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"deluges" poems
Negativity is meaningful. It's detrimental and cynical. It deluges inside our heads. Making us feel insecure, unwanted and useless. They will prosper and thrive to reach out and make us feel smaller than them, to get inside of our minds and make us look in the mirror and see what we don't want to see. It eventually assassinates our minds. It dwells on top of the positive thoughts. But YOU need to remember that YOU are worth more than anything in this competitive, sick world.
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Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
True meanings
A mind of a totalitarian man spreads his desires in every winged beat. His heart desires once more, that every lasting beat. Fading to black he seems to admire his own shadows more.. Truly diluted between then lines of fascination, nay here, never there, His heart desires once more, that every lasting beat. Crying the weeping delusions of his mind, his tears only resemble black. His heart desires once more, that every lasting beat. Shattered deluges of fractured thoughts, how one must weep at every disturbed thought. His heart no more desires that ever lasting beat.
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Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 5:28 AM UTC
Totalitarian man
*Drops of tears Desolately clinging To the eyelashes Holds the melancholy Befallen tragedy Oozing from the soul Reflecting the inner world Waiting for those hands To wipe them away Before it deluges The whole world*
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Silent Tears
Flurries of enlightenment, following blizzards without dreams Sprinklings of epiphanies, accompanied by deluges of rambling screams Gentle winds of understanding, conjoined sand storms of despair Clear ponds of insight, in the wake tsunamis of nightmares No clear or concise light not without the glare Thoughts snatched from eyes of hurricanes not common, but so rare
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Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
Prose and Drought
You are full of deluges, thunder lips and lightning eyes, footsteps punctured by light claps, voice parted by turbulent winds, You are the last light in this greying darkness, the last calm before these endless howls, the eye of the storm. You catch me in this mud-tracked ground battered by wind and rain, umbrella turned and turning out-inside, and inside-out like the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. You watch my knees begin to shake and steady them with your glance. You make me wish away the rain dances, the raincoat choruses caroming the river-ran streets in the middle of day like a colourful charade, the desperate songs and car horn honks and fog-lit buses and street lamps piercing through this watery veneer. Am I lost in Your sea of silence? I don’t know, but I know that I have drowned in these storms before. And I know, that my cheeks run with Your rainwater now.
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Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
Rainwater
a cloudburst, penetrated our world with thrusts as deep as the eye of our storm, coasting over us in heaved passion; unleashed with each dip and sway bombarding... our core in showered felicity; tasting euphoria's longing, titillated to the tips of our toes; saturating her soft spots, her rain and I were one curled, pelvis to hip sliding in out as hands caressed in rhythm, wanting to taste her rain once again; cultivating in her delicacy, nibbling tautness; remembering moments our lips said hi besieging me... as her raindrops seeped, causing our steam to rise, each drop in hunger; I'd delve deeper into oblivion,losing myself in raged deluges of her rain's cloudburst...
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Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
Rain's Cloudburst
Sometimes you pick a pair of fish and bread and feed thousands, and at others master flautist, make umbrellas of hills protecting us from deluges of wrath. I have walked to the lonely peaks where stones have become animated bearing witness to the nights of wonder, when you poured forth your love, and drank of the poisoned chalice. Yea, even by the well where burdened of sin I sat down, and drank of the springs of Grace. And I do not wish to hear anything, but relive the awe seeing you speak, as one with authority, passion of the heavens!
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Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
Bearing witness
Sing thee, for heart’s content Lyrical ballad set to heart’s tune Finery draped over each note Harmonious waves of happiness Travels far and wide, beyond Birds perched at your window Sweet as honey, soothing to ears Heart and soul in harmonious bind Waves of euphoria, deluges you An existence of utmost finery In sync with singing heartbeats Dancing feet are testimony Sing thee, till you find a resting place
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
Heart’s Tune
silhouette of sails breezed through the twilight hour, the working man was long aroused from his sleep, long strips of inked paper billowed out into the dank alley, infused with the rotten aroma of yesterday. the paper-thin veil draped over the construction site, the working men had their silhouettes enslaved to the sheet, an arrow of shadow shot through the muted screen of the cinema, a line of laundry zigzagged the sky overhead, ********** pages of blue, the rickshaw man was crossing stairs, toeing winding train tracks, children nimbly dashed past danger a fisherman was dreaming of secret deluges, he would oar his way through the overflown streets, catching a dim sum box or two a seagull fixed its hungry gaze on you, chewing stick you leaned on the cart you have been pushing, facing habour
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Jul 27, 2022
Jul 27, 2022 at 2:22 PM UTC
Old Hong Kong
I'm done The words not there The well is dry What to do What to do Do all know, the agony of, the parched soul, of the time, of never raining Where does, the rain abide, released by storms, deluges bringing, undesired by many Hope for rain, dance for rain, leaping into clouds, ascending, grasping, for the rain Please Lord, Send a gentle rain, water for the flowers, of the soul Pray for rain Pray for rain © 2017 Jim Davis
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Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 1:40 PM UTC
Water for the Soul
My limbs are gushing while I walk down towards the seaside pier, these endings and these beginnings ascending again into mere cycles, the rising and falling chest, beating heart, transcending I walk hand in hand with you, restated love, the new and the old clothes we wear wrapped around our breathless poses our heads filled with thoughts of rose ridden gardens, and of course children dancing, playing games between our spacious Pohutakawa branches where you first taught me about romantics without that rudimentary triteness and you sitting, coffee in hand at the picnic table swearing revolution is never possible to I dancing, remarking “you are such the cynic” before grabbing you and twirling you faster than the earth rotates As we drift closer to the sea the inconstant wind winds the clock to 10pm, the minutes restoring those now withered days of woollen coats, new music and Dunedin I would stand behind you while you played the flute thinking of that time where we played in the rhododendrons till dark; folding time folding into my arms, the sky white and blue juxtaposed against the trees darkened spikes explore the sea what was it? me, me, me, of course, I see and I remember the melody (lets go under the covers we can play games in the dark we could even try adding to those stars on your ceiling) so now, again, for a moment, we reappear in this hour, this walk, this air stilted, shaking we resurface, and soak in the watery soils of previous deluges become something overwhelming, something insoluble here we are, on the Pier at noon, dazed, defused by a familiar grip on the fingers index snug between the ring “take me to the end” “but darling, we are going further than that” before we jump we tie our balloon to the pole and promise to return, on horses painted silver and brass Hey, nice to see you here come with me lets watch the sunrise from the beach, I think I sense a revolution stirring
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Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC
Reunions
My limbs are gushing while I walk down towards the seaside pier, these endings and these beginnings ascending again into mere cycles, the rising and falling chest, beating heart, transcending I walk hand in hand with you, restated love, the new and the old clothes we wear wrapped around our breathless poses our heads filled with thoughts of rose ridden gardens, and of course children dancing, playing games between our spacious Pohutakawa branches where you first taught me about romantics without that rudimentary triteness and you sitting, coffee in hand at the picnic table swearing revolution is never possible to I dancing, remarking “you are such the cynic” before grabbing you and twirling you faster than the earth rotates As we drift closer to the sea the inconstant wind winds the clock to 10pm, the minutes restoring those now withered days of woollen coats, new music and Dunedin I would stand behind you while you played the flute thinking of that time where we played in the rhododendrons till dark; folding time folding into my arms, the sky white and blue juxtaposed against the trees darkened spikes explore the sea what was it? me, me, me, of course, I see and I remember the melody (lets go under the covers we can play games in the dark we could even try adding to those stars on your ceiling) so now, again, for a moment, we reappear in this hour, this walk, this air stilted, shaking we resurface, and soak in the watery soils of previous deluges become something overwhelming, something insoluble here we are, on the Pier at noon, dazed, defused by a familiar grip on the fingers index snug between the ring “take me to the end” “but darling, we are going further than that” before we jump we tie our balloon to the pole and promise to return, on horses painted silver and brass Hey, nice to see you here come with me lets watch the sunrise from the beach, I think I sense a revolution stirring
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marks upon the skin no feline could make-bittersweet scarlet deluges the hate the frenzy shall earn a place by her heart she paints admist her blood; calling it art violation of the windpipe and she’s loosing more weight tries to forget the scars that he’s made mother can’t help, father will tell is she a produce of the devil? she is immersed inside hell she instills the remarks and fights for the blade    "how fleshy she looks, her skin is too large" cannot help but weep, the words create torment now ***** manifests, the gut-wrenching scent she lies in the mess, too faint to take charge the edge chews in deep, her pulse has decreased so close the sun, her heartache will cease the red stains tile, but she will not weep her organs have slowed drowning in sweet, sticky, red wine mother crawls close, sees her design her beating is done, all doors have been closed
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Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 9:36 PM UTC
She Shall Fall One Last Time
Trepidation deluges my pneuma in its state How did I ever ebb this far? It’s like I never sensed accomplishment My reason? Such frailty in making. I can’t ever invent an inkling of a use! But in the case that I could, here I’ll be Faltering into a trance Of conventional panic, but dreadful still, Dull pain in a rush, As I know I lost my love, I’ve never accomplished anything Because I’ve never had the courage to
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Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
Simple Fear (A simple poem)
***stuck in a darkly whirling vortex spiraling out of control landed in twister's head heady twirls of whiplash'd senses tides grasp in the rolling upsurge rushes in to suffocate my breath ripples of truth flood upon the crest heaving gushes of a rocking influx loop'd in this turbulent sea convolutions bring me to my knees these polluted waters endure takes down this helix, conclusive in tsunami's surge final disturbance overwhelm indecisive flux blows frigid winds to engulf emotions deluges of insanity's pleas silently shaken, obliterated by an overpowering plunge wiped out in a drench of overflowing despair***
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Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
~you are the ocean that causes my last breath
While a howl rang and hung in the night's sky, The clouds opened and surged inwards, Thunder boomed magnificently, Nature's wonderful horror, Only a glimpse really into the heart, The torrid splendor off coastal plains, Might deluges and droughts, Calculating Cosmos unifying existense, Galactic accidents, Mutations unique of the flesh, Marbled temples with high ceilings, Wiped off in an instant, The LightningMan Cry,
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Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 1:06 AM UTC
BLACK. RED.
O God! by Qateel Shifai loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Torture my heart, O God! If you so desire, leave me a madman, O God! Have I asked for the moon and stars? Enlighten my heart and give my eyes sight, O God! We have all seen this disk called the sun, Now give us a real dawn, O God! Either relieve our pains here on this earth Or make my heart granite, O God! Hereafter by Qateel Shifai loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Since we met and parted, how can we sleep hereafter? Lost in each others' remembrance, must we not weep hereafter? Deluges of our tears will keep us awake all night: Our eyelashes strung with strands of pearls, hereafter! Thoughts of our separation will sear our grieving hearts Unless we immerse them in the cooling moonlight, hereafter! If the storm also deceives us, crying Qateel!, We will scuttle our boats near forsaken shores, hereafter. Keywords/Tags: Urdu, translation, translations, God, heart, eyes, sight, madman, moon, stars, tears, pearls, mrburdu
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Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 5:02 AM UTC
Qateel Shifai translations
*Ye shall subvert me For perdition Abides in the Sylvan Shrine, In the Solar-Bastion that is I. Yet Ye shall see Phantasmagoria Arising From the Eclipsing Despot Of the Archean Moon. **Dreams Are But a Figment of Life: Tender        And           Rare;                    Instinctive.** The Infinitude deluges        The wombed embankments of mine soul,            As sprawled, ―I lie drenched in nostalgia      Of the abeyance of atrophy Granted betwixt thine epicene arms.* ―Effloresce my Coruscating Pearl       For you are Cosmic,      Subliminal,      Ethereal,      Temporal.
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Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 4:04 AM UTC
Dreams Are But A Figment of Life (Originally Written in August of 2017)
i klump in mod galoshes among the enigma of raindrops and catch metaphors on the tip of my tongue. Swallow into my soul the beautiful unaccented verbiage. as fragments of poems wash down from the sky in streams of kaleidoscopic complications. As i tromp in puddles of letters as i run down the wet serendipitous streets of visionary realms... Griffens hide under the umbrales of trees glowering for they do not like to be pelted with the symbologies of deluges. This make griffons mystifying glowing leaves flutter chanting, and skinny dip in the trellises of rain drops. And at the end of all spelling. i romp among the rays of the rainbows that spring down the corridors of clouds as unnamed poems stir & grow up into the  clouds and wait for the storm of creativity to begin again in a paper sky. and wait for the storms of creativity to begin and dispense gems to hide in heads of uncanny eerie children that greetings fold space into verses
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Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
Visionary Realms
Water laden clouds burst! Here now, comes the rain, but I’m loving the ‘liquid sunshine’ and ignoring the weather’s torrential bane. Despite deluges of Life’s storms, enjoy humanity and have some fun. Now comes the rain, washing over us anew, as the Spirit of the Father’s Son. Now comes the reign of Christ - Embrace Him and His Holiness! Be protected by the Rock’s cleft and submerged under His Righteousness. Be always filled with His eternal joy, taking up the Heavenly refrain - Tears of the just and unjust continue to flow. Move past sorrows and see; lo! Here comes the rain. _________________________________________________ (chorus) O Lord, send the rain – We can weather the storm! Cover us with righteousness; keep lives from being further torn. Author Note: Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2010, All rights reserved.
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Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 6:23 AM UTC
Poem: Comes the Rain
It never rains in Georgia Though my cloudy head is gray And even in November suns It thunders in the fray Of my peachy state of mind And the beaches I convey Behind hurricane frustrations As my calm trees start to sway In the coastal winds of longing For my tempests kept at bay Such deluges would be cleansing A most vehement display Of my angriest storm surges That could blow this world away But it never rains in Georgia And I'm keeping it that way
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Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
It Never Rains in Georgia
Poetry comes from the heart ink less inspiration, intravenous deluges, dammed up in the veins waiting to be transfused.
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Nov 2, 2021
Nov 2, 2021 at 9:40 AM UTC
Donor
I love the sound of the highway Filling in the void between voices, Like a sense of insurance, a reminder that there are always people Out on their way somewhere. Without so much as a care left in place, Perhaps for reasons more spiteful than just, The only times I feel like I’m not being forgotten Is when I’m leaving something else in the dust The sound of the road means there’s a place to go. A next, a forward, but not always for me. Of all the times in the world to not feel lost, It’s when I’m headed nowhere in particular, Just listening to the march forth others make. When headlights meet street lights, And requiescence deluges the world, Just before silence cracks through my mind, Comes rumbling clear the ambience of the road.
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May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 5:12 AM UTC
road ambience
The jade in your eyes reminds me that life finds a way, that what we seek grows in the cracks in the concrete we so desperately avoid. That the whispers we exchange act as incantations for the roots to break through the sidewalk beneath us. First, entangling our legs before surrounding our arms, forcing them to redistribute the warmth we've harbored for so long. Like ritual, consummated by amalgamated breaths that shine through a winter night, our touch is the conduit through which color deluges a reminiscent scene, one I've lived a million times and would live a million more if I could. We create significance in each pause between words and the harshest truths fade in what we leave unsaid. But melancholy still lives in the margins of the romance that finds its way through my corroded vocal chords, guiding every movement of my fingers as they brush through the gold of your hair.
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Mar 19, 2021
Mar 19, 2021 at 5:02 PM UTC
Jade/Gold