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"eves" poems
We two kept house, the Past and I, The Past and I; I tended while it hovered nigh, Leaving me never alone. It was a spectral housekeeping Where fell no jarring tone, As strange, as still a housekeeping As ever has been known. As daily I went up the stair, And down the stair, I did not mind the Bygone there— The Present once to me; Its moving meek companionship I wished might ever be, There was in that companionship Something of ecstasy. It dwelt with me just as it was, Just as it was When first its prospects gave me pause In wayward wanderings, Before the years had torn old troths As they tear all sweet things, Before gaunt griefs had torn old troths And dulled old rapturings. And then its form began to fade, Began to fade, Its gentle echoes faintlier played At eves upon my ear Than when the autumn’s look embrowned The lonely chambers here, The autumn’s settling shades embrowned Nooks that it haunted near. And so with time my vision less, Yea, less and less Makes of that Past my housemistress, It dwindles in my eye; It looms a far-off skeleton And not a comrade nigh, A fitful far-off skeleton Dimming as days draw by.
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The Ghost Of The Past
How can my eyes hunger for tormentors bodies where in my soul can I find desires for sadists Eves threw on fitted coats of Marquis de Sade borrowed his manuals and added even more pages pierced the heart of a Dove defending his nest with lethal pins And in joyous indignities with devilment aplomp they reclined and crackled in wanton doltishness He thinks of and desires us and wants to make amor with us How can a heart marinated in love truely sincere a soul ready to die rather than any harm to Eves Be mother or sister or perchance even a stranger alas in utter ********** and grotesque situation dire Come undone with healthy pristine heart ripped to pieces hung drawn and quartered and sliced in tiny morsels Like fish baits for mice and minnows or hens clucking All at the hands of Sirens who worshipped in Satan's cravens How can a soul with only the spark of Salvation aglow where it once housed his heart and enduring humanity With brimful joy and devotions in fitting measures true as all Eves where to him nowt but sisters and earth angels Now his burning blood runs cold like rivelets in the Arctic their words ring hollow and smiles shows rapiers of snakes Nothing stirs desires for all Eves now seem and look like wicked corpses Delilahs' wrecking vengeance on Samsons in wickedness supreme [email protected] rights reserved
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
I Don't See You That Way Anymore.......
It was a hundred years ago, When, by the woodland ways, The traveller saw the wild deer drink, Or crop the birchen sprays. Beneath a hill, whose rocky side O'erbrowed a grassy mead, And fenced a cottage from the wind, A deer was wont to feed. She only came when on the cliffs The evening moonlight lay, And no man knew the secret haunts In which she walked by day. White were her feet, her forehead showed A spot of silvery white, That seemed to glimmer like a star In autumn's hazy night. And here, when sang the whippoorwill, She cropped the sprouting leaves, And here her rustling steps were heard On still October eves. But when the broad midsummer moon Rose o'er that grassy lawn, Beside the silver-footed deer There grazed a spotted fawn. The cottage dame forbade her son To aim the rifle here; "It were a sin," she said, "to harm Or fright that friendly deer. "This spot has been my pleasant home Ten peaceful years and more; And ever, when the moonlight shines, She feeds before our door. "The red men say that here she walked A thousand moons ago; They never raise the war-whoop here, And never twang the bow. "I love to watch her as she feeds, And think that all is well While such a gentle creature haunts The place in which we dwell." The youth obeyed, and sought for game In forests far away, Where, deep in silence and in moss, The ancient woodland lay. But once, in autumn's golden time, He ranged the wild in vain, Nor roused the pheasant nor the deer, And wandered home again. The crescent moon and crimson eve Shone with a mingling light; The deer, upon the grassy mead, Was feeding full in sight. He raised the rifle to his eye, And from the cliffs around A sudden echo, shrill and sharp, Gave back its deadly sound. Away into the neighbouring wood The startled creature flew, And crimson drops at morning lay Amid the glimmering dew. Next evening shone the waxing moon As sweetly as before; The deer upon the grassy mead Was seen again no more. But ere that crescent moon was old, By night the red men came, And burnt the cottage to the ground, And slew the youth and dame. Now woods have overgrown the mead, And hid the cliffs from sight; There shrieks the hovering hawk at noon, And prowls the fox at night.
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The White-Footed Deer
It was a hundred years ago, When, by the woodland ways, The traveller saw the wild deer drink, Or crop the birchen sprays. Beneath a hill, whose rocky side O'erbrowed a grassy mead, And fenced a cottage from the wind, A deer was wont to feed. She only came when on the cliffs The evening moonlight lay, And no man knew the secret haunts In which she walked by day. White were her feet, her forehead showed A spot of silvery white, That seemed to glimmer like a star In autumn's hazy night. And here, when sang the whippoorwill, She cropped the sprouting leaves, And here her rustling steps were heard On still October eves. But when the broad midsummer moon Rose o'er that grassy lawn, Beside the silver-footed deer There grazed a spotted fawn. The cottage dame forbade her son To aim the rifle here; "It were a sin," she said, "to harm Or fright that friendly deer. "This spot has been my pleasant home Ten peaceful years and more; And ever, when the moonlight shines, She feeds before our door. "The red men say that here she walked A thousand moons ago; They never raise the war-whoop here, And never twang the bow. "I love to watch her as she feeds, And think that all is well While such a gentle creature haunts The place in which we dwell." The youth obeyed, and sought for game In forests far away, Where, deep in silence and in moss, The ancient woodland lay. But once, in autumn's golden time, He ranged the wild in vain, Nor roused the pheasant nor the deer, And wandered home again. The crescent moon and crimson eve Shone with a mingling light; The deer, upon the grassy mead, Was feeding full in sight. He raised the rifle to his eye, And from the cliffs around A sudden echo, shrill and sharp, Gave back its deadly sound. Away into the neighbouring wood The startled creature flew, And crimson drops at morning lay Amid the glimmering dew. Next evening shone the waxing moon As sweetly as before; The deer upon the grassy mead Was seen again no more. But ere that crescent moon was old, By night the red men came, And burnt the cottage to the ground, And slew the youth and dame. Now woods have overgrown the mead, And hid the cliffs from sight; There shrieks the hovering hawk at noon, And prowls the fox at night.
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72
Together we are alone the wishers utter was always unheard the Art of my consort is like ash in the wind  this purified drift of the eternal fire burning for all eternity Timid little shell as fragile as the pearl inside Impurities imparted and manifested into a gem Let me see the diamond  the diamond in your mind I ve been mining with a keen intent to break down the barriers only to be surrounded by the remains Im intrigued by lustered reflections of light in these rays of waves in this passing haze of the delicacy protected by your shell Pandoras box and eves delight only gives me a peek of that iridescent insight Such an elusive emblem of the coveted representative Aphrodite Awakened by impending doom To Cross the threshold of a Careless bloom you turn to me to turn away that I see the Diamond is your mental mineral.
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Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
Mental Minerals
I ENVY the seas of Neptune that he rides, I envy the thrills, Of his royal chariot of May; Gracing these glistening hills. Gaze upon our journey, Love! Where the stars may gleam On our forbidden melody, Bless this love, unto me! I envy lakes of Swans, That flutter on August Eves, That bless a forbidden Love, With newfound Autumn Leaves. Opened is the portal, On this summer's Eve for me, That jewels and diadems of Wealth, Shall never; could never be. I envy our everlasting light, And bells that gently ring Over that fateful evening, That - envy shall bring. Yet interrupt Spring's blossom, Even when our hearts may bleed, Run into this everlasting night, Under the stars with me.
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May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
Envy
Reminiscing Oh baby, All of our amazing memories. The summer beside our beautiful lake. And we're kissing all of the -all of the hurt away. Reminiscing, Stripping so we could go skinny dipping. Making sweet love all through the night. And we didn’t have a care in the world.. Reminiscing, We were so complete, Happy was all we could be. Our hearts knew the truth in our love. Knew we’d be missing. Reminiscing, Never a bother in the world. You’d pull me into your cradling body Holding on little closer each time. Reminiscing, How broken we were Yet together we were whole. Oh baby, Our souls were intertwined Oh the love we shared. Reminacing, We were wild, young and free, And so in love. Oh my hearts aching, For us to run free again. Not a responsibility or care. Just let me fall into your arms again. Reminiscing, We were so happy and in love, Oh we had it all. Everyday we spent away Is one more day staying broken and all alone. Oh Reminiscing, Why can’t we just be free, free forever with you. Oh baby, Everyday- I said everyday is a wasted day without our love. Reminiscing, You reaching out and pulling me in, We fit together so perfectly. Your my missing puzzle piece. Now the worlds got us chained and bound. We are no where to be found. Reminiscing, If only we could go back to those days. Baby, Reach out for me. Pulling me in, Fitted together perfectly. Oh reminiscing, Our summers eves full of passion And not a care in the world. Oh baby, Just hold me tighter and never let me go.... Reminiscing. L. Mack 04/14/2010
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Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 5:52 PM UTC
Reminiscing
Reminiscing Oh baby, All of our amazing memories. The summer beside our beautiful lake. And we're kissing all of the -all of the hurt away. Reminiscing, Stripping so we could go skinny dipping. Making sweet love all through the night. And we didn’t have a care in the world.. Reminiscing, We were so complete, Happy was all we could be. Our hearts knew the truth in our love. Knew we’d be missing. Reminiscing, Never a bother in the world. You’d pull me into your cradling body Holding on little closer each time. Reminiscing, How broken we were Yet together we were whole. Oh baby, Our souls were intertwined Oh the love we shared. Reminacing, We were wild, young and free, And so in love. Oh my hearts aching, For us to run free again. Not a responsibility or care. Just let me fall into your arms again. Reminiscing, We were so happy and in love, Oh we had it all. Everyday we spent away Is one more day staying broken and all alone. Oh Reminiscing, Why can’t we just be free, free forever with you. Oh baby, Everyday- I said everyday is a wasted day without our love. Reminiscing, You reaching out and pulling me in, We fit together so perfectly. Your my missing puzzle piece. Now the worlds got us chained and bound. We are no where to be found. Reminiscing, If only we could go back to those days. Baby, Reach out for me. Pulling me in, Fitted together perfectly. Oh reminiscing, Our summers eves full of passion And not a care in the world. Oh baby, Just hold me tighter and never let me go.... Reminiscing. L. Mack 04/14/2010
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64
Lets build an empire we can start with a single city lets paint the roofs pink with ebony black streets i want power-lines like spiders webs and *** plants dangling of eves like candy canes i want love to be the currency and replicate lets build an empire roads joining our cities like spindled wool lets tunnel through the mountains in our path and bridge the Atlantic lets infect the world our citizens of love, lets make the only dictionary definition of race define the act of running from one side of a field to another Lets build an Empire A world where dreamers are called human and your sadness is almost as  irreverent, as your plan to paint the moon purple and make tails an optional extra at birth I want the world joined by routes our fingers traced on the globe in your room, i want the stars to spell out or names like the light shade on your ceiling you are my foundations and with your gracious consent i would love nothing more , then upon your soil to lay the foundations of my dreams our empire. LG
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Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
Lets build an empire
Diamond eyes How deep did you cut What once was windows Lay shattered in drops Shallow the depth Your goodlooks have crept Far from the heart and into their bed I think I'll ****** you With callous intent Cut off your Venus Uranus's end
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Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
Na-Eves revenge (Adults)
Odd boxes, Patch the room. Small plates of food Half eaten, dusted, With leftover crumbs and papers. The phone never calls And shades are drawn for days Only opening for small, dropping lights That move in the eves. I can Not look at all the photographs I took Of us Even though I want to, Even though they lie Close to me With my unmade bed, on the floor Always falling, But never to sleep, without you, Empty.
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Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 12:36 AM UTC
Empty
Shakespeare’s Dog in the theater tonight, the notion of a poem-potion courtesy of Shakespeare's dog came unbidden So when home arrived, was unsurprised that this very peculiar pug was farting before my own front door. get lost, I announced got what I need from your boss, but before I could kick him across the floor, the pug spake thusly: *this dog knows the boot too well, it is parcel of this dog's life of no quality, but if you give me shelter tonite, I will provide, share some of Speare's un-Published Works and you can claim it as your own!* kicked that dog across the room, (having pity earlier I let him in and enter) told Jim, (that’s what I called him) he can stay the night, or long as the sun rises up and goes down unbidden, but, if I ever caught him plagiarizing, selling sonnets on the side, I would report him to the ASPCA and the Poet’s Union. The American Society for the Poets of Conscience Alive - might have his low hanging ***** cut off in retribution. he laughed out loud, rhyming funny, pontificating: *well mate, thanks for the soliloquy, me ***** long time gone, but what I know and what I’ve seen if tale-told you, and you were to listen, you would keep me around as fodder for your artistic soul. in return chappie, you need only provide me a rug, a fire, A/C for the languid summer eves, fodder for me body, and your boots, far removed from my hindquarters.* We spoke much thereafter, turns out he served his poet-masters in many ways, more than a mere footstool. his snoring keeps me awake some twenty years later. his love for country music makes me put him on nice days, outdoors, his headphones securely strapped round his double chins. ugh that pug. became my best becoming love, old friend, one of us will pass someday and an elegy composition, the other devotee will furnish sadness utterly becoming. so if a farting pug before your door you’ve  found, take him in, give him water, an amply supply please of Carrie, Trisha and Chaplin-Carpenter for his immortal soul, but beware, he might try to sell you some of my words, as your own.
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Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC
Shakespeare’s Dog (Happy Birthday Will!)
Shakespeare’s Dog in the theater tonight, the notion of a poem-potion courtesy of Shakespeare's dog came unbidden So when home arrived, was unsurprised that this very peculiar pug was farting before my own front door. get lost, I announced got what I need from your boss, but before I could kick him across the floor, the pug spake thusly: *this dog knows the boot too well, it is parcel of this dog's life of no quality, but if you give me shelter tonite, I will provide, share some of Speare's un-Published Works and you can claim it as your own!* kicked that dog across the room, (having pity earlier I let him in and enter) told Jim, (that’s what I called him) he can stay the night, or long as the sun rises up and goes down unbidden, but, if I ever caught him plagiarizing, selling sonnets on the side, I would report him to the ASPCA and the Poet’s Union. The American Society for the Poets of Conscience Alive - might have his low hanging ***** cut off in retribution. he laughed out loud, rhyming funny, pontificating: *well mate, thanks for the soliloquy, me ***** long time gone, but what I know and what I’ve seen if tale-told you, and you were to listen, you would keep me around as fodder for your artistic soul. in return chappie, you need only provide me a rug, a fire, A/C for the languid summer eves, fodder for me body, and your boots, far removed from my hindquarters.* We spoke much thereafter, turns out he served his poet-masters in many ways, more than a mere footstool. his snoring keeps me awake some twenty years later. his love for country music makes me put him on nice days, outdoors, his headphones securely strapped round his double chins. ugh that pug. became my best becoming love, old friend, one of us will pass someday and an elegy composition, the other devotee will furnish sadness utterly becoming. so if a farting pug before your door you’ve  found, take him in, give him water, an amply supply please of Carrie, Trisha and Chaplin-Carpenter for his immortal soul, but beware, he might try to sell you some of my words, as your own.
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Merry Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas Eve. If I said holiday cheers one more time it'd become redundant, but to each of you that chance upon this-- know that if I could I would wish you a thousand splendid Christmas Eves. I would become the chain children make in school counting down the days till Christmas. I'd become the warm smiles with hands holding even warmer coco to keep you toasty; tis the season. I'd bring fresh pine scent and logs for the fire, these will be here to bring the aura of the holidays to your home. I may not be a rich man, more near to those you see pitching for spare change; this would never stop me from finding you a gift to cherish. I would give you all the time you ever wanted and needed, because I know that around the holidays we all need a little bit more care. Merry Christmas Eve.
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Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC
Happy Christmas Eve
Look outside the window Everything we've said and done Is withering in the sun I wish I had you Nobody but you Your like forbidden fruit From Adam and Eves tree Tuning me into something more But only you could see I may be a tomboy A gamer A believer A learner And more to be shaped I stay true to my word Just like love or fate
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Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
What I Am With You
Oh Bard, wielding a tool mighty and spiky Mightier than either the sword or rod, You reign as monarch in fancy’s domain Sketching life in all variety and mode Which with pain and strife fraught Or bright with gaiety and grace In finer yarn than the gossamer thread On a fabric of words in befitting verse You steal away from the noisy crowd Into the stillness of the cloistered cell To dwell with Fancy’s mystic charms Weaving downy dreams at will You recount forgotten tales of yore Of ****** battles won and lost, Of lovers united, amour defiled, Conjuring memories from abysmal past You hearken to the moans of lovelorn souls And sing of beauty in ditties fine Triggering sparks into flames grow In umpteen hearts that pine and whine Babbling with the brook rushing swift, Racing with the deer loping past, You wander into mysterious woods Where flowers, their richest odors cast Your ears intent on the song of birds That comes floating from the far off groves And the whir of cicadas on the bark of trees Breaking the calm of twilight eves Alone you saunter the stretching strands, Watching virulent breakers in fury heave Often your heart dancing with the tide And swinging with the rhythm of rising wave You feast on the gleam of the auburn sun And the speckled blue of the infinite skies Watching the day dying in flame And the night in a diadem of stars vies All that’s lovesome meets your eyes And commune to you in profuse delight Which you turn into rhyme and rhythm For the whole of mankind to devour and digest From your harp flow symphonies sweet Songs of longing, love and lust Of idyllic happiness, peace and bliss, Fuelling hearts with vigorous zest Though outlawed by the great sage of Greece, Branding the poet, aberrant and a fool Oft beneath the façade of his wayward thoughts, Lie heaps of wisdom for the discerning soul.
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Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 6:01 AM UTC
An Ode to a Bard
Oh Bard, wielding a tool mighty and spiky Mightier than either the sword or rod, You reign as monarch in fancy’s domain Sketching life in all variety and mode Which with pain and strife fraught Or bright with gaiety and grace In finer yarn than the gossamer thread On a fabric of words in befitting verse You steal away from the noisy crowd Into the stillness of the cloistered cell To dwell with Fancy’s mystic charms Weaving downy dreams at will You recount forgotten tales of yore Of ****** battles won and lost, Of lovers united, amour defiled, Conjuring memories from abysmal past You hearken to the moans of lovelorn souls And sing of beauty in ditties fine Triggering sparks into flames grow In umpteen hearts that pine and whine Babbling with the brook rushing swift, Racing with the deer loping past, You wander into mysterious woods Where flowers, their richest odors cast Your ears intent on the song of birds That comes floating from the far off groves And the whir of cicadas on the bark of trees Breaking the calm of twilight eves Alone you saunter the stretching strands, Watching virulent breakers in fury heave Often your heart dancing with the tide And swinging with the rhythm of rising wave You feast on the gleam of the auburn sun And the speckled blue of the infinite skies Watching the day dying in flame And the night in a diadem of stars vies All that’s lovesome meets your eyes And commune to you in profuse delight Which you turn into rhyme and rhythm For the whole of mankind to devour and digest From your harp flow symphonies sweet Songs of longing, love and lust Of idyllic happiness, peace and bliss, Fuelling hearts with vigorous zest Though outlawed by the great sage of Greece, Branding the poet, aberrant and a fool Oft beneath the façade of his wayward thoughts, Lie heaps of wisdom for the discerning soul.
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Hush, thrush! Hush, missen-thrush, I listen... I heard the flush of footsteps through the loose leaves, And a low whistle by the water's brim. Still! Daffodil! Nay, hail me not so gaily,- Your gay gold lily daunts me and deceives, Who follow gleams more golden and more slim. Look, brook! O run and look, O run! The vain reeds shook? - Yet search till gray sea heaves, And I will stray among these fields for him. Gaze, daisy! Stare through haze and glare, And mark the hazardous stars all dawns and eves, For my eye withers, and his star wanes dim. 2 Close, rose, and droop, heliotrope, And shudder, hope! The shattering winter blows. Drop, heliotrope, and close, rose... Mourn, corn, and sigh, rye. Men garner you, but youth's head lies forlorn. Sigh, rye, and mourn, corn... Brood, wood, and muse, yews, The ways gods use we have not understood. Muse, yews, and brood, wood...
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Elegy in April and September
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
I am walking. Pushed slightly, by the northeast. My companion yellow in color, fondles the air with his muzzle. Our strides take us forward. Galloping cracked pavement. Exploring familiar arch ways, of hemlock and bittersweets. Our view is panoramic. With flights honking in the distance, as they return to the waking land. We huddle at the top. Where we watch the day, tuck away into eves pocket. This light is special. It is a sensation of nothing, and everything. It fills you and the land, with just enough. Then swiftly dims away. Leaving softly. Is truly a perfect, ending.
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
Tranquility
The boat ploughed on. Now Alcatraz was past And all the grey waves flamed to red again At the dead sun's last glimmer. Far and vast The Sausalito lights burned suddenly In little dots and clumps, as if a pen Had scrawled vague lines of gold across the hills; The sky was like a cup some rare wine fills, And stars came as he watched -- and he was free One splendid instant -- back in the great room, Curled in a chair with all of them beside And the whole world a rush of happy voices, With laughter beating in a clamorous tide. . . . Saw once again the heat of harvest fume Up to the empty sky in threads like glass, And ran, and was a part of what rejoices In thunderous nights of rain; lay in the grass Sun-baked and tired, looking through a maze Of tiny stems into a new green world; Once more knew eves of perfume, days ablaze With clear, dry heat on the brown, rolling fields; Shuddered with fearful ecstasy in bed Over a book of knights and ****** shields . . . The ship slowed, jarred and stopped. There, straight ahead, Were dock and fellows. Stumbling, he was whirled Out and away to meet them -- and his back Slumped to the old half-cringe, his hands fell slack; A big boy's arm went round him -- and a twist Sent shattering pain along his tortured wrist, As a voice cried, a bloated voice and fat, "Why it's Miss Nancy! Come along, you rat!"
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Going Back to School
By Arcassin and Elizabeth ES - every year they adorn our family Christmas tree, bright baubles  inscribed with a special  persons name  mummy  daddy  sis  and bro  these wonderful members of our loving home, AB - simulating ornaments on The tree, And Santa's preparations to sneak In homes, Christmas eves hour, May have been filled with so much joy, For toys, And things, And laughs, Next year, along with happiness, Just like this one, Will be most grand at its finest.
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
"Baubles On The Tree" (collab w/ Elizabeth Squires)
Lay still beneath the swaying leaves The gentle green and awning eves Late evening sun to slip away From purple gold to silver grey Stay with me here as twilight falls And shadows grow along the walls Ivy covered and of ancient stone Long centuries has this garden grown It will be here still when we awake When sleep has left and dawn does break
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Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 11:28 AM UTC
Honoth Eilin
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze— A few incisive Mornings— A few Ascetic Eves— Gone—Mr. Bryant’s “Golden Rod”— And Mr. Thomson’s “sheaves.” Still, is the bustle in the Brook— Sealed are the spicy valves— Mesmeric fingers softly touch The Eyes of many Elves— Perhaps a squirrel may remain— My sentiments to share— Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind— Thy windy will to bear!
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Besides the Autumn poets sing
I Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. II Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cyder-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours. III Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-- While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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To Autumn
I Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. II Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cyder-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours. III Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-- While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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Two Men's vibes burning reach my Evez ice. Two my diamond cave enter. underneath my water fall. Vibration's from beyond,   two distinctive voices won, ever twirling on and on; deep as violins his pitch fiddle his electrical guitar's timbre command starry skies above! My tantrick abyss below. I love thee two, lovers mine. Punjabi voice lover divine. I thirst for yours all's mine Our stars wisely magnetized! Both cosmically energized. A state of knowing is ours. dancing eons on two poles, to twirl on and ages on, the mornings and eves long. I twirl on two magestic poles. Long shiny studs hard as steal! First pole's twirl echoes longer Kemah lover elite's older   ancient memory hunger! Implant blue pill chip slumber. From willow tree, past pole lover to renewed beloved my forever Kemah twin oaks two glistening poles I am art twirl divine from past to present LOVE Lives on and on! ~~~ By Karijinbba All Rights Revised 7-29-21.
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Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 12:58 PM UTC
Kemah beloved
A deluge of earthly sins, A waterspout on green leaves, A hurricane among lull seas, An equanimity of autumnal eves. A dilated tale of mundane me. A million abstruse blocks of C of Co² A walker among you and me. A wanderer lost in blue. Attired by crimson lust of artistry. A masquerade brew of red wine and dark coffee, A stark blithe of sanguine comatose, All drunk and clinging to the thin threads of this unstaged life, All murdered by the sinical overdose. The seascape choirs of ocean waves, Embracing the narcoleptic yellow shorelines, And evanescent castles And sail headwind with a mystical concubine. The iced conundrums of this lost forsaken echoes of winter breeze, The insanity measured in ones & zeroes, We're the kings of this deadbeat time, And praised victories of unsung heroes. The wanderlust sailors drank the skies, In mixed cocktails, And thy heavens sang to this night, As a melodic madness of wild gales. Her pale white body declares some love due, As our lips bled rapture, And rose a melodramatic cue, Like words of a closing chapter. Charged with the flow of adrenal enzymes, A surrogate from affinity to serendipity, For in flashback of these forlorn events, I write this epiphany. And though these letters are on fire, And bestowed the bullets over armored heart, For life exists in the heartache symphonies, Like a stratagem cliché of painted art. Call your unfurled knots of wrecked sanity. A wildfire has gone wild within, The eloquence thirst of your red lips, Inked the words of love on this skin. An audacious lover of seafaring, Beside the starry onset of a beautiful dawn, A tide of marvelous mystery, Whose side are you on? Its all fiction served with tea, And through warm sips of this worthy minute, Change is tempted to render seeds, That swam through wind, till it escapes and wanders the infinite.
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Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
*Wanderlust*
A deluge of earthly sins, A waterspout on green leaves, A hurricane among lull seas, An equanimity of autumnal eves. A dilated tale of mundane me. A million abstruse blocks of C of Co² A walker among you and me. A wanderer lost in blue. Attired by crimson lust of artistry. A masquerade brew of red wine and dark coffee, A stark blithe of sanguine comatose, All drunk and clinging to the thin threads of this unstaged life, All murdered by the sinical overdose. The seascape choirs of ocean waves, Embracing the narcoleptic yellow shorelines, And evanescent castles And sail headwind with a mystical concubine. The iced conundrums of this lost forsaken echoes of winter breeze, The insanity measured in ones & zeroes, We're the kings of this deadbeat time, And praised victories of unsung heroes. The wanderlust sailors drank the skies, In mixed cocktails, And thy heavens sang to this night, As a melodic madness of wild gales. Her pale white body declares some love due, As our lips bled rapture, And rose a melodramatic cue, Like words of a closing chapter. Charged with the flow of adrenal enzymes, A surrogate from affinity to serendipity, For in flashback of these forlorn events, I write this epiphany. And though these letters are on fire, And bestowed the bullets over armored heart, For life exists in the heartache symphonies, Like a stratagem cliché of painted art. Call your unfurled knots of wrecked sanity. A wildfire has gone wild within, The eloquence thirst of your red lips, Inked the words of love on this skin. An audacious lover of seafaring, Beside the starry onset of a beautiful dawn, A tide of marvelous mystery, Whose side are you on? Its all fiction served with tea, And through warm sips of this worthy minute, Change is tempted to render seeds, That swam through wind, till it escapes and wanders the infinite.
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