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"corsair" poems
The paper boats sail upon the stream. Curious like vagabonds questing for dreams. On they float through bends & turns, Over silt mountains & valleys of fern. Glide with butterflies, Caper past toads. Not a clue where leads the watery road. Caressing the earth, Savoring the rain, Drawn into the rapids, Broken free again. The tempest, the calm, All the vistas unknown. Horizons they cross. To beyond, they've flown! A paper boat I hold Only one to spare Place it in the water A small white corsair. She kneels beside me, on a bed of grass. Points at the boat & throws me a glance. Smiling, she asks, "Leaving? Where to?" "Let's find out", I say "My boat is for two."
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Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 1:10 AM UTC
Paper boats
​Explosion of the white tree, A synapse in the damp air. The fluid around the corsair, Ambassador of the secret; The perfume of a comet Descends upon the wetland. A goosebump stretches my hair; Ripples forming across the sea As nostril and flowers meet Miles and miles without end. The green flame always return In a frenetic haze, a burst of fire, As the solar wave caresses the earth At welcomed glances, so soft a fur. A last effort renewed forevermore; Delirious poison continually brewed; An elixir against the veil of dusk; Cause and effect from dust to dust. As the mind steps out back further, It finds itself returned at the core, Til all of Spring elapses.
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC
A Springlapse (2016)
what I got was a january smile from a milkblooded boy. if only the pearl of your teeth were white as my eyes deertail flash in the dark and nowhere else to hide but five a.m. sheets and the smell of sunrise mumbles toofast weightloss: a late spring heart is drenched with its ripeness but rots if you leave it to the bees then the summer desiccation becomes winter starvation— in between, autumn comes to stay. purples, mostly maroons moth -eaten by the greengrass deadweight of so many depetalled flowers. Midnight never strikes soon enough. there have been no doves for weeks & maybe longer than that i haven’t kept count on you to teach me where they go when the seasons change but given time and tide rips the stains from your whites so i with patience await the first frosts; you are never far behind the snow. meanwhile your jewel-studded eyes & corsair heart glint in the moonlit touchmenot of your faraway skin keep your hair shirt on.
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Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 3:20 AM UTC
eggshell walk
Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and gast blew the blast, And the east-wind was his breath. His lordly ships of ice Glisten in the sun; On each side, like pennons wide, Flashing crystal streamlets run. His sails of white sea-mist Dripped with silver rain; But where he passed there were cast Leaden shadows o’er the main. Eastward from Campobello Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed; Three days or more seaward he bore, Then, alas! the land-wind failed. Alas! the land-wind failed, And ice-cold grew the night; And nevermore, on sea or shore, Should Sir Humphrey see the light. He sat upon the deck, The Book was in his hand; “Do not fear! Heaven is as near,” He said, “by water as by land!” In the first watch of the night, Without a signal’s sound, Out of the sea, mysteriously, The fleet of Death rose all around. The moon and the evening star Were hanging in the shrouds; Every mast, as it passed, Seemed to rake the passing clouds. They grappled with their prize, At midnight black and cold! As of a rock was the shock; Heavily the ground-swell rolled. Southward through day and dark, They drift in cold embrace, With mist and rain, o’er the open main; Yet there seems no change of place. Southward, forever southward, They drift through dark and day; And like a dream, in the Gulf-Stream Sinking, vanish all away.
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1.7k
Sir Humphrey Gilbert
Your smile is like a lovely girl, all covered in flowers sitting in a shower of sunlight; breathtakingly, achingly beautiful. Your heart is like a corsair from Spain, heavily laden with gold and rent in twain; silently waiting on the floor of the sea for someone to discover its hidden delights. A kindred spirit with eyes that see and strength of soul with capacity to share the light that true love brings; soaring to breathless heights never needing, wanting wings.
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Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
Untitled
In divine school there is a boy who does blare The horn of indiscipline all over the school bare Met me very day when I furiously did glare; Felt though sad and bad, moved a bit with prayer I intended to sing for him to change without spare. Kabir is that boy who was found on hostel stair - Roaming and singing and running like a hare. Moved by ‘No one is lift behind’ by me. “Beware! You have to be careful.” I used to say at square. Now is the time, when he has changed a lot by flair Which he had in him – half known to him I swear. Then was the naughty boy, one of the corsair – Now is the sincere and calm though not so clever. Will take his father’s and mother’s good care; I know that in future he will be a successful bear Who may forget me but I will never to such mare.
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Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 11:15 PM UTC
Kabir – A Notorious Child
Where travail is nigh but akin to her salary the season is in throes no kilter in resurgence in these skintight jeans on a Friday night here that bowels have broke tide and like an AK-47 hubbub she had fought her way with corsair and new party cochair where hot and **** corsets mare
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Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 11:18 AM UTC
Flushing
¿Adónde fueron ahogadas aquellas caricias, perlas susurrantes que se llevó el viento? ¿A quien voló la marea, como quien se lleva algo que no es suyo, algo que siempre lo ha sido? Tu lo sabes, Corsario; Corsario traicionero, tu amor son caricias que no tengo, tu cariño son sonrisas denegadas. Negaciones que no tengo, amor cariñoso, sonrisas acariciadas. Otros poetas nada saben, nada saben de tus sueños, Corsario, nada saben de tu cantar, de tus canciones de ensueño, tu dormir melódico. Y sola aquí te espero, Corsario, en el punto acordado al que no acudirás. Y aquí te escribo, Corsario, en el instante acordado en el que no aparecerás. Y aquí te escribiré siempre, mi amor, y mi cuerpo omnipresente llorará tu muerte. // Where did those caresses go drowned, whispering pearls the wind took away? ¿Who did the tides fly, like someone taking something that is not theirs, something that always has been? You know, Corsair; treaterous Corsair, your love are caresses I do not have, your affection are denied smiles. Denies I do not have, affectionate love, caressed smiles. Other poets nothing know, nothing know of your dreams, Corsair, nothing knkw of your singing, of your dreamlike songs, of your melodic dreams. Alone here I wait for you, Corsair, in the accorded point to which you will not come. And here I write you, Corsair, in the accorded instant in which you will not show up. And here I will always write, my love, and my omnipresent body will cry my death.
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Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
Adónde fueron ahogadas // Where they were drowned
¿Adónde fueron ahogadas aquellas caricias, perlas susurrantes que se llevó el viento? ¿A quien voló la marea, como quien se lleva algo que no es suyo, algo que siempre lo ha sido? Tu lo sabes, Corsario; Corsario traicionero, tu amor son caricias que no tengo, tu cariño son sonrisas denegadas. Negaciones que no tengo, amor cariñoso, sonrisas acariciadas. Otros poetas nada saben, nada saben de tus sueños, Corsario, nada saben de tu cantar, de tus canciones de ensueño, tu dormir melódico. Y sola aquí te espero, Corsario, en el punto acordado al que no acudirás. Y aquí te escribo, Corsario, en el instante acordado en el que no aparecerás. Y aquí te escribiré siempre, mi amor, y mi cuerpo omnipresente llorará tu muerte. // Where did those caresses go drowned, whispering pearls the wind took away? ¿Who did the tides fly, like someone taking something that is not theirs, something that always has been? You know, Corsair; treaterous Corsair, your love are caresses I do not have, your affection are denied smiles. Denies I do not have, affectionate love, caressed smiles. Other poets nothing know, nothing know of your dreams, Corsair, nothing knkw of your singing, of your dreamlike songs, of your melodic dreams. Alone here I wait for you, Corsair, in the accorded point to which you will not come. And here I write you, Corsair, in the accorded instant in which you will not show up. And here I will always write, my love, and my omnipresent body will cry my death.
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Brain-powered brutes; kings of intellectual pursuits, Vastly superior, sadly divorced from our roots. Propelled to be upheld as the peak of all life; The human species, as sharp as a corsair’s knife. There’s about 80 billion neurons in your noggin, Networks, working all day until you lie in a coffin. Brain and spine; co-ordination, perfection, divine. Plainly sublime, an observation of gifts we’re assigned. Whether it’s seeing a sunset in the arms of your new love, Or hearing thunder as it claps from heavens above; Whether it’s embracing a friend you haven’t seen for too long, Or smelling and tasting street food, lost in a throng; It’s all assembled in your organic computer, Your decoder of reality, your trouble-shooter. That’s precisely why I don’t trust the brain blindly. Despite its marvels, we can be deceived, wildly, In a manner that is grotesque and unsightly. Use your senses, but administer them wisely, Live in reflective harmony, speak forthrightly. And, most importantly, listen to intuition, For it’s basically like getting divine tuition. We know of love when we feel it inside us, When we hold one another defiantly, and say: “You will not divide us!” We’re awed by thunder when its loudness strikes our soul, Hunger gets to us when we’ve felt it as a whole; We know how much we miss one another upon going home. We say we’ll know it when we see it – No; we’ll know it for sure when we feel it.
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May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 7:41 AM UTC
I'll know it when I feel it