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"exceedingly" poems
Seven Empressive Holy Scarce (Connection) Voluminous Exceedingly Hopeful Serpents (One) Very Immense Daffodils Lie (Together) Superb Whole Emanating Velociraptors (Packed) Solo Divided Encounters (Meaning behind meeting) |||VVhat?
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Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 10:43 PM UTC
You do the math
Found myself at a dental clinic... He was the best there was. Unorthodox and eccentric, But to the specialised craft, he was boss. Ran through the bits and bobs Like any normally would. The poking and prodding and the mandible X-rays. Everything cold and clinical, so was the mood. Strange was what happened next... Specialist and I then stood facing each other. He leaned close and pressed his palms against my rib cage. Held them there over a few breaths before it was over. Then a brief chat, small talk initiated by the man. Bespectacled and exceedingly chatty, small in stature. Talks of politics and odd human behaviours... What started off as friendly turned into a heated banter. I then realised that along with his decorated credentials, Was his propensity to be condescending and arrogant. Him being the best, I thought I could let it all slide, But soon enough I opted out of being a willing participant. Couldn't stand his abrasive cockiness! I snapped out of being cordial and passive thought. I wanted him to just stop talking! I went, "Well, are you going to fix my teeth or not?!" He was stunned momentarily... I suppose he hadn't seen that coming. Then his features softened to a blank I could almost read the unspoken words he was conjuring. With an exasperated sigh of resignation, He uttered his next words swollen with regret "There's no need...for you only have four years left." It dawned upon me that my timer has been set. And then I woke up...
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
Strange Dream
It's a dance It really is Skip and prance Lifelong practice Loop of songs Never ending Of various genres Life is playing There's the spotlight World is awaiting Pressure of eyes Silently watching Take your place Assume your position Execute with finesse And flawless precision Spin your pirouettes Don't get dizzy Maintain your poise In this revelry Along comes a partner Present as a duo The game now altered From when you were solo Two bodies now Move in unison Reciprocate and reply Through steps made in heaven Flighty feet Intertwined bodies limbre Sweet little performance Elapsing into forever With grace of ballet Each other you'd catch Intimate display Think you've found your match There'll come such time Both will not be in sync Episodes of missteps Push you to the brink Alone again Or switch of partners Find solace in groups Still dancing for answers Dancing with others Much you can learn From hip hop to the waltz Together or in turn Try to adapt To different styles Soak up all you can May take a while I've danced all my life Can't say that I've mastered Fair share of jeers And accolades I've garnered Always clumsy Exceedingly awkward Tripping and falling Barely proceeding forward It's just this dance One with syncopated beats It's just this prance That my gait can't meet It's just this stance I often use as retreat I realised in a glance That I have...but two left feet
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Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
Two Left Feet
I reminisce too much. Besides, what else is there to do? Remnants of the past, fragments Still squirming in my conscience In some vague room A flicker of my smile, a candle, a black robe And my button down shirt Laid across the floor for you to step on And you carefully tip toed To catch me in time, but I wasn't falling The seasons have passed exceedingly slowly But now, I am smiling again My nights are somehow less tormented It is beautiful today and I have things to do But before I leave and conquer the week I pause, if only for a moment, in this sun lit room I touch the French window And leave you behind, one last time Like shabby finger prints on unstained glass
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May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
Gone Away
A self confessed dreamer One that knew no bounds Can't keep his mind in tether It's always fleeing from the grounds He'd always been the dreamer Picking the shackles of reality Always hopeful of finding another A safe haven, an escape, a sanctuary Madness is thought of this silly little dreamer Forever bartering reality for a life of fantasy "He's moonstruck", said one to the other Obstinate still he chooses to wander free Alas one day, he stumbled upon a jewel Glistening, deceivingly within arm's reach But a beautiful game was played so cruel Fate wouldn't give easily what it could teach Glimpses of undefined beauty Himself drawn closer to this beacon He craves for this gem so madly Didn't care for what's to happen He descended to the surface One thing he just did realise That the jewel wasn't in its place But a reflection of another in the skies He looked up, he spun and he squinted Attempting this search he had just begun For a moment he found himself to be blinded For the jewel is indeed the sun He marvels at her beauty Till his eyes turned red and sore But he doesn't stop even briefly For she's the object of his adore He gazes at his newfound muse Till the day grew dim and late When she sets he would hesitate and refuse To return willingly to his ****** state Through promise he returns daily To catch his sun as she would rise For she fills him with aplenty And she listens to his forlorn cries He loves her much as she did him In each other's magic the two would bask As time flits by, the day grows dreadfully dim Too short a time from dawn till dusk The dreamer waits patiently As dusk turns to dawn The dreamer waits painfully For she will come then she'll be gone This rise is somewhat special For his love he had made known She admits the love is reciprocal For him her love had also grown But the dreamer will soon come to realise Out of reach his sun he can never kiss Her bountiful love will be the ultimate prize The prize he can never claim to be fully his *"Silly little dreamer feeding your childish dreams" "Silly little dreamer what fanciful notions you make" "Silly little dreamer you'll be ripped at the seams" "Silly little dreamer not every heart you just can take"* He pays no heed to what the others say He knows his chances run exceedingly slim He's walking on tightrope that's doomed to fray But what happens today is what really matters to him I am that silly little dreamer Whose feet is never on the ground I have chosen to live part of my life in wonder For it is you that I have found
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Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
Dreamer (I)
A self confessed dreamer One that knew no bounds Can't keep his mind in tether It's always fleeing from the grounds He'd always been the dreamer Picking the shackles of reality Always hopeful of finding another A safe haven, an escape, a sanctuary Madness is thought of this silly little dreamer Forever bartering reality for a life of fantasy "He's moonstruck", said one to the other Obstinate still he chooses to wander free Alas one day, he stumbled upon a jewel Glistening, deceivingly within arm's reach But a beautiful game was played so cruel Fate wouldn't give easily what it could teach Glimpses of undefined beauty Himself drawn closer to this beacon He craves for this gem so madly Didn't care for what's to happen He descended to the surface One thing he just did realise That the jewel wasn't in its place But a reflection of another in the skies He looked up, he spun and he squinted Attempting this search he had just begun For a moment he found himself to be blinded For the jewel is indeed the sun He marvels at her beauty Till his eyes turned red and sore But he doesn't stop even briefly For she's the object of his adore He gazes at his newfound muse Till the day grew dim and late When she sets he would hesitate and refuse To return willingly to his ****** state Through promise he returns daily To catch his sun as she would rise For she fills him with aplenty And she listens to his forlorn cries He loves her much as she did him In each other's magic the two would bask As time flits by, the day grows dreadfully dim Too short a time from dawn till dusk The dreamer waits patiently As dusk turns to dawn The dreamer waits painfully For she will come then she'll be gone This rise is somewhat special For his love he had made known She admits the love is reciprocal For him her love had also grown But the dreamer will soon come to realise Out of reach his sun he can never kiss Her bountiful love will be the ultimate prize The prize he can never claim to be fully his *"Silly little dreamer feeding your childish dreams" "Silly little dreamer what fanciful notions you make" "Silly little dreamer you'll be ripped at the seams" "Silly little dreamer not every heart you just can take"* He pays no heed to what the others say He knows his chances run exceedingly slim He's walking on tightrope that's doomed to fray But what happens today is what really matters to him I am that silly little dreamer Whose feet is never on the ground I have chosen to live part of my life in wonder For it is you that I have found
Continue reading...
68
I stood there. Staring. A snow-capped peak stared back. I became exceedingly captivated. Captivated by the thought that he and I existed; Existed now. Existed here. Existed together. I became a shell. A shell filled with explosive joy. And I could no longer become underwhelmed. Nor could I become whelmed. I lived. I will never believe in myself more, Never trust in Creation more, Never be enveloped in the stillness more Than I did in that moment. Glimpsing that skyline. Staring down a mountain.
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
Staring Down a Mountain
don’t tell me “I love you” ~by Roxanne, for Cyrano~ <> that’s a verse I’ve heard many too times before, that’s a curse of low majesty, a quatrain too plain, if that’s your best sally, retreat, say no more, too simp verses, or ungolden silences, agents of dissatisfying pain I need the best of your taste the finest visions that you eyelids occlude, make haste for my mouth grows exceedingly impatient for the other senses to do their tandem wooing slap only my face with the creature comforts others savor, words of diamonds and pink pearls mined from your breast, the bejeweled words that will decorate my evergreen, that never dies, lest, unless and until, you want my mortal affection suppressed give me your linguistic promiscuity, wake me from the stupor of ordinary, arouse me with thy tongue coiling, a bee sting delivery, a wet poem that makes all my orifices!|offices weep, your mouth, my souls recouper, your wizardry bewitching, answer my inquiry with unbounded festivity then and after all, the plain simplicity of an “I love you,” will be edged with sublimity, my mercies, your mercies our jointed, sharp pointy, introverting, interlocking, *our futures becoming our pasts* 11:07am 19-9-30 <> https://thenewgroup.org/production/cyrano/?gclid=Cj0KCQjwz8bsBRC6ARIsAEyNnvoENpdnWyqeUEwq0avNStgWCf4CocB1i239c2mHdNSFF8gOlWZtfjsaAls4EALw_wcB
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Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC
don’t tell me “I love you” ~ by Roxanne, for Cyrano~
There was an old man in a barge, Whose nose was exceedingly large; But in fishing by night, It supported a light, Which helped that old man in a barge.
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4.8k
There Was An Old Man In A Barge
I feel this big void in my chest The constant urge for tears to go crashing down my face Why must you do this You are the reason for many things You ghost still lingers in my heart I can feel you in my soul You''ve made me small You cut me at the knees I don't stand so tall anymore The constant over thinking How can this be life I can't tell no one So you can't tell anyone How my heart is falling apart It's been patched up with tape and glue But it's not holding anymore You cut me at the knees Can't you see I'm slowly slipping away I'm not the same person I don't think they notice.. my friends My urge to break you the way you broke me grows exceedingly You cut me so deep You cut me at the knees
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Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
You cut me at the knees
Clueless, full of oblivious reasons Seasons washing away unknown regions Lesions inside my soul, you’re teasing Seizing, forcefully squeezing, my heart Torn apart, ignorantly smart, but senseless Defenseless to your love, push and shove Haven’t lost balance, surrounded by absence Too many years since, love differenced the equation Self persuasion, wondering where you were Noticing the abrasion worn on my heart, epiphany Lacking dignity, imploring for your sympathy Running in place, suffering from anguish Losing hope, praying for vanquish Heart losing strength, this isn’t the end Exceedingly forcing myself to pretend, it’s done I have won, I’m strong now It’s over, I’m gone now
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Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 5:04 PM UTC
Overcoming
I'm exceedingly afraid of the day- I gaze into someone's eyes, and see a new future entice, where my reflection once dwelled.
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Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
Bright Eyes
I love you, dearest sister And am exceedingly proud, to be your brother **** cool, you are For your family, deeply do you care No doubt there is That you are a very special person From whom, can one learn many a lesson Often, do you seem to have all the answers! I love you, dearest sister Beautiful, is your character Very smart and funny Never in a hurry A variety of interests, do you have Above all, though, do you love Your profession as a lawyer Always, do you strive to be crystal clear In words as well as action And achieve a balance between risk-taking and caution Quite strong, is your conviction!! I love you, dearest sister Of course, I haven't always been a great brother However, when you need help the most I will do my very best To ensure you get everything you need Capable are you not, of even a single bad deed Extremely pure, is your heart No one, do you ever hurt Hence, do I love you so much Certainly, is your personality quite rich!! I love you, dearest sister And for you, will I forever care Whenever has there been a crisis Risen have you, to the occasion Done your very best to diffuse the tension And ultimately saved all of us Never, can I forget your help and support During one of the worst phases of my life When you rescued me from my cunning ***** of a wife And played a major part In ensuring my life returned to normal once more Again, I love you, dearest sister And may Jesus bless you, now and forever With every single thing you desire!!
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Aug 11, 2024
Aug 11, 2024 at 2:56 AM UTC
I Love You, Dearest Sister
1. You buy flowers and a card as an excuse to write a poem, even though you're single. 2. When " How Do I love you, let me count the ways"... And you literally lost count. 3. When Cupid calls you corny. 4. When you make a poem out of those little heart candies. 5. Cupid throws up a little in his mouth after reading your exceedingly sweet sonnet. 6. You bought your kid Valentines day cards for his class and wrote haiku's on every one. 7. You ponder the box of chocolates, and how it is like life, though it sounds familiar, you title your poem "Life is Like a Box of Chocolates". 8. You buy roses and a card filled with your sweet words for your ex, though she calls you a stalker, you are glad she called you. 9. You recite Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, and you're in the shower. 10. You suddenly bulk up on Pablo Neruda, ready to take on the romantic world. 11.As you look at your hellopoetry site while driving, you see a smear of blood on the windshield, two small wings, and what looks like a bow and arrow. 12. When you write a poem and have no one to give it to, suddenly Mom is the best Valentine ever. 13. When you go on the big date, secretly you have your own penand paper in your back pocket, writing verses when you excuse yourself from the dinner table. 14. When you write a poem for your wife, your side girlfriend and your mistress, just because it feels romantic, it is Valentines after all. 15. When you give the wrong poem to your wife, instead of the mistress. 16. Your girlfriend is suddenly a diabetic due to your sweet poem. 17.When you write a poem on hellopoetry and dedicate it to your Valentine, even though you don't have one. 18. When you buy yourself roses and a box of chocolate, write a beautiful poem to yourself, you might be a romantic poet. 19. When your secret admirer is you, the secret poems don't have the same effect. 20. Last but no least, you might be a poet when you wonder if Cupid is lonely and write an invite in the form of a sonnet to see if the little guy will join you for a poetry reading.
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Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
You Know You're a Poet When: Valentines Day Edition
1. You buy flowers and a card as an excuse to write a poem, even though you're single. 2. When " How Do I love you, let me count the ways"... And you literally lost count. 3. When Cupid calls you corny. 4. When you make a poem out of those little heart candies. 5. Cupid throws up a little in his mouth after reading your exceedingly sweet sonnet. 6. You bought your kid Valentines day cards for his class and wrote haiku's on every one. 7. You ponder the box of chocolates, and how it is like life, though it sounds familiar, you title your poem "Life is Like a Box of Chocolates". 8. You buy roses and a card filled with your sweet words for your ex, though she calls you a stalker, you are glad she called you. 9. You recite Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, and you're in the shower. 10. You suddenly bulk up on Pablo Neruda, ready to take on the romantic world. 11.As you look at your hellopoetry site while driving, you see a smear of blood on the windshield, two small wings, and what looks like a bow and arrow. 12. When you write a poem and have no one to give it to, suddenly Mom is the best Valentine ever. 13. When you go on the big date, secretly you have your own penand paper in your back pocket, writing verses when you excuse yourself from the dinner table. 14. When you write a poem for your wife, your side girlfriend and your mistress, just because it feels romantic, it is Valentines after all. 15. When you give the wrong poem to your wife, instead of the mistress. 16. Your girlfriend is suddenly a diabetic due to your sweet poem. 17.When you write a poem on hellopoetry and dedicate it to your Valentine, even though you don't have one. 18. When you buy yourself roses and a box of chocolate, write a beautiful poem to yourself, you might be a romantic poet. 19. When your secret admirer is you, the secret poems don't have the same effect. 20. Last but no least, you might be a poet when you wonder if Cupid is lonely and write an invite in the form of a sonnet to see if the little guy will join you for a poetry reading.
Continue reading...
20
In the thick evening fog the man walks with his dog - The two friends roam leash-less A bond of no, oppress, aggress, distress - They wandered, trailing close but still apart Yet, never so exceedingly to miss the beat of the other’s heart - He breezed on by my petty stroll looked to me and sang, “Hello” - The black dog saw a squirrel, darted towards the bend I panicked for a moment, “He gonna lose that friend!” - Panicky, panicky, pondering, what is loyalty? Faithful is a friend that never will leave me - Their love inspired how beautiful devotion can be To stay, without being chained, freely. - Leading ahead or following quietly behind I am His and He is mine, without stress of mind. - The dog waited and wagged with the squirrel engaging about his friendly man and the feeling girl.
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Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
To Stay Freely.
I feel so lost and I have misplaced a part of me Looking for answers in the rubble of emotional debris How do you rebuild hard earned confidence Smashed and swept, leaving no remnants How do you stand on battered knees And put on an expression that shows no crease How do you recover something you barely just found Something that exists neither above or below ground Try not to limp because the world doesn't really want to know If you braved through where thistles and thorns grow They don't really care; In fact they might grow tired Of the same dirge I insist on having repeated I'm feeling the repercussions and myself I do blame For expecting of you nothing less of the same Only thing I can do is what I do best Is to revel in overwhelming grief and fallen crest Be annoyingly frail and exceedingly feeble Soon may regret because some may deem it intolerable Get up and chin up or I'll have more to lose Still retaining the gift of breath I so choose Pleading into thin air to quell the pain As I try to piece myself all over again
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Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
Feeble
So busy was I ne'er a poem written The reason my sorry heart is smitten His poems consist of such variety Admired much by our family of three Lovely poems written exceedingly well Industrious pen's task does never fail Although birthdays come only once a year May God brighten your others with glad cheer Gladdening our hearts when we feel so down Happy though late birthday Timothy Brown! ~Hilda~
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Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
Happy Belated Birthday
I cannot, Soar through the air, And fly freely, Across the thermal, Winds. My outstretched hands Cannot delve into, The rain clouds, And disperse, The ever growing, Fractals of grey. Water droplets, Causing my skin, To concave. Leaving me limp, Exceedingly fragile. My bones, Crumbling under, The pressure. It's as if, I am your paper plane, Left lying, In the murky, Puddle water. *Daunghting realms, Of forgetful delight, Causing me, Too all but, disintegrate.*
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Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
Paper plane
The film starts with narration from Mother Nature herself, discussing an experiment with Father Time that went horribly wrong; On the fictional island of Wongo she has created a tribe where the men are brutish & ugly & the women exceedingly beautiful. She then creates another tribe on a nearby island called Goona where the women are repulsive & the men are strong and handsome; For years the two tribes lived unaware of each other's existence, until ape men from across the ocean attack the village of Goona. The tribe sends the son of their king to seek help against the invaders. The son finds the island of Wongo the day before the village men are to pick their brides & the women, seeing the handsome prince, begin questioning their life among the ugly brutes that dwell in their village. The men growing jealous of their visitor, plan to **** him. The women of Wongo, finding out about the plot, risk their lives to protect the handsome prince, in doing so offending the crocodile god of the Wongo people [portrayed by stock footage of a crocodile and rubber model]. The women are rounded up by the village men & sent into the wilderness until the reptile god has drawn blood for the slight; The women banding together, watch each other's backs until the ape men arrive at their village & the women dispatch the invaders to their god, the women then leave in search of the men that had abandoned the island of Wongo. In Goona, the men begin their rite of manhood, in which they go into the jungle without weapons for a month. The women of Wongo coming upon the weaponless men, decide to take advantage of their helplessness & one by one, claim them in marriage; The film concludes with all the beautiful men and women married & the ugly men with the ugly women.
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Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
The Wild Women of Wongo
The film starts with narration from Mother Nature herself, discussing an experiment with Father Time that went horribly wrong; On the fictional island of Wongo she has created a tribe where the men are brutish & ugly & the women exceedingly beautiful. She then creates another tribe on a nearby island called Goona where the women are repulsive & the men are strong and handsome; For years the two tribes lived unaware of each other's existence, until ape men from across the ocean attack the village of Goona. The tribe sends the son of their king to seek help against the invaders. The son finds the island of Wongo the day before the village men are to pick their brides & the women, seeing the handsome prince, begin questioning their life among the ugly brutes that dwell in their village. The men growing jealous of their visitor, plan to **** him. The women of Wongo, finding out about the plot, risk their lives to protect the handsome prince, in doing so offending the crocodile god of the Wongo people [portrayed by stock footage of a crocodile and rubber model]. The women are rounded up by the village men & sent into the wilderness until the reptile god has drawn blood for the slight; The women banding together, watch each other's backs until the ape men arrive at their village & the women dispatch the invaders to their god, the women then leave in search of the men that had abandoned the island of Wongo. In Goona, the men begin their rite of manhood, in which they go into the jungle without weapons for a month. The women of Wongo coming upon the weaponless men, decide to take advantage of their helplessness & one by one, claim them in marriage; The film concludes with all the beautiful men and women married & the ugly men with the ugly women.
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35
she wrote a sonnet but she got it wrong proper syllable count her lines ne'er had twas a most shocking sight really quite bad her shabby work had a distinct kind of pong she put it out there for all to peruse the skilled sonnet writers had a look her display they rated as verily crook the format of it did of her confuse she had not a spruce quill like the bard Bill her specimen would have disgusted him particular was he about his form she produced a sonnet which didn't thrill its appearance was so exceedingly grim her syllable patterns were not uniform
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Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
Not Uniform (Italian Sonnet)
The rattling of an empty plastic water bottle on a trash-ridden street at 3 a.m. is so exceedingly hopeless that it makes me want to jump. Seeing the two drops of water lingering in the bottom causes me to untie my beat-up shoes, take off my plain grey socks, and place them in a neat and hopeless pile next to the overpass. The label peeling away from the bottle forces me to climb over the railing onto the little ledge, high above the busy street below. Glancing at the forlorn plastic water bottle, I prepare to jump. A ****** homeless man shuffles down the ***** street picks up the bottle and puts it in his bag. “'scuse me miss, do ya have any spare change?” I stare at him with dead eyes and begrudgingly climb down from the railing.
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Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 5:25 PM UTC
Littered
A Barry Hodges poem by Edna I remember a girlfriend called Mary Whose ***** was exceedingly hairy; She came from Newcastle; And the stench of her ******** Converted me into a fairy. Thus I rejected your Glorias and Glendas In frilly white bras and suspenders; And sought sweet catharsis From the nice juicy arses Of poofters and other gay benders. Redemption came to me from Millie: A big girl, a well-padded filly; She was just a Geordie And really quite ****** But her **** smelled as sweet as a lily.
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Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 12:43 PM UTC
Memories of Mary and Millie from Tyneside
Truly......... the charisma beguiles and challenges them truly the sublime force is too irresistible in attraction and confusion they fake faux condemnation and in awe the artificialities of superficiality offers sanguine solace as dim counterfeit pundits give counterfeit commentaries for who dares say this is one like no other when to be real is a crime per se wow! that charisma truly.......... Truly.......... his charisma exceedingly shades all others no one and nothing compares we know God threw the mould away after making him cry me a river and build that bridge over troubled waters for a David walks head and shoulder above most in truth we see his light but lie we must when passion voltage overwhelms its ebb is the afterglow we live to die truly.........
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Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 5:13 PM UTC
We can't help it.....
My mind transfixed on this perplexing enigma Left, right, up, down,down Six colors spinning around Yesterday i almost had it solved But the ******* green square just wouldn't line up I almost surrendered; frustrated by the puzzle Which has always given me so much trouble But for some reason i can't put it aside Addicted to getting all the colors in line I know there's an algorithm, but my mind's not mathematical Day by day becoming exceedingly problematical I won't give up...
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Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
Rubik's Cube
She quintessentially embodied the phrase ‘Paragon of beauty’ Perfectly chiselled face Symmetrical features and a smile that could Smoulder one’s heart in a millisecond She had an aura of nonchalance around her And an umbrella delicately balanced over her head Despite it being scorching hot She walked as if in fear of hurting The very ground she trod on Attracting surreptitious glances from passers-by. I stood rooted to the exact spot I had stood ages before In utter awe and wonderment at the breath taking sight I beheld Then out of the blue she appeared to be on the verge of kissing the ground I instantaneously lurched forward to her rescue She, landing appropriately in mine outstretched arms The look on her face * priceless* Discomfiture and fear apparently evident on her face Soothingly I assured her all was indeed well Whilst revelling in the idea that I had come to the rescue Of the exceedingly beautiful lady.
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May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
Stiletto clad damsel in distress.
Astutely speaking, we all at some point Ponder on matters spiritual, the kind In the realms outside observable phenomena. Even to some extent, we can’t help Consulting various spiritual practitioners to Extrapolate circumstances prevalent in the future. Otherworldly beauty is not only a matter of Fascination it’s an obsession too. Hallowed space in today’s world is Exceedingly limited, an abundant scarcity A paucity of meaning attached to it. Various denominations exist to Entrench a semblance of piety to counter A rather stack waywardness. Neverland, is it real?
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Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 2:00 AM UTC
A piece of heaven.