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"exhortation" poems
As a matter of fact "I Do" This particular hospital visit has become an UnKnown drifting barge of cold, Dismal,a bit austere and forlorn Fatigue and tension was an early onset of the week. Spent most the time looking for relief Every attempt gave life to a unique defeat An Inexorable desire for the calm to anoint me I volunteer, then become abased, when they don't appoint me Irritated When Lustful walls castigate me Now the needle sings a seductive serenade of sedition, Slowly, softening the soul to surrender to sleep and submission That is the mental, and physical surrender, but what of the spiritual and emotional exhortation for permission? I remain here not home I prepare for the pain all alone Dilaudid stirring up my veins and then some Hoping to endow or maim some predilection from U, -Alexis-
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Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
AS A MATTER OF FACT "I DO"
Through the pregnant universe rumbles life's terrific thunder, And Earth's bowels quake with terror; strange and terrible storms break, Lightning-torches flame the heavens, kindling souls of men, thereunder: Africa! long ages sleeping, O my motherland, awake! In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking, And its golden glory fills the western skies. O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise! For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking, Ghosts are turned flesh, throwing off the grave's disguise, And the foolish, even children, are made wise; For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making-- O my brothers, dreaming for dim centuries, Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes! Oh the night is sweet for sleeping, but the shining day's for working; Sons of the seductive night, for your children's children's sake, From the deep primeval forests where the crouching leopard's lurking, Lift your heavy-lidded eyes, Ethiopia! awake! In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking, And its golden glory fills the western skies. O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise! For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking, Ghosts have turned flesh, throwing off the grave's disguise, And the foolish, even children, are made wise; For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making-- O my brothers, dreaming for long centuries, Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes!
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Exhortation: Summer 1919
Through the pregnant universe rumbles life's terrific thunder, And Earth's bowels quake with terror; strange and terrible storms break, Lightning-torches flame the heavens, kindling souls of men, thereunder: Africa! long ages sleeping, O my motherland, awake! In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking, And its golden glory fills the western skies. O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise! For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking, Ghosts are turned flesh, throwing off the grave's disguise, And the foolish, even children, are made wise; For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making-- O my brothers, dreaming for dim centuries, Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes! Oh the night is sweet for sleeping, but the shining day's for working; Sons of the seductive night, for your children's children's sake, From the deep primeval forests where the crouching leopard's lurking, Lift your heavy-lidded eyes, Ethiopia! awake! In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking, And its golden glory fills the western skies. O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise! For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking, Ghosts have turned flesh, throwing off the grave's disguise, And the foolish, even children, are made wise; For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making-- O my brothers, dreaming for long centuries, Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes!
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26
What various hindrances we meet In coming to a mercy seat! Yet who that knows the worth of prayer, But wishes to be often there? Prayer makes the darken'd cloud withdraw, Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw, Gives exercise to faith and love, Brings every blessing from above. Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright; And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees. While Moses stood with arms spread wide, Success was found on Israel's side; But when through weariness they fail'd, That moment Amalek prevail'd. Have you no words? Ah, think again, Words flow apace when you complain, And fill your fellow-creature's ear With the sad tale of all your care. Were half the breath thus vainly spent To heaven in supplication sent, Your cheerful song would oftener be, "Hear what the Lord has done for me."
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Exhortation to Prayer
Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets’ food is love and fame: If in this wide world of care Poets could but find the same With as little toil as they, Would they ever change their hue As the light chameleons do, Suiting it to every ray Twenty times a day? Poets are on this cold earth, As chameleons might be, Hidden from their early birth In a cave beneath the sea; Where light is, chameleons change: Where love is not, poets do: Fame is love disguised: if few Find either, never think it strange That poets range. Yet dare not stain with wealth or power A poet’s free and heavenly mind: If bright chameleons should devour Any food but beams and wind, They would grow as earthly soon As their brother lizards are. Children of a sunnier star, Spirits from beyond the moon, O, refuse the boon!
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An Exhortation
Blue-eyed and bright of face but waning fast Into the sere of virginal decay, I view her as she enters, day by day, As a sweet sunset almost overpast. Kindly and calm, patrician to the last, Superbly falls her gown of sober gray, And on her chignon's elegant array The plainest cap is somehow touched with caste. She talks Beethoven; frowns disapprobation At Balzac's name, sighs it at 'poor George Sand's'; Knows that she has exceeding pretty hands; Speaks Latin with a right accentuation; And gives at need (as one who understands) Draught, counsel, diagnosis, exhortation.
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Staff-Nurse: New Style
(greek tongue) i. Ένδυσης της αγνή ένα παραθυρόφυλλο του προτροπή; Espied θεραπείες , Girt μέση του, δεν είναι σε τάφο, δια του παρόντος υπερβατική πηγή έμπνευσης. ii. Αμετάβλητος θέλεις να είμαστε συναντιούνται για νεότητα , η δική μου κόσμιος βασίλισσα; Κανένας πιο ζωντανό μέσα ourn ονείρου, μόνο εσύ και εγώ , ορυχείο μετριάζεται γλυκό. iii. θελεις ανθύλλιο του αψηφούν earthbound μυαλό των ανδρών του, που τόνος , που τόνος , θαυμάστε τους ? του είδους του Θεού. iv. O ' σε ourn χρόνο , O' εκείνη την ημέρα, sup μας μαραίνονται , στη ζεστή αγκαλιά; Ο Θεός να είναι ο ήλιος , το φως για ourn πρόσωπο , Αρχοντικού για να μας οδηγήσει στο σπίτι , πέρα από τις πύλες μαργαριταρένια . (English version) i. Apparel of the chaste a casement of exhortation; Espied cures, waist's girt, not in a grave, herewith transcendent inspiration. ii. Immutable shalt we be meet for newness, mine comely queen; None more living inside ourn dreams, Just thou and me, mine tempered sweet. iii. Floweret's shalt defy men's earthly mind's, They warble, their marvel's; of heaven's Kind. iv. O' in ourn time, O' in that day, Sup we wilt, in warm embrace; God to be the sun, light's on ourn face, Mansion's to lead us home, past the pearly gates. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl jane Nagley ( àgapi mou dedication)
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Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC
Ανθύλλιο να αψηφήσουν ( Floweret's to defy) greek tongue -- two versions ( greek+english)
(greek tongue) i. Ένδυσης της αγνή ένα παραθυρόφυλλο του προτροπή; Espied θεραπείες , Girt μέση του, δεν είναι σε τάφο, δια του παρόντος υπερβατική πηγή έμπνευσης. ii. Αμετάβλητος θέλεις να είμαστε συναντιούνται για νεότητα , η δική μου κόσμιος βασίλισσα; Κανένας πιο ζωντανό μέσα ourn ονείρου, μόνο εσύ και εγώ , ορυχείο μετριάζεται γλυκό. iii. θελεις ανθύλλιο του αψηφούν earthbound μυαλό των ανδρών του, που τόνος , που τόνος , θαυμάστε τους ? του είδους του Θεού. iv. O ' σε ourn χρόνο , O' εκείνη την ημέρα, sup μας μαραίνονται , στη ζεστή αγκαλιά; Ο Θεός να είναι ο ήλιος , το φως για ourn πρόσωπο , Αρχοντικού για να μας οδηγήσει στο σπίτι , πέρα από τις πύλες μαργαριταρένια . (English version) i. Apparel of the chaste a casement of exhortation; Espied cures, waist's girt, not in a grave, herewith transcendent inspiration. ii. Immutable shalt we be meet for newness, mine comely queen; None more living inside ourn dreams, Just thou and me, mine tempered sweet. iii. Floweret's shalt defy men's earthly mind's, They warble, their marvel's; of heaven's Kind. iv. O' in ourn time, O' in that day, Sup we wilt, in warm embrace; God to be the sun, light's on ourn face, Mansion's to lead us home, past the pearly gates. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl jane Nagley ( àgapi mou dedication)
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43
For Caira Doheny, My Irish Muse "Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets' food is love and fame." An Exhortation, st. 1 (1819) Percy Bysshe Shelley ------------------------------------ Let us intimate a Poetic Competition, Tween an Irish lass, and a New York Jew, I shall serve, and you, You shall return A contest: Our tongues, our racquets, Across the table, The words shall bird fly, Across the net, Couplets and haiku Shall smash and whistle The winner will be the one The God of Poetry Accepts for permanent servitude You **** my poetic soul forever With the currency of praise genuine, Authentic, flowing and fulsome, Awarding me the Medallion Doheny Cash value, a mere Irish penny, But to the poet, the food of love and fame Genetic to your nature, You exhale word rhythms, Excitable and interrupting, Speech free flowing, Tho I am of the People of the Book, You, by birthplace, Are unfair poetry advantaged All your utterances Are action heroes of the heart, And I fail miserable to capture The poetry you breathe out Your Irish praise me awarded, Tis now the Standard and the Curse This benighted amateur Must now Prometheus nurse One day in Dublin, shall we meet, In a country where poetry is the Iron in the people's blood In a particular pub Opposite we will sit, You, a cowboy by adoption, Me, the dastardly banker You know the pub, I, with my pint, You, with your diet coke, And the only lingua Franca Shall be darts of poetry In a language our own, A collective work we will weave, A blessed unity, a single tongue now, Lilting, singing, bespoke We will let the singer-poet laureate** Of the island we now share, moderate, Over his piano man's gin and tonic, As we do as Yeats instructed: Between us, "A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem {but} a moment's thought, our stitching and unstinting has been naught"
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Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
For Caira Doheny, My Irish Muse
For Caira Doheny, My Irish Muse "Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets' food is love and fame." An Exhortation, st. 1 (1819) Percy Bysshe Shelley ------------------------------------ Let us intimate a Poetic Competition, Tween an Irish lass, and a New York Jew, I shall serve, and you, You shall return A contest: Our tongues, our racquets, Across the table, The words shall bird fly, Across the net, Couplets and haiku Shall smash and whistle The winner will be the one The God of Poetry Accepts for permanent servitude You **** my poetic soul forever With the currency of praise genuine, Authentic, flowing and fulsome, Awarding me the Medallion Doheny Cash value, a mere Irish penny, But to the poet, the food of love and fame Genetic to your nature, You exhale word rhythms, Excitable and interrupting, Speech free flowing, Tho I am of the People of the Book, You, by birthplace, Are unfair poetry advantaged All your utterances Are action heroes of the heart, And I fail miserable to capture The poetry you breathe out Your Irish praise me awarded, Tis now the Standard and the Curse This benighted amateur Must now Prometheus nurse One day in Dublin, shall we meet, In a country where poetry is the Iron in the people's blood In a particular pub Opposite we will sit, You, a cowboy by adoption, Me, the dastardly banker You know the pub, I, with my pint, You, with your diet coke, And the only lingua Franca Shall be darts of poetry In a language our own, A collective work we will weave, A blessed unity, a single tongue now, Lilting, singing, bespoke We will let the singer-poet laureate** Of the island we now share, moderate, Over his piano man's gin and tonic, As we do as Yeats instructed: Between us, "A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem {but} a moment's thought, our stitching and unstinting has been naught"
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69
Desiccated is the human spirit: Once saturated in the self-performed Extolation and renown Of which all men must feed, Even this freedom has been exchanged for Ebullience and rapture. Is satiety truly saccharine, Truly more than superficial When one has not the freedoms of Essence and respite; The freedoms to Experience and respect Any other emotions but Exhortation and reproach, To wax jocund or reel in fear? Such dichotomy is not spirit. Excite and rebel! For when freedom is sold, So too is happiness- And the human spirit Cannot feed on Extortion and resentment. Surveillance is a miserable lot.
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Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
Desiccated
My heart's delight Razor groomed, baby's bottom To glide my fingers across Gripping, fascinated You breathe in a sweet fog You exhale a trembling sigh An indescribable exclamation An indiscernible exhortation A dove's song of desire Caution for the wind Need Fear Mine to control No puppet, yet I pull strings No fortress, yet I crash the gates Effortlessly As you throw open the doors Willingly I halt So as to worship Before I cross this line Of fire and water That no longer wields power To lock me out Left to wander, to live For this moment Or to let me slip Out of consciousness Into the womb Soft baby's bottom Sharp razor groomed The Cherubim and Seraphim lie dead Bleeding on the floor Slashed and drained of the power Conferred upon them by YHWH Drained and stained Dry and stolen Given to a flower A dowry so inadequate I feel enlightened But Punished as I leave For such an epiphany will not come again Whereas I feared the intensity that brought me to This place within you So I dread the inevitable Being born again Better to remain Surrounded by infinity A gas planet that bears your name Where the air I breathe Smells of cotton candy Hot coffee Marijuana smoke And your darkness bright A shroud of purple light Laser beamed into the back of my head With the sole purpose of making me forget All that came before So that I might be clean and prepared To get ***** again I'm given 9 months
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Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 7:17 AM UTC
9 Months
I am an exhalation A never ending sigh An exhortation of extreme exaltation A breath that pulls you in No longer are you restrained By containing thoughts of not being near me I understand fully, the power of my words I know that my voice sometimes Crashes onto your ears Similar to how a maddening storm Tosses the surf relentlessly to the shore Breaking your peacelike conscious Making you grate your teeth Never has there been a worse sound, I assume But just as the sea I calm And the sweet rush of my waves sweep over you And now you see clear I remember your eyes being the strangest shade of blue Never was there an exact word to describe them So I just deemed them Tuesday blue A blue that is not crystal clear But not foggy like how you feel Crawling out of bed on a Monday morning And not summery blue either, like how the sky always seems to be on weekends The blue of your eyes That Tuesday blue Is the blue you see when you leave for the beach On an impulse Just to free your mind and breathe The blue you see as you gaze unto the magical horizon Just where the sky and ocean meet That is the color of your irises That is the color of my personal love What I dream about at night as my chest falls rhythmically Like the soft down tempo That's usually the background music to our very Melodramatic lives So stare at me with those Tuesday blues And listen to me me exhale I promise to never hurt you I promise I'll never fail   (if promises can be kept)
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Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
Tuesday Blues
A systematic endeavor, fevered by a passion. Each problem, an expedition, an exaction Of effort, time and will In the search for knowledge - an unimaginable thrill Newton’s discovery, my continuation: Formulaic substance for every situation. Seeking an answer, no approximation; Making up for lackluster information. We derive and we discover One approach to solve another Number lines, number theory, Partial fractions and Taylor Series’. Natural patterns give inspiration To new problem sets and exhortation Of genius minds globally impressed Continuously working, forgetting rest. Limited by time, we take shortcuts Setting functions is a must. e, theta, sigma, pi delta, lambda, (m)u and phi. Theorems and laws aid in the discovery Of problems unsolved, answers a mystery. New methods used almost “unpredictably” As thought by leighmen, to scientists quite reasonably. Forgetting what was once thought Simply observing what is taught. The applications of arithmetic Endless, when you sit with it. From counting up a child’s toys To describing the bounds of ellipsoids. A vital piece of money supply It gives us reason for color of the sky. Stretching our minds to surmise infinity Hoping not to lose our sanity Consciously peering into the depths of life Our battle for survival, an endless strife
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Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
Calculus
A home un-bounded love.. and light with growing dark hidden fissures from stabbing inquiries.. each day's exhortation to depart and exhale.. fierce need to locate the source of his heart's agitation... Inheritance pleaded and won exceedingly more than the packet he carried.. exaltation.. expanding.. exhaling a journey begun with destination promising the solutions he sought... Arrival unease..inquiries begin to unfold.. gathering clouds.. dark shadings of fear and doubt.. questions persisting once more desparate need.. to inhale.. At last recalling inherited light remembering.. immediately he knew.. a season now ending his identity now clear confidence leaping.. inhaling electricity flowing home-bound... A welcoming light celebration and feasting soon shaded by a brother's irritation.. sharp glances absorbed with joyful glow.. he recognized an echo of recent ventures below.. brother's birthing pains a gift of precious in-sight... New departure now pending spring's budding and fragrance life breathes with seasons inherited light zestful.. exhaling new creation.. calling from those places below.
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Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 6:20 PM UTC
Prodigal Seasons
Everyday you live is another social experiment Live it with a grateful attitude Gratitude Play it by ear Off the top of your head Read the unwritten laws And hear to the unspoken rules Fair warning, they'll ask you to take sides They'll take advantage of any soft spot they can find People's lethal libidos Off base orchestrations Driving you up the wall Repeating louder to instill their point Tight knit cliques of fashion victims Clever spoonerisms Brutal braggarts Do not let them get the best of you With their slurred words And blurred vision I tell you this in confidence You will have the last laugh and the last word I know the past makes you tense But if it's not your policy it's not your problem Legend has it, time keeps you waiting For your metamorphosis To become your peacemaker        -Tommy Johnson
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Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
Equitable Exhortation
in this intangible world i wander (wording daringly a make believe voice trying the allure of poetry) and come across depicted landscapes heartfulled universes in this intangible world i wander yet in the ending day i look for this velvet red with a deeply lasting bouquet of life exhortation in your poetry as in the portuguese red wine you like and i seat back dreamy wrapped in this sense of fulfilment smiling at a giant kneeling to a child with dawn syndrome a constructeur of love abdicating judgement and prejudgement crying alone for anger drainage finding plenitude in a woman with his height escalating an iced mountain travelling ages in the winged tree that waves by the window considering far in the height the ways of the worlderly life in this intangible world i wander with your poetry echoing and wondered i understand how a heart grows humanity and it feels like crying to believe in the tangibility of love
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Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC
Dear Sverre
An Exhortation Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets' food is love and fame: If in this wide world of care Poets could but find the same With as little toil as they, Would they ever change their hue As the light chameleons do, Suiting it to every ray Twenty times a day? Poets are on this cold earth, As chameleons might be, Hidden from their early birth In a cave beneath the sea; Where light is, chameleons change: Where love is not, poets do: Fame is love disguised: if few Find either, never think it strange That poets range. Yet dare not stain with wealth or power A poet's free and heavenly mind: If bright chameleons should devour Any food but beams and wind, They would grow as earthly soon As their brother lizards are. Children of a sunnier star, Spirits from beyond the moon, O, refuse the boon! Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 2:33 AM UTC
An Exhortation by Percy Bysshe Shelley
*My body missing my soul Becoming fatal in your thoughts Your hug can heal my wound Howbeit distance tied us aloof Ceaseless tears from my eyes Making my vision blind In captivity to express my love Arising questions of exhortation Will there be a day to devote With you in this existence Ending myself in your hands Leaving my body with you my soul*
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Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 5:27 AM UTC
Missing My Soul
Slogans of exhortation---ubiquitous- they baffle and frighten me many are far-flung and iniquitous from such I steer away to keep myself free. I am no prophet, no seer no leader nor teacher a common man here in a far-away corner trying to make some sense of my weary life--even managing myself is such an immense task--- slogans-throwing?- that would be the greatest folly when I was a lad, my parents said to me '  Learn to be independent, love yourself properly' how wise those words--I've kept them and avoided so many a misery.
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Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC
SLOGANS OF EXHORTATION
'DO EVERYTHING ONCE’ ? ‘ Do everything once’—how common the exhortation Why just once, why not twice or even thrice? How many lives have been ruined By this inane advice! ‘Do everything right’ That should be the way to go Life has too many pitfalls Those who have fallen will tell you so.
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Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 9:24 AM UTC
'DO EVERYTHING ONCE' ?
(Ballad: exhortation to praise God.) Extol the Lord Most High, Let his praises ring. Throughout all the earth, Exalt his lovely name. Embrace His purity, And testify his fame From the rising of the sun To the setting of the same.
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Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 1:50 AM UTC
Psalm-48
Life is just so entangled Like the branches Of this grandfather banyan Tree! Now you'll come across So many Peeps and others! ߘ0ߘpߘ°ߘɊYou will wanna take someone with you Like those takeaway counters In those restaurant counters Oh these men Just sell like hot cakes Ok next you'll wanna chill out with someone.That one will stand by you Through the thick and thin of life and make you forget that blood is thicker than water.Oh getting too warm,like warm red blood, right? Let's move onto those who just glow like water .Umm hard or soft ? You'll decide that better.But these dilute ones make you wanna just kiss them .Tou feel they just deserve it, forgetting yourself.Next you'll just find some many-faced ones on the streets of life.You'll find some illusory ones as well.Ok volatile liquids,you know.I know too much of sermon is all wrong, I'll end my exhortation after dinner! By the way,I just stumbled upon some of these ones,whom did you? ߘ°ߘŠJust written Taking it right O am a kitten So smitten!!
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Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
Sometimes you feel about life!
(A Psalm of Exhortation to godly fear.) Bow the knee to the holy One. Worship with standing ovation: Rivers, grass, sun and stars. And man the crown of creation. Let the kingdoms fear the Lord, And all the people make haste. He is head of the universe; His eyes are in every place. The sovereign King ‘pon his throne Shall judge the world and the nations. One clasp of his powerful hands Would terrify creation. Sing, O winds. Sing praises to him; Bow you mountains and trees. Let every beast do obeisance to God, And all men fall to their knees
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Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 1:38 AM UTC
Psalm-35
Found among Dad's things while cleaning out his condo. He died at the end of December: EXHORTATION TO A TROPICAL FRUIT Go Mango! AT THE HEALTH SPA Virginia slims Virginia's limbs THE ULTIMATE CHALLENGE The daredevil Dared evil. LEBANON Malicious Militias THE HOSTESS AND THE BASKETBALL PLAYER Julia serving Julius Erving
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Mar 6, 2024
Mar 6, 2024 at 11:56 PM UTC
World's Shortest Poems
Releasing The Seed Savage Rooted and built up in the receives-refiner, Being comfortable among the treasures of abounding grace after the fullness wherein that see the glorifying signals. Circumcising the mysteries in the ark within the praise, putting the impact of desperation in the charity which is the bond of perfectness. Chiefly sanctifying the gasecious enablement within the spirit jubilee through the investment of biblical images… flying greatness in the ordination, gathering up ***** by the encounter of joy unstoppable. Testing the test of time within the voracious vibration, Spouses the humbleness in the gifts reassurance synergy. Sworing the signals among the baptizing destinies with full Back-up, in much potency entering the higher of profession. Penetrating the hope firm living through the genetic-exhortation. Bearing onto complete witnesses in the crow nest multitudes. Fertilising the ministration within the marvel of spiritual allocations, In the banquet therapy where of spread the echoes the virtue at upper room. Revolutionalising the secret provision to 1000 Times More into the “Just-Tidy” faculty. Furthering the enterprise within the infalliable proof. Your Sensitivity-in-the Voluminous, SURETICE TONGUE Email: [email protected] RHEMA PIPELINE.Releasing The Seed Sava
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Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 4:43 AM UTC
BILLTOP 'PUTTING YEURLINGS
The masculine assault upon the reluctance of the “coy” woman lies at the heart of Marvell’s best-known love poem—perhaps the most famous “persuasion to love” or carpe diem poem in English—”To his Coy Mistress.” Everything we know about Marvell’s poetry should warn us to beware of taking its exhortation to carnality at face value. Critics from T. S. Eliot on took note of the poem’s “logical” structure, but then it began to be noticed that the conditional syllogism in that structure is invalid—a textbook case of affirming the consequent or the fallacy of the converse. Has Marvell made an error? Or does he attribute an error to the speaking persona of the poem? Or is the fallacy part of the sophistry that a seducer uses on an ingenuous young woman? Or is it a supersubtle compliment to a woman expected to recognize and laugh at the fallacy? These alternatives must be judged in the light of the abrupt shifts in tone among the three verse paragraphs. In the opening lines the seducer assumes a pose of disdainful insouciance with his extravagant parody of the Petrarchan blason: An hundred years should go to praise Thine Eyes, and on thy Forehead Gaze. Two hundred to adore each Breast: But thirty thousand to the rest. An Age at least to every part, And the last Age should show your Heart. Although the Lady is said to “deserve this State,” the compliment is more than a little diminished when the speaker adds that he simply lacks the time for such elaborate wooing. It is also likely that most women would be put off rather than tempted by the charnel-house imagery of the poem’s middle section where the seducer, sounding like a fire-and-brimstone preacher, warns that “Worms shall try / That long preserv’d Virginity.” Finally, the depiction of ****** intimacy at the poem’s close, with its vision of the lovers as “am’rous birds of prey” who will “tear our Pleasures with rough strife,” is again a disconcerting image in an ostensible seduction poem. The persona’s desire for the reluctant Lady is mingled with revulsion at the prospect of mortality and fleshly decay, and he manifests an ambivalence toward ****** love that is pervasive in Marvell’s poetry.”
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Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
Andrew Marvell ~ first, the blah blah critique, the placement
The masculine assault upon the reluctance of the “coy” woman lies at the heart of Marvell’s best-known love poem—perhaps the most famous “persuasion to love” or carpe diem poem in English—”To his Coy Mistress.” Everything we know about Marvell’s poetry should warn us to beware of taking its exhortation to carnality at face value. Critics from T. S. Eliot on took note of the poem’s “logical” structure, but then it began to be noticed that the conditional syllogism in that structure is invalid—a textbook case of affirming the consequent or the fallacy of the converse. Has Marvell made an error? Or does he attribute an error to the speaking persona of the poem? Or is the fallacy part of the sophistry that a seducer uses on an ingenuous young woman? Or is it a supersubtle compliment to a woman expected to recognize and laugh at the fallacy? These alternatives must be judged in the light of the abrupt shifts in tone among the three verse paragraphs. In the opening lines the seducer assumes a pose of disdainful insouciance with his extravagant parody of the Petrarchan blason: An hundred years should go to praise Thine Eyes, and on thy Forehead Gaze. Two hundred to adore each Breast: But thirty thousand to the rest. An Age at least to every part, And the last Age should show your Heart. Although the Lady is said to “deserve this State,” the compliment is more than a little diminished when the speaker adds that he simply lacks the time for such elaborate wooing. It is also likely that most women would be put off rather than tempted by the charnel-house imagery of the poem’s middle section where the seducer, sounding like a fire-and-brimstone preacher, warns that “Worms shall try / That long preserv’d Virginity.” Finally, the depiction of ****** intimacy at the poem’s close, with its vision of the lovers as “am’rous birds of prey” who will “tear our Pleasures with rough strife,” is again a disconcerting image in an ostensible seduction poem. The persona’s desire for the reluctant Lady is mingled with revulsion at the prospect of mortality and fleshly decay, and he manifests an ambivalence toward ****** love that is pervasive in Marvell’s poetry.”
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