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"cozily" poems
walking through the woods i was surrounded by a plethora of golden bronze amber leaves tumbling in the wind sparkling with a star fire that evanesced from their jagged edges upon their descent.  i stood entranced, mesmerized, utterly hypnotized by their glorious magnificence.  i observed with intensity as a golden bronze amber leaf never having been attached to the majestic tree had no need to let go but gently released.  feeling no trepidation it wholly lacked desire for manipulation to control the forces of the wind.  i watched in awe and wonder realizing that it never disengaged from the tree knowing that separation is an illusion; it simply became the wind.  whirling it shimmered in the autumn sun as it wafted with no need for reins allowing its destination to unfold.  gingerly cascading it settled tenderly on the ground resting comfortably in ambivalence.  i sensed it did not cringe when it was picked up by an unsuspecting boot but intuitively knew immediately that it was being carried and dropped off serendipitously at an auspicious location.  i listened to it intently and drank in its essence as it simply lay in being not obsessing over what would happen consequent but sat in sheer stillness seemingly encompassing all totality.  i was stunned to see that it lingered without judgment in undivided clarity for what wild synchronicity would come.  it quenched its thirst in mystery while being completely at home in uncertainty.  the golden bronze amber leaf seemed one with all that is while simultaneously retaining awareness of self-perception.  as a gentle gust of wind coalesced with the beige fall sky it literally merged with the momentum enjoying the ride to its perfect destination.  with delicacy it rested cozily in ambiguity whispering to me that heaven is a state and not a place.  i vow surrender to black and white existence pledging fearlessly to climb higher creating life with vivid vibrancy adding golden bronze amber to my palette of colors with which i’ll paint. ©2016 janetaylor
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May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
golden bronze amber
walking through the woods i was surrounded by a plethora of golden bronze amber leaves tumbling in the wind sparkling with a star fire that evanesced from their jagged edges upon their descent.  i stood entranced, mesmerized, utterly hypnotized by their glorious magnificence.  i observed with intensity as a golden bronze amber leaf never having been attached to the majestic tree had no need to let go but gently released.  feeling no trepidation it wholly lacked desire for manipulation to control the forces of the wind.  i watched in awe and wonder realizing that it never disengaged from the tree knowing that separation is an illusion; it simply became the wind.  whirling it shimmered in the autumn sun as it wafted with no need for reins allowing its destination to unfold.  gingerly cascading it settled tenderly on the ground resting comfortably in ambivalence.  i sensed it did not cringe when it was picked up by an unsuspecting boot but intuitively knew immediately that it was being carried and dropped off serendipitously at an auspicious location.  i listened to it intently and drank in its essence as it simply lay in being not obsessing over what would happen consequent but sat in sheer stillness seemingly encompassing all totality.  i was stunned to see that it lingered without judgment in undivided clarity for what wild synchronicity would come.  it quenched its thirst in mystery while being completely at home in uncertainty.  the golden bronze amber leaf seemed one with all that is while simultaneously retaining awareness of self-perception.  as a gentle gust of wind coalesced with the beige fall sky it literally merged with the momentum enjoying the ride to its perfect destination.  with delicacy it rested cozily in ambiguity whispering to me that heaven is a state and not a place.  i vow surrender to black and white existence pledging fearlessly to climb higher creating life with vivid vibrancy adding golden bronze amber to my palette of colors with which i’ll paint. ©2016 janetaylor
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2
If I ever happen to meet myself, I'd sit graciously on silence's table, And study my evolved, yet un-evolved self, Undisturbed, unhurried, un-agitated, By world's brightest gulf. ...and smile back, as I watch myself. If I ever happen to meet myself, I'd sit cozily on peace's table, And watch my wounded, yet un-wounded self, Un-agitated, un-deviated, unmoved, By world's sorry self ...and smile back, as I watch myself. If I ever happen to meet myself, I'd sit calmly on agony's table, And observe my painful, yet not too painful self, Unmoved, undaunted, unleashed, By world's weirdest self, ...and smile back, as I watch myself. If I ever happen to meet myself, I'd sit gladly on glee's table, With my eyes smiling, and smiling at myself, Unaffected, unguarded, unremitted, By world's unrequited self. ...and grin back, at myself. If I ever happen to meet myself, Twill indeed be a blessed, contending  miracle, As that's when I could pat & greet myself, In real, In real, In real! And make this fact to myself perceivable, That Our world may sure often demand struggles, And our mere existence in it, May just be negligible, But we never gotta forget To stay hopeful, smile and giggle at ourselves, No matter how hard, or harder are the struggles, As that's the precious fuel, That can truly cause miracles, In a world, Often so obsessed with struggles! And then with a grin, A sparkling hope within, I'll bid myself, A sweet, serene, farewell.
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Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
If I Ever Meet Myself
Memories traveller. I remember when I was younger and my mother would sneak into my room with a handful of secrets, revealing them to be flowers. Lavender. She said it was to help the sleepless, and that I was. Restless from the monsters under my bed she’d sing me songs, the scent and tingles she’d sent streaming up my spine were seamless, one melting into the other. She’d tuck me in cozily and I’d noticed the smell of a light purple colour that she’d crushed into my palm, a mortar, her soft fingers the pestle. So when the years went by and our time grew shorter, with the linear layout of these memories would I wrestle as I’d strain to remember what our time together was like before you passed finally one last, lost, dreary November. Then one day, as the rain fell outside our house the bushes it struck were made of lavender and I felt like I had been saved, because once again I’d found you.
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Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
Lavender
I don't know you, but I feel you right from the get-go. You go about your routine that lassoed my heart into you, you who prance around the vastness of my dreamscape. I come to recognize your presence only in my sleep, at the very least that's what I know. In that hazy, twisted world of subconscious shuffling, we find ourselves sitting cozily, face to face, at a table outside that rustic coffee shop. Honeyed words and laughters sprightly echo from that very spot where only a vase of freshly cut chrysanthemum sets two bodies and heat apart, longing. Sometimes, we glorify sunsets at the shoreline. Sometimes, we sound our inane daredevil yawp at a cliff. Sometimes, we simply stargaze and draw across the skies Cassiopeia and Ursa Major. We embrace the beauty of chaos we often find ourselves walking aimlessly along that busy thoroughfare before we head back home; normally we exchange random thoughts about school, my fascination with Rand's objectivist framework, your addiction to Cobain's craft and story, my weakness over falling in love too fast, your resilience and hope in times of defeat. We are wired to each other in a special way, so special that it all has to be in lucid dreams. Feelings are intense. Kisses euthanize the butterflies. Midnight cuddles are soulful  calisthenics. Holding each other's hand  is infinite. You present to me a self that is nurtured by its soul. I think I love you in my sleep. I feel happy with everything that goes with closing my eyes and letting dreams of the world I created creep into my consciousness. In such a realm I don't know you, but I feel you right from the get-go. Do you see me in your sleep, too?
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Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 10:04 PM UTC
Misplaced reality
I don't know you, but I feel you right from the get-go. You go about your routine that lassoed my heart into you, you who prance around the vastness of my dreamscape. I come to recognize your presence only in my sleep, at the very least that's what I know. In that hazy, twisted world of subconscious shuffling, we find ourselves sitting cozily, face to face, at a table outside that rustic coffee shop. Honeyed words and laughters sprightly echo from that very spot where only a vase of freshly cut chrysanthemum sets two bodies and heat apart, longing. Sometimes, we glorify sunsets at the shoreline. Sometimes, we sound our inane daredevil yawp at a cliff. Sometimes, we simply stargaze and draw across the skies Cassiopeia and Ursa Major. We embrace the beauty of chaos we often find ourselves walking aimlessly along that busy thoroughfare before we head back home; normally we exchange random thoughts about school, my fascination with Rand's objectivist framework, your addiction to Cobain's craft and story, my weakness over falling in love too fast, your resilience and hope in times of defeat. We are wired to each other in a special way, so special that it all has to be in lucid dreams. Feelings are intense. Kisses euthanize the butterflies. Midnight cuddles are soulful  calisthenics. Holding each other's hand  is infinite. You present to me a self that is nurtured by its soul. I think I love you in my sleep. I feel happy with everything that goes with closing my eyes and letting dreams of the world I created creep into my consciousness. In such a realm I don't know you, but I feel you right from the get-go. Do you see me in your sleep, too?
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7
We sat cozily on the couch listening to Miles Davis She, curled up with a glass of Chardonnay, me, a warmed brandy snifter It seemed an eternity since we made time for each other like this We enjoyed our home in silence, absent our attention grabbing offspring at Grandma's. I savored the scent of her lavender infused body snuggled in my arms Her beautiful brown eyes reflected flickered light The candles we transplanted from our earlier bath, burned slowly And "Kind of Blue" transported us as we held each other. "May I have a sip of your brandy?" she asked coyly with a smile on her face "Of course," I handed her my glass "Not from your glass," her smile turned into a mischievous grin The vanilla and oak from the brandy permeated the air above the gulp I took into my mouth. My heart rate increased, my eyes closed, and our smiles met pressed together; Heaven is real... Her lips parted, she pulled the brandy from me along with my tongue that now danced with hers The fire of the brandy that left my mouth warm, now slid down her neck in one smooth swallow We took great care in kissing each other, sensuously, passionately, time stood still, for us. Luxuriating in this kiss, a tear fell from her eye, met only with the tears that fell from mine As our mind's eye recalled the love we have endured over these adventurous years together Brandywine never tasted this divine as from the lips of my beautiful lover Lightheaded, more so from her than from the alcohol, I smiled and held her closer to me. "I Love you Husband!" "I Love you more Wife!" -----ChawzzyScript
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Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
Cognac Kisses
We sat cozily on the couch listening to Miles Davis She, curled up with a glass of Chardonnay, me, a warmed brandy snifter It seemed an eternity since we made time for each other like this We enjoyed our home in silence, absent our attention grabbing offspring at Grandma's. I savored the scent of her lavender infused body snuggled in my arms Her beautiful brown eyes reflected flickered light The candles we transplanted from our earlier bath, burned slowly And "Kind of Blue" transported us as we held each other. "May I have a sip of your brandy?" she asked coyly with a smile on her face "Of course," I handed her my glass "Not from your glass," her smile turned into a mischievous grin The vanilla and oak from the brandy permeated the air above the gulp I took into my mouth. My heart rate increased, my eyes closed, and our smiles met pressed together; Heaven is real... Her lips parted, she pulled the brandy from me along with my tongue that now danced with hers The fire of the brandy that left my mouth warm, now slid down her neck in one smooth swallow We took great care in kissing each other, sensuously, passionately, time stood still, for us. Luxuriating in this kiss, a tear fell from her eye, met only with the tears that fell from mine As our mind's eye recalled the love we have endured over these adventurous years together Brandywine never tasted this divine as from the lips of my beautiful lover Lightheaded, more so from her than from the alcohol, I smiled and held her closer to me. "I Love you Husband!" "I Love you more Wife!" -----ChawzzyScript
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23
The builders got it wrong... They made the deep window sill On the other side of the window.. Perhaps it was supposed to be Of architectural significance And not for sitting at all But I sit, My back to one side, My toes pointing shyly at the other... Knees up. I fit so cozily and Suddenly I am in a box Opening to the world, I'm on a ledge, essentially. I like the excitement; The possibility, That at any moment I could simply lean too far, shifting my weight As I read And I'd crash down, And hit the ground, Diminishing into this ****** world. And it would look suicidal, And that could be true.
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Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
The Builders Got it Wrong
Cadaverous crotchety gouged out eyes. Scalped trite and malnourished minds. Where am I? What has this land become? My vessel is gutted galled and splayed out upon the enflamed remains of our democracy. I try to embody the equanimity peaceful   qualities of the lulling Gandhi characters before me... But **** I am angry, jolted and saturated in shock in fear. Being an advocate for the people so dismissively marginalized, is what brings substance to my life. I look into the eyes of my mirthful clients and future students, my heart winces. How did I allow this to happen to you?   A man who so boastfully incinerates and debased the citizens of our land with his farcical vitriol, is no man at all but merely an unsightly shrew, cozily cosseted in his world of soot and pooh. The bosky gorgeous land we inhabit sobs in noxious fright. To be despoiled and berated as some "natural right" splintered and tainted to allow the green cash river flow into the dubious maw of the man with no dignity to show. A man who preens such a degenerated mindset is only aptest to a society in shambles. Our global haimish home yearns for the equilibrium from which it was born. In such a seeded tumultuous time my heart is seeped in reverberating sorrow. Let your love and purity coat your vessel, do not let this barbaric man permeate your soul. Hold steadfast to the testament of our land True revolution is budded from a web of genuine connection, not devise brandished weapons. Don't shroud yourself in misery, break free and be prepared to encite love with your authenticity.
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Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
Love trumps hate
Cadaverous crotchety gouged out eyes. Scalped trite and malnourished minds. Where am I? What has this land become? My vessel is gutted galled and splayed out upon the enflamed remains of our democracy. I try to embody the equanimity peaceful   qualities of the lulling Gandhi characters before me... But **** I am angry, jolted and saturated in shock in fear. Being an advocate for the people so dismissively marginalized, is what brings substance to my life. I look into the eyes of my mirthful clients and future students, my heart winces. How did I allow this to happen to you?   A man who so boastfully incinerates and debased the citizens of our land with his farcical vitriol, is no man at all but merely an unsightly shrew, cozily cosseted in his world of soot and pooh. The bosky gorgeous land we inhabit sobs in noxious fright. To be despoiled and berated as some "natural right" splintered and tainted to allow the green cash river flow into the dubious maw of the man with no dignity to show. A man who preens such a degenerated mindset is only aptest to a society in shambles. Our global haimish home yearns for the equilibrium from which it was born. In such a seeded tumultuous time my heart is seeped in reverberating sorrow. Let your love and purity coat your vessel, do not let this barbaric man permeate your soul. Hold steadfast to the testament of our land True revolution is budded from a web of genuine connection, not devise brandished weapons. Don't shroud yourself in misery, break free and be prepared to encite love with your authenticity.
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19
aromatic coffee awakens senses    midst the gestured warmth of radiant       smiles's 'tween morning brew, reverently paused to catch     the awe inspiring  poignancy                of sunrise's exhilaration, whilst cozily wrapped in the delightful unfurl    of captivating poetry's skillful delectation     a rising ritual begun many blue moons afore,   tempting consciousness, feeding soulfulness     enlightening sensibilities as it         enriches the day's appreciation                'pon the keen awareness of poets, tempests from all niches of the world    coming together amid upheavals and serenity, ceremoniously dubbed fierce confirmations       of words expressly borne, communing the          artfully spirited of resourceful artisans,      procuring special collective bonds that                only poesy can wholly dictate, they look upon us as enigmas   rather strange breed of puzzling characters,      as this inexplicable endeavor         escapes their stifled perceptions          of conduit's musing reasonable facsimile, we're merely cognitive passages for     experiences on common ground        in realizations of all-too-human foibles           eccentricities, yearnings and fortitude, released deliverance of  potpourri    serving up inky joy beyond expression,     intention's distinction deciphering       reflections in meditative affirmations, breadth of unrestrained beholden visions    conjured notions of paramount significance        wherein lies evidence of life's burnt offerings, beginnings and endings of hearts' indulgences      wept in resolute  celebrations of existence                 as only a poet could discernibly translate
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
Poetry's aromatic unfurl
aromatic coffee awakens senses    midst the gestured warmth of radiant       smiles's 'tween morning brew, reverently paused to catch     the awe inspiring  poignancy                of sunrise's exhilaration, whilst cozily wrapped in the delightful unfurl    of captivating poetry's skillful delectation     a rising ritual begun many blue moons afore,   tempting consciousness, feeding soulfulness     enlightening sensibilities as it         enriches the day's appreciation                'pon the keen awareness of poets, tempests from all niches of the world    coming together amid upheavals and serenity, ceremoniously dubbed fierce confirmations       of words expressly borne, communing the          artfully spirited of resourceful artisans,      procuring special collective bonds that                only poesy can wholly dictate, they look upon us as enigmas   rather strange breed of puzzling characters,      as this inexplicable endeavor         escapes their stifled perceptions          of conduit's musing reasonable facsimile, we're merely cognitive passages for     experiences on common ground        in realizations of all-too-human foibles           eccentricities, yearnings and fortitude, released deliverance of  potpourri    serving up inky joy beyond expression,     intention's distinction deciphering       reflections in meditative affirmations, breadth of unrestrained beholden visions    conjured notions of paramount significance        wherein lies evidence of life's burnt offerings, beginnings and endings of hearts' indulgences      wept in resolute  celebrations of existence                 as only a poet could discernibly translate
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39
That little star on the bank of milky way, watching the flow with wonder filled eyes, is my unborn daughter. In my dream I see her crying to sit cozily on my lap, with her winks of starlight, she pleads with me to tell her sweet stories till she sleeps. Soulfully she sings for me the songs my beloved brought from distant eons. A ray of light from her becomes love itself, a flood of tenderness sweeps  me off my feet. Sweet transcendence binds us together across light millenniums that had come and gone. I am delight personified sitting on the lap of limitless universe; I am a dream that conjures up, whatever seems real in my mind.
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 7:44 AM UTC
A love crossing eons
Breath whisper, "He is in every single one of me." Heart murmurs, "He is tucked cozily in me ,as long as I am beating." Hope utters, "Never lose me, this man,one day you'll get to see." Smile comforts, *"So put me on young lady, get ready for the.      meeting."* Heartbeat reveals, "He brings a new meaning to each thump of mine." Mind affirms, "I'm telling you,you can't take him off me." Eyes mime, *"When you close me, he'll send chills down your    spine."* Love expresses, *"Trust him, I'm true, he would go down on his.        knee."* Test conveys, *"I'm sent down from above, but both of you will    pass."* Miss admits, *"You feel me so much, you pray so hard for him to be    closer."* Tears confess, *"I trickle down your cheeks like drops of crystal clear    glass."* Faith assures, *"Have me, these tough days will    soon be over."*
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
They speak to me..
In the East, the sun luminously gleamed And bid the nebulous vapors fly Changing the gloom into radiant blaze Cheering the languid drowsy sky Lying in bed, I looked around, Saw my room so cozily set With things just enough to make it fit For a sweet haven for me to rest Each little thing in it began to muse In a language discernible for me to grasp Of the secret of success so elusive to man Which striving to catch, oft slips off his clasp The clock ticking away at the wall Alerted in a tone of rhythmic resonance That ‘each minute is precious and dear’ And not to waste it in trifling appurtenance While the ceiling fan, spiraling above Discreetly hummed, “Be cool and do not fret” The open window, to me did urge To ‘look out far and watch the world in beat’ The mirror neatly fitted on my bureau With a gleaming countenance beckoned me Asking me to ‘reflect’, ere venturing into anything That from fatal fallacies, I shall ever be free The calendar hanging inside the room Reminded me not to lag or put off things But keep my assignments and learning up to date That to great heights, I can soar on wings And the woolly carpet gently mused; “Bend your knees and kneel down to pray With a heart copiously filled in gratitude Before a God who didn’t leave you aimless to stray" With such counsel, silent and salient Got out of my bed with resolutions profound To greet the morning and start the day In greater zest with a mind, saner and sound
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Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 6:49 AM UTC
Morning Musings
Today I caught a glimpse of cold, accumulating through a summer blazing's green-leafed hue. In yonder search of gently swaying thunders briscle scents of cozily wafting coffee wonders, where rain collides and scorching light draws circles. From where autumnal yearning lurks, different nuances of gentle fingertips return, directing grim muses to go berserk. © fey (05/07/23)
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Jul 11, 2023
Jul 11, 2023 at 5:50 AM UTC
Autumnal yearning
Rays of sunlight shining dimly at dawn Slowly illuminating the fading night sky Stars becoming invisible as morning comes As cirrus clouds streak the early morning skies Morning traffic jams slowly building up Quiet streets waking up with blaring car horns Sidewalks brimming with people in transit As the sleeping city slowly comes to life Amidst all that chaotic, monotonous cycle I find myself gazing at your sleeping face Listening to your soft, gentle breathing Entangled cozily in my embrace Your tranquil snoring feels like music to my ears Your calm face etched in my most beautiful memories My hands can't stop from touching your gentle cheeks As I contemplate if should I kiss your lips good morning I just want to stay under these soft bed sheets Staying with you here, entrenched in your soothing warmth Pretending to be asleep, waiting for your morning kisses While pulling you back from the cold to my greedy, wanting arms These are the mornings I want to wake up to These are the mornings that I pray for everyday Dear God, please don't let her wake up yet Let me just stay and stare at this small piece of heaven I've prayed for you for a very long time And in my search I may have been unfair to you I may have done these with other people before But this time, I know, nothing beats these mornings with you So I'm sorry If I didn't wait before I'm sorry If I never stayed faithful I'm sorry If I was in a wasteful haste I'm sorry If you were never my firsts But now I thank God for leading me to you Now I thank God for staying faithful Now I thank God for His mysterious ways Now I thank you, for waiting to be my last These are the mornings that I want to wake up to These are the mornings that I wanna live for So please, If time can just stop for a few more minutes I just want to savor how blessed I am to be with you I love you with all my heart I love you with all my soul Stay in my arms, let's leave the world be itself Sleep in my bed, let's stay here for a little more time
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May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
Mornings
Rays of sunlight shining dimly at dawn Slowly illuminating the fading night sky Stars becoming invisible as morning comes As cirrus clouds streak the early morning skies Morning traffic jams slowly building up Quiet streets waking up with blaring car horns Sidewalks brimming with people in transit As the sleeping city slowly comes to life Amidst all that chaotic, monotonous cycle I find myself gazing at your sleeping face Listening to your soft, gentle breathing Entangled cozily in my embrace Your tranquil snoring feels like music to my ears Your calm face etched in my most beautiful memories My hands can't stop from touching your gentle cheeks As I contemplate if should I kiss your lips good morning I just want to stay under these soft bed sheets Staying with you here, entrenched in your soothing warmth Pretending to be asleep, waiting for your morning kisses While pulling you back from the cold to my greedy, wanting arms These are the mornings I want to wake up to These are the mornings that I pray for everyday Dear God, please don't let her wake up yet Let me just stay and stare at this small piece of heaven I've prayed for you for a very long time And in my search I may have been unfair to you I may have done these with other people before But this time, I know, nothing beats these mornings with you So I'm sorry If I didn't wait before I'm sorry If I never stayed faithful I'm sorry If I was in a wasteful haste I'm sorry If you were never my firsts But now I thank God for leading me to you Now I thank God for staying faithful Now I thank God for His mysterious ways Now I thank you, for waiting to be my last These are the mornings that I want to wake up to These are the mornings that I wanna live for So please, If time can just stop for a few more minutes I just want to savor how blessed I am to be with you I love you with all my heart I love you with all my soul Stay in my arms, let's leave the world be itself Sleep in my bed, let's stay here for a little more time
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52
As I put my drink on the night stand; promising myself that I am not going to do it. I still do. I push its head under, submerging its life in a lake of past joy, irreplaceable happiness and love that will never be mine. While it struggles, fighting for its life I apply more force, ensuring it drowns today Hopeful that its death is my elation tomorrow So I take another sip. It won't die! What if "IT"can't die Maya? But everyone hates me for it, its stench is malignant, attitude repugnant, it stands tall with a backbone made of arrogance and it lies down and wrap itself cozily in a quilt made of guilt, regret, unspoken words and time I can't get back. It is driving away the people I love. And will assure that anyone I plan to love- never will be worthy. So I take another sip, trying my best to drown it.
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Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
Tired of being Sad
She walked into the rain as her silhouette disappeared into the narrowing alley while some were fast asleep while others dreamt about dreams the ones yet to come and the ones that never occured. She walked she simply walked thinking nothing. She heard an old restaurant closing pots and pans noisily complaining about the cranky chef and greedy customers. Dreaming of being in the Queen's kitchen But oh well, They'd be the same every night. She saw A homeless guy and his dog sleeping cozily amongst the trash cans Perhaps he dreamt of a college degree, a roof and assured morsels The dog, about being with his master. She smiled At the little girl Looking at her mother's flowers For they have bloomed Just for a day To know what it feels like To be alive.
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Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
Stroll
I have everything I could ask for. I'm white, straight and I hail from a lower-middle class household. So why do I lay in bed and wallow in self pity when everything I could ever ask for sits right in front of me. I have enough money to buy all the drugs I need and if I run out I can steal my mothers medication and sell it (I've never been a fan of amphetamines.) I have two or three girls who take their clothes off and kiss my chest without me asking them too, and I have friends who pick me up whenever I fall down, so why do I never stop whining? Why can I never feel fulfilled? Numerous pairs of lips feed mine owns lust. Yellow powder finds its way into my nasal cavity, and plenty of ***** rests cozily in my stomach, and plenty of chances to better myself fly by, so what am I looking for? Someday, I'll have peace. I know I will, this can't go on forever.
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Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
Titled Number Thirty-Five
My hubsy and I went for a moonlit stroll graceful billowy branches gently ripple above us Black swans sailing in the moonlight Squawking sounds of katydids, crickets, frogs sawing zzz's and occasional loud drone of rap music cut through, punctuated the brisk night air As we meandered our shadows grew taller, towering temple steeples stretching across patchy luminescent streets We even caught a fleeting glimpse of our silver sillhouettes superimposed like Milky Way gods over the heavens I looked at my darling spouse, heart palpitating my hand tucked cozily into his "We are Vast Beings David," I whispered tenderly "So much more that we realize."
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Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 12:53 AM UTC
Glimpses of Heaven
to my imaginary lover, I wish you were here, cuddling me, together cozily in the warm blankets, with my hands in your pockets, so you can chase away the iciness from my fingers. but there's no way that could happen, hmm? you're just imaginary, after all. a figment of my imagination.
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Sep 11, 2024
Sep 11, 2024 at 7:51 AM UTC
imaginary lover
For three he plays, For three he strays, For three he stays. I stayed and I was one among the nines. Arias for my Giovanni, thirty minutes for the thirsty, it was over too quickly, at the gramercy. leaving my moods in the open for a mild controversy. Cozily encased like in a womb, attached to you by an umbilical cord, no matter the type of chord, It was clear you were singing, through Mozart’s vocal cord. I was ready to swim in place with you, to be drenched in musical shower, with open skies as my shower curtain, come cleanse my soul, as my heart tugs, at your tone in nature.
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Nov 23, 2019
Nov 23, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC
Torn by a tune
Perfect purity doesn’t persist, even exist-- Not even in children. Who have to learn to grow a soul, Share their toys, Not emotionally blackmail, And understand death and that pain to others is real. Still I feel as if my own childhood’s eyes Wouldn’t recognize, wide and impressionable As watercolor lilies, The woman with eyes fogged From overpopulation of troubles. Green grass to jaded. Self-doubt blooms like the flower It would be ashamed to be. Rushing up like a seed that feeds In the darkness, in, perversely, the gut. Unknown in youth, it towers, Then plateaus, in ego. Vines of avarice mustn’t be allowed To grasp for the old selfishness. Placidity can’t be tranquilly accepted When it slips cozily into the bed to invasively smother hard-wished-for dreams and hard-won values. Go the hearty and fertile ground in the middle, For there we all have our hope.
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Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
Kinder and Gardeners of All Ages
Somebody, for his silk-soft *** would need a golden toilet to sit on, cozily smoking grass, though "the pigs might easily spoil it"; a man of action he surely was, notwithstanding his qualms (because raised by nuns) he lent his hand to the saving of treasures of the land. (Far-fetched though the role of the late PM be, he sure would have farted contentedly.) https://edition.cnn.com/style/article/uk-blenheim-palace-gold-toilet-scli-gbr-intl/index.html
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Sep 17, 2019
Sep 17, 2019 at 3:44 PM UTC
That Stolen Toilet of Blenheim Palace
The silence is suddenly broken by a subtle crackling of my smile and I can almost see you there sleeping cozily in the center of my bed, and I can almost feel you there spinning slowly throughout my head, swimming in all of my thoughts and wrapped up in my blankets and I'm struck with such glee because I know that you belong to me.
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Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
Untitled
I had no idea what was happening Tucked cozily beneath a blanket, You had your arm around my waist My legs were on your lap And my head rested on your chest I hadn't the faintest idea then That deep within, my heart started to mend
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Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 7:17 AM UTC
No Pain, No Gain
Perhaps in another life I will not be staring at the moon Whispering things I should have told you Or beg you to stay But instead I will be Lying cozily in your arms And I'll be the one answering Instead of the one asking
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May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 11:14 AM UTC
Untitled