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"exhilarate" poems
1741 That it will never come again Is what makes life so sweet. Believing what we don’t believe Does not exhilarate. That if it be, it be at best An ablative estate— This instigates an appetite Precisely opposite.
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That it will never come again
My body burns to rove far from man-made buildings, prisons for the modern soul. I need to traverse the frontiers white man stole from those who made it their home. I've been down to the Everglades of Florida. Fan boats flew through the estuary lines with roots of mangroves. I've been to the Hoh Rain Forest of Washington where fog descended on the shoreline and married the sulfur smell rising from hot springs. I must experience America's coast to coast beauty. Every spare seconds I spend luxuriating in the sun, thinking of all the places untouched. My list of desires grows as the glaciers of Glacier recede in Montana, beckoning me to the Rocky Mountain Peaks. Old Faithful gushes, surrounded by wolves and grizzlies. Someday I'll cross Yellowstone's expansive mountain ranges. from Idaho to Montana to Wyoming. On the arches of Utah I'll face my fear of heights and find solace at the tops of time-layered sandstone towers. Descending the Grand Canyon I'll study beautiful colors exposed by years of erosion. In winter Death Valley will be braved. The lowest and direst point will exhilarate me with scaled creatures as sand dunes whisper my name with every hot breath. The Badlands of South Dakota will hope I come backpacking through prairies to watch precious bison roam. California Redwood trees and I will stand side by side as friends. Yosemite will call me to her cliffs and I will chase waterfalls and sequoia groves until I've seen it all. I ache to explore the terrain that bears my name, the country I call home.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
Ansel Adams
My body burns to rove far from man-made buildings, prisons for the modern soul. I need to traverse the frontiers white man stole from those who made it their home. I've been down to the Everglades of Florida. Fan boats flew through the estuary lines with roots of mangroves. I've been to the Hoh Rain Forest of Washington where fog descended on the shoreline and married the sulfur smell rising from hot springs. I must experience America's coast to coast beauty. Every spare seconds I spend luxuriating in the sun, thinking of all the places untouched. My list of desires grows as the glaciers of Glacier recede in Montana, beckoning me to the Rocky Mountain Peaks. Old Faithful gushes, surrounded by wolves and grizzlies. Someday I'll cross Yellowstone's expansive mountain ranges. from Idaho to Montana to Wyoming. On the arches of Utah I'll face my fear of heights and find solace at the tops of time-layered sandstone towers. Descending the Grand Canyon I'll study beautiful colors exposed by years of erosion. In winter Death Valley will be braved. The lowest and direst point will exhilarate me with scaled creatures as sand dunes whisper my name with every hot breath. The Badlands of South Dakota will hope I come backpacking through prairies to watch precious bison roam. California Redwood trees and I will stand side by side as friends. Yosemite will call me to her cliffs and I will chase waterfalls and sequoia groves until I've seen it all. I ache to explore the terrain that bears my name, the country I call home.
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1526 His oriental heresies Exhilarate the Bee, And filling all the Earth and Air With gay apostasy Fatigued at last, a Clover plain Allures his jaded eye That lowly Breast where Butterflies Have felt it meet to die—
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His oriental heresies
hey little bird you dive in the ocean's waves to exhilarate your tongue you swim through the clouds, feathers a-flutter with joy you hide in the trees and bushes, all winky and coy i'd love to fall hands-first along your side catching my little bugs and my little birds i wish i could fly i wish i could fly oh ** oh i wish i wish i could fly no wings, no plane, no parachute so thanks, bluejay, crane, pelican, all the birds, for letting me come along (what a way to die) so happy i can fly so happy i can fly
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Sep 5, 2010
Sep 5, 2010 at 11:12 AM UTC
little bird song
When she says she hears voices rattling and battling in the deepest recesses of her mind, then it's time to beware, take care, and make choices saddling you and leave her behind.      Shes a case study of its kind. That even Freud would throw up his hands, make a grand stand in his frustrations and demand a vacation to unwind. She's all that and more. She'll wrap a man around her fingers  make him putty in her hands, leave him babbling in his mirror trying so much to understand. He should feel something, but just can't comprehend, left a mute, numb, mumbling... carcass, of a man. She's like an itch that becomes a scratch that's becomes a pestering, festering **** till you look down horror bound as the ****** swollen thing has taken on a life of its own... then it starts maxing out your cards, throwing your clothes out on the yard, yelling hard. Snooping on your phone. Won't go home. Won't leave you alone. Is it a wound or a woman or a woman or a wound or both  simultaneously, concurrently?  Yes and no. Oh the trials and tribulations I've known! You can really pick em. Daddy used to say, in his haphazard way, and really lay it on me in the harshest of phrases,  meant to dazzle and daze me, rile and faze me, knock me a kilter off my normal day. Son, you stimulate and exhilarate  the spirit of an untamed, pained, wild child woman and it'll be the same, and here this, as an insane drain on the brain most personally and certainly and most notably and you can quote me.  It'll leave you feeling like the beach storming at Normandy.
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Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 5:38 AM UTC
"Son, you can really pick em". Dad used to say.
When she says she hears voices rattling and battling in the deepest recesses of her mind, then it's time to beware, take care, and make choices saddling you and leave her behind.      Shes a case study of its kind. That even Freud would throw up his hands, make a grand stand in his frustrations and demand a vacation to unwind. She's all that and more. She'll wrap a man around her fingers  make him putty in her hands, leave him babbling in his mirror trying so much to understand. He should feel something, but just can't comprehend, left a mute, numb, mumbling... carcass, of a man. She's like an itch that becomes a scratch that's becomes a pestering, festering **** till you look down horror bound as the ****** swollen thing has taken on a life of its own... then it starts maxing out your cards, throwing your clothes out on the yard, yelling hard. Snooping on your phone. Won't go home. Won't leave you alone. Is it a wound or a woman or a woman or a wound or both  simultaneously, concurrently?  Yes and no. Oh the trials and tribulations I've known! You can really pick em. Daddy used to say, in his haphazard way, and really lay it on me in the harshest of phrases,  meant to dazzle and daze me, rile and faze me, knock me a kilter off my normal day. Son, you stimulate and exhilarate  the spirit of an untamed, pained, wild child woman and it'll be the same, and here this, as an insane drain on the brain most personally and certainly and most notably and you can quote me.  It'll leave you feeling like the beach storming at Normandy.
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Graceful swan, On skates, You stately glide; Etching your past For the world to see. You exhilarate In your moment; Refusing to yield To the bond of earth. Twirling, swirling, Poetry is manifest Into exquisite motion. Your rhythm and beat Cut through the ice; Body and spirit become One with the element. (Dedicated to Michelle Kwan)
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Oct 3, 2010
Oct 3, 2010 at 11:38 AM UTC
Etched
centelleo, centelleo, mi amour', I shalt travel by foot, right to thy door! Up above the moon so high, I shalt exhilarate thee in thine mind. When the colorful universe hath passed, And All the glacier's melt so fast, Then thou wilt illuminate, centelleo, centelleo, on ourn impresionante date. Than the watchmen in the dusk Giveth thee thanks, of aloe and musk: He couldst not seeith which way to flyeth, But thine own light to all inviteth..... In those dark brown eyes thou keepeth, And always in mine soul thou peepeth, For please don't ever close thine eye's Until mine lips art met with thine own so fine.... As thy centelleo glints mine room, And as thy centelleo is flared by thee mine muse, I shalt continue to be thy poet Writing a million poem's a day for thee so everyone shalt know it. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry
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Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
centelleo, centelleo, mi amour ( twinkle, twinkle, mi amour) spanish tongue-----remake of twinkle twinkle little star ( lullaby) dedicated to mi amour
a wish flies to skies Swims against the star-glittery streams and inspires the coolest of breeze cincturing a mount ridge to carve a glimpse of an ice goddess made of a pellucid kiss O the flamboyant curves of the temptress abiding the blue-sky shall too one day vaporize by the fire of a touch to deliver a seed of sprouts within the dissipated yearning of the fumes lovers scintillate aureate gleam of the celestial bliss on a non starry sky whence becoming a home to their eyes the moon smiles to exhilarate You by a dawn flower born from love’s secret meeting unmanifest until You have vivified an unknown myrrh in your dream An aroma of true desire by which I shall be born and reshape most elegantly most delicately to dissolve in the euphoria of this incarnating bath made of breath seducing the immaculate flavor of nectar glaring like the mastic of the pine on your tongue for I’ve left my fasting heart in vows of truth to be able to answer your question about what I have meant by my ’you are my first’ resurrecting letters now to a whisper clinging like a perennial symphony in your ears only once heard in the absence of full trust shall it too stop wobbling this waking reality from its truth I would stay then still invariably (unheard) in your ears to aid you create A harmony born universe of here and now as you open and close your eyes and teach me yogas I shall not assume of things and beings Anymore but be the one and the only divine posture of the devi that shall unite me to you Eternally
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Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 9:22 AM UTC
Unborn
a wish flies to skies Swims against the star-glittery streams and inspires the coolest of breeze cincturing a mount ridge to carve a glimpse of an ice goddess made of a pellucid kiss O the flamboyant curves of the temptress abiding the blue-sky shall too one day vaporize by the fire of a touch to deliver a seed of sprouts within the dissipated yearning of the fumes lovers scintillate aureate gleam of the celestial bliss on a non starry sky whence becoming a home to their eyes the moon smiles to exhilarate You by a dawn flower born from love’s secret meeting unmanifest until You have vivified an unknown myrrh in your dream An aroma of true desire by which I shall be born and reshape most elegantly most delicately to dissolve in the euphoria of this incarnating bath made of breath seducing the immaculate flavor of nectar glaring like the mastic of the pine on your tongue for I’ve left my fasting heart in vows of truth to be able to answer your question about what I have meant by my ’you are my first’ resurrecting letters now to a whisper clinging like a perennial symphony in your ears only once heard in the absence of full trust shall it too stop wobbling this waking reality from its truth I would stay then still invariably (unheard) in your ears to aid you create A harmony born universe of here and now as you open and close your eyes and teach me yogas I shall not assume of things and beings Anymore but be the one and the only divine posture of the devi that shall unite me to you Eternally
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Although she was complete and whole she longed for something to terrify her exhilarate her make her feel alive-- a kiss with the knife slowly turned to a dangerous dance deterioration her skin unraveling from her form but manifesting metamorphoses: changed in a way she never could have alone.
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Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
August 18, 2013 - The Wistful Nectarine
What is simple in the midst of the night, Is never easy by sunrise. Doesn’t that question your heart to know; Whether the sun is capable of bleaching you clear of all passion? This was supposed to be a poem; But I don’t feel so good anymore. This was supposed to be a “Dear Diary” entry; But there is nothing dear about this entry This was supposed to be a rationale about love; But there is nothing rational about love. This was supposed to be a motivational speech; But the audience of my surroundings portray an ambiance of apathy. This was supposed to be a farewell letter; But my blood-pumping ***** cannot orchestrate a declaration of adieu. This was supposed to be a livid rant; But I cannot pinpoint the suitable syllables that have the strength to impale you such as a bullet. This was supposed to be a love letter; But I am not capable of fabricating words to exhilarate your mortalness. This was supposed to be a poem; But instead, it is a 3:48am compilation of my most vulnerable thoughts. And I question; At what age did I lose my compassion? When did my smile become so brittle? When did I become so bitter…? So brash? -Z.H.
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Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 3:25 PM UTC
Swirling of the Midnight Mind
Get to the Market Some people take the back road Others use the highway Some arrive early Some arrive late Get the market We all follow our own way No persuasion No need to jump a red light A river will flow where it flows Carve its own way Get to the market Some exhilarate Others doddle along the way Walk or run You will arrive when you get there Get to the market
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May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 5:41 AM UTC
Get to the Market
You are my delicate melody .. You exhilarate me, rejuvenate me .. You reverse my distress, Into your fairy dance .. We aim to share countless delightful times, with memories all our remaining life ..
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
Delicate Melody
languorous breeze,close to chest carries a scent,an invitation on the waves of air, the valley blooms lustily in response, sends away fragrance with different notes. the mix and blend to regale olfactory sense of every visitor,as it pleases them,so much, The medley of fragrance sends the breeze, sweeping to an ecstatic height, never expected, like a village weaver who loves warps and wefts of many hues, he spins and weaves fragrances, to exhilarate all,near and far,any one who deeply inhales the mix of fragrance,feels alive. to the core,it's fuel to the wick, that enlightens the soul.
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Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
Breeze the expert perfumer...
You're my other. You understand. You engage. You listen and mull things over and discuss. You let me run and you run with me. You don't just let me run and wait for me to come back. You run next to me. You exhilarate me. You allow me to breathe. You breathe for me when I can't breathe for myself. I miss you terribly.
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Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
You
I hear it echo deep beneath like water that drips one drop at a time into a quiet cavern. Echoes turn to rhythm and I am filled with a familiar melody as I blink, walk, and breathe to the beat. Sung from underwater, it can exhilarate me conjure up feelings of dance and storm; but mostly it exhausts me dehydrates me, and I am pulled under. What used to seem like momentum I hear like dragging feet and the drips do less to complement than to contrast the storm I once could taste. I know that I am the ocean but with waves that tire the current can be lost. Sometimes I feel like the drop dripping over and over again and I am futile, worthless. Sometimes I feel like the cavern empty and waiting, absorbing more than I contribute and wasting time. But I have learned by sinking and racing (and failing at both) that often the best thing to do is just to float, and listen.
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Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
Sung from underwater
joylessly howling fools exhilarate, gloating smiling silver crag
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Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 12:07 PM UTC
Untitled
Everything happens for a reason, one of the important lesson I learnt with the change in season and people. Some moments hurt, scar and engrave an important lesson. Protecting you from future treason Making you deal with it even better. Some moments exhilarate happiness and positivity Fueling you with love and treasuring the memories. Some people come as blessings Building homes in our hearts; Helping us sail turbulent waves; Acting as starlights in our dark sky. While some leave us lessons Vacating their homes in our hearts. Twist is some, come back and some only stay a flashback. Some are are sent for exile and some come back to reconcile. People come and go. Some drawing a smile on our face; creating a beautiful and positive impact. But leave for certain reasons, To those people I am thankful, to have had my paths cross with them. And grateful to the ones who’s chaos and storms, I survived and bloomed from. Not forgetting about the ones who stayed even when some left, Appreciating them for still standing by my side till the very end.
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 11:02 AM UTC
Everything Happens For A Reason
You're in my veins you're in my thick skull you're in my throat you got me intoxicated you got me insane can't you see how much I have fallen for you, so hard that my stomach tightens and my rib cages crack and mu skin becomes swollen? SUMMER BECAME WINTER AND MY COFFEE GREW STALE COLD BUT MY FEELINGS REMAINED THE SAME. When I looked into your eyes I realized that you never loved me at all. Your touch was cold, your body unwelcoming and though I could feel our bodies exhilarate I didn't feel the ignition of the flame. YOUR EYES ARE LIKE WATERFALLS - ENDLESS AND LEADING ME TO UNKNOWN WORLDS.
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Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC
a collection about you
You are my charming sparkling sweetheart Mysteriously peerless and saucy Beloved, delectable, and lovable lover boy Wickedly glistening hotness Your machoness travels to the core of my heart Makes me call your name Indulge in your game In the harmonious crash-hot hours The fresh earthy smell Of your gorgeous flamboyant architecture Captivates and pervades my senses Such wondrously worshipful warmth The way your skin unifies with mine Chocolate-box toned hotness You cradle my gayness You exhilarate the superb curves Of my brightly colored body I feel your stirring fervor The way you move your hands On my bodacious boops Bite my delightful rigid points Display your wicked wild side Entangle me in your booming luminous flame Indefatigable illuminating magicalness Slay me with your snake-like sensual moves Pure atomic pressure, you sink me into your glory Make me adore you forever
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Aug 2, 2022
Aug 2, 2022 at 9:13 AM UTC
Chocolate-Box Toned Hotness
Life isn’t perfect It’s far from it .. Ninety percent of the time I am stressed to fuckery about What’s coming next What’s already harmed me Things that I can not control ! Yet I allow them to burden my life It’s hard not to .. But for that ten percent of the time That is absolutely ******* perfect I let that **** consume me I let the lessons wash over me Because... That simple perfection is not something that is worked for It comes naturally through love and through humanity In those small pieces of life That exhilarate me to my bones Extends the breath and the blood That pulses through my body It’s that ten percent That makes it all worth while x NatNat
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Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 2:37 AM UTC
Ten percent x