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"circumvents" poems
To reach our Earth, the Electromagnetic light Circumvents all the planets. Poem by Marieta Maglas
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Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
Curved Light (Katuata Poetry)
In her dream, a cataract torrent Crashes to effervescence, Force and verve, vivacious apparent, Shoots arrowed iridescence. In reality, a rivulet meanders, Blind to mountain, fountain and fell, Downhill she flows, barely seen, Pebbles 'n stones part of her scene. Here she circumvents boulder and rock, There gives way to shout and shock, Hiding her head between her knees She longs to lose herself in the seas. I knelt down close to hear her cries, Allowed her tears wash over my eyes, Caressed her soft water with my hand, Sprinkled her sweetness o'er the land. 'Sweet stream', I whisper'd, 'The waterfall you dream, Lives through its awful roar ‘n terror, But life lives not in its awesome scream, Life lives not in its horror.' 'Without you, doe could not parch their thirst, Frogs would not breed or dippers immerse. Heavenly daughter, jeweled traverse, One silent ripple is an angel's universe.’
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Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 8:12 AM UTC
The Waterfall and the Stream
A small black cloud circumvents my path as I trail through the world He loves me, I think, for I fill his needs and provide the excess attention that he strives on And I love him more than words can describe and, when he does not linger near, I feel lost and anxious While the world may never understand his place in my life, I know that I could not live without him But, one day, I'll have to One day, my shadow will seem empty and silenced My heart will ache with withdrawal and my ears will bleed without his sweet song But I will keep breathing Because the way he touched my life will last forever While I may not always feel his soft fur along my fingertips Or have the chance to cuddle him to sleep I will forever love my sweet cat-son For he has saved my life every day With his love for life, innocence against all evils, and the sense of family he provided Throughout my darkest days and loneliest nights May you live eternally
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Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 3:37 AM UTC
My Lifeline
In fidelity sleeping a tremulous void that circumvents the face of lies. I’ll tarry here, where the room drips madness thick like congealing blood in the rain. And the walls separate twisting in deception for my mind unbound scathed in trembling coals My blood I am the madness Dripping.
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Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 5:04 PM UTC
Asylum
She likes the lights in my room They highlight everything I love about Her. The lights highlight where my lips Have pressed & my teeth have marked. She circumvents and understands The lights when they come to hush. The way that I touch her. The way she lays back & enjoys The thought of my hands Revealing the parts of her that I cannot See. The ridges of her back my tongue Walks & drowns in slowly. Soft the way her body Stretches & yawns (in ecstasy.) She likes the lights in my room But more so the way they cut off When she walks in. The light gives way the hint of attention. Shadows fleet before my hand reaches Hers Becoming one with the way she yearns. Her thigh gap at perfect ease This craving a friend we both welcome She wears this light for me Until the switch undresses this yearning She spreads & undresses for me Everything I love about her
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Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 10:10 AM UTC
Come To Hush
the road gathers itself like a drained old woman, hunched over rags, beneath the gloomy crag, sintering as it nears the beach, worn out through time, impoverished it has become reflective in the chittering half-light. Eviscerated by the pawing waves, contradictory cracks like entrails, hanging out crushed into solitude , it redefines its continuous retreat. In the reductive shade it circumvents the cove, its tarmac withered, a battered host to foreign weeds. Sunrise chides the posturing sky, the sulking universal remnants vanishing in the fenestrated glare. In the near distance, air unravels, the moving storm exhaling slips of cloud rapidly swarming like furious flecks of phlegm-sneezed out in perpetuity between heat and cold. The road lies entombed beneath a scree, tumbledown stones and dust. Ramblers and cars have sought and found an alternative route. The moistened rubble creaks as liquid gathers in its shifting heart, crawling out in rivulets-the rain descending like spit, emolliating the countryside, shifting dollops of fetid mud, enveloping like a furious aneurysm. Sea and land entrenched in conflict, a war of attrition always won by seas, unleashing energy of mindful apocalypse in the manner of a gentle sigh. The gaping abscess of scarred promontories tottering like feverish drunks. The mouthed obscenities of carnivorous birds radiates throughout the cove pinpointing local drownings encrusted with salt. Sea upon sea impose themselves enviously on rampant shorelines feasting on sand and rock. Never ending! Plunging ever forward like a barren plough, receding, only to re-site its casual fury-implosion upon explosion. The road in its sullen retreat stumbles through narrow valleys speckled with gloom; trees with yellow flowers blooming in crinkled shadows, deer leaping through high-standing grass, mincing between tall thin trees. Loping down into the cities, it becomes a tousled high street full of immigrants, all yearning for the sea.
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Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
THE ROAD
the road gathers itself like a drained old woman, hunched over rags, beneath the gloomy crag, sintering as it nears the beach, worn out through time, impoverished it has become reflective in the chittering half-light. Eviscerated by the pawing waves, contradictory cracks like entrails, hanging out crushed into solitude , it redefines its continuous retreat. In the reductive shade it circumvents the cove, its tarmac withered, a battered host to foreign weeds. Sunrise chides the posturing sky, the sulking universal remnants vanishing in the fenestrated glare. In the near distance, air unravels, the moving storm exhaling slips of cloud rapidly swarming like furious flecks of phlegm-sneezed out in perpetuity between heat and cold. The road lies entombed beneath a scree, tumbledown stones and dust. Ramblers and cars have sought and found an alternative route. The moistened rubble creaks as liquid gathers in its shifting heart, crawling out in rivulets-the rain descending like spit, emolliating the countryside, shifting dollops of fetid mud, enveloping like a furious aneurysm. Sea and land entrenched in conflict, a war of attrition always won by seas, unleashing energy of mindful apocalypse in the manner of a gentle sigh. The gaping abscess of scarred promontories tottering like feverish drunks. The mouthed obscenities of carnivorous birds radiates throughout the cove pinpointing local drownings encrusted with salt. Sea upon sea impose themselves enviously on rampant shorelines feasting on sand and rock. Never ending! Plunging ever forward like a barren plough, receding, only to re-site its casual fury-implosion upon explosion. The road in its sullen retreat stumbles through narrow valleys speckled with gloom; trees with yellow flowers blooming in crinkled shadows, deer leaping through high-standing grass, mincing between tall thin trees. Loping down into the cities, it becomes a tousled high street full of immigrants, all yearning for the sea.
Continue reading...
41
A single strand, it weaves itself around the empty space that circumvents my alarm clock. The monotonous noise reminding me of the day's responsibilities overshadowed instantly by a thread. A piece of you, an accidental gift more personal than breath. Things unintentional are more severe than those thought and poured over. Delicate and strong, this proteinacious silk stands up to the rigors of my examination. A tangible illustration of your life, now, with me, no one  can have that but me. In reality more precious than words or emotions that you would offer freely. This piece of time, that you have let slip from your grasp, only to settle on my nightstand. The gift of a person, a soul, cannot be matched by any other. This is what we live for, what we hang on to, a single thread.
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Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 12:17 AM UTC
An Accidental Gift
Why the hell do we need more jobs? Wakin' up before the rooster crows Brush your teeth wash your face Put on your clothes fashion fads Then a quick breakfast And a cup of Joe To make money for a corporate And keep there cash flow Going going going gone And the American dream Is nothing but a mere nightmare They say you can be what you wanna be But everything i wanted to be Requires a certification or a degree Sounds like ******** to me Another way of man doing what he does best Destroying lives its more divorces No more family meals Cant feed the poor But have trillions of dollars for war Race cards being pulled to keep the majority of the masses fooled These ******* aint playin' First they slaughtered the indians Then the black now they coming after the mexicans **** Trump he aint nothing but a punk He circumvents around serious issues All he cares about is money power and respect **** the money i want the power So a message to all yo **** ******* conservatives What ya gonna do when the boys in blue Come for you.....
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Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
More Jobs
How many poems have I writ? And how easy has the process been? To think and to conjure from my brain Unto the printed page, Ideas and concepts flowing in a seamless joyous Tide of vocabulary and Profusion Until a while ago. When everything. Just. Stopped. So what is it? What is this ******* thing That circumvents my joy And my creativity? Where is it skulking? Coward! Come forth, Be fought! But it would not Did not And I did not write, My pen was silent But not my creativity, Until I met some strangers Who became immediate Fast friends and true, I opened up And ideas flew, Turns out The block was that no one actually Asked me to write, No one and especially not me! Well these new friends did, And the blockage, In that instant, Died And went And so this verse, Poor though it be, And first in quite a while, Has indeed Snuck out Under The wire
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Oct 27, 2021
Oct 27, 2021 at 5:07 AM UTC
Under the Wire
galactic eruption interrupts a stroll down the memory lane linear meta brain meticulously performing the act of self restraint selfless worships now, lesser in terms of quantitative hints the never ending path that circumvents the colourless conscience it contravenes the limitless scenes of a liberating regime trust plummets into the hands of perceptive fiends taken in taken instead of countless numbered pills a train of exaggerated kin tracks back to those with highly assumed authorities amidst the group of avid anti-socials vividly varied in opinions from a sword to a pin essentially assembled to speak against the ancient ones a neoteric synchronization scaling screaming lexemes the scathed silk screeches soaked in acid flamed till the ashes can be smelled but never seen seemingly insignificant statements covert and pristine
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May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 4:22 AM UTC
Rant
So lets say i was heaven sent Plus potion. And experience Plus a luck and loading instrument The circumference circumvents Like lost treasure monuments Just because Bevan wrote a sentence But since I spent the last night dense In a dent and door dipped In fence The a is compressed and condensed Considered the presents in PAst tense I am so unique and mistique icons And Zero one deep triple THReat bigon The titans and the mOGULs atom ions The confusion television light neon I complain he'll jacket burnt on Gabriel Raphael Micheal with corn I adorn and amend the truth pon Like chess the rook took knight con Now celebrate the acorn and the nut chasing a horn and who be born Then the antitrust antichriST worn The widdow. Wife mislife scorn Go complain about a woman 's scorn Deserving the world sounds and alarm Let's not bother an earth worm The Bermuda triangle bahevean arm... **^ #thejscenemovement •••••••••€¥€•••••••••
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Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 9:53 AM UTC
Jazzmusic
re-occurring sweeping wind as change circumvents habit allowing growth mighty morphing power ragged tatters flatter passersby flowing robes of the enlightened need not bear recognizable symbols only touch unrecognizable parts of others leaving them in a state of disillusion but with an open mind – I am words stronger never written uttered in the quiet darkness I am free from shooting drugs smoking cigarettes living a lie I am part of the universe created and creative born of and birthed back positive and negatively charged balance and peace through acceptance and faith inevitable change sprinkled with divine guidance you can be too –
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Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
junk/fodder/crappy poem
The past circumvents the future simply because the past is again, simply trying to catch up with the future. Only because the future goes beyond the past’s own horizon (which is obvious to say the least)… …But nonetheless, has a greater beneficial outcome to sort out an input’s (“oneselves”) future events when the “past scheming scenarios” comes back and either “hit’s you” when you need it MOST, or calmly assorts the different factors into something you were NEVER aware of…until it was already too late to bear yourself suitable against!
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Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 3:35 PM UTC
The past "circumvents" the future!
Blessed is he who writes For his words transcends Time, space and moments, Far beyond the constellation. Blessed is he who recites Spoken word and poetry, For his craft circumvents The core of our existence Deep into our inner man. Blessed is he who writes, For his thoughts interacts And deeply influences minds That belongs to other people. Blessed is he who bends letters Into words and words into Sensational and captivating Stories of true love and courage. #IvanBrooksPoetry©
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Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
Blessed Is He Who Writes
***time spins in circles as it circumvents of what it once was into what it is from its beginnings moving towards its end wraps around the middle then back out again***
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Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
time spins