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"divinest" poems
XLI I thank all who have loved me in their hearts, With thanks and love from mine. Deep thanks to all Who paused a little near the prison-wall To hear my music in its louder parts Ere they went onward, each one to the mart’s Or temple’s occupation, beyond call. But thou, who, in my voice’s sink and fall When the sob took it, thy divinest Art’s Own instrument didst drop down at thy foot To hearken what I said between my tears, . . . Instruct me how to thank thee! Oh, to shoot My soul’s full meaning into future years, That they should lend it utterance, and salute Love that endures, from Life that disappears!
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Sonnet 41 - I Thank All Who Have Loved Me In Their Hearts
317 Just so—Jesus—raps— He—doesn’t weary— Last—at the Knocker— And first—at the Bell. Then—on divinest tiptoe—standing— Might He but spy the lady’s soul— When He—retires— Chilled—or weary— It will be ample time for—me— Patient—upon the steps—until then— Hears! I am knocking—low at thee.
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Just so—Jesus—raps
435 Much Madness is divinest Sense— To a discerning Eye— Much Sense—the starkest Madness— ’Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail— Assent—and you are sane— Demur—you’re straightway dangerous— And handled with a Chain—
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Much Madness is divinest Sense
Know you fair, on what you look; Divinest love lies in this book, Expecting fire from your eyes, To kindle this his sacrifice. When your hands untie these strings, Think you’have an angel by th’ wings. One that gladly will be nigh, To wait upon each morning sigh. To flutter in the balmy air Of your well-perfumed prayer. These white plumes of his he’ll lend you, Which every day to heaven will send you, To take acquaintance of the sphere, And all the smooth-fac’d kindred there. And though Herbert’s name do owe These devotions, fairest, know That while I lay them on the shrine Of your white hand, they are mine.
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On Mr. G. Herbert’s Book
Do not tie my wings, Says the honey-bee; Do not bind my wings, Leave them glad and free. If I fly abroad, If I keep afar, Humming all the day, Where wild blossoms are, 'Tis to bring you sweets, Rich as summer joy, Clear--as gold and glass; The divinest toy That the god's have left, Is the pretty hive, Where a maiden reigns, And the busy thrive. If you bar my way, Your delight is gone, No more honey-gems; From the heather borne; No more tiny thefts, From your neighbor's rose, Who were glad to guess Where its sweetness goes. Let the man of arts Ply his plane and glass; Let the vapors rise, Let the liquor pass; Let the dusky slave Till the southern fields; Not the task of both Such a treasure yields; Honey, Pan ordained, Food for gods and men, Only in my way Shall you store again. Leave me to my will While the bright days glow, While the sleepy flowers Quicken as I go. When the pretty ones Look to me no more, Dead, beneath your feet, Crushed and dabbled o'er; In my narrow cell I will fold my wing; Sink in dark and chill, A forgotten thing. Can you read the song Of the suppliant bee? 'Tis a poet's soul, Asking liberty.
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The Bee's Song
Atop a clam, divinest pearl! invites me to peer, enchanting girl eyes fluttering and beckoning casts sweetest spell, magic, enchanting a magnificent array of colour ripples through her enveloping aura towards her my rapt mind swims in her sight my spirit chimes throughout the days and hours Mermaid makes the heart gestate Makes my spirit feel elate I want my heart to waltz with hers Out of its spiritual bars Upon the shores we'd frolic, play Soothing, quelling fear, dismay With her I am engorged on bliss Touched by the light of luck's kiss All throughout the day O Mermaid Queen, they doubt thy truth A kind of beauty rare, forsooth But rainbows shine in spite of faith Suns blaze in spite of eyes embrace The world is good (and good is true) And more good for the life of you You are a beacon of hope and joy Could inspire the rise and fall of troy With heaven's light imbued
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Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 9:57 PM UTC
The Mermaid Queen
The doctor ... says...  I have a serious issue... He say it's life threatening you guys ... I don't know what I'm gonna do... All this research This inaccurate treatment Being high to distract my lows Not really knowing what to suppose He gave me a date... He claims it's an estimate, but if I keep feeling like this; this could be it. He sends me home each visit, telling me that this is rare, but common It happens, but don't normally conclude in such trauma His coat, or stethoscope doesn't always mean that he has the antidote ... As for the symptoms: •The dry skin, She used to help apply the Shea Butter •My hair all over my head, It was funny when she brushed my hair, she didn't know what she was doing •Long nails, She HATED that •Morning breath the entire day I would chase her all over the house trying to give her a kiss •chill bumps •shivers •teeth chattering We used to cuddle to stay warm, so we didn't use the furnace •starvation •no appetite She cooked 5-7 times throughout the week •restless I could not fall asleep until she got in from work •angry •outburst • complaining She always said "ahhh shut up and get over it punk" •Listening to the talk radio station LIPZ 102.5 to be exact I gave her my undivided attention •heartache I loved her That's why it's difficult for Dr. Carmichael to prescribe me medicine How am I suppose to treat this? There's no special enough specialist No surgeon so precise Not even the smartest scientist, divinest pastor, or The most thoughtful psychiatrist that can save my life... I'm doomed All I do is sit on the couch in the house that will soon be a tomb ... My hope is fading My pulse has feinted My arms are folded My back is ***** Back and forth My rock is steady ... My soul is light And my eyes is heavy I'm taking the departure hard ... Love can be deadly
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Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 10:01 PM UTC
We're gathered here today...
The doctor ... says...  I have a serious issue... He say it's life threatening you guys ... I don't know what I'm gonna do... All this research This inaccurate treatment Being high to distract my lows Not really knowing what to suppose He gave me a date... He claims it's an estimate, but if I keep feeling like this; this could be it. He sends me home each visit, telling me that this is rare, but common It happens, but don't normally conclude in such trauma His coat, or stethoscope doesn't always mean that he has the antidote ... As for the symptoms: •The dry skin, She used to help apply the Shea Butter •My hair all over my head, It was funny when she brushed my hair, she didn't know what she was doing •Long nails, She HATED that •Morning breath the entire day I would chase her all over the house trying to give her a kiss •chill bumps •shivers •teeth chattering We used to cuddle to stay warm, so we didn't use the furnace •starvation •no appetite She cooked 5-7 times throughout the week •restless I could not fall asleep until she got in from work •angry •outburst • complaining She always said "ahhh shut up and get over it punk" •Listening to the talk radio station LIPZ 102.5 to be exact I gave her my undivided attention •heartache I loved her That's why it's difficult for Dr. Carmichael to prescribe me medicine How am I suppose to treat this? There's no special enough specialist No surgeon so precise Not even the smartest scientist, divinest pastor, or The most thoughtful psychiatrist that can save my life... I'm doomed All I do is sit on the couch in the house that will soon be a tomb ... My hope is fading My pulse has feinted My arms are folded My back is ***** Back and forth My rock is steady ... My soul is light And my eyes is heavy I'm taking the departure hard ... Love can be deadly
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It is a majestic evening, iridescent and light The witching hour is still as a stone The moon ascends to her celestial throne A pearl in the sky, the divinest delight! The starry climes brood over the sky See! The cosmos is stirring, awake And doth with its infinite movement make The fluid Universe that flutters by Dear Children, Dear Children, who in thy happy dance Appear untainted by the ways of men Don’t let the world turn you cold: Thou seize divine fire all day, all year God is speechless with love for your soul so bold Which gets to go wild again and again
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Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 4:55 PM UTC
It is a majestic evening, iridescent and light
MUCH madness is divinest sense, for the naturally inclined toward the colorful; hence – a world where matter lies in erroneous order: the nagging flies are, stately kings – kings who fall to reverence when, the cavalcade of ignorant childs whisper truths like ‘this one is mine’, in tones of such finality they are proclaimed as law; their confidence boundless and raw with unabashed passion – while, the worms remain unturned in beds, mouthing silently unspoken poems.
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Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
MUCH Madness
'Tis horrible to wield a word To slight and slander me 'Tis better to deploy them For fable, myth and story There are maddest multitudes in words Contain divinest sense It's possible to convey magic In every single tense But bastardize words cynically If you really must But know in slight you've broken The cherishable crystal of my trust A bard is hard to pigeonhole So, really, mate, try it all you like I'll be waxing lyrical While you're still playing psych
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Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
'Tis Horrible To Wield A Word
Ah, today I was called to do the saddest thing: an old couple had died in a car accident and it was my job as their executor to open their separate wills and fulfill their wishes and the other lawyers stood around moaning: *Aren’t they the divinest couple ever? 40 years together and they died together* And I read their wills, and the Old Man's said: *This I crave be inscribed on my wife’s grave: Cold As Ever* And in her will, the Old Woman said: *This I crave be inscribed on my husband’s grave: At Last, Stiff Like Never*
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Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 8:12 AM UTC
last words in the will
A veil of light and ashen grey invites me to peer in to stranger day fluttering and beckoning behind it what is happening? a smorgasboard of molten colour winks at me, summons me near I become swept up, in hurricane that rolls and waves across the plane of one reality in to another 'Tis here I feel my spirit brew imbued with bright, celestial hue deep in hinterlands of enchanting joy where I ravish these pleasures coy too overwhelmed to fight, resist the very light with which I'm kissed from famished eyes I am engorged my tender spirit enlarged on trajectory of bliss On horizon, magic gestates Leaves my spirit insatiate Adorned by sparks phantasms brood Lifting like hot air balloon my mood Between chasm of magic and reality Goes visions with conviviality Enchanting the mind with true force Summoned from natures magic purse Which sprinkles havoc on normality Forms of Beauty riddle my eye With their heavenly symmetry Godesseses of divinest shine Beam soul-deep, from theirs to mine Behind the veil of usual routine Lies awesome truth with golden sheen Nourishing the spirits belly To magical shores the spirit ferried Enamoured of most lucid of dreams
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Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 5:07 AM UTC
Beyond The Veil
Because I could dare to believe, The angel Lennon stooped for me, The contact between two kindred souls, And eternity, We quickly flew - he knew not slow, And I had climbed his wings, With passion and with ardour, Most cherishable of things, We passed the earthen angels bright, Blake, Buddha and Ganesha, We passed them diligently working, With Love's light enmeshed, And then, upon a lightbeam, We met Angels of the sky, Chasing light that follows, Where those bonny Angels fly, We paused before a God that seemed, Like Shiva, bright, supreme, Painted like the cosmos, With pallet got from dream, And then to cosmic churning, To hear divinest truths, The music madly burning, With beauty rare, forsooth, Since then - I am an angel too Guardian of the South, Feels good to me that I strove to fly, Right back in to spiritual health.
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May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 10:08 AM UTC
Because I could dare to believe
From whom did I dare seize the fire Which casts light on truths to be sung to lyres The revelations are suffice to inspire Paeans to be sung around the pyres There was thunder in my brain When truth cantered inwards like a train Albion pointing to the warriors slain And to his wound, his immortal pain From the torch the truth doth bright exude A light that is a sort of useful food That renders visions in which sense brews That with divinest meaning woos Promethea a warrior magician I am also the strangest of physicians Bearing heavy the weight of contrition When faced with the plans of the worlds morticians I traverse my path to get my heroine On this troubled, but essential quest I begin There is nothing that we can win But we can redeem our conscience of the devil's sin But Devils' sham religiosity will not survive the ravage of time Earth's rustic children are the truly sublime To dare to strike them down in their prime Is the most heinous of mortal crimes O, my god, I bear to you The angel, the angel, spirit true Through my heart a warm breeze blew For having seen a soul so true Now you can ascend the stair And find your way to perfect care In the castles of the air And find peace in angels luscious blare
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Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
A Promethean Odyssey
Whilst I was sat, indifferent, no care, A golden aura drenched, suffused the air, Behind me, felt the aura manifest, Distinguished by its golden colour blessed, An angel who'd sung woe for me, alack, With gentle pressure rapped upon my back, Showed divinest beauty of my words, Said my poetry admit me to God's herd, In time the angel said My name is John, My cheeks flushed rosy, killed the pallor wan, I could tell from his enchanted drawl, The angel John had come from Liverpool, Then he invited me upon his wings, To meet the angels, listen how they sing, Grafting for Peace, a team aspiring, Rushing round the earth in golden rings, The earthen angels with loves light enmeshed, Their names were blake and Buddha and ganesh, Shooting angel message like gods darts, In to sad, beleaguered human hearts, Then to meet archangels of the sky, Chasing light where bonny angels fly, Then to shiva, beaming, proud, supreme, Painted with a pallet got from dream, Then to cosmic churning, tuneful truth, Knelled out sure with beauty rare forsooth, To most of us the blessed truth, aloof, But I listened, and wisdom I sure hath, Beyond seismic ocean, something more, A goddess, deva, Kali, beauty sure, Against the demons in incessant war, A goddess irresistible to adore, She, the truest vision of myself, Tis good I strove to fly to spirits health, And trusted John to climb upon his wings, For he I sing, most cherishable of things
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Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
Upon the coming of an angel
Eve!  Alas my vicious mind overrides this place Of sheltered freedom and tacit grace  The magnificence of moments each passed by, poor As a holy tidal wave,depositing debris on the shore  I stood aimless mourning over the bygone landscape That in my head crumpled and slipped through a gape A foremost scar on my veins, coloured black  An outraged bull, ready to make an attack back Eve! O Eve!  Here I dwell so secret on a perished soul, withdrawn  From the miraculous bliss I found moments after dawn.  The Elixir of bliss slipped through my fingers to fade.  My weakened feet have no more road to wade.  Eve! O dear Eve!  Cherish this perished soul with your divinest love  Seal my eyes, heal my wound, and let me hover above.  As shiny stars are the jewel of night sky, Give your love to make my heart glorify. © Tina RSH
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Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 7:11 PM UTC
A letter to Eve
With beauty of divinest shine, Lucy's truth beams from her Heart to mine, Her lucid light of love goes apace, Touching, kissing hollow face, Giving guidance to the blind, With Love, activity refined, Most exquisite and fair of the apostles, Inspiring heart to righteous war and battle, O sweet defender of the faith, In thine flight my spirit bathes, A warrior to righteousness aligned, Bringing God's knowledge to hungry mind, Assailing tyrants wanton whim, Condemened to fate cruel and grim, Yet you live fated to sing, For eternity, on aspiring wing.
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May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 3:29 PM UTC
Lines To St Lucy
A dream goes drifting like a cloud Across a sky of molten colour Enveloped in divinest shroud Gestating for infinite hours Until harnessed to consciousness Yielded to individual mind Brought in to focus by inquisition Some dreams are mean, some are kind The individual and collective psyche Wrestle for dominance But they can be harnessed to harmony And brought in to concordance It was known to Jung that thoughts are sung By more than one sole spirit Symbols and ideas magically wrung It enlightens one to be near it It's just that one must be aware That thoughts transcend one mind If you try to perceive the ether there Untold treasures you will find
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Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC
The Collective Consciousness
Much Madness is divinest sense- To a discerning Eye- Much Sense-the starkest Madness 'Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail- Assent-and you are sane- Demur-you're straightway dangerous- And handled with a Chain- -Emily Dickinson
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Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
Much Madness
Much madness is divinest sense – An eye that hath discerned the severest madness, according to Emily’s judicious eyes, hath much sense – The starker lunacy be equated to divinity – ‘Tis common, unwritten law that we assent common beliefs And ‘tis uncommon beliefs that common law demurs – In this, as all overcome, The stoic few as she will come – Sanity hath common sanction Or, you’re forthwith a risk – Touched by a chain And bound in shame –
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Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
Much Madness is Divinest Sense
The sun inside me is dying - Fires running dry - Cosmic flame of divinest spark In my spirit's sky - Slowly losing lustre Sullied by the world - And my foolish blusters - To a devil I have shilled
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Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC
The Sun Inside Me Is Dying
On fluent wings as soft as smudges The flying spirit diligently gauges What is needed underneath By peoples on the hills and heaths O'er them she dutifully watches She is the world. It's truest hope Without her light I couldn't cope She is more omnipotent than the pope I'm tied to her with golden rope I want to fly with her in cape And feed her with a hundred grapes Her light will scare a thousand kings As her divinest music sings O'er the sweet and sinuous moors
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Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 3:13 PM UTC
Empathy For The Angel
remember, ,Dear my always fingers through tousled coils of sunhair rainlight and damp moonmusic fold foiling with heart to imbue each crisp limit of your breast with darkness–caving (in even hollow stress wear my ardorous dress though my neat closings near as like even's purpl'd tress; moves mouth: A song through silence peer immutable sound by guide to ship of cloaken choler steer toward harbors safe an' placid tides ) –i shall that lives though but only an instant of bright health live by light that speaks sing saying a chord struck by divinest stroke resonating through all your earthly sphere that and though i shall die in your chest my immortal pulse will ever lie
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Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
Untitled
With words you crushed the essence of my existence Reducing, diminishing me to your evil yoke My murdered psyche had to put up resistance So it entertained me for days with the cosmic joke Armed with the hand that God gave me I was able to transcend my piercing pain Lay the foundations of a new beginning And start my Self all over again To think that you thought you were winning That you had me scalped When I got the new beginning For having had divinest help O insight nourishes my mind After psychic assault unkind
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Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 11:55 AM UTC
With Words You Crushed The Essence Of My Existence