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"conjectured" poems
794 A Drop Fell on the Apple Tree— Another—on the Roof— A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves— And made the Gables laugh— A few went out to help the Brook That went to help the Sea— Myself Conjectured were they Pearls— What Necklace could be— The Dust replaced, in Hoisted Roads— The Birds jocoser sung— The Sunshine threw his Hat away— The Bushes—spangles flung— The Breezes brought dejected Lutes— And bathed them in the Glee— Then Orient showed a single Flag, And signed the Fete away—
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A Drop Fell on the Apple Tree
Come prisoned moon in steep cloud-fastnesses,— Throned queen and thralled; some dying sun whose pyre Blazed with momentous memorable fire;— Who hath not yearned and fed his heart with these? Who, sleepless, hath not anguished to appease Tragical shadow’s realm of sound and sight Conjectured in the lamentable night?… Lo! the soul’s sphere of infinite images! What sense shall count them? Whether it forecast The rose-winged hours that flutter in the van Of Love’s unquestioning unreveale’d span,— Visions of golden futures: or that last Wild pageant of the accumulated past That clangs and flashes for a drowning man.
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The Soul’s Sphere
This is as good as it gets! For what purpose do I exist. A cruel joke of Mother Nature? The Tree of life! efficiently conjectured, of Birth & Death. Responding all, to wind, rain and sun. The fruit of the tree, Love, Anger, and Indifference. must die to become fertile ground. Such an efficiently cruel cycle. The tree of life.
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Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 8:32 PM UTC
Tree of Life
Yes she was fragile. Yes she had a fake smile. People conjectured her life was a dream come true Did anyone ever come to ask her out of the blue? No, her life wasn’t a fairy tale. For every time she tried to stay happy, she failed They may call it a castle but it was definitely a jail Who knew behind the smile was craving, Inside she was asking for one saving.   Han, you got it right he was just another stud Trying to take off the petals from the bud      The situation was just like a prisoned bird.   As tears rolled down her red cheeks She wondered what she seeks. This was not how she wanted it to happen. For life was even more darkened. She knew she wasn’t happy, But she didn’t want to make her life more shabby. She kept trying to fight that grudge, And started to live on that chocolate fudge. This was not what her heart was wanting Every time she closed her eyes her brain was shouting. Maybe he wasn’t bad after all Maybe he didn’t want her to fall. But it was too late to decide, Lying in her bed she just wanted to hide. Life had left her with no option Maybe it was time for another love adoption. Yes, she was fragile Yes she had a fake smile. She tried! She tried to build that spark, But she couldn’t, maybe because they had different hearts.
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Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 1:42 PM UTC
Afraid of love
172 ’Tis so much joy! ’Tis so much joy! If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I, Have ventured all upon a throw! Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so— This side the Victory! Life is but Life! And Death, but Death! Bliss is, but Bliss, and Breath but Breath! And if indeed I fail, At least, to know the worst, is sweet! Defeat means nothing but Defeat, No drearier, can befall! And if I gain! Oh Gun at Sea! Oh Bells, that in the Steeples be! At first, repeat it slow! For Heaven is a different thing, Conjectured, and waked sudden in— And might extinguish me!
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Tis so much joy! ’Tis so much joy!
I'm alone All alone In this big gigantic world. I'm afraid - whose gonna help me ? In the world full of atrocious souls. Alone I transverse all the way , But being contemplated seeing the horizon's play. Even walking through the dark or a vale profound , Never got the ending neither diverged found. There thought I and I conjectured , If started as a traveller , Destination was far ahead , As it was the starting of my nature's 1st chapter. Trees , Birds , Animals , Water Screamed at me to get attuned with nature . So , charismatic felt I , Having something in my pie. But , with a sigh , Questioned I , " How will I ? " As very much destroyer of nature was I. Answered the nature - " There's always a new start , Forget about the past , Enjoy till you last ." In the laps of mother earth , Like family I began to feel. Born again in a new birth , Like home in which I began to heel. Enchanted was the air , Which I sensed there. Filled with the essence of love and harmony , Inspite of the world who played monopoly. Laughing , giggling , loving and caring, Was so much fascinating to see the emotions clubbing. Sharing what they thought was little extra , Living in harmony was their secret mantra. Something magical went on and on , As I stayed there long and long. Ever longing will be our bond , And will remain for ever long.
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Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
In the laps of nature
A drop fell on the apple tree, Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook, That went to help the sea. Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, What necklaces could be! The dust replaced in hoisted roads, The birds jocoser sung; The sunshine threw his hat away, The orchards spangles hung. The breezes brought dejected lutes, And bathed them in the glee; The East put out a single flag, And signed the fete away. Emily Dickinson. 3/22/2016.
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Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
Summer Shower.
736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church— That were not, We are sure— As lately as the Snow— And are Today—if We exist— Though how may this be so? Have any like Myself Conjectured Who may be The Occupants of the Adobes— So easy to the Sky— ’Twould seem that God should be The nearest Neighbor to— And Heaven—a convenient Grace For Show, or Company— Have any like Myself Preserved the Charm secure By shunning carefully the Place All Seasons of the Year, Excepting March—’Tis then My Villages be seen— And possibly a Steeple— Not afterward—by Men—
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Have any like Myself
*I pardoned thy self a burning hour, And languished in the heat, Conjectured an undeniable power, That reality failed to cheat. Until the time it suffered whole, And claimed back what was due. Extinguishing flames in my soul, By tempering thoughts of you.*
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Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 6:53 AM UTC
I Beg My Pardon
In t'is warmth, with th' sun glistening outside, retreated I into th' magnanimous background, hoping to absorb some air-scented like fruits, and t'at but satisfied my soul! Chuckled I to myself, upon t'is prosaic, but audacious discovery-and proceeded I into th' wooden distance. But disdained was I, that even in t'at leafy silence, in which I conjectured swarms of love must've been present, still absent wert thou-no matter how hard I insisted, I was not chanced to set my gaze on th' very loveliness I was seeking-I was shrunk into th' cruelth abode of mystery-hence, once more! And saunter did I-forward and forward, looking like a sun-drenched fir fr'm head t' toe, but still didst I do 't in vain-still I couldn't find thee, querida.
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Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 8:51 AM UTC
Ode to a Lost Lover
WALKING WITH GOD God had gone for a walk. "Let the Universe..." He thought "...take care of itself!" He just wanted to walk. Walk...like any human wood. And here was a world He could be proud of. It did Him good to see it as a human could. Grass covered his naked toes. The morning bleating with lambs. Blue sky as if He were in a living painting. Sunshine - golden. Tangible...touchable. All it was missing was a cuckoo. So, He adde it as an afterthought. Because... He - could. And God saw that it was good. Met Him halfway up a hill walking my little dog Ivor. God and his creature and his creature's creature. "Howya!" I said. "Howya!" said God. "Woof!" said the dog. "Woof!" mimicked God. In another half an hour I was due a heartattack. The dog licking my fallen face. Wouldn't be discovered for an hour or more. The dog refusing to leave the body. God foresaw all this of course. "Ahhhh this is the kind of thing that really ruins my day! God moaned. "And for which I always get the blame! God groaned. "Go back now!" the voice of God echoed inside my head. "Kiss your wife... look into her eyes!" And, so - - I did. Lived another 20 years My wife died the following year. I got knocked down by a car in the end. "So this is Heaven?" I conjectured. "Howya!" a voice I thought I recognised. "Howya!" I said.
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Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 6:20 PM UTC
WALKING WITH GOD
The earth might know whether the fire Beneath the hillock as a pyre Was there and kept a-smouldering Whatever burnt it with fiery sting. From morning did he slowly, oh! Acute and heavy stones below Clasp with his own holy wrath, A power ne one had ne now hath. Though he’s been slumb’ring innocently Since hundred years ago, sharply, As I had heard from my ancestors, Got furious by some evil stars. It was a foggy day of autumn, None could be seen at the bottom, Nor high above a bird to fly, Nor that hill, then calm and high. When the pale sun reached the top, Of earthly dome of clouds did rob His grandeur boldly, the rain began To curse the man with wicked plan. Till then no one conjectured what God had stored for their hapless lot, But dreamt bygone months when they Were carefree as a child and gay. Once the sun was lost in the west, Some eerie sounds from that hill-crest Began to frighten children, and their Unhappy parents uttered a prayer. One wondered if it was a rumbling Of the clouds, about to be tumbling Once again as heavier rain Upon grey mountains and verdant plain. Another heard the rustling leaves, As summer’s cool wind gently heaves. But no such things were their outside, Then must’ve in high note an infant cried. That voice, as night seemed deep and darker, Bit by bit, from grave to graver Became, and did from the hill emerge. All cravens shrieked, they shrieked, “O dirge!” All at once in mightiest blast, Liquid fire did up the crust Gush out, flash out from the earth, As if he gathered an endless mirth. Then down that splendent stone did flow With million captive crumbles, lo! The brooklet virile made its way Through forsaken woods and clay. Hearth! A hearth of our whole world That dormant knoll was like; he hurled The hallowed fire, which God alone Could gift mankind, with new adorn. What rapture did the hill derive Unburd’ning himself of newer life! And what unwavering faith had he In earth on whose lap his child would be!
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Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 3:20 AM UTC
The Eruption
The earth might know whether the fire Beneath the hillock as a pyre Was there and kept a-smouldering Whatever burnt it with fiery sting. From morning did he slowly, oh! Acute and heavy stones below Clasp with his own holy wrath, A power ne one had ne now hath. Though he’s been slumb’ring innocently Since hundred years ago, sharply, As I had heard from my ancestors, Got furious by some evil stars. It was a foggy day of autumn, None could be seen at the bottom, Nor high above a bird to fly, Nor that hill, then calm and high. When the pale sun reached the top, Of earthly dome of clouds did rob His grandeur boldly, the rain began To curse the man with wicked plan. Till then no one conjectured what God had stored for their hapless lot, But dreamt bygone months when they Were carefree as a child and gay. Once the sun was lost in the west, Some eerie sounds from that hill-crest Began to frighten children, and their Unhappy parents uttered a prayer. One wondered if it was a rumbling Of the clouds, about to be tumbling Once again as heavier rain Upon grey mountains and verdant plain. Another heard the rustling leaves, As summer’s cool wind gently heaves. But no such things were their outside, Then must’ve in high note an infant cried. That voice, as night seemed deep and darker, Bit by bit, from grave to graver Became, and did from the hill emerge. All cravens shrieked, they shrieked, “O dirge!” All at once in mightiest blast, Liquid fire did up the crust Gush out, flash out from the earth, As if he gathered an endless mirth. Then down that splendent stone did flow With million captive crumbles, lo! The brooklet virile made its way Through forsaken woods and clay. Hearth! A hearth of our whole world That dormant knoll was like; he hurled The hallowed fire, which God alone Could gift mankind, with new adorn. What rapture did the hill derive Unburd’ning himself of newer life! And what unwavering faith had he In earth on whose lap his child would be!
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Concealed in my diary in the form of words my emotions explode inklings of events predicaments conjectured or  sighs of contentment vaguely interpreted lights my soul stagnant but painful glorious yet tearful
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Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 7:08 AM UTC
In My Diary
Concealed in my diary in the form of words my emotions explode inklings of events predicaments conjectured or sighs of contentment vaguely interpreted lights my soul stagnant but painful glorious yet tearful
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Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
My diary
One little sparrow rounded the corner of the house and tweeted its way down the electric wire until it came close to the spilt grain patch. its undecided fluttering swoop an inch closer dancing on its slender legs curled tightly around the wire, ti balanced with its tail flaring in the breeze head bobbing this way and that but one eye firmly fixed on the morsels of grain the other watching competition. Joined by another chirpy companion our brave sparrow suddenly found herself with strength building. Together they flitted in the down draft and announced their seed war on humans with loud chirps and flutters, but bent at the knees in case urgent flight was necessary. It wasn't needed I ignored them completely looking away, but the corner of my eye, absorbed the terrain completely. I conjectured that the second chirper said to the first: 'yeah, I know this guy. He sits here looking at things in his free times, and watching birds all day! He has that cellphone that deceptively tweets bird sounds, and whistles when he gets emails. Come on, girl, lets grab a feast, while he's busy writing about us. He will leave us alone for a while' Author Notes Bird-watching is a great hobby. Sparrows know? © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 9 days ago - See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11583510-The-lone-sparrow.-by-Marshall-Gass#sthash.G14ILmff.dpuf
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Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
The lone sparrow.
Is this the feeling called... "love"? The emotion that's been going around, That's been making everyone unusual? Because of the evidences I witnessed, It's a contagious disease, I conjectured - Therefore I find it hard to understand, Why are people so fond of it? Why are people risking their hearts for it? To me, it was the highest level of stupidity... Until I met him - I'd say he's different, He has an aura that captivates you, That lures you into his eyes Therefore I got trapped in his soul... And then, I was forced to trap him in my heart - I've tried countless ways to just - to just cure this disease - This disease that made me who I'm not used to be, This disease that made me question my empathy; But this disease - it gave me happiness, it gave me a reason to live - Now I question myself... is this "love" a disease or a cure to my loveless heart?
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Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 5:40 AM UTC
Why Love?
They had waited in ill conception upon the reality of man, between the moment this was but a flicker in the eternal motions of what waited eons for it unwitting birth of perpetual existence. But where there in metaphorical thoughts urges the reality of thought into eventual birth. And it tasted upon existence and succumb to it taste and wished to depart more on its hungered birth, The signs had fallen upon the calendar of mans folly, where there had been no relevance now conjectured thought had birthed it into place. Like an egg it hatched upon the civilization of mans wanting of retribution. All ill conceived musing now given an illegitimate form of what feel on the 13th 13th moment of mans fall of what was meant as luck now befalling into disrepute. Now given the day of mans weakness upon its self wheres its weaknees falls short. Feed me glutton upon the stupidness of mans folly and reap the seeds sown in tempestuous ignorance and on this day the worst tiding will fall on the many now called man.
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Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 4:49 PM UTC
The Day Of Luck That Fell Short 13th
Tarred roads, paved and smooth Make more room for a man to loose. Life conjectured and price unpaid, The walk is easy, but not worth the chase. The rough and riddl'd, charred plains Through vicious and iniquitous terrains. The struggle, molding a better man Finding his way to paradise one day.
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May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
The Road Taken
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook, That went to help the sea. Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, What necklaces could be! The dust replaced in hoisted roads, The birds jocoser sung; The sunshine threw his hat away, The orchards spangles hung. The breezes brought dejected lutes, And bathed them in the glee; The East put out a single flag, And signed the fête away. *** Emily Dickinson. 11/5/2018.
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Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
Rain Poem.
stumbled once I did I know  I think I am infallible upon a thing I had no preconceived idea about I compared projected subjectively conjectured that this was something before now never discovered I stood it in bright light studied how prisms changed the view in telescopes and microscopes it didn't whatever it was give up a clue nor shine a light inside my head. Very disconcerted I went to bed and had this vivid dream of unicorns small fairies wizards and demons, I gave them names understandable like Zeus Mohammed Alijah and Ben, Ben was my favorite. He was just a working man that tripped one day over a stream of gold and got rich Not for real he was made up like all the rest. But Ben gave all his found riches away. Fed the poorest and the ****** thieves and politicians. Ben was a hero far and wide. I woke up beaming , half in sleep half awake and thought , by god Ben was cool.
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May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 3:18 AM UTC
Ben was cool
“Have you ever conjectured what it’s like to be obscured? Like a rain drop in the ocean a fish without water,   That blackbird above the sea that can no longer sing, As that of a tree with no branches beneath thee, Like walking straight and winding in curves, And not even a terminus harbor afore me, How I suffered with her love as not equal, A love that was devoted with complete kinesthesia, And how my love never seemed to bring comfort,   How sad my love was to subsistence in pain! Love was nothing but a sizzling desert and no deluge A love that made me realize you were adrift,   One need not love if love is not had hinder,   Always something missing as I gave my all to thee, Your love for me I know now has been foiled, I was like a knight that hadn’t been dubbed, Left to a cloistered life with no concomitant” By AG 06/14/2018 ©
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Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC
“No CONCOMITANT"