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers. The outside world's view is so limited, Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty. Mentioned in world forums and organizations, But what of the goal of giving us freedom? What has The UN established in our name? To measure the pain and anguish we bear, At the hands, of our supposed benefactors. The saviours who has us fractured. But in reality they train their enforcers, In the art of creating oceans of tears. The red blood now hidden in camouflage, The spent shells now gathered and hidden. The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams, Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists. Joint conferences to address personal interests Dialogues that never address the root issues. Just the formalities and no sympathy, For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals. The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated, More augmentation of the security forces. For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy, Walk this land, you know as beautiful. Religious leaders will teach you political artistry, Sermons full of ambiguity and guile. Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display, Political apologists give great lessons. Religion and religious ethnicity are tools, That keep minds and bodies in total check. Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb, As promises are forgotten once office is obtained. When writing of this succulent beautiful land, Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices. This land is being stripped of worldly treasures, And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily. The best of nation is the inhabitants, Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.
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Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
Kashmir Delirium
Kashmir Delirium Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we, For each act of benevolence shown to us. Your gilded sweet words describing, The beauty of Kasmir, land and people. Mention in books and talks of it's riches, Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth. The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir, Treasure of resources in every sphere. To elevate each aspect, our wish for life, As every acre of this land is worth millions. Full of treasures and recreational value, Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers. The outside world's view is so limited, Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty. Mentioned in world forums and organizations, But what of the goal of giving us freedom? What has The UN established in our name? To measure the pain and anguish we bear, At the hands, of our supposed benefactors. The saviours who has us fractured. But in reality they train their enforcers, In the art of creating oceans of tears. The red blood now hidden in camouflage, The spent shells now gathered and hidden. The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams, Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists. Joint conferences to address personal interests Dialogues that never address the root issues. Just the formalities and no sympathy, For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals. The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated, More augmentation of the security forces. For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy, Walk this land, you know as beautiful. Religious leaders will teach you political artistry, Sermons full of ambiguity and guile. Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display, Political apologists give great lessons. Religion and religious ethnicity are tools, That keep minds and bodies in total check. Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb, As promises are forgotten once office is obtained. When writing of this succulent beautiful land, Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices. This land is being stripped of worldly treasures, And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily. The best of nation is the inhabitants, Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.
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49
Fragmented lives entangled but asunder in our journey as our paths cosmically connect in a romance of the arts And who's to say what's real to touch or deeply feel what will truly last or simply where to start So I’ll paint you alla prima as I feel you playing me in warm colors of merging ardor a wet blending of artistry my brush strokes of your body painted in my mind of impressions blushed in passion in hues I can’t describe Suspended in the moment floating on a breeze I revel in this picture painted music almost in disbelief, unthinking… knowing every nuance of our love found only in our dreams Like children in parallel play I’ll finger the keys and slip the locks of all your orchestrations filling the walls of my concerts halls with deep splattered tones in pinks and blues the hues that forever bind us And we’ll not look back nor forward but hang here in the moment to display our Painted Song in the eyes of giggly children both doing our own thing together on a string curated
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Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 6:22 AM UTC
Painted Song
And in this courtroom So filled with Four Nations The Sun held her head up high, Lighting the way for their tales and psalms: I am the King of Spades. Righteous ambition is my goal. The bravery of the Spades is made known to others Only through such matters. Perseverance is our path to Victory Endurance, our greatest desire. We, the Spades, partner with Father Time To belong as a mighty people Forever more. I am the Queen of Diamonds The splendor and enjoyment of Life's beauty is my passion. A Diamond's journey is a one of glorious awe That no one can compare. Loveliness surrounds this pretty people And the Artist shall forever be pleased by them. Our perception of artistry leaves most in awe And this fact is forever the passion we strive for. I am the Queen of Clovers Survival is the sole lifestyle of the Clovers In this wretched and unforgiving world The Clovers must stay strong Holding the clubs of the ancients, We prevail Onward shall we extend our power The Clovers will remain Forever the mightiest. I am the King of Hearts. The rapid spread of emotional ties Is what us Hearts long for. Threads of fate surround our people Binding them to one another. Love, lust, infatuation Oh, these are the things that steady our nation! So filled with Faith, Hope and Love Our Hearts shan't fail us As passion will never cease To flow in our veins —ah, yes! This is the way of the Hearts. And in this courtroom So filled with Four Nations The Sun laid down her head Whilst the Moon finally awoke and, Smiled his light onto them below.
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Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
Lilies, Irises, Tulips, Roses; All In My Garden
And in this courtroom So filled with Four Nations The Sun held her head up high, Lighting the way for their tales and psalms: I am the King of Spades. Righteous ambition is my goal. The bravery of the Spades is made known to others Only through such matters. Perseverance is our path to Victory Endurance, our greatest desire. We, the Spades, partner with Father Time To belong as a mighty people Forever more. I am the Queen of Diamonds The splendor and enjoyment of Life's beauty is my passion. A Diamond's journey is a one of glorious awe That no one can compare. Loveliness surrounds this pretty people And the Artist shall forever be pleased by them. Our perception of artistry leaves most in awe And this fact is forever the passion we strive for. I am the Queen of Clovers Survival is the sole lifestyle of the Clovers In this wretched and unforgiving world The Clovers must stay strong Holding the clubs of the ancients, We prevail Onward shall we extend our power The Clovers will remain Forever the mightiest. I am the King of Hearts. The rapid spread of emotional ties Is what us Hearts long for. Threads of fate surround our people Binding them to one another. Love, lust, infatuation Oh, these are the things that steady our nation! So filled with Faith, Hope and Love Our Hearts shan't fail us As passion will never cease To flow in our veins —ah, yes! This is the way of the Hearts. And in this courtroom So filled with Four Nations The Sun laid down her head Whilst the Moon finally awoke and, Smiled his light onto them below.
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48
I am a mother, a wife A friend, a teacher I seek happiness I love deep Only souls not faces Always loyal I don't judge   I love to help I see good in everyone Which makes me naive at times I am open to all Hoping for a world Where everyone fits Labels don't exist I latch to rules Anxiety demands I suffer from OCD Always chasing order Shackled by disinfection   I am comfortable in control Leading the way I seek to inspire I believe in others I am honest with my feelings I value experience And learn from them I reflect on my day Always trying to improve I search for meaning in conversations Enjoy learning new things daily I play sports Love music   Enjoy Art Express myself in writes Fascinated by abstracts Reading words to gain insight The grace in movement   The beauty in visual artistry I love to re-discover nature The acoustics of birds Waterfalls and rain Kissing falling snow Connecting with our majestic sky I love the stillness Each morning brings The dew sleeping in the emerald The lacquered canvas Of quiet lakes Motionless   In something so vast Yoga is my philosophy A healthy Body Mind And spirit My destination is The pursuit of enlightenment   In my life's pain I am coming out of the spiral Enjoying my journey Seeing straight Swimming the unalome I feed my soul Hoping IT can lead me Leaving my ego in my wake I remain unfinished I continue to wear masks Sometimes to hide As I fear rejection Still.. As happy as I seem As lovely as I am My soul has a shadow Hidden inside My essence traced By shaded light I am a survivor Broken in places Finally accepting my true self Jl 2016
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Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
This Is Me
I am a mother, a wife A friend, a teacher I seek happiness I love deep Only souls not faces Always loyal I don't judge   I love to help I see good in everyone Which makes me naive at times I am open to all Hoping for a world Where everyone fits Labels don't exist I latch to rules Anxiety demands I suffer from OCD Always chasing order Shackled by disinfection   I am comfortable in control Leading the way I seek to inspire I believe in others I am honest with my feelings I value experience And learn from them I reflect on my day Always trying to improve I search for meaning in conversations Enjoy learning new things daily I play sports Love music   Enjoy Art Express myself in writes Fascinated by abstracts Reading words to gain insight The grace in movement   The beauty in visual artistry I love to re-discover nature The acoustics of birds Waterfalls and rain Kissing falling snow Connecting with our majestic sky I love the stillness Each morning brings The dew sleeping in the emerald The lacquered canvas Of quiet lakes Motionless   In something so vast Yoga is my philosophy A healthy Body Mind And spirit My destination is The pursuit of enlightenment   In my life's pain I am coming out of the spiral Enjoying my journey Seeing straight Swimming the unalome I feed my soul Hoping IT can lead me Leaving my ego in my wake I remain unfinished I continue to wear masks Sometimes to hide As I fear rejection Still.. As happy as I seem As lovely as I am My soul has a shadow Hidden inside My essence traced By shaded light I am a survivor Broken in places Finally accepting my true self Jl 2016
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80
In your presence, where desire takes its hold, Yearning surges, a story yet untold, With eager lips, I seek her tender kiss, A dance of tongues, an intimate abyss. Exploring further, my tongue does trace, Her sacred curves, a path I gently trace, Whispers of pleasure adorn her sacred mound, Each taste, an artistry of senses unbound. As I delve deeper, a mouthful of her essence, A symphony of flavors, a divine presence, It's the elixir that calms my restless soul, Truthfully, her nectar, my senses extol.
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Jun 27, 2023
Jun 27, 2023 at 2:51 PM UTC
Affirmative attraction
A little boy Neat white shirt ironed to perfection A monster truck plastered on the front Denim jeans, fitting his skinny waist just right Innovative Imaginative He loves creating new things Making plain old cardboard into the next best thing He gets his crayons Sharpies and all And runs to his room All excited on his new project, his new creation One piece of cardboard after the other Rectangles flying everywhere Coloring what looks like door handles onto cardboard? The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He works quickly With a due date set in mind Full of ambition The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He finishes his new achievement Smiling happily at his new jumble of handiwork Glued together precisely The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He attaches the different shapes to himself Straps glued to the cardboard It seems he’s wearing armor With doorknobs and wood grain painted on it with pure artistry He hears someone come in the front door His smile turns to panic He quickly cleans up the supplies Throwing things around the room anywhere they fit He runs to the corner of his room He quickly pulls the “armor” close to him As he sits in the fetal position His armor becomes a small dresser that looks as if it was made for clothes The father bursts into the room With rage spelled out on his forehead The boy hides brilliantly afraid of the wrath to come The father looks around the room carefully *Come out Come out Wherever you are The next time I see you I’ll give you more bruises than last week altogether* He closes the door with a loud slam The boy unfolds his creation, a simple dresser Who knew that a young boy’s imagination Would protect him from all of the horror and pain usually unleashed on him
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
The Art Project
A little boy Neat white shirt ironed to perfection A monster truck plastered on the front Denim jeans, fitting his skinny waist just right Innovative Imaginative He loves creating new things Making plain old cardboard into the next best thing He gets his crayons Sharpies and all And runs to his room All excited on his new project, his new creation One piece of cardboard after the other Rectangles flying everywhere Coloring what looks like door handles onto cardboard? The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He works quickly With a due date set in mind Full of ambition The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He finishes his new achievement Smiling happily at his new jumble of handiwork Glued together precisely The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He attaches the different shapes to himself Straps glued to the cardboard It seems he’s wearing armor With doorknobs and wood grain painted on it with pure artistry He hears someone come in the front door His smile turns to panic He quickly cleans up the supplies Throwing things around the room anywhere they fit He runs to the corner of his room He quickly pulls the “armor” close to him As he sits in the fetal position His armor becomes a small dresser that looks as if it was made for clothes The father bursts into the room With rage spelled out on his forehead The boy hides brilliantly afraid of the wrath to come The father looks around the room carefully *Come out Come out Wherever you are The next time I see you I’ll give you more bruises than last week altogether* He closes the door with a loud slam The boy unfolds his creation, a simple dresser Who knew that a young boy’s imagination Would protect him from all of the horror and pain usually unleashed on him
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48
If you earnestly want to improve your skills, you have to make sacrifices; you must take Time and Energy and dedicate it to practice, otherwise, you're just talking a good game, and mere talk is getting e'er cheaper; otherwise, you're just honing your ******** artistry, some have had much practice.
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Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
Self-Discipline [Practice]
A man once told me He felt as if he had created me From scratch, a muse Conceived by invention, Rather than the precision of my blood or the tiny cosmos within my marrow; He was mine, But did not belong to me The path of sirendom Is paved with gilded lilies, Soft flesh, and quiet angles If you let them, You can drift on through Your feet hovering three inches above the soil Saturated ripe with fertility, Easier than breathing But there will always be At least nine of you In every patch of every field Preserved in light The quicksand of reason, immortalized Delicate whispers convince you What a lovely work of artistry An inspiration, the birth of genius But you are only the vessel Left empty But I have never Belonged to anyone, No square of grass Lush enough to rest my head on a practiced lap I was not an island to discover; Sprung from beneath the Mariana, I was built from the deep place No pedestal to extend The unhinge of my reaching arms I took the long way up Scratching through earth, long dead No fruit, carefully arranged No marble, heavily lidded The flowers collapsed, Like your idea of Woman, To linseed stain A smashed sunrise It wasn’t god, but myself That I met on the other side
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Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 6:16 PM UTC
The Nine
**Remember her, old friend? She was...hideous, You think she was ugly, oh no, far from it.** **She was the fairest, Her lavishing sable hair, Her viridian eyes, Her glamorous smile,** **Her soft-hued skin, Her delicately slender body, Her dazzling manners, Her ever so warm demeanor,** **Her moves, Fluid, graceful, focused, Capturing the essence of the music, with her mesmerizing artistry.** **She was indeed perfect, Unique, as no one could be as elegant, Charming, for no one, was as lovely. Beguile...as no one was as rotten.** **What she was, my old friend, Was an empty vessel, the soul of which had perished, mortified by its actions.** **For all she ever wanted was approval, so what she did was put on a mask, losing herself in the process, becoming a ghost of her formal self.**
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Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 5:18 PM UTC
A Self-Inflicted Doll
The proudest thing I think I've ever done, Such artistry, such skill I have attained! The semi-glaze reflecting of the sun, The richness of the blue, so lightly stained; So perfect is the pointed pouring spout That sits upon a rim of gold emboss, And proudly do the handles both stick out, Exquisite is the painted Celtic cross; I toiled and slaved for oh so many years, My fingers ever wet and moist with clay, But now at last I'm free of all the fears And doubts that clouded me until this day;         I know you'll all be very pleased for me,         So thanks, my friends, on Hello Pottery!
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Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
The Proud Potter
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary ***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
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Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
Iconoclasm
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary ***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
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26
the artistry in you snapping bubbles through your hair resting feather the coop the hibernation every bit of your work a statement of beast and sacrifice sweet mother holy sister undying scientist like windows like soil in which life grows good earth good prairie miles and miles of you swaying in the wind inculcated within me this immortal passion to watch you sprout life to watch you work to watch you love a blissful void a simple kiss a wonderful purple this incomprehensible galaxy makes sense when I see your eyes scanning billions of blades of grass when I witness the tortuous beauty of your smile when I hear you read your poetry it’s the gift of nature unprecedented unexpected un-censored unlike anything I’ve ever experienced your love Jessica your love is ineffable
0
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 11:31 PM UTC
Untitled
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky             Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle ***** Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch  zoomorphic  zoolatry Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry                      Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity                                 Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
0
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
Iconoclasm Epithet
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky             Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle ***** Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch  zoomorphic  zoolatry Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry                      Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity                                 Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
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26
Her pale porcelain skin scorched my mind its imprint was all I could see Such innocent hidden behind a jaded mind Such beauty underneath Her immaculate body longing to be smeared by my finger tips Holding her close, keeping her safe, in suspended bliss SAFETY it was found that night, right between her legs Like trees aching for light, stretched to the sky, she begs Inquiring on journeys before embark her imprint was left on me seeing  beauty in every cut and every mark Such artistry to be seen        I could deal with near pitch black, as long as there was enough light to dance, and glisten off her angelic eyes SAFETY it was found that night, right between her thighs
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Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 5:55 AM UTC
FAINT
Prescient, her essence Casts a demure persuasion,                 Endowed with verve and vision; Concept to consummation, The serenely possessed, Creator, originator, Allusion to the eternal azure, Logos of abstraction, Word and image collision. Tonal palette of faith infused reason Beauty and sublimity, Serve to season Verse, canvas and film, Mediating aesthetic, seminal senses blossom, Lyrical each permutation, Seeds of vibrant chroma diffusing the mystical. Visage and hair,  her figure haunted With perfection - a work of Art Nurtured and lived invocation, The canon of taste; Crystal for the ***** Devotional fragrance , Holistic ethos, melodic invention, Animated, pure - The embodiment of redemption. Transcending form, parenthetically   (Merely) the decorative,   Allure, artistry and symmetry Superlative complexity, Her erudition satiates, supplanting Winds of constructive banality. Purveyor of an uncommon savor, She collaborates in the peculiar Pursuit and reward, Encounter  with depth, explored, Human and divine, prosaic meets sublime Igniting within an Eros Passion for truth, being and Telos. Visionary of grace and peace Transforming our earthbound dissonance; Our caprice, Hope and abundance, the myth of scarcity, She narrates the Good. Pen, lens, color and stage Vulnerable, unrepressed, effusive Romantic articulation, The reservoir deep, Innately primed conduit of Love. Beyond plebeian, cosmetic, the trite Woman of substance, pulchritude And delight. Effervescent - her smile exquisite, Eclipsing suffering, Wordless expression, understood language. I am transported, my imagination replete, Sonya Rose - Art personified; unabridged, complete. ©2008 & 2013 W.S . Warner
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Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
Sonya Rose
Prescient, her essence Casts a demure persuasion,                 Endowed with verve and vision; Concept to consummation, The serenely possessed, Creator, originator, Allusion to the eternal azure, Logos of abstraction, Word and image collision. Tonal palette of faith infused reason Beauty and sublimity, Serve to season Verse, canvas and film, Mediating aesthetic, seminal senses blossom, Lyrical each permutation, Seeds of vibrant chroma diffusing the mystical. Visage and hair,  her figure haunted With perfection - a work of Art Nurtured and lived invocation, The canon of taste; Crystal for the ***** Devotional fragrance , Holistic ethos, melodic invention, Animated, pure - The embodiment of redemption. Transcending form, parenthetically   (Merely) the decorative,   Allure, artistry and symmetry Superlative complexity, Her erudition satiates, supplanting Winds of constructive banality. Purveyor of an uncommon savor, She collaborates in the peculiar Pursuit and reward, Encounter  with depth, explored, Human and divine, prosaic meets sublime Igniting within an Eros Passion for truth, being and Telos. Visionary of grace and peace Transforming our earthbound dissonance; Our caprice, Hope and abundance, the myth of scarcity, She narrates the Good. Pen, lens, color and stage Vulnerable, unrepressed, effusive Romantic articulation, The reservoir deep, Innately primed conduit of Love. Beyond plebeian, cosmetic, the trite Woman of substance, pulchritude And delight. Effervescent - her smile exquisite, Eclipsing suffering, Wordless expression, understood language. I am transported, my imagination replete, Sonya Rose - Art personified; unabridged, complete. ©2008 & 2013 W.S . Warner
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58
Why Men Like to Load the Dishwasher We are the artists of shape and configuration, puzzle masters solving riddles of physics, worshipers at the altar of labor saving devices, this is a love poem of sorts, a Bazinga salutation, to men and their undying love for **** machines. were it in my power all cups would be handle-less, the dishwasher time-space continuum would be non-interrupted by black holes where handles pointlessly protrude, requiring endless rearrangement, a soul destroying exercise. bowls of any sort should have bottoms that retract. indeed, the capacity increase, a visible fact, is so enviro-friendly, eminently sensible, that the loading for mechanical scrubbing is deserved of a wing in the Smithsonian. perhaps the budgeteers of Congress should be tutored in this artistry, how to make any limited resource, better used. the rub, as the bard would have writ, is that this roaring tempest-tost, our love for hard labor lost, secret sacrificed behind a locked door, of a Sanctum ******** is entirely due, all glory to, the secret society of fairies who hide-reside inside, freeing us to write more poetry. in so many ways that I cannot reveal, less the other gender members squeal, men live to love to load the dishwasher, for the ingenuity challenge, and of course, the side benefit of the excusing coverup, "I helped clean up," a relationship saver, proof positively that the dishwasher inventor, was surely a brilliant woman
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May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 8:26 AM UTC
Why Men Like to Load the Dishwasher (You Didn't Know?)
i. Mine artistry inamorata Airburshed on tapestry upon; Fernando Amorsolo canvas. ii. Thou art mine Atlantis The air I sucketh in; Mine piece of God, timeless. iii. What id do without thee? I couldst not liveth; I'll giveth thee mine last drop, of blood mine dear. iv. Cometh near Shadow's dance with us; Filipino perfume's, ancient dusk. v. In the negrito of Luzon Bead's shalt bounce ourn neck's; Red one's, yellow one's, tribal seed connect. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poets poetry ©Earl Jane dedication
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Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Airbrushed, like a Fernando amorsolo picture
I try to sing this melody Of my own fidelity But I lack this morality That tells me the reality Of a life in harmony With spirits heavenly I am my own entity And when I show this identity It has no truth to humanity So I speak in brevity To hide the perplexity That only few conceptually Embrace with full integrity To soar in the clouds joyfully Like the eagles in serenity And the gods of heredity We are the truthful society Yet know one knows it verily I will continue transcendently Like the lotus in her artistry I will paint mindfully The visage of prosperity In all its beauty So vividly Until I rest solemnly In my garden above the galaxy Where all who truthfully Flew with divinity In utter tranquility While this world unfaithfully Decayed presently In the lies of commonality In this globe of duality Don’t sing this parody Avoid the practicality Your song is skillfully Hiding from the animosity You will have your symphony In a sky of pure unity
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Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
A Song Skillfully Hiding
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙ Promenade of Colors reality ought to fade watermarks on evening lake the Lad idling was awake Torments of Agony the fear of ambiguity a broidery of epitaph toiling the stars up the top Free of Delusions impassive feelings strut to the unknown that fogs and hems over the mutt Dashes of Silver passing vessels of desolate coxswain sighting out for love moon bobs from the lake Willows of Empathy humming of Mississippi -a friend that greets the lake gave its peace Signs of Eve the breeze whispered a wisp of eyes uncluttered the Lad unshackled Artistry of Sky as spirits begins to fly I was full astound my purpose, now I found
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Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 11:04 AM UTC
The Lad On The Lake
<> for the early morning teach <> she's young, beautiful and thinks her life is cursed, in the past, subject of some of my poems, her health to nurse, yet, as is normative, you fall into & out of a well of touch, until you accidentally once again path cross, she provides a precision mathematical status update "i'm fairly certain things are like at least 38% worse." it is 1:38AM for you, the not unnoticed ironic minute and hour when the night ether has prematurely worn off, rising time close but not nearly close enough, a dark dose of a sleeping nurse's aide seems inappropriate, and TV reruns seem like an insult to your brain instead you turn on some belle string musique, a Grande Messe des Morts, a chorus, singing a high mass for the dead, while opening all your various email luggage and baggage, smiling as you read a poetess's message of laughter behind tears "i'm fairly certain things are like at least 38% worse." and Mississippi ****** your uncontrollable mixed drink of her emotional Grenada grenade cocktail, flavored with musique, paintings, and words and a nearby beloved's gentling sleep sounds, has you writing your own protest poem, your very own, oy vey, grande messe, about lives that were supposed to be pictures of perfect artistry and for but a word or two, instead, a painting of a life that got hung upside down, and indeed, leaving a grand mess and no one to help clean up alternatively weeping, laughing as you are thinking, smiling recall Laurel and Hardy's summary definition of living a life's of ill begotten, misventured adventures: "Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into !" but 38% worse? not an even-steven rounded up 40%, should I write you only 38% of a poem, teach? or more accurately, more mathematically, 138% of what was writ before? and you recall your older, prior words about the love hate affair between you poet, and the beauty of written brevity (her style) and you give her this then, this rambling, scrambled, attention paid notification, word attentiveness, a summary of your readings of her cheddar sharp and honey mustard sweet retorts of pained poetry, it is insufficiently but perfectly sufficient, a summarizing phrase that opens and yet briefly encapsulates all that you are feeling for her "thinking of you" or the 38% larger version thereof - ***"Well, here's another 38% more nice poetic mess you've gotten me into!"***
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Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
"i'm fairly certain things are like at least 38% worse"
<> for the early morning teach <> she's young, beautiful and thinks her life is cursed, in the past, subject of some of my poems, her health to nurse, yet, as is normative, you fall into & out of a well of touch, until you accidentally once again path cross, she provides a precision mathematical status update "i'm fairly certain things are like at least 38% worse." it is 1:38AM for you, the not unnoticed ironic minute and hour when the night ether has prematurely worn off, rising time close but not nearly close enough, a dark dose of a sleeping nurse's aide seems inappropriate, and TV reruns seem like an insult to your brain instead you turn on some belle string musique, a Grande Messe des Morts, a chorus, singing a high mass for the dead, while opening all your various email luggage and baggage, smiling as you read a poetess's message of laughter behind tears "i'm fairly certain things are like at least 38% worse." and Mississippi ****** your uncontrollable mixed drink of her emotional Grenada grenade cocktail, flavored with musique, paintings, and words and a nearby beloved's gentling sleep sounds, has you writing your own protest poem, your very own, oy vey, grande messe, about lives that were supposed to be pictures of perfect artistry and for but a word or two, instead, a painting of a life that got hung upside down, and indeed, leaving a grand mess and no one to help clean up alternatively weeping, laughing as you are thinking, smiling recall Laurel and Hardy's summary definition of living a life's of ill begotten, misventured adventures: "Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into !" but 38% worse? not an even-steven rounded up 40%, should I write you only 38% of a poem, teach? or more accurately, more mathematically, 138% of what was writ before? and you recall your older, prior words about the love hate affair between you poet, and the beauty of written brevity (her style) and you give her this then, this rambling, scrambled, attention paid notification, word attentiveness, a summary of your readings of her cheddar sharp and honey mustard sweet retorts of pained poetry, it is insufficiently but perfectly sufficient, a summarizing phrase that opens and yet briefly encapsulates all that you are feeling for her "thinking of you" or the 38% larger version thereof - ***"Well, here's another 38% more nice poetic mess you've gotten me into!"***
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falling in love with her is like taking the square block and trying to put it in the circle slot i got the premise set in stone but the execution was poor like twisting and turning a rubiks cube to find that four colors of each side are missing but im trying to solve it in spite of forgetting what the colors were so i ****** up really bad and i guess romance is dead and there’s no extra lives and now im playing hide and seek with my smile looking in places that she smiled where sunsets lie that even van gogh couldnt paint but im not drinking yellow paint to make way for some fabrication of euphoria because my euphoria sleeps with her they’re really quite the bedfellows but everything inside me is just the way she left it
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Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
"artistry" or "toys"
*with hope and light beneath enchanted magical trees turned heavy white on a river side of sandy beige a happy face of golden egg-less yolk shining in the sky of cyan to have a sunny day of orange in the winter of grey blue sky warming my heart of red on a cold day rainbow birds chirping songs of love silver breeze flowing cold and steady unable to consume the warmth from my brown eyes as I go blind with the light of your pale face so perfectly encompassed between the curls of inky black and maroon lace and your pink smile adding colour to the blank canvas of my mind you're so beautiful! what I see is a wonderful artistry of nature that is skilfully crafted with perfection colours and words find difficult to give it expression how your precious pearls of sapphire placed gently inside the seashells that draws me in & I can't resist to dive within so all I want is to drown and be lost in their depths while I keep looking at you until the azure ether wraps itself in a mahogany hue and the day drapes a coat of starry dust in coal*
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Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
Ethereal Beauty
A Stranger amongst strangers when the poet is a stranger he become a danger to the future You were here; I was there Healing the world with prayers and lyrics Just another nightmare As the world shun another poet The poets disappear another forgotten poem Within each new poet there is a new idea the poesy, the artistry, blend within hidden words Fade poems curl like a half moon. Fading, fading, gone too soon
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Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:18 PM UTC
Untitled
honoring the glass artistry of Dale Chihuly A rainbow of serrated globes, Friends to the water lilies, Floats in a sculptured pool. A surreal yellow glass Medusa Woven through a white crescent trellis Gleams in the midday sun. Choirs of chrysanthemums Sing with multicolored flora Blown from molten soda, lime and sand. Sheltered in a geodesic tropics Orange herons stand on legs of glass Amid living palms, bamboo and wild orchids. Towering blue spires Lift skyward out of the soil While butterflies dance In the misty veil of a waterfall. Nature and the shimmering world within Happily converge in the florid vision Of an effervescent man with a patched eye - A man called Chihuly. October, 2006
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Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
Garden of Glass