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"emanate" poems
a breath of fresh air tickles still-waters a lone swan's quill let fall, takes flight   carpe  diem ― nigh weightless, buoyantly skitters across the water, laissez faire; barely dimpling the shallow peace on a lake in the wood a wild feather's mindless pirouettes emanate from the steeping silence lapping  its superficial  refection   the true nature of wildness, unspoken freedom, an untamed wilder – ness skims the skinny waters seeking their own level; leaving no trace of  ever being  containable   like a breath of fresh air reinvigorates unconquerable souls touching in the conscious moment ― a gentle passing breeze arousing a rogue gust Jesse Stillwater 01    June   2018
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Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 11:16 AM UTC
a breath of fresh air tickles still-waters
Everything in quotations marks and italics was written by TS Eliot. eyes knowing glossy men, sheer women, creatures, not all artists, but artists, always thus, centrifugal, simple from their core, emanate, resonate, expand the exterior with interior precision sculpting to the interior delve, via brush or limb, pen or music, the exposition, the exploration, the reconstruction of composing one's self, creation and destruction of your own myths movement of arms and legs, sparseness of simplicity subsidiaries of centricity, tributaries of complexity, oriented to their locality the simple purpose of inhalation, to exhale, after transformation, the calculus of thought into emotion: *"the tongues of flame are in-folded into the crowned knot of fire and the fire and rose are one"* the dancers hear the music: *"so deeply that it is not heard at all, but you are the music while the music lasts."* **”Quick now, here, now always – A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well"**
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
"A condition of complete simplicity"
Spirit Dolphin To be in tune in natures light To be in touch and resonate Intelligent communicate Heartbeats of love and breath of life Superior to human sight Your sound waves and reverberates To be in tune in natures light To be in touch and resonate You touch the stars and elevate Our spirits to become alight Giving us freedom to ignite Centers begin to emanate To be in tune in natures light Beneath the sun, beneath the moon You teach us how to breathe with care Oceanic friend, solar flare Communicating our monsoon Teaching in us how to commune Opening our minds to beware Beneath the sun, beneath the moon You teach us how to breathe with care Your innocence rests like lagoon On the surface emotions bare Vulnerability is there Beneath the sun, beneath the moon A good omen to protect us Saving the lives of so many Selfless creature giving plenty From outer space some do discuss To touch you frees us from raucous To ride with you fulfills empty A good omen to protect us Saving the lives of so many With you we find our playfulness Self-confidence more than any Never to lose our assembly Connect us all with inner trust A good omen to protect us Helping others finding our truth To be One Universally What might seem strange is certainly A reflection upon our youth Make bright our eyes with wisdom's root Free from shame inadvertently Helping others finding our truth To be One Universally Though we may taste forbidden fruit What we will learn so artfully Forgives our aches so perfectly Flipping through curious pursuit Helping others finding our truth © tHE tERRY tREE
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Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
Spirit Dolphin
Spirit Dolphin To be in tune in natures light To be in touch and resonate Intelligent communicate Heartbeats of love and breath of life Superior to human sight Your sound waves and reverberates To be in tune in natures light To be in touch and resonate You touch the stars and elevate Our spirits to become alight Giving us freedom to ignite Centers begin to emanate To be in tune in natures light Beneath the sun, beneath the moon You teach us how to breathe with care Oceanic friend, solar flare Communicating our monsoon Teaching in us how to commune Opening our minds to beware Beneath the sun, beneath the moon You teach us how to breathe with care Your innocence rests like lagoon On the surface emotions bare Vulnerability is there Beneath the sun, beneath the moon A good omen to protect us Saving the lives of so many Selfless creature giving plenty From outer space some do discuss To touch you frees us from raucous To ride with you fulfills empty A good omen to protect us Saving the lives of so many With you we find our playfulness Self-confidence more than any Never to lose our assembly Connect us all with inner trust A good omen to protect us Helping others finding our truth To be One Universally What might seem strange is certainly A reflection upon our youth Make bright our eyes with wisdom's root Free from shame inadvertently Helping others finding our truth To be One Universally Though we may taste forbidden fruit What we will learn so artfully Forgives our aches so perfectly Flipping through curious pursuit Helping others finding our truth © tHE tERRY tREE
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53
This mother of mine is a brilliant ray of light, Who illuminates even the darkest night, Who brightens every lonely face, With a silent, sincere, and sweet embrace This mother of mine can take the heat, When she's faced with a problem, she doesn't skip a beat, We may talk back and make a fuss, But she still shows her love towards us This mother of mine admires the trees that grow tall, She likes how they waver, but never fall, They wave back and forth and emanate peace, And show her that God's love for us will never cease This mother of mine is the strongest woman of all, For my life without her would surely crumble and fall, She has taught me how to pick myself off the ground, I am truly grateful to have my mother around.
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May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 12:48 AM UTC
This Mother of Mine
You are my December because you seem to emanate a golden glow, quite like of parols swinging from tall streetlamps December in how you brush through my hair like a cool, gentle breeze brought by the northeast wind of clear blue skies and fair weather. December also in the way you wrap your arms around me tightly, it reminds me of my favorite warm, woolly sweater that my dear grandma knitted for me. You are my December in how you light up my eyes like the Christmas lights that twinkle on the Christmas tree No, actually, more like the fireworks that set fire to the midnight sky on New Year's Eve December because you are a great gift like the secret surprises tucked under the Christmas tree you are a sweet treat like a gingerbread coated with colorful sugar, freshly baked and toasty you refresh me like the much needed break that lasts for two weeks You are my December because you leave me melting like the mini mallows sprinkled on my hot choco steaming You are my December because I love December
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Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 2:34 AM UTC
You are my December
Since the last time you touched me... All I want is to feel your hands on my skin. On my face and through my hair. Feeling your body heat up against mine. Taste barely contained anticipation on your breath. Smell the comfort that you emanate. Drinking the passion from your lips. I want you... Anchoring me down, Vulnerability plunging into my eyes. Stealing the air from me. Swallowing the noises you incite. Tangling feet and twisted fingers. Embracing and submerging in honey junction. Just the sound of your tenor, Erupts a burn that speeds throughout my veins. Heart stuttering and dizzy and trembling, All from the presence of you. Wanting to lose myself with you. Forget all reason...but then what is reason? Since the last time you touched me... I long for the next. © NDHK
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Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 3:45 AM UTC
Fence Walking
All those laughters Are not always real All those faces in a park, Wrinkled and weary, Laugh in a circle, Devoid of happiness, No sign of a crinkle, Eyes without light, Devoid of life. Their happy sadness echoes, On the streets, in apartements, The dismal vibes reach us Yet they emanate the fake sentiments. Stoop a little and evesdrop that circle, They deceive emotions, black and purple, All you hear is a shouting troop, We know the truth of a laughing group.
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Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
Laughing group
Denim clad godess, smoke machine chariot. Your livelihood is my breath, Take me to your place of solace where I can feel the suns rays emanate from my chest.
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Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
Motorcycle Gypsy
Magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur               Cephalic phantasmagoria entity obliquitous         Mystical conjurous conjugal entrepreneur                         Fantasia fantastication phantasm obsequious Amorously arduous ardent raconteur Ephemeral translucent opulence ubiquitous             Vanity sanctimonium temerities saboteur Intrepid verve’s intriguingly iniquitous Sorcerous sabbatical apothegms chauffeur Endemic veracities fortuitous elicitous Futurity fatidics fornication kithe                         Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts Empirical emulation scenarios blithe Subjunctive subliminal nostalgias haunts Agile articulation acuities lithe                           Analogizing corroborative prolificacy daunts Alacritous tactile manipulations writhe Numinous syntactical paradigm *****                   Emanate imminent perdition tithe Orotund jaded seal ordinand jaunts                                                                                                    Overt convection coercions chiaroscuro tempestuous                                                   Apex crux axis ****** matrix torrid                         Manifest objectified enamorous interstice lecherous Spurt binge spree ***** protuberance squalid    endearingly engendering amore
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Phalaxy
Magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur               Cephalic phantasmagoria entity obliquitous         Mystical conjurous conjugal entrepreneur                         Fantasia fantastication phantasm obsequious Amorously arduous ardent raconteur Ephemeral translucent opulence ubiquitous             Vanity sanctimonium temerities saboteur Intrepid verve’s intriguingly iniquitous Sorcerous sabbatical apothegms chauffeur Endemic veracities fortuitous elicitous Futurity fatidics fornication kithe                         Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts Empirical emulation scenarios blithe Subjunctive subliminal nostalgias haunts Agile articulation acuities lithe                           Analogizing corroborative prolificacy daunts Alacritous tactile manipulations writhe Numinous syntactical paradigm *****                   Emanate imminent perdition tithe Orotund jaded seal ordinand jaunts                                                                                                    Overt convection coercions chiaroscuro tempestuous                                                   Apex crux axis ****** matrix torrid                         Manifest objectified enamorous interstice lecherous Spurt binge spree ***** protuberance squalid    endearingly engendering amore
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25
At spawn of first light Darkness embarks into the recesses of hibernation And so begins the blinding incline, the inevitable blonde coiled wreaths frustration is on the rise forces a discharge so multiple and emanate, the skyward black shrinks back from panoptic reaches, into a delinquent weakened rumor When this daily task of ridding the black ends a victor The climb continues upward in a high sky setting Consequential over the mornings painstaking labors Wiping from his brow, in a waving motion To release mists over global hydration By welcoming this morning dew, the earth is one more day new and can take great relief in this rebirth Assuring all parched famine will gain resolve taking in their absolve
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Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
Spawn of First Light
~the heart of (the) matter~ ~~~~~~ an essential phrase, that concentrates the instincts not to sway away,    be focused on, by the always present algorithm of the essences but my version preferred is that "the heart of matter" with skill and effort, one can learn, to shoot arrows honed to be near an-almost-bullseye every time but to understand that the heart is matter, the mother of our body parts, the little engine that could, can and does, and asks only refresh it with fresh blue blood, every second (not to much to ask for) what are/is the sinews of the heart? what are its secreted corpuscular (1) composed of? why words, you silly! each beat, a letter,       the heart doth register its creativity incessant, never ceasing to rest for composition is its goal, to sing to write, to weep from pleasured thoughts and deepest fright, and you say you need inspiration? then listen to your writing vibrations that from thy center emanate, you who toil laboriously when all that matters is the matter, the wonderful matter of who when where and why that chatterbox in your body never ever pauses ***and that is why in the matter of god, have no doubts only a god could have conceived of a world of billions of composers where each one of us matters***… 5:19am Wed Sep 10
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Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 5:59 AM UTC
the heart of matter
you are a celestial body a natural phenomenon a beauty hidden so far away but look closer; you tell a fascinating story in your own way you are a galaxy a gravitational system of stars you emanate light and wake me up from fallacy you remind me that somethings are bizarre but thats just how things are meant to be you emenate light stronger than darkness because you choose to see the good regardless just like how we choose to watch a movie so cliché even when we know its going to end in a certain way. just like how we try to stay even when things are not at bay. just like how we try to see the good in every day without worrying about dismay. you are a galaxy you have undergone stellar evolution changes happened and it will always be the reality you are a galaxy you are made of stellar fragments a massive remnant of what was once there to see you changed over the course of time but what was once there will last for a lifetime. you will always evolve, you get better every time. you are a galaxy you have black holes; dark energy but no let me tell you, you are anything but empty you are a matter packed in that body your gravity is so strong i cannot flee you are so much more than darkness you are my galaxy. —g. l
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Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 3:30 PM UTC
my galaxy
(and I cannot live from with-out) <> a poem in appreciation to Rossella Di Paolo <> I, too:           - am an embryonic work in progress, well into my seventh decade, with no ending in sight                                 I too,     live in the house of poetry, the address likely differs, but suspect the innards of the houses differs little, the decor,  quite similar          - my house shrewdly requests a rethinking,                                     noting, it lives my artifice, with in & with out Then, we are a We:                                              - my cavities house her, She, Poetry is of Ruth (1) born,           - Poetry, She, reminds me, ”whither thou goest, I will go” This duality:           - where the haunting of words providential,              emanate, both inhabiting & inhibits my breathing               She, a fearsome creature, a fearful-something, for it tears me and shreds tears its demands be wrung from with in to with out She, Poetry:           - leaves me gaping, hollow, fills me with             depressurizing boreholes exposed to the elements  of             externalities of an admixed atmospheres, that nature demands             be refilled, fresh in, stale out, for which the artifice trick is knowing which is which when Poetry’s  birthing:           - chest pounds, heart-rate beats heavy metal,             abdomen contracts, there then, no languid in my language,             no help untangling the alpha-bet jumbling,             product of the screams of pushing, squeezing it forth* *you’re hoping to quick-catch newly formed combinations, for if you fail, a poem noisily crashes to and through the floorboard cracks, where poetry’s chaotic glinting etes maliciously glimmer~winks at me with a sarcastic thank you* *“ah, too bad, another creation stillborn, gone to rest, biting the nether dust, without hope of resuscitation…”* just another unfinished work in progress periodically a survivor clean caught, transcribed, edited to be finished, amniotic fluids cleared, poem resurrected blessed with eternal life, readied to be shared and delivered, affirmed and you say to no one and to everyone: this poem will be our poem, wither it goes, ascending, descending, all live in the house of poets, one house, many apartments, each poem a god, and my God will be our God, your God, my God, in the House of Poetry
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Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 5:55 PM UTC
I, too: Live with-in the House of Poetry
(and I cannot live from with-out) <> a poem in appreciation to Rossella Di Paolo <> I, too:           - am an embryonic work in progress, well into my seventh decade, with no ending in sight                                 I too,     live in the house of poetry, the address likely differs, but suspect the innards of the houses differs little, the decor,  quite similar          - my house shrewdly requests a rethinking,                                     noting, it lives my artifice, with in & with out Then, we are a We:                                              - my cavities house her, She, Poetry is of Ruth (1) born,           - Poetry, She, reminds me, ”whither thou goest, I will go” This duality:           - where the haunting of words providential,              emanate, both inhabiting & inhibits my breathing               She, a fearsome creature, a fearful-something, for it tears me and shreds tears its demands be wrung from with in to with out She, Poetry:           - leaves me gaping, hollow, fills me with             depressurizing boreholes exposed to the elements  of             externalities of an admixed atmospheres, that nature demands             be refilled, fresh in, stale out, for which the artifice trick is knowing which is which when Poetry’s  birthing:           - chest pounds, heart-rate beats heavy metal,             abdomen contracts, there then, no languid in my language,             no help untangling the alpha-bet jumbling,             product of the screams of pushing, squeezing it forth* *you’re hoping to quick-catch newly formed combinations, for if you fail, a poem noisily crashes to and through the floorboard cracks, where poetry’s chaotic glinting etes maliciously glimmer~winks at me with a sarcastic thank you* *“ah, too bad, another creation stillborn, gone to rest, biting the nether dust, without hope of resuscitation…”* just another unfinished work in progress periodically a survivor clean caught, transcribed, edited to be finished, amniotic fluids cleared, poem resurrected blessed with eternal life, readied to be shared and delivered, affirmed and you say to no one and to everyone: this poem will be our poem, wither it goes, ascending, descending, all live in the house of poets, one house, many apartments, each poem a god, and my God will be our God, your God, my God, in the House of Poetry
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63
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues      Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Anonymity emanations
Born Robert Nesta Marley on February 6, 1945 In nine mile, St.Ann Emancipate yourself from mental slavery none But ourselves can free our mind I grew up on that prophetic message and philosophy And it never left my soul or mind You have left a legacy World renowned This dreadlocks man left his mark Permanently I believe you were before your time I was not yet born When you departured But your music was my friend I was built on your roots Something music lacks today Your words emanate so powerfully That builds faith and tear down injustice It inspire greatness I remember the man who chants words of ball of fire Hitting beyond anyone’s imagination Or comprehension of his God given talent He has touched hearts from Jamaica to America Europe to India to Africa all over His music is worldwide It’s like a life’s guide Whether ball head or Rasta man Bob Marley music lives on I have yet to see someone like him His legacy continues with his sons and daughters With every Jamaican His message was deep, spiritual and philosophical To the soul and mind. R.I.P The Great Reggae Legend. All Rights Reserved. Christena Antonia Valaire Williams Jamaica W.I
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Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 12:32 PM UTC
The Great Reggae Legend
all of my exes like closed pages from a book emanate some lesson if that's all i really took relationships are time well-served don't regret a single one but i must insist i got used to this and i'm glad that they are all done all done, but one but that's how it works no more turning another page and in marriage we're stuck until one of us dies from old age if love is a test then we've artfully persevered so no going back to an ex or moving onto the next since my exes were really all kind of weird
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Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
all my exes should live in texas
**the sighs in our chest that emanate from a different kind of breast cancer** wrote these words prior, then, certainly uncertain of the exactitude of their meaning, clearly unclear of their useable intention, yet the too real wrathful sensations that inspired their caesarian creation, the sigh's very own exhalations, floatations devices for the interned-no-longer emotions, escapees via the crevasses of chest ribs splitting open, return to glory thanking me for freedom given let posterior eloquence suffice, let brevity guide my self's interior diagramming, lengthy explications and deep analytics, I leave to you, the astonished medical examiner and the horrified mortician chest ripped, my hand reinserted, the blighted scourges, the abscessed cancers, the obsessive relentless cankers, asking shamelessly why have I returned to the crime scene *the sighs are air-borne, ready for air plucking, all cloud seeded, deeded for poets to seize and commence, to plant and invent, a mountain top trickle to a mighty river of poems to be recovered and discovered, unrehearsed and unleashed but you and I have unwished, unfinished business, as of yet unwritten, one last poem to honor our mutually assured destruction, for this day will be rewritten differently*
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Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 10:11 AM UTC
The sighs in our chest that emanate from a different kind of breast cancer
As the days get deeper So does the hole People start losing their unique ****** qualities The objects in your house become dull clutter Monday morphs into Tuesday and Tuesday morphs into Wednesday and Wednesday morphs into Thursday and All of a sudden you don’t know what day it is. The only thing that doesn’t lose its edge Are the words that pump out from your lung, to vibrate from your vocal cords, then are fine tuned from your larynx, and emanate from your articulators. Those are the words that stuff me deeper into the hole. Sometimes it’s not words but actions That burry me under and into the darkness. This hole I speak of, ***** you in and won’t let you out Until you’ve admitted defeat And hell, You’ll never live to see the day that I, Admit Defeat.
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
Defeat
it's not about the color of their eyes the tone of their skin it's the glow from within what they emanate who they are what makes them tick guilty pleasures nervous ticks necks and cricks where their pleasure spot is what makes them give in submit to sin what they stand for how they carry themselves if they are put together well like spices on the shelf if their smile never fades and you remember it for days
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Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
Traces
I took care of others, walked in their shoes, got their trivial pains and forgot my loyal legs... If I present you the baneful thorns I have trodden, would you be ready to follow me again and barefoot? My mind will always be bitterly cold as an intact valley and never understood... Though I am sure that you do not care, I feel well, very well, except longing. Your dreams are flying even everywhere while I try to stop contemplating... You know, I am a bit chatty when I am inspired and the poet inside me never gets tired. You can't grasp how painful it is to emanate a poem, how you go out of your infatuated mind... When 'clevers' seek for justice, but only for themselves, there is nothing else purer than the tears of madmen. So, happiness would have been an evident injustice, if all of the people attained their desires. I have faced many types of mental battles, but no war is harder than the lack of love inside. Love is living your life for another one's sake, sacrificing everything with honor and pride... Now I am sure that there exists no hate, but just does the love of hatred indeed. Before the absurdness of irrevocable fate only love will save us in eternity... No feeling will help you to be deeply blessed while mass is spurious and loners are obsessed... As you **** your hopes you gain fake freedom, but free slavery will still be going on, sometimes feeling oppressed, depressed, repressed... However, Invincible I am before such odd jobs and I have found ways to keep myself up. Now I live slowly till the time begins to blur, paradoxes take place within my dark thoughts, I divide the time to its perpetual aeons, all the rules and limits I swear to deny and save the endless time when we were eye to eye... Through your looks the heavenly sky is clear and all the possibilities are real there... My benevolent angel, let the eternity recur from the start, only the eyes of blinds do not show their hearts... I feel very sorry and deeply upset, when the human inside silently regrets ... Yet I am too clumsy to move mountains, to achieve sanctity which I want to serve. I wish I made you happy at my any chance, But I can only make you happiness itself...
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Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC
Philosophical consolations
I took care of others, walked in their shoes, got their trivial pains and forgot my loyal legs... If I present you the baneful thorns I have trodden, would you be ready to follow me again and barefoot? My mind will always be bitterly cold as an intact valley and never understood... Though I am sure that you do not care, I feel well, very well, except longing. Your dreams are flying even everywhere while I try to stop contemplating... You know, I am a bit chatty when I am inspired and the poet inside me never gets tired. You can't grasp how painful it is to emanate a poem, how you go out of your infatuated mind... When 'clevers' seek for justice, but only for themselves, there is nothing else purer than the tears of madmen. So, happiness would have been an evident injustice, if all of the people attained their desires. I have faced many types of mental battles, but no war is harder than the lack of love inside. Love is living your life for another one's sake, sacrificing everything with honor and pride... Now I am sure that there exists no hate, but just does the love of hatred indeed. Before the absurdness of irrevocable fate only love will save us in eternity... No feeling will help you to be deeply blessed while mass is spurious and loners are obsessed... As you **** your hopes you gain fake freedom, but free slavery will still be going on, sometimes feeling oppressed, depressed, repressed... However, Invincible I am before such odd jobs and I have found ways to keep myself up. Now I live slowly till the time begins to blur, paradoxes take place within my dark thoughts, I divide the time to its perpetual aeons, all the rules and limits I swear to deny and save the endless time when we were eye to eye... Through your looks the heavenly sky is clear and all the possibilities are real there... My benevolent angel, let the eternity recur from the start, only the eyes of blinds do not show their hearts... I feel very sorry and deeply upset, when the human inside silently regrets ... Yet I am too clumsy to move mountains, to achieve sanctity which I want to serve. I wish I made you happy at my any chance, But I can only make you happiness itself...
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50
A deep conversation with heaven Unspoken words and sorrows Emanate from my fountain pen Igniting my creative flows -talking to the moon about you
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Jan 20, 2022
Jan 20, 2022 at 8:46 AM UTC
Writings
Revering the sight of your curves in the sheets Titillated are my thoughts to which has brought to exist Letting the water fall emanate strongly while having my fingers swim through simultaneously   Yours were tied down on the promises I’ve kept Blind folded as it pleasurably gets Trust is the bond that made us so sure To let each other have this type of love so soon Sensually it may come, oomph we may be are The sight of you naked is a form of an art Beautifully it truly is; ***** it may get Love is the truth, no matter how hot it could get
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May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 7:09 AM UTC
Oomph
Magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur               Cephalic phantasmagoria entity obliquitous         Mystical conjurous conjugal entrepreneur                         Fantasia fantastication phantasm obsequious Amorously arduous ardent raconteur Ephemeral translucent opulence ubiquitous             Vanity sanctimonium temerities saboteur Intrepid verve’s intriguingly iniquitous Sorcerous sabbatness apothegms chauffeur Endemic veracities fortuitous elicitous Futurity fatidic's fornication kithe                         Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts Empirical emulation scenarios blithe Subjunctive subliminal nostalgias haunts Agile articulation acuities lithe                           Analogizing corroborative prolificacy daunts Alacritous tactile manipulations writhe Numinous syntactical paradigm *****                   Emanate imminent perdition tithe Orotund jaded seal ordinand jaunts                                                           ­                                         Overt convection coercions chiaroscuro tempestuous                                                   Ape­x crux axis ****** matrix torrid                         Manifest objectified enamorous interstice lecherous Spurt binge spree ***** protuberance squalid    endearingly engendering amore
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Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
Phalaxy
Magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur               Cephalic phantasmagoria entity obliquitous         Mystical conjurous conjugal entrepreneur                         Fantasia fantastication phantasm obsequious Amorously arduous ardent raconteur Ephemeral translucent opulence ubiquitous             Vanity sanctimonium temerities saboteur Intrepid verve’s intriguingly iniquitous Sorcerous sabbatness apothegms chauffeur Endemic veracities fortuitous elicitous Futurity fatidic's fornication kithe                         Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts Empirical emulation scenarios blithe Subjunctive subliminal nostalgias haunts Agile articulation acuities lithe                           Analogizing corroborative prolificacy daunts Alacritous tactile manipulations writhe Numinous syntactical paradigm *****                   Emanate imminent perdition tithe Orotund jaded seal ordinand jaunts                                                           ­                                         Overt convection coercions chiaroscuro tempestuous                                                   Ape­x crux axis ****** matrix torrid                         Manifest objectified enamorous interstice lecherous Spurt binge spree ***** protuberance squalid    endearingly engendering amore
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Forgetting about that uptight blight. Emanate apathy Unapologetically. Cheers to you Baby Jesus, I'm all jacked up on pink Moscato; by noon. Without a clue of what to do Retreat to a beach For a gala beset by an erubescent sunset. What marry monarchs, All clinquant, in gold light All turn to heathens, in the night. Perpetually transfixed By a curious mix of Rhythmic eruptions & fevered delight Like fairies & nymphs Amidst the moon of misbehaving. Wondering eyes are tantalized You are luxurious, feral, **** boy personified. I was mystified by the wild & eroticized by the style. A Huckleberry Finn identical twin, ohhh but of course — You had a Porsche. But we were far from bonafide. All is well, Who really gives a **** about a relationship cuff… I was inherently drawn to the effervescence, of your soul. Together in disconnected bubbles Like a glass of champagne, Sparkling to the surface effortlessly. Daytime friends and nighttime lovers; Nympholepts in retrospect, Carefully tip-toeing around Blossoming curiously & compromising cantor. Over winsome side-long looks The burgundy hardtop drops down Into my body & out of my mind Tipsy daze were just foreplay For the passionate midnight sexcapades. A midsummer’s night moonlit dream Manifested midst the trysts of Spring. Every Sunday Drinking champagne, Not practicing self-restraint Sneaking into private estates Dive into the grotto pool. Worshiping the Sun, not the saint. My late night lover show me your wicked pagan birthright. Two lonely hearts bonded over confessions in the dark.
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Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
Spring into Melancholy
Forgetting about that uptight blight. Emanate apathy Unapologetically. Cheers to you Baby Jesus, I'm all jacked up on pink Moscato; by noon. Without a clue of what to do Retreat to a beach For a gala beset by an erubescent sunset. What marry monarchs, All clinquant, in gold light All turn to heathens, in the night. Perpetually transfixed By a curious mix of Rhythmic eruptions & fevered delight Like fairies & nymphs Amidst the moon of misbehaving. Wondering eyes are tantalized You are luxurious, feral, **** boy personified. I was mystified by the wild & eroticized by the style. A Huckleberry Finn identical twin, ohhh but of course — You had a Porsche. But we were far from bonafide. All is well, Who really gives a **** about a relationship cuff… I was inherently drawn to the effervescence, of your soul. Together in disconnected bubbles Like a glass of champagne, Sparkling to the surface effortlessly. Daytime friends and nighttime lovers; Nympholepts in retrospect, Carefully tip-toeing around Blossoming curiously & compromising cantor. Over winsome side-long looks The burgundy hardtop drops down Into my body & out of my mind Tipsy daze were just foreplay For the passionate midnight sexcapades. A midsummer’s night moonlit dream Manifested midst the trysts of Spring. Every Sunday Drinking champagne, Not practicing self-restraint Sneaking into private estates Dive into the grotto pool. Worshiping the Sun, not the saint. My late night lover show me your wicked pagan birthright. Two lonely hearts bonded over confessions in the dark.
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*As rainbows emanate within my soul, watercoloring all my emotions. Painting stories on my inner scroll, as rainbows emanate within my soul. Dabbling colors on the canvas whole, waves of hues swirling within my ocean. As rainbows emanate within my soul, watercoloring all my emotions. When colors combine and intertwine, within the palette of my heart. Makes me feel fine with a happy shine, when colors combine and intertwine. Paintbrush emotions tickle my spine, my happiness is a work of art. When colors combine and intertwine, within the palette of my heart. As it paints laughter upon my face, each stroke becomes a smile. All the colors and hues I embrace, as it paints laughter upon my face. Pigments of love, and faith, and grace, are the colors of my style. As it paints laughter upon my face, each stroke becomes a smile.*
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Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 8:51 AM UTC
Palette of my heart