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"endearing" poems
THE FLOWERS What I told you about the flowers no one probably won't tell you. Is it not about their fragrance and how amazing it is that they share their life with you. They hang around your garden and patiently wait on you with their perfume of love. To make you happy with the fragrance of their healing presence, they share their fragrance and working tirelessly in gladness they gracefully grace your life with grace. They lay down at our feet always ready to bring pleasure to our leisure. To please you they share lavishly and are generous about it. They bring pleasure back into our homes by spreading their fragrance. Even when bruised they give out their best fragrance out of love to soothe and bring succour to our tired mind. They also help decorate our world with their beautiful flowers to make our lives lovely. How can we not appreciate their presence in our homes, garden and environment. They are divinely precious beautiful treasure with an alluring power to help us heal. Little beautiful gifts from heaven with such an unforgettable sublime and divine fragrance. Spreading their love they reach out to us even from miles away adorning our weddings and other events with their fragrance and presence and speaking to us in the language only the heart can understand. Nature gave us fragrance in flowers so lovely and endearing that no one can resist their friendship. To walk with them is unbelievably sweet. ©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved
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Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
THE FLOWERS
you didn’t like the way i answered the phone, and you thought it was gross that i liked mushrooms on my pizza, and you told me i was weird-looking when i was a kid, and once i sent you a tattoo and you said you didn’t like it, you didn’t know they were my words that were written on her body you told me what “too much damage” meant on halloween after all the trick-or-treaters had fallen asleep and when i kept silent for three days after, and winced at every kissing scene on television, because they flooded the insides of my eyelids with images that made me feel very small, you said i was being unfair because i was the one who decided we were just friends, and i told you we weren’t, you knew we weren’t we couldn’t be after what we used to be i told you i still had feelings that hadn’t gone away yet, you said they hadn’t gone away for you either i pictured you holding my hand but then you said, “that’s why it’s easier to run from them and hide in other girls beds.” you always told me every thought that popped into your head, and i used to find it endearing, i kept telling myself that you deserved my ear, but i really hope you have nothing more to say because, i promise, i’m done listening so clear off your bedside table, and cut the blue string that’s wrapped around your wrist if you’ve yet to do so, and stop asking me if i miss you, because this is me saying i don’t.
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
butterflies, trains, and blood stains
i’d rather write about the freckles on your back than think about all of the ways in which you quite possibly don’t love me. i feel sick at the very thought of you picking me apart the way you did; fingers grabbing and stroking in a catastrophic symphony of skin and vulnerability. let’s read between each other’s lines; share my sentences and punctuate my paragraphs with your mouth; because i can breathe easier on the mornings where i wake up wrapped around you. because my moods change like the ******* seasons and the spinning in my head doesn’t want to stop.                                          you tell me that i should probably get a therapist because no one that thinks about all the ways in which they could **** themselves has an ounce of mental stability.                                           i tell you that i have been to four.                                           names faded into a blur with hazy snippets of conversation remaining. 20mg.                     30mg. you tell me that trust issues and scars aren’t endearing and i tell you that neither is counting up the potential number of pills needed to dissolve your body into the living room carpet. let me sink inside your skin and make a home in your flesh; i tell you about the nights where i lay awake in the bath turning the water red.                        tragic, isn’t it. you tell me that this isn’t how my head should work and i tell you that i already know. everything you could possibly tell me i already know. i know that 400 calories a day isn’t normal, and my hands shouldn’t shake all the time.                                              i know. please let me stitch myself into you, even just for a while; until i no longer feel dizzy and my world stops spinning. i don’t need you to tell me that it will be okay, because honestly i don’t think it will be and, that in itself, is okay.                                                                                  let me stitch myself into you, because my own skin can’t take it anymore. let me call you back when my voice stops wobbling and my vision straightens out, but honestly, i’m terrified that it never will. what if this is it. headaches and tears and shaking and blood.                                              and the debilitating, gut-wrenching feeling of pure and euphoric emptiness.                                               tragic, isn’t it.
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Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:41 PM UTC
stitches.
i’d rather write about the freckles on your back than think about all of the ways in which you quite possibly don’t love me. i feel sick at the very thought of you picking me apart the way you did; fingers grabbing and stroking in a catastrophic symphony of skin and vulnerability. let’s read between each other’s lines; share my sentences and punctuate my paragraphs with your mouth; because i can breathe easier on the mornings where i wake up wrapped around you. because my moods change like the ******* seasons and the spinning in my head doesn’t want to stop.                                          you tell me that i should probably get a therapist because no one that thinks about all the ways in which they could **** themselves has an ounce of mental stability.                                           i tell you that i have been to four.                                           names faded into a blur with hazy snippets of conversation remaining. 20mg.                     30mg. you tell me that trust issues and scars aren’t endearing and i tell you that neither is counting up the potential number of pills needed to dissolve your body into the living room carpet. let me sink inside your skin and make a home in your flesh; i tell you about the nights where i lay awake in the bath turning the water red.                        tragic, isn’t it. you tell me that this isn’t how my head should work and i tell you that i already know. everything you could possibly tell me i already know. i know that 400 calories a day isn’t normal, and my hands shouldn’t shake all the time.                                              i know. please let me stitch myself into you, even just for a while; until i no longer feel dizzy and my world stops spinning. i don’t need you to tell me that it will be okay, because honestly i don’t think it will be and, that in itself, is okay.                                                                                  let me stitch myself into you, because my own skin can’t take it anymore. let me call you back when my voice stops wobbling and my vision straightens out, but honestly, i’m terrified that it never will. what if this is it. headaches and tears and shaking and blood.                                              and the debilitating, gut-wrenching feeling of pure and euphoric emptiness.                                               tragic, isn’t it.
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22
My flaws are not pretty. My imperfections are not endearing, my vices are not quirky, and my regrets are not intriguing and elusive. They’re ugly and unsettling; better off buried in the catacomb that is my memory. better off dormant, hibernating through all four seasons. They destroy and ravage anything that they can get their hands on. They spread like wildfire through any self-respect that might be living inside me. Burning up every last trace of my dignity until all that’s left is a shower of ash and things I wish I could forget. They don’t add character or substance and leave me blinded by contempt. They whisper to me that I don’t deserve to be happy. And I listen to them. They’re angry and want revenge.
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Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”
The most important things in life are often those we have to choose from at critical times.  They very often represent and determine the course our life will take and to what extent we have in controlling or shaping it.  With whatever choice we make, opportunities arise and by making the most of these we realise the relative benefits to be gained or otherwise.  Through our committment and willingness to achieve a goal, irrespective of what obstacles there may be or we come across, we move forward and progress is made in our endeavour.  If the goal is something we have set our mind and heart on whatever setbacks or obstacles are encountered should then be taken to be the hurdles to overcome. By repeated experience we learn the necessary disciplines with which to train or involve our mind and body to reach our goal. When we recognise and forego or sacrifice certain habits that are not conducive to our overall progress we release more energy by which to accomplish our end.  By sustained right effort we put in motion the train of events that will bring about the right results, but we should not be too attached to the fruits thereof.  Too much attachment is a cause of blindness, disappointment and suffering.  However with the right mental attitudes including positive thinking and actions we should learn from and leave behind past failures by always striving onwards to our desired objective or set goal. The best way to achieve this end is to include in some way the benefit and good of all those concerned whether they be friend or otherwise which will not be easy but will exhibit a spirit of high ethical standards and character and contribute to endearing oneself to others. _______________________________________________________________
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Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 4:28 PM UTC
Prose: Achieving Our Goal
The most important things in life are often those we have to choose from at critical times.  They very often represent and determine the course our life will take and to what extent we have in controlling or shaping it.  With whatever choice we make, opportunities arise and by making the most of these we realise the relative benefits to be gained or otherwise.  Through our committment and willingness to achieve a goal, irrespective of what obstacles there may be or we come across, we move forward and progress is made in our endeavour.  If the goal is something we have set our mind and heart on whatever setbacks or obstacles are encountered should then be taken to be the hurdles to overcome. By repeated experience we learn the necessary disciplines with which to train or involve our mind and body to reach our goal. When we recognise and forego or sacrifice certain habits that are not conducive to our overall progress we release more energy by which to accomplish our end.  By sustained right effort we put in motion the train of events that will bring about the right results, but we should not be too attached to the fruits thereof.  Too much attachment is a cause of blindness, disappointment and suffering.  However with the right mental attitudes including positive thinking and actions we should learn from and leave behind past failures by always striving onwards to our desired objective or set goal. The best way to achieve this end is to include in some way the benefit and good of all those concerned whether they be friend or otherwise which will not be easy but will exhibit a spirit of high ethical standards and character and contribute to endearing oneself to others. _______________________________________________________________
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4
To realize, your malice intent, and power hungry destruction of my most hidden and vulnerable ***** I am relieved to be free of your vindictive and spiteful soul; everything about you is abrasive, brooding and angry, vicious and ugly That person,  so gentle and endearing is lost, I am not so sure he even exists, just one of your many disorderly personas And to think of my pain, self-mutilating thoughts and attempts to make sense of the shock trying to free myself from your lock of enamoring lies. I could feel the end when we had just sprouted, battling my intuition with a fawn dawn heart- with you, I finally felt full after some empty time. But upon reflection of your undeniable misogyny, I thank you! I could not be more thankful for you exiting my life, the confirmation of this delusion we called love, I am so thankful I was tricked, you see, without honesty, I could only give you so much, and only that much, is what you could take away from me- Leaving behind such vitality and adventurous expression, Charm, wits and sentiment for living the performer in me you never could accept, Merely shaking the strength only a woman could have. You could never break me, although you tried- and in that I find pity, that you feel so small You seek power in destroying a lover like breaking a heart is a triumph, You are no huntsman and I am not your doe I refuse to be your object for show
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Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 12:55 AM UTC
Misogynist ************
You are velvet under my fingertips, honey on my tongue. So, love me. Everything about you is lovable. Everything about you draws me in. Love me. Love me. Pour your love out onto me, kiss me with the kisses of your mouth, lavishing them from my neck to my thighs, ******* roughly on my soft, supple skin. Love me. Let me take you in. Let me kiss the breadth of your chest, let me caress your sweet, endearing face, love me, love me, let me pour my love out over you, onto you, into you. I want to hear how much you love how I love you. I don't. I want to press kisses against all your bruises. You soften my sodden heart. You're so pitiful it's endearing. My poor boy. My poor poor boy. Please don't cry, or I'll want to comfort you. Please don't look so sad. Don't look like you love me, or it might make me love you.
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Nov 6, 2022
Nov 6, 2022 at 10:52 PM UTC
110622
A gentleman of gentle deeds, whose smile surmises his thoughts. A simple man of simple gestures, whose kindness has never been fought. His words clever, his ideas charming, his romance soft yet strong. Enchanting eyes, endearing lips, his promise an elegant song. I want a gentleman, to run with me, through fields of yellow and green. I choose the gentleman, the careful man, the loveliest man I have seen.
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Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 1:01 AM UTC
Gentleman
Excuses, excuses - they'll come in a flood, When you realize your actions have pushed me away. Imagine! That I once considered you blood! But I've had quite enough of the games that you play. The switch came in stages, a gradual thing, I first didn't notice; it wasn't too clear. My perspective grew sharper with distance between, Felt your backhanded words as they pin-pricked my ears. You thought I wouldn't notice, would let it slip by, Never gave me much credit, and that was your fault. Wrapped your insults in jokes, like arsenic on rye, And you thought all this time that you wouldn't be caught. I don't know where you get it - this self-righteous act, It's not as endearing as you think it to be. You might take what you want, and then leave it at that, But I'm telling you now: you'll get no more from me. I don't know what has prompted you picking this fight. They're pathetic, yet hurtful, these things that you say. And I don't know where you think you've gotten the right To take it out on me when you don't get your way. For years, it's been happening - don't know how I missed All the ways you controlled me; I answered to you. Always did what you wanted, I'm realizing this; The extent of the selfishness you put me through. But it changed not too long ago, didn't it, dear? Oh yes, I grew a spine, and things started to change. And, oh, you didn't like what you started to hear. My defying your wants nearly made you deranged. People grow and they change; it's especially true For me ever since I was finally free. So how sad to discover it's not true for you, You're the same as you were, and as you'll always be. That's the person you are, who you've been since we met And it never caused issues until days of late. The things that you've said are things you will regret, Because I have no room for your envy-fueled hate. You've become quite the mean one - I'm sorry, it's true. You're no longer the person to whom I could turn. It's a shame (it's a **** shame), but yes, we are through. And it will not be me who is nursing the burn. Maybe one day you'll change, and we might reunite. I'm not getting my hopes up - there's danger in that. Until then, I hope you learn to treat people right, Because no one desires to stand by a brat. Maybe I am the first to address how you are, But I won't be the last, and this, I can assure. Your poignant self-righteousness won't get you far, And I'm sorry - for your case, there isn't a cure. So remember me now; you'll remember me then, When you lose all those who used to stand at your side. You'll remember the disrespect you showed your friend, For alas, she won't be there, holding you as you cry.
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Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
Disrespect
Excuses, excuses - they'll come in a flood, When you realize your actions have pushed me away. Imagine! That I once considered you blood! But I've had quite enough of the games that you play. The switch came in stages, a gradual thing, I first didn't notice; it wasn't too clear. My perspective grew sharper with distance between, Felt your backhanded words as they pin-pricked my ears. You thought I wouldn't notice, would let it slip by, Never gave me much credit, and that was your fault. Wrapped your insults in jokes, like arsenic on rye, And you thought all this time that you wouldn't be caught. I don't know where you get it - this self-righteous act, It's not as endearing as you think it to be. You might take what you want, and then leave it at that, But I'm telling you now: you'll get no more from me. I don't know what has prompted you picking this fight. They're pathetic, yet hurtful, these things that you say. And I don't know where you think you've gotten the right To take it out on me when you don't get your way. For years, it's been happening - don't know how I missed All the ways you controlled me; I answered to you. Always did what you wanted, I'm realizing this; The extent of the selfishness you put me through. But it changed not too long ago, didn't it, dear? Oh yes, I grew a spine, and things started to change. And, oh, you didn't like what you started to hear. My defying your wants nearly made you deranged. People grow and they change; it's especially true For me ever since I was finally free. So how sad to discover it's not true for you, You're the same as you were, and as you'll always be. That's the person you are, who you've been since we met And it never caused issues until days of late. The things that you've said are things you will regret, Because I have no room for your envy-fueled hate. You've become quite the mean one - I'm sorry, it's true. You're no longer the person to whom I could turn. It's a shame (it's a **** shame), but yes, we are through. And it will not be me who is nursing the burn. Maybe one day you'll change, and we might reunite. I'm not getting my hopes up - there's danger in that. Until then, I hope you learn to treat people right, Because no one desires to stand by a brat. Maybe I am the first to address how you are, But I won't be the last, and this, I can assure. Your poignant self-righteousness won't get you far, And I'm sorry - for your case, there isn't a cure. So remember me now; you'll remember me then, When you lose all those who used to stand at your side. You'll remember the disrespect you showed your friend, For alas, she won't be there, holding you as you cry.
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52
I'm cold. A chill in the air. Wood fire dwindling to smolders. Ash crisped cinders to share. Cotton between our shoulders. That endearing musk of burnt wood. A soft kiss on your cheek. My arm wrapped round you. I whisper in your ear those words I do love to speak. "I'll distract you not from the beauty of this world, nor the loves you've counted. I'll never let you waver from your hearts dream. Stay true - look up ahead and mine will be seen." This faint light up ahead. It flickers and dances. Clawing and bubbling to break. Daylight will be upon us, no chances. Don't blink or you'll miss this. The birth of life - light years away. An explosion of color flooding the sky. Life inspiring feeling - opposite to grey. Rain of warm power filling my voids. A dream born anew each day. A love found in you. Explored in every single way. A never ending gift. If only we're awake. Just then as it broke. Did you feel it? I felt yours and you mine. Our hopes and dreams become one. A valley of trust now glowing. Warm tones red through yellow. Delivered by the morning saint. My dream revealed. Endless passion only the sun could paint.
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
Sunrise
midriff cut from the universe and diamond rings look good on her every finger except the i'm-married-one perky ears and silk smooth skin adept and endearing accent even when she's mad at me and the way her shoulder blades curve she's good at math and *** things i like more than the usual triple threat, face, **** breast personality of an office chair.
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Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 3:05 AM UTC
"stop looking at me"
Light the Endearing Youth she introduce Of Trouble Death's Warrant I cannot spell Meet me this haply; Your Mind I deduce Transform a Stranger to a Friend so well I know you Love him. In Degree of Soul That a Year's Promotion is not enough The Author advices his Name; In Truth So merry comfort your Will to adopt See? Now he prepares for his Loved Event Inspired by the Contract for his Dad If I were you, wear those Sprint-Shoes you spent And chase the Best Moment you ever had. Once it's done, come set your feet by this stool And let me rub-in some Herbs to be cool.
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Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:06 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: CLAIRE HART
If somebody asked me if I still loved you I'd say yes If they continued to ask me what I loved about you I would say I loved how you laughed at the things I said. The way you stopped mid sentence and kind of chuckled. You'd cover your mouth and your eyes would dance and your shoulders would shake a little. I would say I loved how your hands played the piano. I always knew that there was some beauty in humans but never like the sight of your fingers dancing over the keys. You played so effortlessly, like it was nothing. I could have listened to you forever. I would say I loved the way you obsessed over your hair. I know I would always rag on you for being too into it, but it was endearing. Whenever you played with it a little I wished that I could do that too. I also loved the smell of the gel you used. I would say I loved how the sun hit your eyes. It would make them spark like you had something witty to say, and most of the time I think you did. The blue would look like the underside of a flame, bright, hot, burning. I think I hurt myself on them. I would say I loved how you breathed. Just sat there breathed. I wish I could have laid my head on your chest for longer, held my breath for longer to hear your heart beating. Sometimes giving up my life just to be in yours seems like a better option. I would say I loved when your glasses would slip down your nose when you were concentrating, whether it be on music or schoolwork. You'd push them back up with the delicate tip of your middle finger, shoving them back up to the safety of the bridge. I would say I loved the way your arms looked around my waist, like there wasn't a single thing that you wished to hold more. Your smooth skin was what I wished I could feel on mine again. I don't think there's another thing I wished I could touch once more. Lastly, I would say I loved how you tried to stick around until the very end. It wasn't easy for you, I know. But ******* it you tried. I think that's what I loved most about you, that you didn't give up because it got too hard. You gave up because you knew that I wasn't ready. I'm never going to be. The only thing I hate is how I have to write all of this as "loved" and not "love" because I'm supposed to have let go of something this trivial a few months ago. I'm sorry.
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Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
If Somebody Asked
If somebody asked me if I still loved you I'd say yes If they continued to ask me what I loved about you I would say I loved how you laughed at the things I said. The way you stopped mid sentence and kind of chuckled. You'd cover your mouth and your eyes would dance and your shoulders would shake a little. I would say I loved how your hands played the piano. I always knew that there was some beauty in humans but never like the sight of your fingers dancing over the keys. You played so effortlessly, like it was nothing. I could have listened to you forever. I would say I loved the way you obsessed over your hair. I know I would always rag on you for being too into it, but it was endearing. Whenever you played with it a little I wished that I could do that too. I also loved the smell of the gel you used. I would say I loved how the sun hit your eyes. It would make them spark like you had something witty to say, and most of the time I think you did. The blue would look like the underside of a flame, bright, hot, burning. I think I hurt myself on them. I would say I loved how you breathed. Just sat there breathed. I wish I could have laid my head on your chest for longer, held my breath for longer to hear your heart beating. Sometimes giving up my life just to be in yours seems like a better option. I would say I loved when your glasses would slip down your nose when you were concentrating, whether it be on music or schoolwork. You'd push them back up with the delicate tip of your middle finger, shoving them back up to the safety of the bridge. I would say I loved the way your arms looked around my waist, like there wasn't a single thing that you wished to hold more. Your smooth skin was what I wished I could feel on mine again. I don't think there's another thing I wished I could touch once more. Lastly, I would say I loved how you tried to stick around until the very end. It wasn't easy for you, I know. But ******* it you tried. I think that's what I loved most about you, that you didn't give up because it got too hard. You gave up because you knew that I wasn't ready. I'm never going to be. The only thing I hate is how I have to write all of this as "loved" and not "love" because I'm supposed to have let go of something this trivial a few months ago. I'm sorry.
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21
I close my eyes and listen To the soft sound of your voice as You weave a new tale for me to hear I see the pictures evolve before my eyes As characters begin to appear You take me by the heart To places we dream to be Painting our lives with your words Endearing you more to me Other men may have touched my skin You....have touched my soul Opening my mind again to believe Life can once again be whole. Dreams are made to live Love is made to be shared Tired of fighting against my grain Searching for the one who cares In the moment I ceased the fight Heart and soul sprang forth Then what does God hand to me But you...my one true north. March 6, 2016
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Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
My True North
You shed light onto my darkness, the only shimmering light, illuminating from a fish tank.. A face lit up in washed-out waters with his notebook-empty-blues I'd like to thank Persuasive and endearing, a warm heart is heating mine. I can feel the beat illuminating from a fish tank, kept cold but inevitably shines.
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Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 6:04 AM UTC
Warm
I want to write you a poem. It should be funny and witty! It will declare our love with a token! It should be endearing and flirty! Not at all, ***** It should be about, You and me! Could it be possible? You & Me!
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Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
Could It Be?
let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let love anchor on the shining beams let it flow through us as a crystal stream let it stay till the end of time let it ring within us as a dulcet chime let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let love grow eternally in our hearts let it array in each and every celestial chart let joy be the wonder we'll get to know let our affections always show let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let our world be a place of love divine let the planet's twosomes ever entwine let love's song of endearing go on endlessly let it rain its happiness so beautifully let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
Let's Catch The Moonbeams
I ate hot meals, I brushed my teeth day and night, I spent long hours on the mobile with friends, I wore well laundered clothings, Not a single crease or a stain on them, Before motherhood. My home was ***** and span, No stumbling on scattered toys, No ***** window panes, No tiny hands holding my skirts, No one  eagerly waiting for me on the doorsteps, No spits,pukes, pees or poos to clean, No teared  eyes to wipe, No tiny bundle to hold in my arms, Getting love,warmth and satisfaction in return, Before motherhood. I was in control of myself, Of my mind and thoughts, Caretaker of my own body, Spending hours to enhance my beauty, To maintain grace and elegance, Before motherhood. Now I am a mum, I don't mind if my hair is disheveled, My house is a bit messy, I am exhausted, For the reward of a hug, a kiss and those endearing words,"I love you mum,you are the bestest." completes me.
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Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
Before Motherhood
I wish you were here On this rainy night. Wrapped in a warm blanket, My head on your shoulder; Sitting close and holding hands, A hot cup of coffee in the other. Cool air playing with your moist hair A beautiful fragrance Drifting all about your essence Talking of small things Just to hear your voice Drowning in each others attentions Our hearts rejoice Lovingly planted kisses Affectionate little smiles Endearing little giggles My whole world in your eyes I wish you were here
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May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 4:26 PM UTC
I wish you were here
you said you loved me, a single lilac among others. prettier, you said. sweeter, softer. you loved my delicacy, sense of solitude, my endearing growth. however, sprouts whither, and I find myself asking why must you always turn back to smell the roses.
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Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC
Smell of Roses
Let me tell you about myself. I am a mosquito magnet. I have little scars of itchy memories all over my scrawny legs. But I think it means my blood is sacred. I find my laugh unique and one of a kind. My walk, resembling more of a bowlegged wobble, allows me to stand out against the crowd. (My walk isn't that bad, by the way, I was merely exaggerating for stylistic purposes.) What's more, the fact that I am prone to blushing at even the slightest glance my way is kldjaf;ldjfoiad;htija;ji;ajf. I love it. My clumsiness only adds meaning to the moments in which I am fleetingly graceful. Yes, my posture is rough around the edges, But it signifies that I have been around the world a few times. At least I don't jut out my pretty decently sized ******* You're welcome. I find my lack of arguing skills in the moment cute. My mistakes are adorable, and my obvious flaws are endearing. The fact I can't **** an ant without showing sympathy is amiable. If only somebody thought the same way about me. If only people looked and analyzed others as closely as I do. They would see. That way I wouldn't be the only one loving myself. (Or trying to.)
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Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 6:09 PM UTC
Me Myself And I
I would miss the intensity Of your sweet, sweet honeycomb heart The endearing amber in your beard And the strong hands I didn't fear The way your soft eyes become so light In the morning bright Your warm skin against mine, Holding me so tight Your husky laugh At my joking attempts The tiny touch of my hip, The ******** stroking of my hair Gripping my ******* Thrusting hard, endless pleasure I could sit in your sensual silence forever Happiness knows no bounds Inside your concrete floors and brick walls Your open windows, My open chest
0
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 10:45 PM UTC
Bin
let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let love anchor on the shining beams let it flow through us as a crystal stream let it stay until the end of time let it ring within us as a dulcet chime let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let love grow eternally in our hearts let it array in each and every celestial chart let joy be the wonder we'll get to know let our affections always show let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let our world be a place of love divine let the planet's twosomes ever entwine let love's song of endearing go on endlessly let it rain it happiness so beautifully let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now let's catch the moonbeams let's catch them now
0
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
Let's Catch The Moonbeams
this makeshift democracy yearning endearing breeding festering aristocracy petrified on the sidelines black hispanic asian european the manifesting minority which built this republic political policy withered to marrow echoes of Washington fade in graves marble halls politicians etches unsheathed to feast in bribery sorts the gleam of monetary value blinded patched pockets burning the fabric to be later devoured
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
Democracy
Endearing words laced with lies, Heartfelt apologies strung on a line, Sung to the moon, A story of woe, Full of wonder, love, and death, A tale of a human, Spun from the mind of an animal, Days grew shorter, Nights became longer, Fears became unearthed, Transformation, A powerful tale, A loner, Away from a pack, Predator yet prey, Crazy in the eyes of the night, It howls its story to the moon, Hoping for redemption, The stars twinkle merrily, While the moon never listens,
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Hoping For Redemption