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"elysian" poems
Hello Friends & Happy Holi to all my hello poetry friends ,Writers & Family.. May this holi brings you and your family a very bright, colourful joyful holi, With love of Peace, happiness , prosperity & success in Every ones life.. Today writing this letter by expressing my Feeling for one my favourite Indian festival, I know it is strange but this is what my excitement is all about.. what you like the most express it by Writing or enjoy it!! Holi is a religious festival of the Hindus. Though, it is most popular in India, it is celebrated in every corner of the world as a Festival of colours. Today describing you the importance of the different colors(Gulal) of holi festival which significance your face life with a different colorful world!!. the face behind your colour are followed below: Auspicious Red Colour bright the love of happiness Divine Green colour binds you in the life of prosperity Forever Blue color bleed your soul in a Blissful world Pretty orange color mild your Elysian mind as a silence peace Beautiful Pink color scents intriguing personality of life Sunflame yellow color kisses your beautiful moment of time!!. Well colour is a beautiful life were you experience the beauty of joy, beauty of passion, beauty of love , beauty of everything that you will experience in this festival !!.come once and get yours new experience of life ....Thank-you..
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Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 8:34 AM UTC
Happy Holi!!..
In the Midnight heaven's burning Through the ethereal deeps afar Once I watch'd with restless yearning An alluring aureate star; Ev'ry eve aloft returning Gleaming nigh the Arctic Car. Mystic waves of beauty blended With the gorgeous golden rays Phantasies of bliss descended In a myrrh'd Elysian haze. In the lyre-born chords extended Harmonies of Lydian lays. And (thought I) lies scenes of pleasure, Where the free and blessed dwell, And each moment bears a treasure, Freighted with the lotos-spell, And there floats a liquid measure From the lute of Israfel. There (I told myself) were shining Worlds of happiness unknown, Peace and Innocence entwining By the Crowned Virtue's throne; Men of light, their thoughts refining Purer, fairer, than my own. Thus I mus'd when o'er the vision Crept a red delirious change; Hope dissolving to derision, Beauty to distortion strange; Hymnic chords in weird collision, Spectral sights in endless range…. Crimson burn'd the star of madness As behind the beams I peer'd; All was woe that seem'd but gladness Ere my gaze with Truth was sear'd; Cacodaemons, mir'd with madness, Through the fever'd flick'ring leer'd…. Now I know the fiendish fable The the golden glitter bore; Now I shun the spangled sable That I watch'd and lov'd before; But the horror, set and stable, Haunts my soul forevermore!
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Astrophobos
O Great Goddess I Your true worshiper Crawl before your altar To beseech you Grant this poor Suffering soul Even a moments relief From the crushing weight Of this great love Its sweet agony The crippling despair All melded into one great mass of feeling O merciful Olympian Great passionate Goddess Provide succor To this lost and wand'ring devotee A glimmer of hope To tether my soul And keep the Furies at bay In the same way You granted Pygmalion's request And brought to life His marvelous statue Galatea Answer my desperate supplication Goddess of Beauty I offer my self to you I shall strive to restore Your true worship In this cursed world That has forsaken the true gods I shall bring whatever sacrifices you require If only you grant me this boon Quench a dying man's thirst Bring me up from Pluto's realm And lay me in the Elysian fields Great Goddess Hear my plea As a follower still of your descendant Gaius Julius A follower during his lifetime And a follower ever to this day I always serve your great name O Great Goddess Hear my plea Great and wonderful Goddess Venus.
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Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 5:39 AM UTC
A Prayer to Venus
inthe,exquisite; morning sure lyHer eye s exactly sit,ata little roundtable among otherlittle roundtables Her,eyes count slow(ly obstre poroustimidi ties surElyfl)oat iNg,the ofpieces ofof sunligh tof fa l l in gof throughof treesOf. (Fields Elysian The like,a)slEEping neck a breathing a ,lies (slo wlythe wom an pa)ris her flesh:wakes in little streets while exactlygir lisHlegs;play;ing;nake;D and chairs wait under the trees Fields slowly Elysian in a firmcool-Ness taxis,s.QuirM and, b etw ee nch air st ott er s thesillyold WomanSellingBalloonS In theex qui site morning, her sureLyeye s sit-ex actly her sitsat a surely!little, roundtable amongother;littleexacty round. tables, Her .eyes
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8.7k
Inthe,Exquisite;
When descends on the Atlantic The gigantic Storm-wind of the equinox, Landward in his wrath he scourges The toiling surges, Laden with seaweed from the rocks: From Bermuda’s reefs; from edges Of sunken ledges, In some far-off, bright Azore; From Bahama, and the dashing, Silver-flashing Surges of San Salvador; From the tumbling surf, that buries The Orkneyan skerries, Answering the hoarse Hebrides; And from wrecks of ships, and drifting Spars, uplifting On the desolate, rainy seas;— Ever drifting, drifting, drifting On the shifting Currents of the restless main; Till in sheltered coves, and reaches Of sandy beaches, All have found repose again. So when storms of wild emotion Strike the ocean Of the poet’s soul, erelong From each cave and rocky fastness, In its vastness, Floats some fragment of a song: From the far-off isles enchanted, Heaven has planted With the golden fruit of Truth; From the flashing surf, whose vision Gleams Elysian In the tropic clime of Youth; From the strong Will, and the Endeavor That forever Wrestle with the tides of Fate; From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered, Tempest-shattered, Floating waste and desolate;— Ever drifting, drifting, drifting On the shifting Currents of the restless heart; Till at length in books recorded, They, like hoarded Household words, no more depart.
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Seaweed
*veins of my fingers in riots of blossomed colours like threads made of lilac, lavender, blues and leafs. for the blues are essences of the Elysian skies, while lilacs, lavenders and leafs were stolen from an old man's farm every dawn the sunlit blue wept for the docile stars' hide I knock my knuckles red and wild, like the raspberries from the monsieur's farm my chin against the beige, I gaze to where the magpies talk too loudly on the garden moist swollen and offended by the loud chirps of boisterous dins, the grouchy neighbour cry. I fill my baskets with wild things and papers, I have cheese and juices, fruits and sweet carrots. I have peach trees on my nails for jam I have cherries in my toes for pie I have snows in my lapin's soul for some ice creams I have poppies in my worn pants for a good sight And there's even vineyards of all Verona in my mind the ribbons on the hat loom into the gardens' tunnel; I have herb gardens, I have secret gardens  And I have my old books and pens in there. when my laces are riven, the embroidered flowers are not. the canvas shoes is painted in petrichors and soil my dresses go tattered, sewn with patches into the vines, thorns and russet throats I lilt and leap against smells of rustic wood pencils and redolent flowers There, under a green willow is where to sit and devour wisdom and to drink some saccharine wine with mon lapin and maybe some picnic pies. The abominable tremors will be gone, My morn soul diving into fairy pools of sensuous europhias.*
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Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
Picnic Garden
*veins of my fingers in riots of blossomed colours like threads made of lilac, lavender, blues and leafs. for the blues are essences of the Elysian skies, while lilacs, lavenders and leafs were stolen from an old man's farm every dawn the sunlit blue wept for the docile stars' hide I knock my knuckles red and wild, like the raspberries from the monsieur's farm my chin against the beige, I gaze to where the magpies talk too loudly on the garden moist swollen and offended by the loud chirps of boisterous dins, the grouchy neighbour cry. I fill my baskets with wild things and papers, I have cheese and juices, fruits and sweet carrots. I have peach trees on my nails for jam I have cherries in my toes for pie I have snows in my lapin's soul for some ice creams I have poppies in my worn pants for a good sight And there's even vineyards of all Verona in my mind the ribbons on the hat loom into the gardens' tunnel; I have herb gardens, I have secret gardens  And I have my old books and pens in there. when my laces are riven, the embroidered flowers are not. the canvas shoes is painted in petrichors and soil my dresses go tattered, sewn with patches into the vines, thorns and russet throats I lilt and leap against smells of rustic wood pencils and redolent flowers There, under a green willow is where to sit and devour wisdom and to drink some saccharine wine with mon lapin and maybe some picnic pies. The abominable tremors will be gone, My morn soul diving into fairy pools of sensuous europhias.*
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27
_las mujeres nacen de la tierra en la gloria de la más alta_ dys·to·pi·an/disˈtōpēən/adjective: dystopian:                                relating to or denoting an imagined place                    or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad,       typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one;                _"the dystopian future of a society bereft of reason"_ noun: dystopian;                                plural noun: dystopians: a person who advocates or describes an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad; "a lot of things those dystopians feared did not come true" [A dystopia from the Greek δυσ- "bad" & τόπος "place"; alternatively, _cacotopia, kakotopia_], or simply anti-utopia;      a community or society that is undesirable or frightening;  It is translated as "not-good place" &     is an antonym of utopia,                       a term coined by Sir Thomas More par·a·dise/ˈperəˌdīs/noun noun: paradise;                  plural noun: paradises in some religions; heaven as the ultimate abode of the just, heaven, the kingdom of heaven, the heavenly kingdom, Elysium, the Elysian Fields, Valhalla, Avalon;                                   "the souls in paradise" the abode of Adam and Eve before the Fall in the biblical account of Creation; the Garden of Eden/noun: Paradise, Eden "Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise" an ideal or idyllic place or State; "the surrounding countryside is a streetwalker's paradise" Utopia, Shangri-La, heaven, idyll, nirvana;                                                            "a tropical paradise"   bliss, heaven, ecstasy, delight, joy, happiness, nirvana, heaven on earth                  _a ********** who seeks customers on the street_                                        "this is sheer paradise!" Middle English:     from Old French paradis, via ecclesiastical Latin from Greek paradeisos ‘enclosed royal park,’       from Avestan pairidaēza ‘enclosure, park.’                                                                  _Superficies terræ puella_
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Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
dystopian paradise [& streetwalkers]
_las mujeres nacen de la tierra en la gloria de la más alta_ dys·to·pi·an/disˈtōpēən/adjective: dystopian:                                relating to or denoting an imagined place                    or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad,       typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one;                _"the dystopian future of a society bereft of reason"_ noun: dystopian;                                plural noun: dystopians: a person who advocates or describes an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad; "a lot of things those dystopians feared did not come true" [A dystopia from the Greek δυσ- "bad" & τόπος "place"; alternatively, _cacotopia, kakotopia_], or simply anti-utopia;      a community or society that is undesirable or frightening;  It is translated as "not-good place" &     is an antonym of utopia,                       a term coined by Sir Thomas More par·a·dise/ˈperəˌdīs/noun noun: paradise;                  plural noun: paradises in some religions; heaven as the ultimate abode of the just, heaven, the kingdom of heaven, the heavenly kingdom, Elysium, the Elysian Fields, Valhalla, Avalon;                                   "the souls in paradise" the abode of Adam and Eve before the Fall in the biblical account of Creation; the Garden of Eden/noun: Paradise, Eden "Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise" an ideal or idyllic place or State; "the surrounding countryside is a streetwalker's paradise" Utopia, Shangri-La, heaven, idyll, nirvana;                                                            "a tropical paradise"   bliss, heaven, ecstasy, delight, joy, happiness, nirvana, heaven on earth                  _a ********** who seeks customers on the street_                                        "this is sheer paradise!" Middle English:     from Old French paradis, via ecclesiastical Latin from Greek paradeisos ‘enclosed royal park,’       from Avestan pairidaēza ‘enclosure, park.’                                                                  _Superficies terræ puella_
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39
The fisherman’s swapping a yarn for a yarn Under the hand of the village barber, And her in the angle of house and barn His deep-sea dory has found a harbor. At anchor she rides the sunny sod As full to the gunnel of flowers growing As ever she turned her home with cod From George’s bank when winds were blowing. And I judge from that elysian freight That all they ask is rougher weather, And dory and master will sail by fate To seek the Happy Isles together.
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The Flower Boat
Cherubim, Seraphim Watching from above, afar a flying dove; crepuscular Peace of mind in you we find, arcane Playing amongst the darkness, what we were I forgot Bairn devine, Define; Angelic promises, Demonic pride Cosmic tears, is it to ourselves we lie? Through my eyes I see the mirror of indifference Aeon-Antiquity Shadows illuminated by night, the moon the bringer of light Corona, soul. Angelic promises made in hell! Deistic dipterous demons within thee; watch 'de'skies', Demonic pride facing fears vanquishing friend or fiend The belligerent zenith a conflagerated nirvana. Inside ourselves we die, we lie for salvation; trying. You watched us in thy darkness- You took away the light; Now know more, shadows shed pain An acrimonial heaven built upon the burning of sepulchre. Tear drops of eternal rain Splashing on the doorstep of purgatory Like dew on a rose Dawn arisen, Ethereal ebullience the dream of cornucopia; An Elysian asphodel Cerulean, Azure. 1997 ELEETE J MUIR
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Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
Horizon
I crave every part of you. I lust after your lips, on my skin, gently kissing all of my pain away. Your arms wrapped around my waist, embracing me with nothing but love. I feel your pure soul radiate through you, shining into me & healing all the dark pieces of myself. Your words traveling through my mind mending the hurt I've heard in my life. Your smile brightly giving me patience & perseverance. With you, I will be okay.
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Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
elysian
A satisfied appetite is a simply joy Overlooked and simplified Like a growing urge, a salivating need That is entrancing and glorified. Everlasting for moments we call meals Forgotten in time, lingering above But the taste, the lonesome lover pushed aside Gazes afar and near wanting to be enjoyed again The young lady with a tongue of raspberry delight And the matured widow with darkened cacao lips Ripening nectar of a sliced peach center Halved and topped with mascarpone crème The man with a skin of caramel glaze Caressing and savoring With a fragrance and scent Of hazelnut coffee indulgence and sin In the pursuit of a brief love affair What oral sensation did my taste buds want? My odyssey of gustatory endeavors await Through the seas of lined people and waiting staff Generous portions and humble pies Decadent desserts so rich you’ll die Vine cherry tomatoes sliced and sauté Over al dente rigatoni in a roasted cashew sauce A robust aroma and savory appeal Basil leaves with garlic strips Olive oil to top the surreal Hubristic meatball aborigine Elysian cuisine or many dreams Teasing the senses, warming the pit Of flowing pleasures And tingling fingertips Without moral measures And succulent wines Rotisserie lamb falling of the bone Seasoned with Sicilian herbs And paired with broiled asparagus Drizzled with lemon juice And a glass of Merlot Spices I hardly know Lachrymose apologies beside a bottle of faded sorrows With love there is pain, passion endured through the names Thin soups, flavorless and dull, feeding street-thrown bums Breathing hard against the delicatessen glass Hickory smoked hams, pepper-seasoned pastrami Vinegar cultured pickles and hard dried salami Unpleasured, without measure, at one's leisure. Forever my endeavor Blackcurrant tea laced with slivers of gooping honey Layers of cinnamon hair atop olive skin red-painted doors with cedar trim crushed almonds mixed with hazelnut butter cream spread devilish rounds of crumbling rum-swirl bread Smells and wonders, tastes so ... oh god Divine and sublime.
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Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
Lachrymose Taste
A satisfied appetite is a simply joy Overlooked and simplified Like a growing urge, a salivating need That is entrancing and glorified. Everlasting for moments we call meals Forgotten in time, lingering above But the taste, the lonesome lover pushed aside Gazes afar and near wanting to be enjoyed again The young lady with a tongue of raspberry delight And the matured widow with darkened cacao lips Ripening nectar of a sliced peach center Halved and topped with mascarpone crème The man with a skin of caramel glaze Caressing and savoring With a fragrance and scent Of hazelnut coffee indulgence and sin In the pursuit of a brief love affair What oral sensation did my taste buds want? My odyssey of gustatory endeavors await Through the seas of lined people and waiting staff Generous portions and humble pies Decadent desserts so rich you’ll die Vine cherry tomatoes sliced and sauté Over al dente rigatoni in a roasted cashew sauce A robust aroma and savory appeal Basil leaves with garlic strips Olive oil to top the surreal Hubristic meatball aborigine Elysian cuisine or many dreams Teasing the senses, warming the pit Of flowing pleasures And tingling fingertips Without moral measures And succulent wines Rotisserie lamb falling of the bone Seasoned with Sicilian herbs And paired with broiled asparagus Drizzled with lemon juice And a glass of Merlot Spices I hardly know Lachrymose apologies beside a bottle of faded sorrows With love there is pain, passion endured through the names Thin soups, flavorless and dull, feeding street-thrown bums Breathing hard against the delicatessen glass Hickory smoked hams, pepper-seasoned pastrami Vinegar cultured pickles and hard dried salami Unpleasured, without measure, at one's leisure. Forever my endeavor Blackcurrant tea laced with slivers of gooping honey Layers of cinnamon hair atop olive skin red-painted doors with cedar trim crushed almonds mixed with hazelnut butter cream spread devilish rounds of crumbling rum-swirl bread Smells and wonders, tastes so ... oh god Divine and sublime.
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Meet me there, in the Elysian fields that hold us between a mortal and immortal time. Meet me beneath the moonlight beams, and I will wait for you in the moonlit crest banks as the gentle rains of the night transform to the thunderous cries of the gods. Meet me there, my love. Beneath these facades of skin and bone, our souls call to one another. I have known you in a place beyond space and time. So come home to me my love, and let us sail to the shores of our fateful bliss. I shall love you through the storms of time, if only you allow me to hold your hand in mine.
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Oct 12, 2023
Oct 12, 2023 at 11:01 PM UTC
Sappho, Incarnate.
Persephone smiles the darkness to light Yet I am but blinded by my own vice Twas my greed which choked her dreams of youth To ferment her innocence in sweet vermouth I bear the warriors of battles lost Greet them with warmth bitten by frost And heroes who see the journey through To the Elysian Fields where hope's renewed I cage the souls whose just deserve To feed the fires beneath the earth Tormenting Demons with whips of flames Wicked Witches Inflicting infinite pain Who am I but that which has been written thus far The God of the Netherworld, Lord of Brimstone and Fire Yet more than that, I've become and so I am So fear me not less thou be ****** Persephone smiles the darkness to light For those who dare to stand and fight...
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
APROPOS OF HADES
I remember when you took me corkscrewing down kaleidoscope tunnels for the last time mounting hummingbirds to fly through the crystallized sky air splashing against our skin like an intoxicating perfume, dizzying old daydreams, new friends like humans with spectrum eyes and hair that coiled around their shoulders like serpents, all donning galaxy cloaks reptilian monsters that sprouted raven feathers while chasing each other through smoke trees silhouettes with rusty-nail teeth who danced like leaves in a gale inky, spindly limbs reaching trying to catch the moon fingers entangled like a dreamcatcher We were more then the kings and queens, heroes, idols We were gods, ruling from the velvet mountains to the silken seas, everything beneath the candlesmoke clouds and the caramel sun that drips like wax everything shining beneath the stars made out of that smoldering purple dust we know so well always whispering to us in scritch-scratch voices reciting elegies and hush-hush songs of longing but then, reality ignites and burns beneath us as we soar, elysian fields crumbling, flames consuming the wonderland we’ve built that is nothing but a paper thin house of tarot cards the future written with seeping poison ink We are left keening in the ashes, tears to late to douse the inferno but maybe they will help some seedling fester beneath the scorched earth
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
The Paradise addiction built
Earthquake weather cracked the sky deep A cool reprise in midstreaked heat Alight with the flame of desire burning with a full pink moon   Sleeping canyons black from fire Glowed swelling, glimmering into Neptune’s fantasies, frenzied Splintered mad with sweltering gems Shaking the summer from our hair Dreams falling like stardust into the ravine As the earth said “anything can be, anything can be...” Flickering upon cracked faults Glisten and catch in the night’s sunlight Devastatingly seductive, smolderingly bright.
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Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 12:38 PM UTC
Elysian heights
My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing; And thine doth like an angel sit Beside a helm conducting it, Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing. It seems to float ever, for ever, Upon that many-winding river, Between mountains, woods, abysses, A paradise of wildernesses! Till, like one in slumber bound, Borne to the ocean, I float down, around, Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound: Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions In music’s most serene dominions; Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven. And we sail on, away, afar, Without a course, without a star, But, by the instinct of sweet music driven; Till through Elysian garden islets By thee, most beautiful of pilots, Where never mortal pinnace glided, The boat of my desire is guided: Realms where the air we breathe is love, Which in the winds and on the waves doth move, Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above. We have past Age’s icy caves, And Manhood’s dark and tossing waves, And Youth’s smooth ocean, smiling to betray: Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee Of shadow-peopled Infancy, Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day; A paradise of vaulted bowers, Lit by downward-gazing flowers, And watery paths that wind between Wildernesses calm and green, Peopled by shapes too bright to see, And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee; Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously!
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Asia: From Prometheus Unbound
Lament who will, in fruitless tears, The speed with which our moments fly; I sigh not over vanished years, But watch the years that hasten by. Look, how they come,--a mingled crowd Of bright and dark, but rapid days; Beneath them, like a summer cloud, The wide world changes as I gaze. What! grieve that time has brought so soon The sober age of manhood on! As idly might I weep, at noon, To see the blush of morning gone. Could I give up the hopes that glow In prospect like Elysian isles; And let the cheerful future go, With all her promises and smiles? The future!--cruel were the power Whose doom would tear thee from my heart. Thou sweetener of the present hour! We cannot--no--we will not part. Oh, leave me, still, the rapid flight That makes the changing seasons gay, The grateful speed that brings the night, The swift and glad return of day; The months that touch, with added grace, This little prattler at my knee, In whose arch eye and speaking face New meaning every hour I see; The years, that o'er each sister land Shall lift the country of my birth, And nurse her strength, till she shall stand The pride and pattern of the earth: Till younger commonwealths, for aid, Shall cling about her ample robe, And from her frown shall shrink afraid The crowned oppressors of the globe. True--time will seam and blanch my brow-- Well--I shall sit with aged men, And my good glass will tell me how A grizzly beard becomes me then. And then should no dishonour lie Upon my head, when I am gray, Love yet shall watch my fading eye, And smooth the path of my decay. Then haste thee, Time--'tis kindness all That speeds thy winged feet so fast: Thy pleasures stay not till they pall, And all thy pains are quickly past. Thou fliest and bear'st away our woes, And as thy shadowy train depart, The memory of sorrow grows A lighter burden on the heart.
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The Lapse Of Time
Lament who will, in fruitless tears, The speed with which our moments fly; I sigh not over vanished years, But watch the years that hasten by. Look, how they come,--a mingled crowd Of bright and dark, but rapid days; Beneath them, like a summer cloud, The wide world changes as I gaze. What! grieve that time has brought so soon The sober age of manhood on! As idly might I weep, at noon, To see the blush of morning gone. Could I give up the hopes that glow In prospect like Elysian isles; And let the cheerful future go, With all her promises and smiles? The future!--cruel were the power Whose doom would tear thee from my heart. Thou sweetener of the present hour! We cannot--no--we will not part. Oh, leave me, still, the rapid flight That makes the changing seasons gay, The grateful speed that brings the night, The swift and glad return of day; The months that touch, with added grace, This little prattler at my knee, In whose arch eye and speaking face New meaning every hour I see; The years, that o'er each sister land Shall lift the country of my birth, And nurse her strength, till she shall stand The pride and pattern of the earth: Till younger commonwealths, for aid, Shall cling about her ample robe, And from her frown shall shrink afraid The crowned oppressors of the globe. True--time will seam and blanch my brow-- Well--I shall sit with aged men, And my good glass will tell me how A grizzly beard becomes me then. And then should no dishonour lie Upon my head, when I am gray, Love yet shall watch my fading eye, And smooth the path of my decay. Then haste thee, Time--'tis kindness all That speeds thy winged feet so fast: Thy pleasures stay not till they pall, And all thy pains are quickly past. Thou fliest and bear'st away our woes, And as thy shadowy train depart, The memory of sorrow grows A lighter burden on the heart.
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52
i am on a disk and the pale, blue dot is paler than ever before above me is more blue a simulated sky and a basin we've come to call our shores uncoupled untethered and undeterred there's a tree in my yard whose roots reach the barriers of our world they long to touch that void that would see the waves we tide frozen still
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Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 2:13 PM UTC
Elysian Fields
When your thoughts are at war, When you are not in a state to make any decision. When you are stuck up in a situation so bad that you cannot see any way out. Your head may tell you one thing but your heart will tell you another. Don't think about what people will say just do whatever your heart says. Follow your instincts and you will be out from all the bad. Follow your heart and you will live a beautiful life ahead. Whenever such a situation comes, The only thing to do is to listen to your heart. Do what you want to do, Be what you want to be. Live a life without terms And conditions, Try to live this life according to your norms once? You need to please yourself before you attempt to please anyone else. You first need to be happy, Before becoming a rainbow in someone's sorrow. Follow your heart always if you want to go Elysian Fields of your life, As sometimes even the mind is owned by devil but your heart is as pure as a soul of new born.
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May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
Listen to your heart
Beyond the massif peaks of Europa, Above the ancient pillars of Heracles Where rain and ocean are weaving, Lays a fabled kingdom born of waves And noble strands, my beaten hearts Haunting, the lost, lush sylvan lands Of Galicia. Where Incomparable, dark Haired women, mythic, of Amazonian Fairness, side the valleys and moors Of soon forgotten dreams and secretive Wolves slide amongst warmed runnings Of the ram and moans of ewe, where Way bountiful seas are over spilling, In octopus and pearly gemmed shells, The scalloped pilgrimages unfolding, Where incense burns with under stars Encased, the lost Atlantean temples Of Egyptian sands and storied Gaels, The clad forests of wandering Titans, Where snow white beaches end forever Unmapped in told footsteps, castaway, As was the magi gift of treasured yards, Enlightenments, of old and golden isles Pearling the coasts, sailing the sweet airs Crossing Iberian gates, to Elysian, eternal, Galicia.
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Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
Galicia
Why. Am. I. Breathing? Why. Is my heart, beating? I'm staring at the question staring back at me. (Why am I breathing?) I fog my daze with smokes and **** (Why is my heart beating?) Why do I have eyes? All for me to realize. Tell me once I'll lose it twice. (Why do I have eyes?) My crystal dance - my only vice. (For me to realize.) Why am I moving? Timelessness is soothing. Existing as one time is a maze. (Why am I still moving?) I pray I can stay inside my crystal daze. (Timelessness is soothing.) Why is my chest burning? What is my heart yearning? Twisted lessons elysian lies. (Why is my chest burning?) Distracted sight and rooted ties. (What is my heart yearning?) Why do my feet itch? How was my neck bit? Kisses from the ocean to the sky above. (Why do my feet itch?) Tasted trails of tasteful love. (How was my neck bit?) Embark my empty canvas. I pray upon the numinous. New winds need face for new minds embrace. (Embark my empty canvas.) Tuck in my shoelace for love, I trace. (And pray upon the numinous.) Look at me breathing! Feel my heart beating ?! I'm staring at the heavens staring back at me. (Look at us breathing.) I clear my gaze with love and ease. (Of knowing my heart is beating.) XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
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Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:05 AM UTC
-.brumous quaintrelle.*
While others chant of gay Elysian scenes, Of balmy zephyrs, and of flow’ry plains, My song more happy speaks a greater name, Feels higher motives and a nobler flame. For thee, O R—, the muse attunes her strings, And mounts sublime above inferior things. I sing not now of green embow’ring woods, I sing not now the daughters of the floods, I sing not of the storms o’er ocean driv’n, And how they howl’d along the waste of heav’n. But I to R——- would paint the British shore, And vast Atlantic, not untry’d before: Thy life impair’d commands thee to arise, Leave these bleak regions and inclement skies, Where chilling winds return the winter past, And nature shudders at the furious blast. O thou stupendous, earth-enclosing main Exert thy wonders to the world again! If ere thy pow’r prolong’d the fleeting breath, Turn’d back the shafts, and mock’d the gates of death, If ere thine air dispens’d an healing pow’r, Or snatch’d the victim from the fatal hour, This equal case demands thine equal care, And equal wonders may this patient share. But unavailing, frantic is the dream To hope thine aid without the aid of him Who gave thee birth and taught thee where to flow, And in thy waves his various blessings show. May R—return to view his native shore Replete with vigour not his own before, Then shall we see with pleasure and surprise, And own thy work, great Ruler of the skies!
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To A Gentleman On His Voyage To Great-Britain For The Recovery Of His Health