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"bluing" poems
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
Ocean bluing beneath my hands brushing over warm Caribbean bathing salts at dusk.
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May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
Caribbean Sundown
You know the way I took it, At the break of dawn You know how I slid from your window sill, Like the gold flakes from my fingernails, Fandango in the bluing sky You knew when you awoke, Rubbing cobwebs from your cracks When you looked to see it gone, The gun into your mind Surely someone clever as you, Would never let it sit For a replayed taboo like me, To steal it as you slept Your periscope eyes have found me, Hurdling from the howling woods, Deep with festers From your pets You, you scrawny herbivore While I eat carnage Tangy and red You, it seems, possess some bravery When you shot those mind bullets Pushing through my back But you missed, my dear You missed Or was it just your intent To slash And torment Instead? But you missed, my dear You missed --Lily
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Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
Periscope Eyes
cliff-dwelling swallows in the dryer vent are a connection that we have to face between free nature and the harsh rat race at intersection of domestic content where meaning action symbol and intent all come together in a single place as bird and woman each concede a space and neither knows just what the other meant the niche that out of nature has been set for me to watch as swallows make their home is given proper purpose by the flight of urgent swallows leaving as the wet signals of springtime depart from the dome of bluing sky and cheer me by the sight
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Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 10:53 AM UTC
cliff-dwelling swallows
Sorry your flowers are late I purchased them each one and the color was representing the many individual friends a delightful blue Iris was no other than S.P. when dark shadows gather as they sometimes do she is the bluing of Beautiful contrast this rich blue spreads from point of origin to the eye engulfing all visible ranges a Small but great blue lifts the very shadows up until the sun vanquishes them by golden light then the red Hues embolden of richness many times it is spent but never squandered and its riches never diminish or Disappear in friendships ever rewarding garment he endures R.P. Violet this friend this light was Adorned in grave clothes to join her loved ones of all generations but her influence warmth and the Kindness that cannot die lingers it wafts across fields it passes through airy open window you smile Unknowingly because she is by your side and not ever more so than your birthday precious one her Initials are N.V. yellow so rich it blushes the wind this shear fabric so light it waves as pure silk you were Given this gift early in life its folds hold so much treasured moments grasses trees houses playful side Walks a stream of memories that bind you in the same vase others have beheld your combined beauty Of thought and action I.M… The green of a soldier is enjoined by the mist it drifts it has patterns truth And faith walks within this creature that has stature her face calls the night bugler all is dispensed Within her voice is the kindest authority to all duty is understood in its deepest meaning G.H.E. then we Come to multicolored piece of finest art true this grandness walks by your side and more so in your Heart vestures sown with silver in glowing gold if an ever the hair turn to silver the cold black of youth Will tower into all sunsets and grand children will always bring rays of joy and laughter happy belated birthday Roberta
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Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
Sorry your flowers are late
Sorry your flowers are late I purchased them each one and the color was representing the many individual friends a delightful blue Iris was no other than S.P. when dark shadows gather as they sometimes do she is the bluing of Beautiful contrast this rich blue spreads from point of origin to the eye engulfing all visible ranges a Small but great blue lifts the very shadows up until the sun vanquishes them by golden light then the red Hues embolden of richness many times it is spent but never squandered and its riches never diminish or Disappear in friendships ever rewarding garment he endures R.P. Violet this friend this light was Adorned in grave clothes to join her loved ones of all generations but her influence warmth and the Kindness that cannot die lingers it wafts across fields it passes through airy open window you smile Unknowingly because she is by your side and not ever more so than your birthday precious one her Initials are N.V. yellow so rich it blushes the wind this shear fabric so light it waves as pure silk you were Given this gift early in life its folds hold so much treasured moments grasses trees houses playful side Walks a stream of memories that bind you in the same vase others have beheld your combined beauty Of thought and action I.M… The green of a soldier is enjoined by the mist it drifts it has patterns truth And faith walks within this creature that has stature her face calls the night bugler all is dispensed Within her voice is the kindest authority to all duty is understood in its deepest meaning G.H.E. then we Come to multicolored piece of finest art true this grandness walks by your side and more so in your Heart vestures sown with silver in glowing gold if an ever the hair turn to silver the cold black of youth Will tower into all sunsets and grand children will always bring rays of joy and laughter happy belated birthday Roberta
Continue reading...
20
early bluing of an autumn sky nip and chill of a countryside as seasons turn things remembered nostalgic for a summer lost in time basking in the glow of a fire and the warmth of a lover snuggled deep in each other finding love and shelter between heartbeats and whispers
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Oct 20, 2021
Oct 20, 2021 at 10:42 PM UTC
heartbeats and whispers
The water slowly crept in Bleeding nose while The low lept to a fin Drowning lungs pile The thoughts of sin Have another drinking binge As my mind tires and your lungs singe with the blitherd feeling of drowning, sinking in loose hinges of tongue, mouth and coldly bluing water What of you're father will he stop you at the alter drowning you in tethered ropes beaten and battered hopes hither-ed by the sinking and slithering to Mariana trench Hades is looking for you someone to tie to his bench with a wedding ring someone who can sing You ******* *****
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Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
Hades Wife and I
I knew when the bells were silenced that it was finally done, as was I. The snow fell furiously trying to cover the ugliness only man can beset upon himself. The memory of warm lips brushed against my bluing ones and I felt myself rise above the frost but there was no lightness in my spirit. Carillon splendor had marked the births and deaths of everyone I had ever known, but no more... it would die along with me and fall into the dusty desolation of this place. The sons of Adam had honed their weapons well , smashed the fruits of labors of all who had come before. They had stolen the sweetest of sounds in a greedy grab for glory and tossed it into the vacant winds of history.
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC
The Marking of The Bells
night falls, winter is here, a cold wind blows, around me like a dervish, through me, enveloping me, stinging my eyes, drying out my soul what is left but for me to die, to lay down, close my eyes, have one last dream before the end, the blackness swallowing me, the candle flickers, then dies, like my life, releasing my soul into the bluing sky no regrets, just faded memories, of halcyon days, when i would look forward to spring, my eyes resting upon women, dancing, and laughing carefree those days are far gone, my body aches, my mind tires, i am ready for the end, as beautiful as life was, the sweetness of honey on my tongue the book has been read, the cover has been closed, I place it on the table, and close my eyes
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Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 10:08 PM UTC
cold wind of death
I lost my confession But why u repent? I shot at the sky Did sin see me salvaged? I cradled insanity falling upward Got the tune with me? I mocked the thorn, faded Yearning, bluing, prattling I hummed the silent lyrics, nested Could dandelions dare astray?
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Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 9:09 AM UTC
I Lost My CoNFeSsioN
It takes the sky to make me feel small anymore, Ridicule from orange light To make the ghost town fill the bluing coast. Single silhouette, the wailing breath, A trailer park becoming fast and Coming near the closure of her home. Drinking quickly stars, The eating face of face-consumers Touch the late-night masters, late at night-time shoppers: Impartial is impervious, but he is much the more impious After years blaspheming from rejections. The magic circles spell out years Of demons that have failed to come-- Have failed to wake the hands And slap the machine like deviant memory can. Hand into the cup into the hand: Same business.
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Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
Pining for Sevenwinds
Darker and darker did the sun shade the bluing sky, until all that illuminated its hue was the ancient light of stars long dead. An ancient Navy of the perpetually fleeting starry Armada.
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Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
Navy
Had made some choices, Were lessons, Taught me of vices.. Holding faith and fears, Wiping tears.. Moving ahead, writing a tale unsaid.. Wont look back, wont rely on track, i have my back.. Will do the doing, No time for undoing, Thinking or bluing.. Will take a decision, Then will move to next, Wont review the ex, Since time dont check, U keeping up, It just pass...
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Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 5:41 AM UTC
So cautious to live
Bluing takes on blue--bluer elimination rounds of sloshing sublimity. A heart mouthing its breaker...as Hokusai's immortal upheaval, the shape of cataclysmic implication at the peak of its powers...lent to shapeless actuation. You may be counted among those drown by a neutrally charged force of nature. Peace be on the heart that could not help but take it personal...peace be on it. Konstantinos Mark *The first of a series of poems.
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Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
The Great Wave
An all-seeing eye of cosmos opened within me having an epistemic sense of power. The rain trickled down the oval-shaped wet window. 'Twasn't a blue eye, yet 'twas bluing. The blues of the stars were trickling out of their core. Over your tasting part of the tongue full of sensations about itself, suffering words struck the silence between us. I could not comprehend their sense- their meaning sank in the sadness of the rain. The blues were absorbed by this rising dreariness. I couldn't see you. Nor could I achieve the tranquility of mind. However, I might presume that God might see this.
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
An Eye for An I
Like in a scene from a film, where the camera pulls back, we see a head resting in the mud, glassy grey eyes stare out as if searching beyond the trees. Grey hair crusted with muck. Soil specked lips, bluing and sluggish, parted from the final inhale exhale process which has failed like a broken clock. Stopped heart like a rock. Skin, liver spotted and birth marked, cold and graying like silver birch bark, A brown overcoat covers arms splayed like branches, caught and underneath a vague sheet of russet leaves which have since fallen in the breeze. Insects crawling from beneath them climb to inspect the unfamiliar mound still to be discovered by a passerby. And in a house not far away a wife looks at her watch And she sits in front of the television, And aware that something isn’t quite right her stomach clenches up like a fist.
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Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
A Tuesday Morning
Light entered newly, continually...touching light that imaged--I swore I was there, yet there was elsewhere. I could isolate no thing and call it mine. Bluing takes on blue--bluer elimination rounds of sloshing sublimity...swelling, welling and sparkling. A heart mouthing its breaker...as Hokusai's immortal upheaval, the shape of cataclysmic implication lent to shapeless actuation (futurity). You and I could be counted among those drown by a nuetrally charged force of nature (Love). Peace be on the heart that could not help but take it personal...peace be on it. Dark entered newly, continually...touching dark that imaged not--I swore I was there, yet there was elsewhere...O impossibly personal/impersonal One! Tears of brine can be tasted...how bitter they are-- the Ocean has shifted the focus of her love.
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
The Great Wave
White jet stream splits the blue sky Serenity, I ignore what they say to me Maybe daying be’s, laying fading beneath swaying trees Dawning years a tease, burn away the grease Wipe the grime away, I’m searching for signs today Pried myself outside the lines, you stayed behind it’s okay Thought grenade, cicadas and bees serenade, Peeling back layers, the sour tang of marmalade Garments handmade, dip my toes in the bluing lake Vibrations I feel a wake, a dip in the curve Butterfly stomach I can’t help but squirm Serenity, I saw a white jet stream split the sky As I wandered, I wondered why
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Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 11:05 AM UTC
It’s okay
Of midnight dreary and starlight’s end Singing gentle tunes in the lions’ den Each growl muddled with a lonely saint’s cry Drinking in the sorrows of sinners who’ve died I pray to a dead god, an exploding star in the night The words overflow, thick and bright Like blood in my veins, like roses in the summer It reaches out to me with its cold, bluing fingers A lion roars, they wither, they die And in seconds, ever wondrous, they breathe life I see this, I scream, I shout, I cry out I say, Take me out Take me out! Take me out! Give me the thing I’ve yearned for The thing that my heart aches for! The thing that I crave! S e t   t h i s   d e n   a b l a z e
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Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 10:09 AM UTC
Lions' Den
i can hear her cry when the lights go out my rock gone soft on the couch where she sleeps there is little peace behind her eyes bluing dim but she tells me of the good dreams when they come like buying hotdogs on the corner of central park laced fingers with her brother who died of brain cancer weeks after surviving the war she said she never needed photographs every face and time was vivid inside but her memories are going like her hair gray and thin with the same dementia that took her mother her body is on autopilot as her mind drags behind and god is she coiled tied in knots with generations of deep hollow lives for days she lay awake on the couch in our living room staring at the shadows of picture frames that rise like graves, everywhere
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Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 4:35 AM UTC
like graves