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"enamoured" poems
A sigh in the dark. Past my jaded lips it rises like a ghost, and I the host of thoughts enamoured but unwanted, unresolved. Night takes my sight and unleashes vision I watch (not my decision) the memories bloom to life. Ethereal and hazy, those lazy summer days Of hasty plans, promises, platitudes made; childish to dream it could have stayed the same. Polite and awkward we shuffle in the light of day, you think before you act and mind what you say and if lucky enough you might get away without blurting a thought from your head gone astray. Why do eyes so bright bring such dark thoughts? Why do we fear to take what we want? A sigh in the dark. Across chilled skin it spreads like fire, this unspoken desire between whispering sheets. Fingers grasp and twine, I feel hers, she feels mine, as we search in the dark together. This night air we’ll share; it's vice, and with vigour, seeking the trigger to release. To resolve.
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Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC
Seeking
I hug the first, Enamoured by her beauty. Such kind eyes... Peering carelessly back at me. She reaches out, To meet my embrace. *"You'll always be the first, Who had my heart set in place."* I say to the second, *"You are my life. One day you'd build, The right castle for a wife."* *"Remember me always, For you this path I have paved. I'd shower upon you, All the love that I have saved."* Then finally to the third, The last of all gifts. Most adorable of sprites, Source of my infinite lifts. *"For you I haven't done much, Only all that I could afford. But insert me in your forever... As the only you ever would've adored..."*
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Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
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I'm in love with excitement, turned on by action, enamoured with the arts. Quick moves intoxicate me, I'm all over teamwork & my heart is ruled by high adventure. I was hoping it was you, the one who would make me sizzle, set me on fire, help me live a bit in the edge. And, could it be? O Darling, you can't be serious, leaving me delirious, all alone with mutant turtles!
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Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
You Can't Be Serious (Leaving Me with Turtles)
His bicycle let out a little yelp as he slowed to a stop, The lady was dressed the same as the night before. He could have cycled on but he had intentions he would not drop, For he had heard stories of such beings from old wives' lore. It was important for him to address this spectre. Motivated by the advice he had received from his dad. To never succumb to fear if a spirit he should ever encounter, For the fear would consume and eventually drive him mad. He was brimming with confidence as he spoke, "Hello there again, I see that you are still in a fix". He was determined not to be made again the joke He had sworn to not be taken in by the imp's mischief and tricks. A sweet fragrance lingered in the air, Teasingly inviting him to greedily inhale it all in. A gentle gust blew, caught and played with the strands of her hair... Enamoured by her visage, he secretly gasped as if the air grew thin. Her face was still partially obscured by her black flowing hair. She turned to him before she gave her reply, *"Would you please give me a lift, dear sir...kind and rare... I do not wish to be stranded alone, unsheltered under the moonlit sky"*.
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
"We Meet Again..." (V)
The gift of a loving and a platonic relationship. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The gift of a loving and platonic relationship Having sorted the Philanderer or attractive Elope if you will , be together in Gretna Green ****** lover ,being kept by a woman of means Introduce a love potion or Philtre if you’ve one Feast upon love if you have the energy for it. The gift of a loving and platonic relationship Oh too much ? I have heard , is so ****** Friends without any love making is platonic And Platonic is OK but never satisfying Love needs to be total never half-way Oh the differences between loving n platonic? Virtually all virgins are best to keep pure. In that the longer you can stay that way is fine Never try to keep pace with your peers Goading and teasing you saying you’re queer As first you really have to love yourself Narcissism is acceptable at an early age. Don’t you see ? Look in the mirror. Handsome ! Ask yourself a question.Am I not a fine beauty Platonic is a name of a friend you couldn’t kiss ********** would be out of the question Alive to the perils of the merging of the two Torch songs of unrequited love over the radio On an enamoured night of drinking red wine Narcissism comes into play so frequently. I saw it in my younger days. With pretty girls. Collectively all trying to look the prettiest Reality dawns upon the real responsibility . Elevating your passion to the highest level Let me take out the College girl every time And talk about the meaning of life and poetry To me the platonic relationships sustained one In that *** never got in the way. Only once the whole truth is established. Necking and a cuddle in the back seat enough *** later in life became a wonderful gift. Having had so many platonic friends around I think it gave me an insight to what life was. Personally given my time over I would repeat... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Written by Philip November 15th 2018.
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Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 7:36 AM UTC
The gift of a loving and a platonic relationship
The gift of a loving and a platonic relationship. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The gift of a loving and platonic relationship Having sorted the Philanderer or attractive Elope if you will , be together in Gretna Green ****** lover ,being kept by a woman of means Introduce a love potion or Philtre if you’ve one Feast upon love if you have the energy for it. The gift of a loving and platonic relationship Oh too much ? I have heard , is so ****** Friends without any love making is platonic And Platonic is OK but never satisfying Love needs to be total never half-way Oh the differences between loving n platonic? Virtually all virgins are best to keep pure. In that the longer you can stay that way is fine Never try to keep pace with your peers Goading and teasing you saying you’re queer As first you really have to love yourself Narcissism is acceptable at an early age. Don’t you see ? Look in the mirror. Handsome ! Ask yourself a question.Am I not a fine beauty Platonic is a name of a friend you couldn’t kiss ********** would be out of the question Alive to the perils of the merging of the two Torch songs of unrequited love over the radio On an enamoured night of drinking red wine Narcissism comes into play so frequently. I saw it in my younger days. With pretty girls. Collectively all trying to look the prettiest Reality dawns upon the real responsibility . Elevating your passion to the highest level Let me take out the College girl every time And talk about the meaning of life and poetry To me the platonic relationships sustained one In that *** never got in the way. Only once the whole truth is established. Necking and a cuddle in the back seat enough *** later in life became a wonderful gift. Having had so many platonic friends around I think it gave me an insight to what life was. Personally given my time over I would repeat... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Written by Philip November 15th 2018.
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45
Why must a heart beat? To keep a rhythmic marching time through life? That common tempo keeping order in our lawless world of hate and fear death. Each heartbeat rallies troops across the globe, a single feature shared in every life, an army built on spirit, crying out with every thump that we are one. But what must hearts beat for? To beat we mean to say 'to fight,' and for what better cause to fight than love? That painful pleasure wielding power both to wreck lives and create them, the strength it gives to those from whom it stole in battles past. Enamoured and encased in armour, steeled against the pain before as drums beat faster palms grow sweaty the tempo quickens gazes steady you brace and lean in gently and surrender to his kiss as he gives in to yours, your battle won by both as both your drums keep time in perfect synchrony your breaths the perfect melody that keep the perfect peace.
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Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
Heartbeat
Hold my heart for ransom In exchange for your sweet whispers Kisses and sighs in tandem Along with moonlit midnight capers Take my heart as hostage A willing one it would be Deep within its bony cage Working up into a frenzy Hold my heart at knifepoint Incised upon I've already bled Over cracked notions and disjoints Chasing after hope that hasn't fled Brand my heart with your seal Press into and make your mark Folded within is all I feel Behind your insignia so stark Choose my heart for blackmail Ask of me whatever Hope to accomplish without fail Hopes of us do not sever Play my heart like a toy Adore me and hold me tight Handle me with child-like joy Share with me, squeals of delight Mould my heart of clay Wrap your fingers, twirl me round Make me worthy of another day To celebrate your sight and sound Lace my heart and tug at it Pull me closer so I could be near Bind me tight so I would fit Coveted spot beside you, dear Enslave my heart on all fours Lead me through your universe Close behind us, lock all doors Subject me to love's greatest murmurs Place my heart next to yours Let me be enamoured to the brink In due time, and on laboured course Perhaps we would finally beat in sync
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
In Sync
I sing sweet whispers of affection Offer only the best to catch your attention I ask you, oh radiant goddess of Olympus May I humbly be the one you choose For eons your heart suffered Your trust tampled and discarded Your coveted love easily forgotten Leaving you in pain, down and broken Oh goddess, queen of Olympia Shine your light towards me Look at my growing affections, I pray Embrace my devotion, and the words I say I don't want to be the Zeus you loathe Nor the offered champions who eventually leave you Instead I simply am a mortal admirer Enamoured by you, my eyes only seeking you I don't want to be the one who hurts you I simply want to devote myself completely to you So I pray for a future that you will see me As I have chosen to seek the world just for you Oh Hera, beautiful yet broken soul I promise you a lifetime of Love Just to give you smiles everyday And to be your pillar and strength In my simplest mortal words, I love you Regardless of your flaws and your iniquities In my simplest mortal ways, I'll love you Through all the ages, no matter what stands in our way So please, Let me choose to stay Because your mere presence is my heaven Your embrace my sturdy, protective walls Your kisses the nectar and ambrosia that sustains me Oh Hera, goddess of my affections Please see me as where you fit I'll stay here until you're ready to choose Because in all this chaos, I vow to treasure you
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Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 1:23 AM UTC
Hera
In Heaven a spirit doth dwell “Whose heart-strings are a lute;” None sing so wildly well As the angel Israfel, And the giddy Stars (so legends tell), Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell Of his voice, all mute. Tottering above In her highest noon, The enamoured Moon Blushes with love, While, to listen, the red levin (With the rapid Pleiads, even, Which were seven), Pauses in Heaven. And they say (the starry choir And the other listening things) That Israfeli’s fire Is owing to that lyre By which he sits and sings— The trembling living wire Of those unusual strings. But the skies that angel trod, Where deep thoughts are a duty— Where Love’s a grow-up God— Where the Houri glances are Imbued with all the beauty Which we worship in a star. Therefore, thou art not wrong, Israfeli, who despisest An unimpassioned song; To thee the laurels belong, Best bard, because the wisest! Merrily live and long! The ecstasies above With thy burning measures suit— Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love, With the fervor of thy lute— Well may the stars be mute! Yes, Heaven is thine; but this Is a world of sweets and sours; Our flowers are merely—flowers, And the shadow of thy perfect bliss Is the sunshine of ours. If I could dwell Where Israfel Hath dwelt, and he where I, He might not sing so wildly well A mortal melody, While a bolder note than this might swell From my lyre within the sky.
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Israfel
The bird of Spring has flown away. Long south her feathers trail, forgetting cool wind song and coos of happiness. And why's she wrong to soar above my love with scattered youth? Another bird is nesting in cold groups on Scotland’s shore, her plumage bright and long; enamoured of her shrilling calls among exhaling frosty nights and twisting swoops. I, who have seen so many flocks that made the fleeting joy trill, still am sad to know they're gone, perhaps never to return again or if they do perhaps changed, with wings outsplayed to other mates, with other rhymes to show that catch the dry wind’s struggle on the plain
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Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 10:17 PM UTC
Autumn birds
I once professed my love to the wind...     I had professed that I admired the way      it had caressed my face.              The way it cupped my cheeks        and combed through                  my tousled hair. I once professed my love to the wind...     I had professed that I was infinitely enamoured         with its playful but gentle ways.             The way it would upset             the serenity of my clothes.                 The way it would engulf me cool         on a hot sunny day.  I once professed my love to the wind...     I had professed that I get addicted to the way it would reach into my lungs   and abscond with my breath.     Leaving me asphyxiated for a brief moment       before mischievously   introducing new air; hale and fresh.   I still profess my love to the wind...     I'd profess my adoration for the way     she fills my sails full       and my heart full of hope.         For I am a lone sailor         in a crowded ocean.       Sailing in a vessel bound for nowhere...       Traversing time and space       with my love, my breeze...           my air.               .
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Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
Profession
as i sit here, eating yet another bowl of trifle, that is rabbit-like, in it's ability, to seem neverending. my thoughts lollop, with leperorine grace to, fibonacci and his box of bunnies multipying and multiplying.... ....ad infinitum... another spoon, to my mouth. stop.... the sun's gentle rays, sparkle through, jellies translucency. as tastebuds swoon at sweet sugar's mango rush. synapses hop and pop within my head.... and in my mind's eye, i see flopsy, mopsy, cottontail..boy  and paul. (not peter..copyright laws) cavorting with fibonacci's numbers, 1,1,3,5,8,13,21....and so on. playing leap frog, in a hedge maze. they play and add and hop and grow, in an unending  trail, spiraling off.... into the west, in a sweet smelling lavender haze. at this point, i'm now thinking... just, how much sherry did aunty beryl put in this magic trifle.... if i am honest with myself   and with you as well. i will open my heart to confess. to three new, believed abstractions: one; after all these years(47) i am still enamoured of beatrix's cute little rabbits (but i must still claim miss jemima puddleduck as my  all time favourite) two; fibonacci's numbers still rule (what an extraordinary mind this man owned and used to the betterment of man kind) and three; ....much more prosaically.. you see... i fear i am having a moment of metenoia .... with regard to the trifle... and the amount of it's delctable connsumption. i can now clearly and a tiny bit queasily, see.... what it is  to be a glutton!!! and i find repentant thoughts of never again will i eat so much... (in one sitting).... are stomping on the rabbits. (fortunately the rabbits are getting out of the way.... ...quick little fellas aren't they.. ...no rabbits were hurt in the filming of this imaginary sequence...)
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Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
of rabbits, trifle and my gluttonous nature
as i sit here, eating yet another bowl of trifle, that is rabbit-like, in it's ability, to seem neverending. my thoughts lollop, with leperorine grace to, fibonacci and his box of bunnies multipying and multiplying.... ....ad infinitum... another spoon, to my mouth. stop.... the sun's gentle rays, sparkle through, jellies translucency. as tastebuds swoon at sweet sugar's mango rush. synapses hop and pop within my head.... and in my mind's eye, i see flopsy, mopsy, cottontail..boy  and paul. (not peter..copyright laws) cavorting with fibonacci's numbers, 1,1,3,5,8,13,21....and so on. playing leap frog, in a hedge maze. they play and add and hop and grow, in an unending  trail, spiraling off.... into the west, in a sweet smelling lavender haze. at this point, i'm now thinking... just, how much sherry did aunty beryl put in this magic trifle.... if i am honest with myself   and with you as well. i will open my heart to confess. to three new, believed abstractions: one; after all these years(47) i am still enamoured of beatrix's cute little rabbits (but i must still claim miss jemima puddleduck as my  all time favourite) two; fibonacci's numbers still rule (what an extraordinary mind this man owned and used to the betterment of man kind) and three; ....much more prosaically.. you see... i fear i am having a moment of metenoia .... with regard to the trifle... and the amount of it's delctable connsumption. i can now clearly and a tiny bit queasily, see.... what it is  to be a glutton!!! and i find repentant thoughts of never again will i eat so much... (in one sitting).... are stomping on the rabbits. (fortunately the rabbits are getting out of the way.... ...quick little fellas aren't they.. ...no rabbits were hurt in the filming of this imaginary sequence...)
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78
I loved you strong, with all the recklessness I possessed, Yearned to share with you all I had to confess. Believed it would be palliated in your pristine hands, Watched it slip through your fingers like worthless sands. Enamoured and imprudent, I jumped right in, Unaware your depths were too shallow to swim. Naïveté; my judgement had faltered, All of my worth lay bare, and you resigned, unaltered. Gave everything I knew with nothing left in reserve Long forgotten it was me I should serve. It was a hope laced channel for all the healing I desired but you were inept at radiating the compassion required. No understanding for this fragile task in proposition, A rare gift to be cherished that you gave no recognition. And there was too much exposed for you to forsake, Too much that wasn’t earned; my calamitous mistake. For these blood stained bones you lacked the tools to unearth, You were never the answer to my rebirth. Gravely inexperienced for this feat, Your heart was too sheltered and your mind too weak. I gave you completely this intimate token, But you failed to see how I was broken.
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May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
Treasure
*your coming in with the rising sun in soft morning light and glistening dew made me think life could be  a huge smile and that nothing about you could be a trifle conversation with you was like lyrical poetry full of measured tones and profound emotion words are wholesome food when one is enamoured you sip their oozing nectar at every sugary pause your voice was like a heavenly harp magically played by expert fingers dancing to an inspired melody that only i and they could hear, and cherish like a dream thus see me now with my face still ravaged by possibilities but alas, you decided to take your leave with the dying day and i knew my bewilderment would last the stretch of eternity you walked away into the twilight and never once looked back those who go away with the setting sun do not always rise with it*
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Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
going away with the setting sun
lovers forgo their faces        defacing in the act mammering their information to unreadable smudges   they slur in kinetic fluctuation experimenting material forms fray      each    the others face is vented away      betray being human   no separated being and then...      to return in the tender moments following              a bumbling landfall then they are athletes      enamoured and praising of the other      flushed and radiating having rushed the life from their breath they heave in its return Later     in a **** trip down to the night kitchen they forgo they faces in a foxes forage hers ; over-lit by the fridge light           face thrown into a mask by extreme shaddows his ; beyond this light in the dark they are bodies sneak children the raider and the lookout after many years make the familiar relation her face disappears into a hand mirror and his is pulled out into a middle distance beyond the dresser durred in thought and waiting for 'go' to the restaurant tonite or that career social that neither wishes to attend                                         - fell shy of Eden
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Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 8:48 PM UTC
f o r g o
Hours past midnight, the tranquility is prince I can almost hear a rasp whisper, the moon to the Sun, "Breakfast is nigh, dear friend. . ." Gazing beyond the circular window, on this bed as if resting on a glistening stretch of sand, Stars in my eyes, I recall her Beauty, her Strength her Love, her All. At rise, my joie de vivre will wake to the medley of sun-bathed robins, and with familiar tenderness upon my face An eternal vow, Propose in mellifluous whisper - "Let's have breakfast together, sweetheart." Sealed by a kiss. I smile as my hand takes hers. I lay enamoured, As a prince prevailing 'Til death do us part.
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Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 2:35 AM UTC
Her Morning Proposal
Enamoured by sightly existence clinging to every glimpse though nearly impossible to track she was lost amongst a crowd of infinity So captivated my mind races to the future flow of the current of bodies to where one would be in step and time to pace rhythm and flow and know ones whereabouts in premonition Where my meditations meet reality I've dreamt love into existence even if only one sided her smile made me think otherwise Who's to say that the love I found within just a momentary lapse in endlessness isn't an energy that persist through the age of ages and feel as if they were made for you and you in turn for their moment of hope and possibly one could find the cure to all sickness experienced
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Jan 28, 2023
Jan 28, 2023 at 12:05 AM UTC
Does beauty fade?
A view of you only these eyes can see, As lungs do fill and fall, to give and bring, New life to me, as dreams may hear me sing. But just for now, enamoured hope runs free. Two destined paths amalgamate as we, Plunge into bold, foolhardy happenings. Le grande cascade. Vintgar. A constant spring, That never stops sprouting abundantly. But hurried mornings twist and bend my heart, To expedite the time I must derail My consciousness and fall back to the start, To dreams of distance lost so I can't fail. To find my thrill, admiring breath, like art; The rise and fall of life and it's details.
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Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
Lungs
i want you, in every way there is to want a person. from lazy rainy days sitting around in underwear, wrapped up in the covers enveloped in each other. to lustful late nights high happy and in love, too absorbed with each other to focus on anything else. i want you. and i see so much in you that counting all your perfections would be like counting the stars, there's too many to keep track of and they just seem endless. i am utterly in love with every inch of your being, every corner of your mind and everything in between i might not know what i believe or where i'm going or what i'm doing, but i do hope you'll hold my hand and wander blindly with me. because as long as i'm with you i don't need a destination, you are the journey. i am simply enamored with your entity, captivated by your character, fascinated infatuated amorous in love.
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Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
enamoured
I watched two turtle doves perched high among the mango leaves, It was the end of a summer's day and start of summer's eves, I watched them there the turtle pair , the female here and the male just there, He prepared with his display of woo This is the way that turtledoves do, White feathered tail ,fanned up and flail in hopes that she would see. That he was the lover she was looking for and they were meant to be enamoured with her feathers brown He longed to nestle in her feathery down Mr turtledove professed his love, still high among the trees She did see him there and all his flair and she flew off into the breeze
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
Two Doves
It was ancient ago we were fond & foe Once little rascals together we grew Far apart 'till bounds forebear Each world soared & flapped An impending monstrous frosty gap One fine love-is-in-the-air day in a twist of fate As this nymph unaimed by cupid's arrow When all my friends & beau in fun they wallow Your sudden hailed revere embraced in haste Then in my own prinky whimsy plot Both unexpectedly got trapped In such long winding tracks we hustled Through the hurdled altar together sprinted Both oblivious as pledge of affection consecrated While ocean's torrent & tide waded A solemn for-us-then-quixotic promise to keep sacred. At some point the on-off blissful lock flutters As life isn't all sunshines & buttercups we struggle Yet notwithstanding the trials & tribulations Such troth acknowledge without question And now has the moon stone or opal As our anniversary gemstone Will our gemstone lose its lustre Or will it continue to shine like a flash of lightning from heaven Are we fiercely resolute to bid for the silver Or stay solid firm to wish for the golden And vow to persevere for the truly eternal diamond. One thing we know for sure...LOVE CONQUERS ALL!
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Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 3:37 PM UTC
An Enamoured Day
His light house amidst his mystic fog, signals belated in triumphant decore, Enamoured with ancient joy of his blue green dreams I chant. “His rod and his staff comfort me and all surrounding gore departs. I breathe in gasping about my true love. as he spots my battered vessel into the wind sailing.   Ecstasy twinkles his teary eye    in the magic water dancing glare, of our mystical full moon light. For too long I've traveled jeweled triumphant yet unable to reach his promised treasure vaults. To the greed of legions on treacherous paths all alone I wept, through enemy's territories, but all those from me have fled. I roamed alone yester woods I reach his safe private harbour his peaceful shores. As trustworthy jeweled queen regardless of grave loss. Willfully he reveals his home key to come open up his door as photographic memories on new calming waters get anchored deep. At last I shall rest in love on my bittersweet bed of roses red, and flowers wild;    white sad lilies on hand, saluting my beloved glories recaptured and retained. Enduring rhythmic ways with courage, heart brain and hope and off my survival modes into éasier dwelling   into my grave but neither there I shall trod alone no more. ~~~~~~ By Karijinbba All rights.
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Mar 29, 2022
Mar 29, 2022 at 7:53 PM UTC
His light-house promise.
Is life a story, is life magick dreaming to love? I gazed up. “Standing below the elephantine magnolia, the ground still bore Tuscany ochre from autumns last kiss.” My eyes solivagant orbs fed on spring’s dews in mourning ──jewellery clinging opulently to her naked form. Dawn chilled the breeze caressing her body as abscission demanded she undressed her emerald gown of leaves. Magenta and cream blooms sprang “loudly” seducing ─ blushing mauve crowned centres, a population of endless figurines perched motionless on aching naked branches. Solomon’s seal burned white within me drunk impending suns arrows, opulent words of silver Verbus diablio kissed in a cauldron of Magnolia words, a banquet for mortals that seek loves gold. A lone spider echoed silence bearing the sigil of Jupiter’s vermillion and white spun striations luffing on the breeze warming. “Magnolia dressed the day ardent in perfumed ── glorious plumes that each set sail across waking skies.” Ablaze I am luscious dreams wrapped in sweet nectar, travelling limbic memories breathing deeply, held captive, wanton within her labyrinths of silk caresses, petals whispering, sweet love as she engulfs my last resolve. In raptures white velvet gown my hem sweeps over gold russet and brittle autumns words forged in winters need for warmth──mind leaves crunching beneath life’s changing seasons, stitched I cling enamoured to mortal honeymoon summered fields. I am the female of sapphire tears twisting, glittering melting ice shards, bequeathed of pained black stars travelled on passionate magick fires, breathed on melodious Roma nights. Rested among the branches a mantel crucified- drunk once more, a bloom held silent in time weeping, exploding fragrant in a coloured soul, a luffing flower creature to life──crowned ──to sun hope thorns. ©ASPAR (A Sol Poet Arnay Rumens)
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Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 6:17 AM UTC
Magnolia Ice
Is life a story, is life magick dreaming to love? I gazed up. “Standing below the elephantine magnolia, the ground still bore Tuscany ochre from autumns last kiss.” My eyes solivagant orbs fed on spring’s dews in mourning ──jewellery clinging opulently to her naked form. Dawn chilled the breeze caressing her body as abscission demanded she undressed her emerald gown of leaves. Magenta and cream blooms sprang “loudly” seducing ─ blushing mauve crowned centres, a population of endless figurines perched motionless on aching naked branches. Solomon’s seal burned white within me drunk impending suns arrows, opulent words of silver Verbus diablio kissed in a cauldron of Magnolia words, a banquet for mortals that seek loves gold. A lone spider echoed silence bearing the sigil of Jupiter’s vermillion and white spun striations luffing on the breeze warming. “Magnolia dressed the day ardent in perfumed ── glorious plumes that each set sail across waking skies.” Ablaze I am luscious dreams wrapped in sweet nectar, travelling limbic memories breathing deeply, held captive, wanton within her labyrinths of silk caresses, petals whispering, sweet love as she engulfs my last resolve. In raptures white velvet gown my hem sweeps over gold russet and brittle autumns words forged in winters need for warmth──mind leaves crunching beneath life’s changing seasons, stitched I cling enamoured to mortal honeymoon summered fields. I am the female of sapphire tears twisting, glittering melting ice shards, bequeathed of pained black stars travelled on passionate magick fires, breathed on melodious Roma nights. Rested among the branches a mantel crucified- drunk once more, a bloom held silent in time weeping, exploding fragrant in a coloured soul, a luffing flower creature to life──crowned ──to sun hope thorns. ©ASPAR (A Sol Poet Arnay Rumens)
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29
Misgivings taught, fallacies absorbed, perceptions formed, lies endorsed, pain enamoured, hope dormant, meaning strife, decisions diced, aimlessness concise
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Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 2:18 PM UTC
Synítheies