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"attains" poems
slave is someone who does not have authority over their own lives slave is someone subservient controlled dominated by somebody something slave works very hard for little or no pay slave is property of somebody something slave is someone forced to obey sycophant is someone servile who overly flatters more powerful individual for personal gain sycophant is bootlicker brown-noser fawner flunkey doormat lackey lap-dog yes-men parasite toad-eater (pause reposition) somebody possessed of excessive vanity may cultivate sycophant swarms side by side they stand clothed in black not quite similar the one slightly taller possibly because the other suffers poor posture perhaps they are related because in odd way they appear alike or of same ilk yet upon closer scrutiny it becomes apparent they have very little or nothing in common the taller one with troubled sad eyes the other smiling obsequiously the taller one more muscular ***** from working menial labor the other with curved spine slumped shoulders because of undue bowing and crouching while blowing smoke up other people’s ***** sadist is someone who attains ****** gratification by inflicting physical pain shame to other people sadist is someone who delights in excessive cruelty degradation to others ********* is someone who achieves ****** pleasure from being hurt humiliated abused dominated punished often self-inflicted ********* is someone who enjoys being harmed misused mistreated ignored by others sadomasochist is someone who gets ****** gratification by alternately or simultaneously enduring hurt causing pain to somebody else sadomasochist is combination of sadistic masochistic tendencies in someone who obtains ****** pleasure from inflicting submitting to pain cruelty sycophant slave snakes up leg of movie actress dictator who gains pain through pleasure 2000 miles from equator IED cell phone detonator sycophant dilettante ***** up to sadistic art critic or publishing editor on escalator while below on main floor of shopping mall ice rink figure skater pirouettes bows to nominator surreptitiously bribed by infiltrator mutilator
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Feb 27, 2011
Feb 27, 2011 at 4:38 AM UTC
sycophant slave snakes up leg of movie actress dictator
slave is someone who does not have authority over their own lives slave is someone subservient controlled dominated by somebody something slave works very hard for little or no pay slave is property of somebody something slave is someone forced to obey sycophant is someone servile who overly flatters more powerful individual for personal gain sycophant is bootlicker brown-noser fawner flunkey doormat lackey lap-dog yes-men parasite toad-eater (pause reposition) somebody possessed of excessive vanity may cultivate sycophant swarms side by side they stand clothed in black not quite similar the one slightly taller possibly because the other suffers poor posture perhaps they are related because in odd way they appear alike or of same ilk yet upon closer scrutiny it becomes apparent they have very little or nothing in common the taller one with troubled sad eyes the other smiling obsequiously the taller one more muscular ***** from working menial labor the other with curved spine slumped shoulders because of undue bowing and crouching while blowing smoke up other people’s ***** sadist is someone who attains ****** gratification by inflicting physical pain shame to other people sadist is someone who delights in excessive cruelty degradation to others ********* is someone who achieves ****** pleasure from being hurt humiliated abused dominated punished often self-inflicted ********* is someone who enjoys being harmed misused mistreated ignored by others sadomasochist is someone who gets ****** gratification by alternately or simultaneously enduring hurt causing pain to somebody else sadomasochist is combination of sadistic masochistic tendencies in someone who obtains ****** pleasure from inflicting submitting to pain cruelty sycophant slave snakes up leg of movie actress dictator who gains pain through pleasure 2000 miles from equator IED cell phone detonator sycophant dilettante ***** up to sadistic art critic or publishing editor on escalator while below on main floor of shopping mall ice rink figure skater pirouettes bows to nominator surreptitiously bribed by infiltrator mutilator
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7
Slapdash into the ****** pan Is thrown the longed-for son of man. Between the gossiping cups of tea God attains mortality. In the cathedral calm and cold Kneel the erroneous-memoried old. But in the womb's cathedral calm The walls collapse in a birth psalm. The blood sings from the soiled hand The apprentice cleans at the washstand. Undismayed by omission, For everything, everything is won. The proof blazes in impudence Above the miopics of science, Swaggering in love inviolate, Over the uninitiate. And over all the angels dart Like squadrons in a war apart. Dropping parachutes of bliss On everything that is.
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3.7k
Birth of a Child in Wartime
A poet searches for love and a bird attains flight. Whisk wings to new heights. Don't stay on the ground, its the same as being in a cage. Soar though a zephyr on every page.
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Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
No Title.
The country road like  poet’s fancies unravels Through the   giant hanky- sized paddy fields And  the dream  sized ponds Dotting  the landscape in perfect  squires and riots of skewed and regular shapes The green spread and the muddy beds, spell the village beauty. Parrot green fields And  stark blue skies  look at each other In perfect silence, like mother and babe And a   great , grey house  exposing its ragged bricks, Bared like  the buck tooth of the old Provokes a  village memory Past picking itself slowy and ambling into the future Its wooden columns stand like mute exclamation marks! or so it may look to me. Flies  the  skidding scaly tarred  snake   Fast and spreading like the traveler travelling on it. Patchy it looks, now;   And  full like the  misery  of the scorned lover Eager like  the  maiden speech of a parlimentarian   The country road, runs fluid like a stream after the rains. As the rustle of the engine   trips and   falls into the  divine  air. A  roaming peacock calling adds  charm to the great whole fare A winged beauty, struts across Nudged by the sputtering , speeding me. The exotic avian   attains the hedges galore With its   metal blue  feathery strangeness blurred in my glancing eye A species rare, found only in ornithologists diary. A  clamour in the  air And the   school boys emerge in buddy pairs Beneath the village banyan That let loose its tresses to dry like a country maid. I see, a promising glint in their eyes The will make themselves of king and ministers of the modern days The  sonority of ringing bell   clubs the cacophony of school boys in into two dead parts. They return to their classes, sanctified by the silence, And open their minds to the feminine vocie. A Glorious moment , As the  morn of wisdom is born Rich are the sightings of poor country side And many are the mappings on the way, My sensibilities recouped, I drove back not spent But profound. sound.
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Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 5:15 AM UTC
The country side
The country road like  poet’s fancies unravels Through the   giant hanky- sized paddy fields And  the dream  sized ponds Dotting  the landscape in perfect  squires and riots of skewed and regular shapes The green spread and the muddy beds, spell the village beauty. Parrot green fields And  stark blue skies  look at each other In perfect silence, like mother and babe And a   great , grey house  exposing its ragged bricks, Bared like  the buck tooth of the old Provokes a  village memory Past picking itself slowy and ambling into the future Its wooden columns stand like mute exclamation marks! or so it may look to me. Flies  the  skidding scaly tarred  snake   Fast and spreading like the traveler travelling on it. Patchy it looks, now;   And  full like the  misery  of the scorned lover Eager like  the  maiden speech of a parlimentarian   The country road, runs fluid like a stream after the rains. As the rustle of the engine   trips and   falls into the  divine  air. A  roaming peacock calling adds  charm to the great whole fare A winged beauty, struts across Nudged by the sputtering , speeding me. The exotic avian   attains the hedges galore With its   metal blue  feathery strangeness blurred in my glancing eye A species rare, found only in ornithologists diary. A  clamour in the  air And the   school boys emerge in buddy pairs Beneath the village banyan That let loose its tresses to dry like a country maid. I see, a promising glint in their eyes The will make themselves of king and ministers of the modern days The  sonority of ringing bell   clubs the cacophony of school boys in into two dead parts. They return to their classes, sanctified by the silence, And open their minds to the feminine vocie. A Glorious moment , As the  morn of wisdom is born Rich are the sightings of poor country side And many are the mappings on the way, My sensibilities recouped, I drove back not spent But profound. sound.
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49
mind settled in mind, attains peace, attains stillness, attains contentment. mind settled in mind, her own Self.
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Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 11:44 AM UTC
mind settled in mind
It’s been told she has the heart of the Sun A bright bronze sphere That can never turn down fun Brazen is she towards those who stand in her way Guided by faith, her feet never stray No matter the currents or the strength of the Tides She goes low when they fly high Like Hawksbill, Green, Loggerhead and Leatherback She attains the longevity they endure Her voice is as sweet as the Black Pineapple Her beauty resembles the Antiguan hibiscus Some might even say more For her beauty is something you can’t ignore Whenever one door closes She makes one more open Always giving faith a fighting chance Whenever the option arises She always chooses to DANCE! As the soca rhythm flows into her blood steam And the bright colors of carnival collide There outshining the others You can find the person I call my “MOM” My Antiguan Queen Always representing red white black blue and gold pride
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Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 1:27 PM UTC
Antiguan Queen
To… My best friend and lover. Protector of my lies …You rescued me And ****** me to my fate. Spiralled the dopamine to brilliance In my mind. To spangled halls of light, Reflective light, and calm. A golden calm Of energised, invincible intensity…… Addiction is thy name. Compulsion is thy talent Up, up the trammelled pathway From the innocence of a **** To the chaotic expense of **** Then to the dreamy, smoked Opiates, And the scars of the needles And magic of Coke & big H ? And ultimately… It’s all not enough! The hollow inadequacy of it all When finally….. Nothing, Nothing achieves flight. Nothing attains the heights. Nothing satisfies Like it used to….. No amount of money Buys satisfaction! Hopelessly Into the Black Hole. Down, down the trammelled pathway And the body is wasted, thin And the mind in misery, And broke, utterly penniless, Exhausted and spent, Estranged and abandoned, Alone, so alone. Down the trammelled pathway To the inevitable retreat Into failure’s squalid, numbing, bitter End. M. May 31 2014 From the outside looking in.
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May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
The Trammelled Pathway.
A part, immutable, unseen, Being, before itself had been, Became. Like dew a triple queen Shone as the void uncovered: The silence of deep height was drawn A veil across the silver dawn On holy wings that hovered. The music of three thoughts became The beauty, that is one white flame, The justice that surpasses shame, The victory, the splendour, The sacred fountain that is whirled From depths beyond that older world A new world to engender. The kingdom is extended. Night Dwells, and I contemplate the sight That is not seeing, but the light That secretly is kindled, Though oft-time its most holy fire Lacks oil, whene'er my own Desire Before desire has dwindled. I see the thin web binding me With thirteen cords of unity Toward the calm centre of the sea. (O thou supernal mother!) The triple light my path divides To twain and fifty sudden sides Each perfect as each other. Now backwards, inwards still my mind Must track the intangible and blind, And seeking, shall securely find Hidden in secret places Fresh feasts for every soul that strives, New life for many mystic lives, And strange new forms and faces. My mind still searches, and attains By many days and many pains To That which Is and Was and reigns Shadowed in four and ten; And loses self in sacred lands, And cries and quickens, and understands Beyond the first Amen.
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2.1k
The Quest
Praise be the victor, Praise be the name, Praise be the feeling, His slaughtering attains. Praise be his face, That he does not feign, Praise be his ****** Whose name is in vain. Praise be the victor, Who so humbly remains, Leaves his opponent, In the flash of a grenade. Praise be his creed, Praise his beliefs, Shun the other’s ideals, Don’t allow defeat. Praise be his country, Praise be his people, Who so angrily shout, Something oh-so evil. Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! **** **** **** **** The television screen, So brightly entrancing, Cheer for your side, The enemy’s advancing. Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! **** **** **** **** They hide in little shelters, Covered by the shields, Of valiant terror, That explode in the fields. Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! **** **** **** **** The blood of the valiant, Is no longer red It is black and it is blue, Of overwhelming regret.
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Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 9:17 PM UTC
Praise be the Victor
None of this is preconceived. Lesson One came in the knowing That no animal, angel, or adult Has any knowing at all. Life never attains ideals. There’s a sand-grained image of you: “How did you manage sunburn in Great Yarmouth?” The pain now forgotten as anecdote.
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 9:15 AM UTC
Anesthesia
Creatures called "sores" hover at lightning speed across the grey earth, hence, ere is the apocalypse's eve. Just as it always is, and the future attains enlightened poisoning which eats slowly at its being and existence. Feelings, misplaced Confidence, misplaced Balance, misplaced Senses, scattered and blown by opaque wind into small tornadoes which settle and hide in the corners and crannies of my skull The fascinate-opal is shining above the impossible-springs where blue vegetation is next to molten rainbow cascading through, over, under, and beside digital holograms of people. Illusory picnic in the chapel-a hollowed sheet of milk
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Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
Soaring Sores Cross' Grey Earth
What is quantifiable are the symbols. What isn't quantifiable are the zones between the symbols, unless there are many symbols present that form spaces. There are partial symbols, i.e. a gesture of an animal is present but not the form of the animal. Reality stays more abstract with partial symbology. What is known about the symbol gives reality meaning. Speaking of visions as symbols separates the meaning from the visual experience. The person who doesn't see the symbol as the reality has not been exposed to reality which is somewhat hard to ascertain. When, in dreams for example, there are just collages of things, it is hard to say that it is more than a collage. But if I recognize symbology, it allows me to see every part of the picture. Symbols are more for the artist than the scientist who simply wants to verify what happens in reality. While transcendent of verification of meaning is reality "filler", yet it attains to meaning only if it is seen as symbol. The filler is more abstract because logic only exists here if we consciously give something meaning. Otherwise a huff of a dog, for example, is merely a passing image. Since concrete objects already have existential meaning, they cannot constitute as filler. Visions, because they only partially exist, calls into question existence itself. In filler reality, it becomes participatory as to giving reality meaning or just enjoying the visions. What separates this filler world from normal mind is that meaning is no longer the key to reality. Simply experiencing the visuals explain reality in an easy way. Meaning almost ruins the mode of experience.
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Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 9:29 PM UTC
Symbols and "filler" realities
What is quantifiable are the symbols. What isn't quantifiable are the zones between the symbols, unless there are many symbols present that form spaces. There are partial symbols, i.e. a gesture of an animal is present but not the form of the animal. Reality stays more abstract with partial symbology. What is known about the symbol gives reality meaning. Speaking of visions as symbols separates the meaning from the visual experience. The person who doesn't see the symbol as the reality has not been exposed to reality which is somewhat hard to ascertain. When, in dreams for example, there are just collages of things, it is hard to say that it is more than a collage. But if I recognize symbology, it allows me to see every part of the picture. Symbols are more for the artist than the scientist who simply wants to verify what happens in reality. While transcendent of verification of meaning is reality "filler", yet it attains to meaning only if it is seen as symbol. The filler is more abstract because logic only exists here if we consciously give something meaning. Otherwise a huff of a dog, for example, is merely a passing image. Since concrete objects already have existential meaning, they cannot constitute as filler. Visions, because they only partially exist, calls into question existence itself. In filler reality, it becomes participatory as to giving reality meaning or just enjoying the visions. What separates this filler world from normal mind is that meaning is no longer the key to reality. Simply experiencing the visuals explain reality in an easy way. Meaning almost ruins the mode of experience.
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15
A grain of sand knows not its worth, upon the lands across this Earth, Yet every grain ìs paramount, to mark each second's passing count, For housed within infinity, each grain attains divinity, And when the grains have ceased to fall, the sands of time engulf us all.
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Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 7:20 AM UTC
Countdown
This fear Is nowhere near Anything I have experienced before Leaving me shaken to the core Wretched and poor Happiness no more This pain Attains Nothing but lies Watching my spirit die While everyone is standing by Receiving countless irritated sighs All I know how to do is fail My bones are so frail Fresh thoughts have grown stale My insecurities come at me like hail I'm sorry I turned out this way All that is pure has gone astray I realize it's not okay The more and more that I decay This isn't who you wanted me to be I am anything but happy and free I never wanted this, you see But it's these profound insecurites I apologize I know you put that pain in disguise When I bombarde you with lies Causing your anxiety to rise You can't hide it, I can see it in your eyes I tried and I tried To keep you satisfied Was it so hard to comprehend the words that I cried? In you In this life I no longer confide
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Jan 3, 2011
Jan 3, 2011 at 8:38 PM UTC
Anorexia
Lying is a skill like anything else; And its one she flaunts around behind her innocence. She jumps from suitor to suitor draining every benefit Possible until she's satisfied,or until she's made. Pleading the damsel in distress card, she always attains What she desires. She's a tornado; Selfishly destroying everything around her in a fit of Rage, she tires out into a corpse.
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Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
The Corpse With Gusto
Desire expressed manifests in moments Genesis to geneticist alpha to omega, Eden Armageddon and a particular flat stone I'm flinging at that pile of H2O It skips, predictably,  causing surface ripples under a line of predefined arcs each described by gravity and water molecules neatly arranged in surface tension that reflects this day ... blue as the clear sky and a peaceful wavelength we know as harmony I'm wondering who desired such perfection... Enabled energy, proclaimed pebbles Caused a lake to feel at home right here Read Darwin some respond you're only here because a primal pond appeared somehow someway backwhen and that famous fertile germ opted for a brave new world with homo-sapiens conveniently mapped to its single cell Dadadadaaa! Dumdeedee dumb! Dvorak wonders too Backwards, on slow-motion rewind lofty intellects scratch and munch in flaky wonderland ever plotting the self-indulgent, Lemming way 'ahead' Independence day drags drearily on Take fifty! ... A more human-friendly God created in our image ... lest we forget the beast I, me, first-person-one, Oh you're lookin' good! Lets put that that triple 6 trinity to work Replete, till death us do part, we do things My Way ala Frank (and certain gorillas with cigars) Thus is the compliment returned Man attains an ever lower High place Pass my slice of cake please Myopic, entropic moments loop their mobius strips ever further down the food chain Highways congeal and earth chokes desperation Small wonder Wisdom opposes pride Shows His face to humble folk Invites shepherds to witness Jupiter in Virgo's womb Rouses them with a shofar blast   come Kingdom come.
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Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 2:13 AM UTC
Skipping Stones
Desire expressed manifests in moments Genesis to geneticist alpha to omega, Eden Armageddon and a particular flat stone I'm flinging at that pile of H2O It skips, predictably,  causing surface ripples under a line of predefined arcs each described by gravity and water molecules neatly arranged in surface tension that reflects this day ... blue as the clear sky and a peaceful wavelength we know as harmony I'm wondering who desired such perfection... Enabled energy, proclaimed pebbles Caused a lake to feel at home right here Read Darwin some respond you're only here because a primal pond appeared somehow someway backwhen and that famous fertile germ opted for a brave new world with homo-sapiens conveniently mapped to its single cell Dadadadaaa! Dumdeedee dumb! Dvorak wonders too Backwards, on slow-motion rewind lofty intellects scratch and munch in flaky wonderland ever plotting the self-indulgent, Lemming way 'ahead' Independence day drags drearily on Take fifty! ... A more human-friendly God created in our image ... lest we forget the beast I, me, first-person-one, Oh you're lookin' good! Lets put that that triple 6 trinity to work Replete, till death us do part, we do things My Way ala Frank (and certain gorillas with cigars) Thus is the compliment returned Man attains an ever lower High place Pass my slice of cake please Myopic, entropic moments loop their mobius strips ever further down the food chain Highways congeal and earth chokes desperation Small wonder Wisdom opposes pride Shows His face to humble folk Invites shepherds to witness Jupiter in Virgo's womb Rouses them with a shofar blast   come Kingdom come.
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51
My heart beats fast, in a cryptic time scale, Shiva's hand drum that  accompanies her speech, she is a poet of handcrafted words, rough cut diamonds, she alludes, suggests, gives vague hints, eludes from traps oh! how so so exquisite, her veiled references! She makes my soft center melt, it's now a chocolate fudge- the color of blood, would she take it? I yearn so deep, the art of concealment, attains a new life with her, I am baffled, yet mighty pleased, the kids delighted, She behaves the way nature does, in an intuitive flash- I reach out to grab the key to the core of this union; she is nature;  quickly her cloudy sky clears, with the peep of sunshine, she is pleased, then in the afternoon, I see a sprinkling rain, magical! with eyes filled with curious light, I watch her, Now I understand her, learn to love her deep, her gentle changing moods that walk with the moon, not for nothing, I liken my only love to a dreamer, not a poet, but rhapsody in her nature, pure rapture.
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Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC
She is nature, I come to realize
Down the windows, I see two cows and a goat A spreaded field throughout Composition, verve and opus Alas! Stare bounces in his eyes At mercurial, calm fissure At lost petals, distressed debt At a cowboy or at modern hobbit Staring drives endlessly Volcano ponders towards valves Cowboy gone, so his cattles Leaving dark hapless mirage Dusk attains at windows Wits and sights go vanished Refraction seizures into echo Gaze perceive him in mirror-copy
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Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 3:00 AM UTC
A cow boy
consciousness breeds a new life to a dying mind, body and soul it is in your concern to develop love and knowledge towards the beauty of cosmic energy consciousness attains one’s mind for constant elevation and meditation. take countless of breaths and contemplate on the newness of greatness elevate your spirit and mind through the art of letting go take countless of breaths and focus your attention on being free let your soul sail in living waters and your heart abide in complete sanctuary.
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Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 1:38 PM UTC
Inhale, Exhale (Part VI)
Withered thirsting dying petals- Their plant's pain, who could guess? The petals fell to gentle rest Upon this earth for final settle. Time for them a place has made Where their essence intact remains A place that just a mind attains- Into that time a mind invades. So, yes, those thirsting petals dried But yet their color and smell preserved And by the mind remained conserved Even after those petals died.
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Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
Petals
Whatever goes up, in this world, must also come down unless it defies nature's law of gravity which is renown. For anything to rise to a certain height and then have to come down again depends on the force that initially propels it and how high it attains to then. ______________________
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Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 5:52 PM UTC
Quatrain #305 - Whatever goes up, in this world.......
Energy radiates from far and near as the expanding perspective of a speck of dust attains immutable consciousness and a universe is born. Where linear time is expressed in physical angles tangential to the sum of a whole, Where the knowledge of life, death, and birth slip seamlessly between misshapen molecules of carbon and nitrogen And verbose patterns of dusty stars form galaxies unsettled Spreading as they gather speed.
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Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
Where Time Copulates
Well yes I do carve walking sticks Not two or three hours But more like thirty or fourty But then I saw the connection Between my poetry and wood Each takes me into another world Of rhythm oh so good Where I hear you ask Can this connection be made A poem and a walking stick This man is surely mad But think dear friends about a how poem does evolve You start with just a single word Then watch the poem grow I walk in the woodlands I walk the forest ways And I see things That you might miss In the coppiced hedgerow lays And so with my trusty folding saw A wooden stave lies in my hand Perfectly straight or warped Wood, oh wood so grand And so just like poetry the plan Then starts to form With penknife and a wood rasp A walking stick is formed Sandpaper grades decreased And long hours pass Eventually that rough hewn stick Attains the sheen of glass Yes I carve sticks with rustic pride Never do I miss what the cuts might hide When I write it is with love I can edit a poem But not a walking stick
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Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
I Carve Walking Sticks ii
(:-----------------------:) At times I am lost I too feel dross But In your fraternity My laughter Attains eternity (:-----------------------:) Bharti
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Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
who you are....
Poets issue from the heart There's nothing to be said For those who write in words of spite To leave their truths for dead. So really....Poetry is simply A camera for the mind Where one expresses sentiment The heart won't leave behind. And...Release is felt By he who writes Of ardour of the soul, As though the act of penning words Disgorges passion's goal. But...The beauty felt In handing forth The gemstones of your mind Attains it's goal when only read By they who seek to find. And in fact...The beauty felt In sitting down To read old tomes of mine Delivers pleasure in revisiting My best snapshots of time. So friends, Poets Please feel at ease For what you seek to do Is simply make this world a better place And for that... I THANK YOU. Marshalg @the Pukehana Paradise, NZ. Sunday 10:21am, 24 march 2013
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Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
Poets simply....