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"bewitching" poems
#*Nightbird perches high beneath the shooting stars that dapple the bouquet     of sleepless peace ... his soft downy breast           has lent breath to the sweet April afterglow      heaving with song The mystical feathered troubadour's      swooning echo A melodic twilight serenade conjures a moonstruck metamorphosis, sprouting magical wings of flight;* rousing *a lonely heart's esprit      to fly away unfettered      in constellations of song How dare imaginings spilled from the big dipper enchant such an enrapturing magic spell? It's so far to fall from swinging on a star! It's so far beyond nearing crescent moon      when you wish upon a star   Thereupon struck by a bewitching bolt of starlight; Dropping asudden as a shooting-star!     Rolling like trailing thunder;         tucked and tumbling ―              somersaulting,            celestial rumbling blossoming with an unearthly joy A nascent winged heart splayed bare, soars upon cresting wind waves;     dreaming of that shapeless             w h o  o  o  o  s h ―          gathering beneath         ~ uplifting wings ~   Suddenly ― gliding freely,        winging gracefully   upon wafting star drift glitter; lilting lightly upon the arising cadence of nightingale's melodious fluted song Nightingale sings sweet April perfume beneath the star shed lamplight twinkle ... and it makes no difference if it's only a dream     if my heart had wings* imagined by:   Jesse Stillwater
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Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
... if my heart had wings
#*Nightbird perches high beneath the shooting stars that dapple the bouquet     of sleepless peace ... his soft downy breast           has lent breath to the sweet April afterglow      heaving with song The mystical feathered troubadour's      swooning echo A melodic twilight serenade conjures a moonstruck metamorphosis, sprouting magical wings of flight;* rousing *a lonely heart's esprit      to fly away unfettered      in constellations of song How dare imaginings spilled from the big dipper enchant such an enrapturing magic spell? It's so far to fall from swinging on a star! It's so far beyond nearing crescent moon      when you wish upon a star   Thereupon struck by a bewitching bolt of starlight; Dropping asudden as a shooting-star!     Rolling like trailing thunder;         tucked and tumbling ―              somersaulting,            celestial rumbling blossoming with an unearthly joy A nascent winged heart splayed bare, soars upon cresting wind waves;     dreaming of that shapeless             w h o  o  o  o  s h ―          gathering beneath         ~ uplifting wings ~   Suddenly ― gliding freely,        winging gracefully   upon wafting star drift glitter; lilting lightly upon the arising cadence of nightingale's melodious fluted song Nightingale sings sweet April perfume beneath the star shed lamplight twinkle ... and it makes no difference if it's only a dream     if my heart had wings* imagined by:   Jesse Stillwater
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☾ *I wish I were the Moon Bequeathing an enchanting night A mystical celestial sphere Bewitching lover’s hearts A practical magic spell C a s t In a lonely hollow shell       An ardent musical echo ― Released in an irrepressible Impassioned moan A twilight sigh escaping in untamed Blissful breath A Sky without Moonbeams Is like a world without song It takes a certain darkness To heed a Sky full of Stars alone I wish I were Moonstruck A fate I crave to behold Waxing and Waning Rising ― Changing A distant ocean’s ebbing tide A captivating enchantment In the twilight beauty Of your eyes Dreaming of drowning Deep within Their deepest water’s Wild I don't want to wake up     and become ― More fading Barefoot traces left behind On some faded memory's Deserted shore Right now is all There ever is ― and I wish I were The Moon tonight* Jesse Stillwater ... May  2018
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May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
... I Wish I Were the Moon
you are may i am december kisses exchanged during the bluing hour child like staring at you in wonder and amazement frosting night falling snow flakes in your auburn hair i walk you home in the cold frigid air holding your hand dreaming of you you are rare a beacon a lighthouse in a storm in my daydreams you are the pixie, the fairy inspiring me   at night you are the siren, i surrender to a trifecta of youth, beauty, personality you are refreshingly young spring in my wintered life preternaturally beautiful perfection come to life your femininity bewitching   your youth intoxicating your mannerism seducing i would do anything for you oozing sensuality innocences of a woman on the cusp you hunger for sophistication to be worldly-wise seeking passage guidance from an experienced traveller the trade, the deal, is timeless refined by evolution   i am humbled to have been chosen the ultimate champion of your ****** selection in turn, you are my trophy the spoils of a never ending war i know our time is short the span of a bloom a season at most i know the outcome seen the devastation the problem is we think we have time
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Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
trifecta youth beauty intelligence
Those eyes Those bewitching eyes Enamor me no end Aqua cool They tug at my soul In their depth I blend Besotted by them, I am They leave me in a jam My emotions I can’t mend Crimson is her hue The eyes, aqua blue I guess that’s the trend If I confuse you You should see her too You will comprehend If I had eyes like those You too would drift from prose As I did for this Twitter friend If I were another man I’d have a different plan To be forever content!
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Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:23 PM UTC
Those Eyes!
A scarlet confection Made to tasty perfection For your mouth’s inspection The tip of the toppings The vanilla flavored frosting Is so tempting to you The taste bud’s elation In what you are facing Is something like devil’s food cake The tiled floor kitchen In the hours bewitching Leaves your pulse a twitching From the caloric intake And the hours you shorten By licking the shortening They are a mistake But they are your poisonous pleasure Made to bake and yours’ to take It’s a sweet treat we call cake
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Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC
The Cake
Oh delirium, how much I have grown in-love with thee at this hour near morning twilight all hazy in the brain in deciding whether to see you or to drop my head asleep, accustomed to the bewitching time and longing to see that lingering daylight break, a dreamy state of thus, this moment wondering...
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Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC
My twilight
All the flowers of the spring Meet to perfume our burying; These have but their growing prime, And man does flourish but his time: Survey our progress from our birth— We are set, we grow, we turn to earth. Courts adieu, and all delights, All bewitching appetites! Sweetest breath and clearest eye Like perfumes go out and die; And consequently this is done As shadows wait upon the sun. Vain the ambition of kings Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.
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9.4k
Vanitas Vanitatum
With a body wrapped in a crimson dress, she bears a violent temper. Shining daylight, raging bewitching, captivating cunning. You arrive with starry eyes and cheeks flushed like a ****** In her curly hair, autumn curtains hang—roaming rays hot. She glows in the night like a pictorial wall with hieroglyphics concealing madness. You step elegantly, but you're a dangerously stealthy predator. Grassy hills in floating flames burn beneath a voluminous haze. Her look describes fabulous waterfalls, endlessly flowing and shining in the coming dawn. You associate with robbers and kings, but they do not understand, and no one will save you. Lovely eyes sprinkle enchanting rays, her lips intertwined like a rose petal. Her heart enticingly calls with her fruit to be drunk. You hide in the nightlife, dress up, and do your love magic. Neck fashioned in autumnal garments, wearing scarlet ruby earrings. Her pink skin smells of perfume, inviting like a grape on a vine. You invite visitors with your charm to carelessness, forever forced. Her lips are flowing bewitching rivers—intersecting strokes of crimson. They bring a dream to taste her deep soils and her artfully carved forms. You are determined to captivate without marrying— you stay lost in rebellion.
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Sep 25, 2023
Sep 25, 2023 at 6:19 AM UTC
Scarlet
You are indescribably beautiful. More than your breathtaking smile. Or the way you look at me with those gorgeous brown eyes. You are beautiful in this supernatural way that makes me yearn for an explanation. It is such a beauty that makes me feel complete. A tremendous burst of euphoria and bliss just by the thought of you. Your bewitching emanation that makes my soul electrify. As if we were split in a ****** world to search for one another. Your immense beauty that is far beyond the physical. It makes me suffer in the most amazing way. Forces me to watch every careful step, To not shatter the perfection of a thousand lifetimes. A beauty that makes the world seem brand new and brilliant. You make the flowers bloom fuller, The grass greener, And the birds sing finer. You are the deity my heart has struggled to search for, The divinity my soul has craved, And the magnificence I have only dreamt of. Your presence makes this life hold a more significant meaning. You are the loveliest being, I have ever had the pleasure of sharing an existence with. You cause this intoxication in my very soul, And make my heart skip every beat in the most tremendous way. You have brought new meaning to my life. Things that were once a blur now makes sense. You have given love "at first sight" a true meaning. ~S.C. Kelley
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Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 9:36 PM UTC
Everlasting Beauty
I am told, You think I am too old, I am more precious than gold. If you listen to me, I will take you to a wonderful world; I'm supposed to be oral, speaking of myths, legends, fantasy, and the supernatural. When you listen to me, Then you'll know, How I become young, How I live so long. I am who I am. Everyone knows me and all the children love me. I am not a lie, In me you can find the truth, That roots you To Your Past and To The Orgin Because, It's me, the oxygen, That Cultures breath, And The nitrogen, With which THEY fly Deep In a blue sea, Like a White Dove, Like a Magical Butterfly, And With which They dive High in a Blue Sky Like an Incredible fish, Like a Blue Whale, in a Fairytale. I have no specific author, You can be my author. I have no specific time, For all times are mine. I had lived in your Heart An Art. I had had only listeners Until I was put in a Book. I was Invisible, But Now you can see me if you look, Or GUESS what? I am Unseen, Though you think that's me on that screen. That's not me, For I have always been... A Mystery, That speaks Of Happiness And Misery, Of Kindness And Treachery, Of Poverty And Luxury, Of Honesty And Trickery, Of Freedom And Slavery, So please, Hurry And Listen to me, Before you go to any cinema or library. For I am The oldest Teacher And The honest Preacher. I think you know me well now, So ask Grandma how? When you wish to MEET me. I can be for you a guide And take you to another side, I can make your world wide. If you follow me, Child! I can take you to the Woods, I can take you to the wild. In which Animals Talk And Trees Walk. And In which A Witch Has Hooves , And An Ant Wears Gloves, And In Which A Wolf Sings, And A Horse Has Wings, And In Which A kingdom, And Many other Bewitching Gems Of Wisdom.
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May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
"A folktale"
I am told, You think I am too old, I am more precious than gold. If you listen to me, I will take you to a wonderful world; I'm supposed to be oral, speaking of myths, legends, fantasy, and the supernatural. When you listen to me, Then you'll know, How I become young, How I live so long. I am who I am. Everyone knows me and all the children love me. I am not a lie, In me you can find the truth, That roots you To Your Past and To The Orgin Because, It's me, the oxygen, That Cultures breath, And The nitrogen, With which THEY fly Deep In a blue sea, Like a White Dove, Like a Magical Butterfly, And With which They dive High in a Blue Sky Like an Incredible fish, Like a Blue Whale, in a Fairytale. I have no specific author, You can be my author. I have no specific time, For all times are mine. I had lived in your Heart An Art. I had had only listeners Until I was put in a Book. I was Invisible, But Now you can see me if you look, Or GUESS what? I am Unseen, Though you think that's me on that screen. That's not me, For I have always been... A Mystery, That speaks Of Happiness And Misery, Of Kindness And Treachery, Of Poverty And Luxury, Of Honesty And Trickery, Of Freedom And Slavery, So please, Hurry And Listen to me, Before you go to any cinema or library. For I am The oldest Teacher And The honest Preacher. I think you know me well now, So ask Grandma how? When you wish to MEET me. I can be for you a guide And take you to another side, I can make your world wide. If you follow me, Child! I can take you to the Woods, I can take you to the wild. In which Animals Talk And Trees Walk. And In which A Witch Has Hooves , And An Ant Wears Gloves, And In Which A Wolf Sings, And A Horse Has Wings, And In Which A kingdom, And Many other Bewitching Gems Of Wisdom.
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don’t tell me “I love you” ~by Roxanne, for Cyrano~ <> that’s a verse I’ve heard many too times before, that’s a curse of low majesty, a quatrain too plain, if that’s your best sally, retreat, say no more, too simp verses, or ungolden silences, agents of dissatisfying pain I need the best of your taste the finest visions that you eyelids occlude, make haste for my mouth grows exceedingly impatient for the other senses to do their tandem wooing slap only my face with the creature comforts others savor, words of diamonds and pink pearls mined from your breast, the bejeweled words that will decorate my evergreen, that never dies, lest, unless and until, you want my mortal affection suppressed give me your linguistic promiscuity, wake me from the stupor of ordinary, arouse me with thy tongue coiling, a bee sting delivery, a wet poem that makes all my orifices!|offices weep, your mouth, my souls recouper, your wizardry bewitching, answer my inquiry with unbounded festivity then and after all, the plain simplicity of an “I love you,” will be edged with sublimity, my mercies, your mercies our jointed, sharp pointy, introverting, interlocking, *our futures becoming our pasts* 11:07am 19-9-30 <> https://thenewgroup.org/production/cyrano/?gclid=Cj0KCQjwz8bsBRC6ARIsAEyNnvoENpdnWyqeUEwq0avNStgWCf4CocB1i239c2mHdNSFF8gOlWZtfjsaAls4EALw_wcB
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Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC
don’t tell me “I love you” ~ by Roxanne, for Cyrano~
Creature of myth, you have to be real I know you're there, I know you exist Can't see nor touch but indeed I feel That should suffice to say the least No one I know has seen this mythical creature I stand by my beliefs... I simply just do... This being unknown to aged texts or ancient scriptures Allow me to document, I'll keep it true *"A magnificent neck that tapers into a head Much like a halo, wearing a luminescent crown Azurite for eyes like many have said A golden mane majestically cascading down Almond shaped face, with cheeks slightly scaled In the centre were dimple-like nostrils From it's mouth, a voice; demure and frail Speaks in verses from a time frozen still Within the cage right under its chest I know that calmly there lay beating A huge, magnanimous heart does rest Embedded deep within a physique so beguiling Its spine is perfect, as if forged by a divine mould Limbs are long, but with gait so light Non terrestrial wings that into nothing they fold Stretched around is smoothened skin milky white"* That is all I have got to offer so far Matched the words to my mind's bewitching visage No one has seen it; thus ensured that they cannot mar In my head will forever be etched the image Creature of myth... Please be real Know that I am blinded, I just want to see Not for the others, you don't reveal I do believe... I just need to convince me...
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Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
Creature of Myth
I am told, You think I am too old, I am more precious than gold. If you listen to me, I will take you to a wonderful world; I'm supposed to be oral, speaking of myths, legends, fantasy, and the supernatural. When you listen to me, Then you'll know, How I become young, How I live so long. I am who I am. Everyone knows me and all the children love me. I am not a lie, In me you can find the truth, That roots you To Your Past and To The Orgin Because, It's me, the oxygen, That Cultures breath, And The nitrogen, With which THEY fly Deep In a blue sea, Like a White Dove, Like a Magical Butterfly, And With which They dive High in a Blue Sky Like an Incredible fish, Like a Blue Whale, in a Fairytale. I have no specific author, You can be my author. I have no specific time, For all times are mine. I had lived in your Heart An Art. I had had only listeners Until I was put in a Book. I was Invisible, But Now you can see me if you look, Or GUESS what? I am Unseen, Though you think that's me on that screen. That's not me, For I have always been... A Mystery, That speaks Of Happiness And Misery, Of Kindness And Treachery, Of Poverty And Luxury, Of Honesty And Trickery, Of Freedom And Slavery, So please, Hurry And Listen to me, Before you go to any cinema or library. For I am The oldest Teacher And The honest Preacher. I think you know me well now, So ask Grandma how? When you wish to MEET me. I can be for you a guide And take you to another side, I can make your world wide. If you follow me, Child! I can take you to the Woods, I can take you to the wild. In which Animals Talk And Trees Walk. And In which A Witch Has Hooves , And An Ant Wears Gloves, And In Which A Wolf Sings, And A Horse Has Wings, And In Which A kingdom, And Many other Bewitching Gems Of Wisdom.
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May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:51 PM UTC
"A folktale"
I am told, You think I am too old, I am more precious than gold. If you listen to me, I will take you to a wonderful world; I'm supposed to be oral, speaking of myths, legends, fantasy, and the supernatural. When you listen to me, Then you'll know, How I become young, How I live so long. I am who I am. Everyone knows me and all the children love me. I am not a lie, In me you can find the truth, That roots you To Your Past and To The Orgin Because, It's me, the oxygen, That Cultures breath, And The nitrogen, With which THEY fly Deep In a blue sea, Like a White Dove, Like a Magical Butterfly, And With which They dive High in a Blue Sky Like an Incredible fish, Like a Blue Whale, in a Fairytale. I have no specific author, You can be my author. I have no specific time, For all times are mine. I had lived in your Heart An Art. I had had only listeners Until I was put in a Book. I was Invisible, But Now you can see me if you look, Or GUESS what? I am Unseen, Though you think that's me on that screen. That's not me, For I have always been... A Mystery, That speaks Of Happiness And Misery, Of Kindness And Treachery, Of Poverty And Luxury, Of Honesty And Trickery, Of Freedom And Slavery, So please, Hurry And Listen to me, Before you go to any cinema or library. For I am The oldest Teacher And The honest Preacher. I think you know me well now, So ask Grandma how? When you wish to MEET me. I can be for you a guide And take you to another side, I can make your world wide. If you follow me, Child! I can take you to the Woods, I can take you to the wild. In which Animals Talk And Trees Walk. And In which A Witch Has Hooves , And An Ant Wears Gloves, And In Which A Wolf Sings, And A Horse Has Wings, And In Which A kingdom, And Many other Bewitching Gems Of Wisdom.
Continue reading...
136
It gets easier to laugh at yourself when you know you’ve been frivolous. You’ve wasted a great deal of your time indulging in fatuous, totally conditional constraints. You’ve been misguided by the red and pink colors of happy shapes and bewitching designs. You’ve forgotten the most important of things, and even the small things such as matching your socks or earrings. You’ve been too content with enticing words and completely undiscerning of actions. It gets easier to laugh at yourself because even though it hurts like hell, you now know it was only premature amity.
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Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
Sappy-Head
I am from the seasons That never ends They repeat their memories Repeating them selves Dead branches white snow Blue sky the sun’s glow Red leaves the winds blow Green grass the river’s flow These bewitching seasons enamor me no end Memories tug at my soul In their depth I blend Besotted by seasons I am They leave me in jam Clocks turn, Seasons change Memories and moments one can’t exchange Accepting each season Approaching each moment I breathe in cold frigid air And exhale warm clouds Seasons are happy Seasons are sad Seasons are beautifully mad I am from the seasons That never ends They repeat their memories Repeating themselves.
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May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
I Am From The Seasons
We capture an image of a Saturn moon on the lake However, how can one capture that moment When my body response to your touch, An instant transformation of the goddess within The purring of the tigress, the moan of the dying deer those sounds were bewitching to your ear you softly whispered to me “If my heart fails let it be Heaven wait”.
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Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
Making Love
You are stunning, overwhelming, breathtaking, Drop-dead gorgeous. Jaw-droppingly, eye poppingly, bewitching. Striking beauty. I knew since I got lost in your eyes. I knew since you took over my mind. I knew since the first second I started the fall. I know You will **** me.
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Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
Love At First Sight
Among pelagian travelers, Lost on their lewd conceited way To Massachusetts, Michigan, Miami or L.A., An airborne instrument I sit, Predestined nightly to fulfill Columbia-Giesen-Management's Unfathomable will, By whose election justified, I bring my gospel of the Muse To fundamentalists, to nuns, to Gentiles and to Jews, And daily, seven days a week, Before a local sense has jelled, From talking-site to talking-site Am jet-or-prop-propelled. Though warm my welcome everywhere, I shift so frequently, so fast, I cannot now say where I was The evening before last, Unless some singular event Should intervene to save the place, A truly asinine remark, A soul-bewitching face, Or blessed encounter, full of joy, Unscheduled on the Giesen Plan, With, here, an addict of Tolkien, There, a Charles Williams fan. Since Merit but a dunghill is, I mount the rostrum unafraid: Indeed, 'twere damnable to ask If I am overpaid. Spirit is willing to repeat Without a qualm the same old talk, But Flesh is homesick for our snug Apartment in New York. A sulky fifty-six, he finds A change of mealtime utter hell, Grown far too crotchety to like A luxury hotel. The Bible is a goodly book I always can peruse with zest, But really cannot say the same For Hilton's Be My Guest. Nor bear with equanimity The radio in students' cars, Muzak at breakfast, or--dear God!-- Girl-organists in bars. Then, worst of all, the anxious thought, Each time my plane begins to sink And the No Smoking sign comes on: What will there be to drink? Is this ma milieu where I must How grahamgreeneish! How infra dig! ****** from the bottle in my bag An analeptic swig? Another morning comes: I see, Dwindling below me on the plane, The roofs of one more audience I shall not see again. God bless the lot of them, although I don't remember which was which: God bless the U.S.A., so large, So friendly, and so rich.
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4k
On the Circuit
Among pelagian travelers, Lost on their lewd conceited way To Massachusetts, Michigan, Miami or L.A., An airborne instrument I sit, Predestined nightly to fulfill Columbia-Giesen-Management's Unfathomable will, By whose election justified, I bring my gospel of the Muse To fundamentalists, to nuns, to Gentiles and to Jews, And daily, seven days a week, Before a local sense has jelled, From talking-site to talking-site Am jet-or-prop-propelled. Though warm my welcome everywhere, I shift so frequently, so fast, I cannot now say where I was The evening before last, Unless some singular event Should intervene to save the place, A truly asinine remark, A soul-bewitching face, Or blessed encounter, full of joy, Unscheduled on the Giesen Plan, With, here, an addict of Tolkien, There, a Charles Williams fan. Since Merit but a dunghill is, I mount the rostrum unafraid: Indeed, 'twere damnable to ask If I am overpaid. Spirit is willing to repeat Without a qualm the same old talk, But Flesh is homesick for our snug Apartment in New York. A sulky fifty-six, he finds A change of mealtime utter hell, Grown far too crotchety to like A luxury hotel. The Bible is a goodly book I always can peruse with zest, But really cannot say the same For Hilton's Be My Guest. Nor bear with equanimity The radio in students' cars, Muzak at breakfast, or--dear God!-- Girl-organists in bars. Then, worst of all, the anxious thought, Each time my plane begins to sink And the No Smoking sign comes on: What will there be to drink? Is this ma milieu where I must How grahamgreeneish! How infra dig! ****** from the bottle in my bag An analeptic swig? Another morning comes: I see, Dwindling below me on the plane, The roofs of one more audience I shall not see again. God bless the lot of them, although I don't remember which was which: God bless the U.S.A., so large, So friendly, and so rich.
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I was a little crazy boy, always lost in the twilight, Maybe I was a little strange a shy boy at the scene... You was so beautyfull, sweet innocent flower, sweet honey scent a shy girl in the scene... eyes lost illusion, entranced girl's heart, bewitching fairy brown hair and smiling, happy rainbow... Summer colors I will never forget.
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Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 9:15 PM UTC
Two shy
I How should I seek to make a song for thee When all my music is to moan thy name? That long sad monotone - the same - the same - Matching the mute insatiable sea That throbs with life's bewitching agony, Too long to measure and too fierce to tame! An hurtful joy, a fascinating shame Is this great ache that grips the heart of me. Even as a cancer, so this passion gnaws Away my soul, and will not ease its jaws Till I am dead. Then let me die! Who knows But that this corpse committed to the earth May be the occasion of some happier birth? Spring's earliest snowdrop? Summer's latest rose? II Thou knowest what asp hath fixed its lethal tooth In the white breast that trembled like a flower At thy name whispered. thou hast marked how hour By hour its poison hath dissolved my youth, Half skilled to agonise, half skilled to soothe This passion ineluctable, this power Slave to its single end, to storm the tower That holdeth thee, who art Authentic Truth. O golden hawk! O lidless eye! Behold How the grey creeps upon the shuddering gold! Still I will strive! That thou mayst sweep Swift on the dead from thine all-seeing steep - And the unutterable word by spoken.
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3.9k
The Mantra-Yoga
They call a certain part of the night, When the darkest ink lays before dawn, The Witching Hour. And in every corner of this room, I hear echoes of my whispers to you. Phantom limbs intertwine, As if it were November And like clockwork, You'd hush my words With sad lips Knowing I'd be left here in June. And when I feel the weight of your chest Heaving with lavender, Just know I'm still strong In this Bewitching Hour.
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Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 3:32 AM UTC
the bewitching hour
readily acknowledge our highest standard of luna loving madness we treat our luna connection with equality - great affection as well as sensible trepidation, for its transgender nature, though well disguised, is but surficial,  that we all ken, when compared to ***** bewitching covens who in the forest deepest dens, exclaim their aroused allegiance over and over and over again but so so many lunatics lurking in the poetic coven, who knew! do not ask all the luna~ticced poets to step forward, unless you wish to crash the internet's servers whom I'm told, who too, are silent secret devotees who  among us has not scribed truth and lies, when standing outside, greeting the divine presence
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Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC
Lunar-tics! Everywhere! Who knew?
Mona Lisa, of Louvre, in simplest words, an angelic, of beauty. Her enigmatic smiles, so mystical, like bewitching, yet heavenly as I and you, felt her, so alive, left a mystery of, unrevealed, Da Vinci's Perfections.
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Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC
La Gioconda (The Enchantress)
A fruit, tasting truly different, it was what I needed, because in every bite, it satiated my desire, inexpressible I climbed to the top branch of the fruit tree and plucked the most sun drenched juicy one gleaming. But it didn't put out the fire raging in my heart, though the sweet fruit made me withdraw and be quiet for a short while and then I went in search of another when it dawned on me that it's a rare root, with magical effects, that the nomads collect from hidden woods, and it is the stuff used at the  dead of night for alchemy the chemical work that makes even the cheapest metal gold! I went seeking a girl,who was described in revelations-- her bewitching beauty, haunting eyes and the songs she sung promised many things to my heart and I couldn't sleep after the time I met  fleetingly, that seductive dame. She was from a world different, her heart was unlike any one else's I have known, yet I told her I still do search, as it was a puzzle still, why beauty beacons me ! The black forest winds and waters, the flowers everywhere, I needed to be alone with myself, when my heart stirred, heard a little bird chirping that said" You make me calm, where did you find the poem you just read aloud?" Suddenly I have woken up from the dream I had fallen into, eyes lit with beauty, munching a fruit, my favorite book of poetry in hand,I went to my love, to read it aloud to her and mull the beauty together, get rejuvenated.
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Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 11:19 AM UTC
Poetic essence