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"beseeched" poems
i took my first love down to strawberry hill, the only place i knew how to be free, only kids were we, i kissed her and she kissed me right there among the strawberries, but when i asked how long we would be she said nothing to me two days later she left me, and the strawberries beneath my feet lay cold in the breeze 15 my heart was afluttering, and i took my love down to violet hill there we sat in the summer heat, i asked just how long we would be, she sat as silent as a tree three days later she let me go, and i sat staring at the dead berries that lay buried in front of me 23 i thought i had found she, the girl who would always love me, but i got down on my knees and she said no to me, i didn't say anything, just watched the strawberries beside me wither and bleed, no longer living when you came to me the strawberry hill no longer carried its name, my heart beseeched me to revisit once in my lonely life, i told you my story of the strawberry hill and the heartbreak that had happened here, you sat the, silent still, and once done you said to me, "darling this hill belongs to we, i shall not leave you until life lets me sleep, and even then this hill is where you will find me" now i stand on strawberry hill, life breathed back by your love, you lay beneath your strawberries, waiting to greet me
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Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 12:09 PM UTC
Strawberry
Riches begot with credit stock Power bestowed with golden crown Glory bequeathed with laurel wreath Marriage beseeched with diamond ring All things beheld 'til evening red
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Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
'Til Evening Red
A long time ago a very young mother Named Kisa Gotami gave birth to a son— A child who was the light of her life. The mother’s love was second to none.   Not long after her son was born, The poor child grew sick and died. “Who can bring my son back to life? Have pity!” Kisa Gotami cried.   The villagers knew that there was nothing They could do to help and suggested That she seek out the help of the Buddha. “He can do wonders,” they attested.   She found the Buddha and beseeched his help. “My only son has died,” she wailed. “Can you bring him back to life. Everything I have tried has failed.”   The Buddha calmly said, “I will help you.” The poor woman waited with bated breath. “But first you must find for me A family that’s never been touched by death.   “When you finally encounter that home, Tell the family there’s something you need— Just one thing to take to the Buddha— And that’s a single mustard seed.”   With great excitement the mother ran From house to house—to every abode. But death had visited every family. On her face, great disappointment showed.   After a long, unsuccessful search, The young mother came to realize That everything born had to die; Everything had to have its demise.   She understood the law of impermanence And that her suffering was not unique. She now saw life from a new perspective; Her eyes were open, so to speak.   Kisa Gotami returned to the Buddha And started to follow his teachings--the Way, Or Path to Enlightenment, Which still guides many seekers today. - by Bob B
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Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
Kisa Gotami and the Mustard Seed: An Old Story Retold in Verse
A long time ago a very young mother Named Kisa Gotami gave birth to a son— A child who was the light of her life. The mother’s love was second to none.   Not long after her son was born, The poor child grew sick and died. “Who can bring my son back to life? Have pity!” Kisa Gotami cried.   The villagers knew that there was nothing They could do to help and suggested That she seek out the help of the Buddha. “He can do wonders,” they attested.   She found the Buddha and beseeched his help. “My only son has died,” she wailed. “Can you bring him back to life. Everything I have tried has failed.”   The Buddha calmly said, “I will help you.” The poor woman waited with bated breath. “But first you must find for me A family that’s never been touched by death.   “When you finally encounter that home, Tell the family there’s something you need— Just one thing to take to the Buddha— And that’s a single mustard seed.”   With great excitement the mother ran From house to house—to every abode. But death had visited every family. On her face, great disappointment showed.   After a long, unsuccessful search, The young mother came to realize That everything born had to die; Everything had to have its demise.   She understood the law of impermanence And that her suffering was not unique. She now saw life from a new perspective; Her eyes were open, so to speak.   Kisa Gotami returned to the Buddha And started to follow his teachings--the Way, Or Path to Enlightenment, Which still guides many seekers today. - by Bob B
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41
Stalwart embers forever light my heart; stoked by whispers of fate and grandeur, a flame reignites: so minute and fragile, it still holds great warmth; and forever shall I hold it close Beseeched, I move toward distant hope that one day, my flame; my dear, we could together burn brighter than the sun
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Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 4:04 PM UTC
Warmth
First I wrapped the Belkin cover on my 64GB iPad tight shut with 3M shipping tape then I glued one helium Happy Birthday teflon balloon from CVS Pharmacy on each corner with SuperGlue and took it down to the beach. Kneeling at the tip of the tide I beseeched the gods accept this offering heal my disbelief make my body and soul whole. . . I’ve stopped adding Abilify to my antidepressant and I’m scared to feel the emptiness again. I launched my little ship on the next outgoing surge as a Red Bull can bobbed beside and I closed my eyes in supplication.
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Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 6:33 AM UTC
64GB SACRIFICE
i. O' mine asawa, mine novel put away for millennia, Brute man hast hidden thee from view, thou hast been burdened by men's crucifying, thy fear's art of lonesomeness; as many hast left thee, As I've known thine tears. I've seen and watched thy fear's, over the year's thine heart was bleeding. ii. Though whilst thou was leaking from thine wound's, I was keeping track on high, from the moon, and universal sky, from the nebula they calleth God's eye; I made plan's to cometh near. Thither below where I hadst none purpose, other than thee; I asked ourn maker to pusheth me into the sea of the great Pacific ocean, I hadst come with mine love, and incorporeal potion's. iii. Afore thine nativity, I hadst known thee a whilst, though as an angel thy falling to the atmosphere madeth thee forget thy memory; and divine self. Though I remembered thou, as thy soulmate from ages passed: I waited, with the great originator, I hadst beseeched him to seeing thee again; mine beloved, mine consort of other realm related. As Elohim kneweth thou was mine Filipino rose, mine all, and best friend: he granted me back heaven, as I landed into thy hand's. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poets poetry ©Earl Jane Nagley-Filipino rose dedicated
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Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
Yr wyf yn glanio yn dy law yn ( I landed into thine hand's) welsh tongue
I saw yonder— leaves the colour of rusted coins flattened into the soil, their veins crumbling at a touch. Coffee-stained envelopes lay scattered, their paper-thin as skin, ink bled blue by rain, a Paris stamp whispering 1928 from a corner eaten by time. They kept company with a bruised brown apple, bitten once, abandoned, its sweetness turned to rot in the chill of a narrow room in the mammoth province of Brandenburg, Prussia. The rickety Tudor house groaned— timbers bowing like old men, windows clouded with breath that had not been drawn in years. The past lingered here, a pale thing pacing the halls, knocking without fists, begging to be loosed. Cobwebs clung to my wrists, dust rising like breath as I pried open the forgotten mail— letters folded and refolded, addresses crossed out, sentences that never found their mouths. “Let’s ride the rails,” he said. His voice—young, low, certain— rang through me like iron striking iron. My knees softened. The floor tilted. “We should get going.” Two women in white scrubs smelled of soap and starch, their hands firm, practiced, final. Step by step, I was lifted onto wheels that hummed and rattled, carrying me through corridors of echo toward a place newly named, a place I would never call home. The economy collapsed like wet paper. The war broke what remained. Yet memory stayed— warm as breath inside the chest, refusing burial, refusing silence. It never died.
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Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
Years had passed.
Riches begot with credit stock Power bestowed with golden crown Glory bequeathed with laurel wreath Marriage beseeched with diamond ring I hold you 'til the morning dew
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Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
'Til Morning Dew
He turns the page Of old age For what was once the rage Now sits in his cage It's been a war to wage This, life's final stage The pressure gauge Ticking on so outrage Ticking by in ménage For his book's cleavage Untouched and derange Year's wasted and disengaged If only there was no leakage Or ever such seepage Life on his barren range With no panacea to assuage No wife ever, no cat, no life to engage Nothing but red read rage Now in his final chapter, this cage This cage, death does he part this rampage A life perched without marriage For he married to himself backstage Where his curtain veiled fruitage In lieu of looking at the skies for dosage He fell hostage to his hermitage Yet this, his bottled pilgrimage Sinking now in raging montage He does sit beseeched in his passage And hopes someday to bid bon voyage With direr hopes of  turning a better page Logan Robertson 9/27/2018
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Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
His Book of Life Lacks Words
Moon drops splayed themselves as though crystal blankets on summers ethereal stream, Violet memories traced her deep obsidian eyes How she beseeched Lethe’s empty flow Night stars dreamed of patchouli perfumed rhymes Ebon blooms dance with dulcet tones, And fireflies whimsically danced to tune Unspent words whispered from bottles of hope stored, Hypnotized by sweet bees, her heart swept laden fruit groves ─ As hunger ate her soul Eucalyptus his breath against a smoked filled dawn A wood fire burned and hands clasped content Tender his silk fingers traced blush her lips, Consecrated by night she devoured poetic blooms Of gold the cauldron blazed how yellow the young flame One drop be lemon acid boiled black she sang, Tasting dreams on smoke tarnished in polished prose, How she bayed to moon’s blueberry gaze and bled geranium red, By his voice herbs and stones weep and she forgets ─ she forgets, only the night moon bleeds © Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
Blueberry Moon
May your year be measured by revelations and not resolutions May you see your uncountable gifts than boastfully count meagre goals May you on uncharted waters walk than by uncertain stars fearfully chart And may you in power compelled to fly than all powers beseeched to comply
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Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 8:42 AM UTC
Resolutions
Seeking to complain, 't'is found. Seeking to compliment, 't'is found. Such is a reflection of the power of attention and intention. 'T'is beseeched: use responsibly.
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Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
Cognitive Responsibility
Pygmalion beseeched Aphrodite: "Goddess, please answer my plea: Give life to my dear Galatea, that she may live always with me. “ The goddess, in a generous mood, animated your figure Divine. Your ******* generous in proportion, Your bubble **** one of a kind. Your skin is a fine alabaster; Like marble, but warm to the touch. Could your sculptor have done any better? No, I’m sure there is only one such. With golden, shoulder length tresses and lips, apple red, candy sweet. It’s not much of a mystery, really, That Pygmalion was swept off his feet.
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Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 8:07 PM UTC
Galatea
She was holding on to a man broken every gesture made, every word spoken was a desperate cry from a place so deep that he can only reach it in his sleep she holds him together so the pieces don’t fly away keeping her balance as he kneels to pray sometimes he sees her, sometimes he doesn’t sometimes he lives in his past, sometimes his present she implored, she beseeched she tried action, she tried speech ‘if you cannot love me, let me know if you will not love me, let me go’ But he holds on, as if holding on for dear life as if he is drowning and every stroke is in strife as if she is the only thing keeping him afloat as if she was every single word he ever wrote and his eye remains to the shore - someplace clear but far it seems within reach yet more distant than a star more and more it appears an exercise in futility finally admitting it is beyond her ability she drops to her knees, eyes up to the Master trying to prevent her heart’s impending disaster the weight is so heavy, so hard to bear hope only comes in the form of a prayer with hardship comes ease, promises the Beloved but try as she might, she cannot rise above it despairingly close to losing all hope, she implored her tender hands bleeding from the double-edged sword would letting go bring relief or a tortuous void? would her heart remember the previously enjoyed? ♦ ~ epilogue: Then one quiet night upon an angel’s wing she heard a voice that only an angel can bring somewhere between a sigh and a scream somewhere within a half-awakened dream She watched him float above the ocean waves his feathered wings skimming the waters surface catching rays of sunlight into pristine prisms a radiant reflection of blue-green and turquoise From the edge of clouds, he finally spoke and his words became a poem singing sweetly behind smiling eyes gliding together over the ocean foam
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
between a sigh and a scream
She was holding on to a man broken every gesture made, every word spoken was a desperate cry from a place so deep that he can only reach it in his sleep she holds him together so the pieces don’t fly away keeping her balance as he kneels to pray sometimes he sees her, sometimes he doesn’t sometimes he lives in his past, sometimes his present she implored, she beseeched she tried action, she tried speech ‘if you cannot love me, let me know if you will not love me, let me go’ But he holds on, as if holding on for dear life as if he is drowning and every stroke is in strife as if she is the only thing keeping him afloat as if she was every single word he ever wrote and his eye remains to the shore - someplace clear but far it seems within reach yet more distant than a star more and more it appears an exercise in futility finally admitting it is beyond her ability she drops to her knees, eyes up to the Master trying to prevent her heart’s impending disaster the weight is so heavy, so hard to bear hope only comes in the form of a prayer with hardship comes ease, promises the Beloved but try as she might, she cannot rise above it despairingly close to losing all hope, she implored her tender hands bleeding from the double-edged sword would letting go bring relief or a tortuous void? would her heart remember the previously enjoyed? ♦ ~ epilogue: Then one quiet night upon an angel’s wing she heard a voice that only an angel can bring somewhere between a sigh and a scream somewhere within a half-awakened dream She watched him float above the ocean waves his feathered wings skimming the waters surface catching rays of sunlight into pristine prisms a radiant reflection of blue-green and turquoise From the edge of clouds, he finally spoke and his words became a poem singing sweetly behind smiling eyes gliding together over the ocean foam
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46
Perpetuity stifled in motion Horizon beseeched Lost in deceit Engulf effervescent emotion Drown in ignorance Love misconstrued The heart’s elude reality, together Echoing fate, beating twice Two souls ignited Flames burn apart So close
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Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
A heart's desire, misconstrued
Time is my lover; my companion. She has revealed to me the sacred secrets of the world. Captivated by her beauty and insight I have become fascinated by her existence. I came to realize long ago, in the eons of my metamorphosis that she is the only one I can trust… I take solace in this. One cannot be led astray with love and time. The blossoms and lilies are blooming amongst the tightly packed soil of the terrene. I am efflorescing as well… Time has revealed this to me. My heart is a celestial body amongst celestial bodies, illuminating the darkness and chaos ravaging the Earth. I am a luminescent ruby shining red hot with passion; I have a fervor that shall not be diminished by the vitriol of a single malefactor. I am united in spirit and soul with The One whom has redeemed me from sin and death. My light is my hope; I have power when I am shining as brightly as the Sun. Epiphanies are ever present in this vicissitude of my life. I prayerfully await more growth beckoning me from just over the horizon. The Sun has beseeched me to sanctify His name through melodious song. I become less and less of a vestige as each sunset approaches. My spirit is my cocoon. I shall pray for more efflorescence as the Great Day approaches. My soul is flowering forth with ebullience and a deep tranquility that no one can take away from me. I shall rest my faith in my cognizance of the might I possess. Today is my rebirth and the Phoenix has bestowed upon me its benediction. To have newfound life breathed into your nostrils; words cannot express the jubilation, the ecstasy that has arisen in my soul as a result of this. I have been fortified and from this day forth, I shall no longer relinquish my right to joy and prosperity. May the Lord of Blissful Joy awaken in you also, the cognizance of the might you possess. -Amen- By, Iridescently Efflorescent
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Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 11:50 PM UTC
Mother Time (Lovely Efflorescence)(Written August 8th, 2012)
Time is my lover; my companion. She has revealed to me the sacred secrets of the world. Captivated by her beauty and insight I have become fascinated by her existence. I came to realize long ago, in the eons of my metamorphosis that she is the only one I can trust… I take solace in this. One cannot be led astray with love and time. The blossoms and lilies are blooming amongst the tightly packed soil of the terrene. I am efflorescing as well… Time has revealed this to me. My heart is a celestial body amongst celestial bodies, illuminating the darkness and chaos ravaging the Earth. I am a luminescent ruby shining red hot with passion; I have a fervor that shall not be diminished by the vitriol of a single malefactor. I am united in spirit and soul with The One whom has redeemed me from sin and death. My light is my hope; I have power when I am shining as brightly as the Sun. Epiphanies are ever present in this vicissitude of my life. I prayerfully await more growth beckoning me from just over the horizon. The Sun has beseeched me to sanctify His name through melodious song. I become less and less of a vestige as each sunset approaches. My spirit is my cocoon. I shall pray for more efflorescence as the Great Day approaches. My soul is flowering forth with ebullience and a deep tranquility that no one can take away from me. I shall rest my faith in my cognizance of the might I possess. Today is my rebirth and the Phoenix has bestowed upon me its benediction. To have newfound life breathed into your nostrils; words cannot express the jubilation, the ecstasy that has arisen in my soul as a result of this. I have been fortified and from this day forth, I shall no longer relinquish my right to joy and prosperity. May the Lord of Blissful Joy awaken in you also, the cognizance of the might you possess. -Amen- By, Iridescently Efflorescent
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26
i. Once was lost Now am found; She unearthed me She birthed me In amour's Shroud; ii. Once was blind Though now I seeith; She made me her own Into her abode, Mine soul she freeith. iii. Once was deaf With nothing left; Though I prayed And beseeched, For the Lord's Dear best. iv. Once was dead Though now Alive; tis I Foundeth heaven, In queen Jane's eye's. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane nagley dedication-filipino rose
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Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
Tis i foundeth heaven, in Queen Jane's eye's
These storybooks woven with leathery imbrication Filling my palms with vile indication Detailing such wickedness and strife What ethereal threads cling to life? Such labyrinthine desires scrapping in my mind My soul from body; that body which isn’t kind To delve deeper within the wounds that sever To fellow wolves, demons and toothless beggars Unholy martyrs preach from a podium underground Ablaze in hellfire, monsters of the ravenous mound Black tongues and cheeks full of worms and leeches Coals flung and burning over deafening speeches Sumptuous in eloquence, these tossers and man-boys Evocative displays of violence, hushed by silence and toys Beseeched, reprimanded in city squares with common folk Feeding dogs in heat slop with a pail and tote Children waving hi to people in cages, smiling indifferently Don’t they know what this is? Yes and no, forever in shame Don’t they know there be wickedness afoot? There be shadows of molestation And whips of industry Eyes removed and replaced with bar-codes There be devils amongst the valiant And dark angels amongst us The few and proud Recite aloud: “Darkness brings uninvited guests And our bodies are bare Give us a blessing, a crumb or drop Of life that we all can share.” Veins full of rubies and auburn sapphires Creepers laced in the cowls of cadavers Red water thicker than mud and spit The fatherland sicker than a rotten **** There be dark angels amongst us, telling tales deep-seated They be grave and weary, their lives left defeated Now in the wilderness they give slothful lectures But it’s only fools who listen to these rambling specters And soon no one listens Save for the moon that glistens
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Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
Dark Angels Amoungst Us
These storybooks woven with leathery imbrication Filling my palms with vile indication Detailing such wickedness and strife What ethereal threads cling to life? Such labyrinthine desires scrapping in my mind My soul from body; that body which isn’t kind To delve deeper within the wounds that sever To fellow wolves, demons and toothless beggars Unholy martyrs preach from a podium underground Ablaze in hellfire, monsters of the ravenous mound Black tongues and cheeks full of worms and leeches Coals flung and burning over deafening speeches Sumptuous in eloquence, these tossers and man-boys Evocative displays of violence, hushed by silence and toys Beseeched, reprimanded in city squares with common folk Feeding dogs in heat slop with a pail and tote Children waving hi to people in cages, smiling indifferently Don’t they know what this is? Yes and no, forever in shame Don’t they know there be wickedness afoot? There be shadows of molestation And whips of industry Eyes removed and replaced with bar-codes There be devils amongst the valiant And dark angels amongst us The few and proud Recite aloud: “Darkness brings uninvited guests And our bodies are bare Give us a blessing, a crumb or drop Of life that we all can share.” Veins full of rubies and auburn sapphires Creepers laced in the cowls of cadavers Red water thicker than mud and spit The fatherland sicker than a rotten **** There be dark angels amongst us, telling tales deep-seated They be grave and weary, their lives left defeated Now in the wilderness they give slothful lectures But it’s only fools who listen to these rambling specters And soon no one listens Save for the moon that glistens
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40
An unsound disorder takes host In a body for years I’ve loved Memories becoming all but ghosts Cell by cell with blackness she rusts In each vessel of her sclera In each fold of her fine vocals In each tear of her mascara The feat of a smile totaled From a world all but brightening Living in walls crafted by fear Each breath, a scream of lightning New evenings; old muscles speared The feat of a smile totaled Amidst an eerie, white speech In each fold of her fine vocals A desire for love beseeched
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May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
+ Blackberry Mascara -
I will search for you in my little toy boxes filled with old ancestors and sayings slipped from tongues, revealing stories of my birthmarks I will search for you in the light I will search for you in the dark I will gentley remove my skin in my mind you are so royal so monarch I will drink my water all alone I will light my candles in the late night and imagine what would be the smell of your cologne I will stare into the world at night until Im ****** and moonstoned I will linger wax inbetween thigh bones flirt tales with wishbones until all the stars beg me to stop uttering moans I am beseeched in interlocking strangle of submission to my loneliness and waiting with a white transparent dress on the bridge of london hoping to see the dark eyes that put light in the souls of the peasent in my disabled heart, mused in desguise should I sit here and speak the anecdotes and the lies of the littler girl inside of me who everytime thinks of your dies slower and slower each time the goodbyes and the standbys I reply I have ran out of supplies to fix my sunrise and now I sit here in the absence of bright skies life I see takes hold of the wise but you see my lover for you I shall be patient I shall be humble and I shall be kind.
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Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 10:40 PM UTC
Hope swims in translucent minds
Silent morrow seethes with reverie Disdain knows conscious plight Such sweet tones, bereft of fate A calling to behold the Black Rose Awoken, seeing truth and trust Beseeched by wistful grandeur The spark which lights the fire, lit Blanketed upon darkened doubt Unrivaled in parity Unknown paths collide in curiosity Each day atoned by dauntless breath Exhaled, in part, in effortless fashion Connected by embraced truths Such beatific composure sought In empty eyes, the void refilled Intrigue, compassion, the rose blooms Sightless endeavor retains composure Meandering thought Heartstrings grasping at lovely ghosts Amid a flightless trek of intrigue Reprieve, connections awaiting home To seek the embrace of their shadows Faith breeds time to bear her visage Both lovely petals, and poised thorns Chance, beckoning to see it all through My Black Rose echoes fate, untold In whispers of silent fairytales withheld..
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Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 1:27 PM UTC
Rose
Stranger beseeched the cold winds of the night, Walking the strides behind every diverging road; Of melancholic views of mistaken tears in life, He passed a savage forest hidden from the odds. Thinking if he would follow the route of the antiques, Afraid that yet again he could may never be found. Upon entering, he would devour hundreds of risks, He needs to shadow a North Star to be safe and sound.
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Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
Love Wanderer
am i blackness, shrouding, crowding darkness, coldness breathless pouting am i lost, goneness, wrongness searching, urging always missed am i ever, ending, pending lovelessly beseeched to rending am i hell, cloudless, doubtless doomed fortune eternal kiss am i fending, slowly, bending timeless, fightless vilipending i am blackened, shrouded, crowded breathlessly divulge the clouded am i, i am i won’t know.
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Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
Obsolete
I spent last night a' wandering I roamed across the earth Through meadows green and cities gray To try and find my worth I asked the twinkling starlight, beseeched the roaring sea I begged the rugged mountainside for any sign of me I ran through threatening shadows and basked in brightest sun yet my heart remained elusive and my soul remained undone Then when the dawn awoke me with it's dazzling newborn hue, I found my worth within your heart and wrote these words for you.
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Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
The search
She had the world on the tip of her nose But it all unfurled when she reached for her toes She lived on in the hearts of many But her own heart had spent its very last penny She floats on now in the dreams of those who reached But her own dreams, they had been beseeched So majestic was thy dear lady Down at the park we'd find somewhere shady I'd sit against an old oak tree And she'd dance with the sun as if she was free Out across the grass she would glide and she would spin Dancing along the blade she would always win My very soul she did encapture On those afternoons my eyes had mapped her Like a two toned rose out in full bloom She had the whole park and all that room Out in the sunshine she would blossom But come hometime she'd hide, little possum I'd take her back to that horrid place The cheap scent of old perfume stinging like mace Her mother would ensure that there were bruises Everyday she lives through the life she chooses
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
As If She Was Free