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"exuberance" poems
Innocent tornado of joy, adorable wind of air, I'm blown away by your presence. Your energy simply put raw exuberance, overwhelms me in to submission. Caught in your gust lost in your playful spin, I never had a chance. Your just too cute!! :)
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Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
Puppy
**Festivals of my land are** Filled with The brilliance of colors.. The elegance of attire.. The resonance of lights.. The flamboyance of richness.. Of The essence of laughter.. The sense of happiness.. The fragrance of love .. The immence feeling of Joy.. The exuberance of festivities.. The relevance of celebration.. The Perseverance of culture.. Its all about My Motherland.... My India.. Yes !! Its that time of the year When 1/7 th population of the world celebrates The Festival of Lights.. On the dark night of No Moon .. The whole country is filled with lights.. From earthen lamps and LEDs To Celebrate the win of Good over evil.. To celebrate The homecoming - after the win.. The brightness of lights.. The purity of air.. The brimming faces.. The laughter echoes.. Elders, kids, adults all come together, To fill the land with Sparkles and Divinity.... Diwali it is !! Diwali it will be !! The festival of love.. The festival of respect.. The festival of sharing.. The festival of caring.. The festival of loving.. The festival of giving .. !!! ** Sharing, Caring, Loving, Giving.... The young kids rhyme.. We teach them by action, That we want them to remember...!! Happy Diwali.. The festival of lights..!! ** Sparkle In Wisdom Nov 2018
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Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 8:43 AM UTC
Festival of Lights
By my dear angel Sandalphon as he has been lead in my hand, leaving a clear trail of a cursive writing on a transient sheet of paper, A crimson sight, so black that one would be caught in trance, reflected by unnatural light of a lamp flickering in the dark of the night, as his feather releases a sweet scent of fresh yet unused ink, Together with Zadkiel's blooming and happy memories I then am capable to write such down, in an attempt to create poetry, focused, The sound of scratchy, itchy, rasping echos through this room I inhabit, but already left spititually, engaged in the world of fantasy, Word by word, the paper is penetrated by this pen, pleasantly, thoughtfully, gently sliding over it to not damage it by accident, There is no need for haste, heartache nor rush, not is there the need to be concerned about this angels work, duty and his mission to accompany me throughout each and every writing which unfurls, Alike a story from my mind, from my emotions, deepest wishes, cast on the physical realm with his help, And once his strengh weakens, fades, loses might and goes out alike an dying ember he will be dunked in fresh ongoing determination, so that he can repeat his duties with exuberance, joy Casting a smile on my face once literature has been created, As then I lay my dark knight, my servant for the night to rest, Until another poem has to be written and his duty awakens him, After all, in this dreamlike tale it is well to remember; You don't have to die in a dream ~ Umi
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Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Angel Sandalphon
By my dear angel Sandalphon as he has been lead in my hand, leaving a clear trail of a cursive writing on a transient sheet of paper, A crimson sight, so black that one would be caught in trance, reflected by unnatural light of a lamp flickering in the dark of the night, as his feather releases a sweet scent of fresh yet unused ink, Together with Zadkiel's blooming and happy memories I then am capable to write such down, in an attempt to create poetry, focused, The sound of scratchy, itchy, rasping echos through this room I inhabit, but already left spititually, engaged in the world of fantasy, Word by word, the paper is penetrated by this pen, pleasantly, thoughtfully, gently sliding over it to not damage it by accident, There is no need for haste, heartache nor rush, not is there the need to be concerned about this angels work, duty and his mission to accompany me throughout each and every writing which unfurls, Alike a story from my mind, from my emotions, deepest wishes, cast on the physical realm with his help, And once his strengh weakens, fades, loses might and goes out alike an dying ember he will be dunked in fresh ongoing determination, so that he can repeat his duties with exuberance, joy Casting a smile on my face once literature has been created, As then I lay my dark knight, my servant for the night to rest, Until another poem has to be written and his duty awakens him, After all, in this dreamlike tale it is well to remember; You don't have to die in a dream ~ Umi
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Injustice! Posted by Olivia Kent on June 4, 2013 at 3:11pm View Blog Suffer not thy children, In a waiter service world of injustice, Nothingness in a world of tragic poverty, In a drizzle of tears, The children drown Emaciated children, Not smiling as they die, In world of war-craft, Dying, A little more each day, Not smiling as they should, Punished, Living in a punitive world of cruelty, Where craft of war is rife, Screams, Imagined in heads of strangers, Insanity, Piercing with horror, Ears sickened, By violent imagery envisaged, Emaciated child, *** bellied, Gaunt, Virtually lifeless, Dead before death, Snatches, Life blood vanished, Without request! There is no youthful exuberance on this face, Overjoyed, Delighted, I don't live in this place! Copywrite Livvi Kent 04/06/2013
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Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
Injustice!
You're the rose that grew from my concrete Why a rose? What about a sunflower? Roses show beauty; sunflowers show joy You are inexhaustible joy Roses are fragile; sunflowers are bold Your boldness drips like honey from your lips Roses are elegance; sunflowers radiate You are exuberance My light, My vitality, My sunflower
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Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 5:47 PM UTC
Before I Wilt
Your serene lips could liquefy petals of a rose With twigs on your spine Consuming my dreams as you lure me Stretching as the stars shine Tangled in the ocean breeze Beyond beautiful you steal my soul Our hands unify in the shade of the unknown Tonight we step beneath the flesh As the path of dust disappears I want to drink from your collar bone Every crevice I will endear Following the maze of your fantasy Impeccable skin inviting me in The anticipation intoxicates my desires As I travel your outline I stiffen for you Eager to gratify the valley of your liquid pearls You whimper as I dissolve your engorged delicacy As you spasm and tremble you ignite the evening air A Magnetic exuberance of fervor swept over me Our swollen, lustful lips surrender again As your majestic heart nurtures our love I famine to have your tongue renew me Your quivering hands beginning to stimulate me You brush against my hardness lightly I stir inside my stomach Restless and blazing I await Teasing the tip my luster rises As your manhood swims inside my mouth You swell my peaks, passionate yet tender You linger feeling my need Slipping into your enticing throat My fingers clutching your hips Connecting with my core as I absorb you I quiver and cry out loud With handfuls of starlight and luster We create a haven just for us You enter me so carefully As we wither and blend Our flesh is stamped together A serene ambiance is swaying with us As you whisper and writhe beneath me
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Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
Seductive Intimacy (Adult Content)
I am nature I am open and wild and free I am the wind rushing down canyons and the hollering in banyans I am a bird that sings I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things I am civilization. The trapped, fluorescent lighting in a library basement. The cake walks and small talks and forced conversation. I am the beeps and hums and dirt on bums. I’m the faraway cell phone that rings. I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things. I am exuberance A child giggling loud sounds of joy Puzzle completers and Christmas toys Smiles and laughs and leaves of grass The casino machine that dings I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things I am anger. Tears, scares, and not fighting fair. I am the red in your eyes as you cry. I am a ghoul that comes out in the night. I am the cut that won’t cease to sting. I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things. I am ideas Originality through and through Creations of my own evolve in my mind Great sinewy thoughts searching for actions to bind Mister Cleans and Daedalus wings I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things I am silence. Quiet. Tight. Composure. Open. Weary. Closure. I am the stillness of being. I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things.* I am alive I set Rube Goldberg machines into action I contemplate, gravitate, and try not to hate I breathe and I heave and I believe I use my eyes to see I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things I am dead. I’m a sideshow reflection of the man I could be. I am lazy cold and clammy. Hopefully I can get my heart beating again. Then I could be me, molecules upon cells upon bones against things
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Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
I am
I am nature I am open and wild and free I am the wind rushing down canyons and the hollering in banyans I am a bird that sings I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things I am civilization. The trapped, fluorescent lighting in a library basement. The cake walks and small talks and forced conversation. I am the beeps and hums and dirt on bums. I’m the faraway cell phone that rings. I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things. I am exuberance A child giggling loud sounds of joy Puzzle completers and Christmas toys Smiles and laughs and leaves of grass The casino machine that dings I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things I am anger. Tears, scares, and not fighting fair. I am the red in your eyes as you cry. I am a ghoul that comes out in the night. I am the cut that won’t cease to sting. I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things. I am ideas Originality through and through Creations of my own evolve in my mind Great sinewy thoughts searching for actions to bind Mister Cleans and Daedalus wings I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things I am silence. Quiet. Tight. Composure. Open. Weary. Closure. I am the stillness of being. I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things.* I am alive I set Rube Goldberg machines into action I contemplate, gravitate, and try not to hate I breathe and I heave and I believe I use my eyes to see I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things I am dead. I’m a sideshow reflection of the man I could be. I am lazy cold and clammy. Hopefully I can get my heart beating again. Then I could be me, molecules upon cells upon bones against things
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Thank you Dad for everything you have done, your hard work and sacrifice for everyone. Thanks for everything you continue to do, but most of all thank you just for being you. Thank you Dad for taking time to care, we really appreciate you always being there at those times when we feel we really need you; you never leave us wanting, always come through. Thank you Dad for being constantly strong, for being such a rock when things go wrong, for making time for us, for always listening, to the myriad of problems we constantly bring. Thank you Dad for calming our fears, for soothing words, for wiping our tears. Thank you for never letting us give up hope; for convincing us repeatedly we can cope. Thank you for your guidance as we move along, for teaching each one of us right from wrong, for encouraging us always to do the right thing, for the moral compass that guides our everyday living. Thanks for your calmness, your infinite patience, your common sense when faced with youthful exuberance! Thank you for providing us with everything we need for believing in us, giving us the tools to succeed. Thank you Dad for never giving up on me, for encouraging me to be all that I could be, for your forgiveness those times I was absolute brat, for your direction when I had no clue what I was at. Thank you from my heart for being such a great Dad, Thank you for the wonderful upbringing I had, Thank you mostly for teaching me what it means to be a Dad, If I am only half as good as you then my kids won’t do so bad.
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May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 4:55 AM UTC
Thank You Dad!
Thank you Dad for everything you have done, your hard work and sacrifice for everyone. Thanks for everything you continue to do, but most of all thank you just for being you. Thank you Dad for taking time to care, we really appreciate you always being there at those times when we feel we really need you; you never leave us wanting, always come through. Thank you Dad for being constantly strong, for being such a rock when things go wrong, for making time for us, for always listening, to the myriad of problems we constantly bring. Thank you Dad for calming our fears, for soothing words, for wiping our tears. Thank you for never letting us give up hope; for convincing us repeatedly we can cope. Thank you for your guidance as we move along, for teaching each one of us right from wrong, for encouraging us always to do the right thing, for the moral compass that guides our everyday living. Thanks for your calmness, your infinite patience, your common sense when faced with youthful exuberance! Thank you for providing us with everything we need for believing in us, giving us the tools to succeed. Thank you Dad for never giving up on me, for encouraging me to be all that I could be, for your forgiveness those times I was absolute brat, for your direction when I had no clue what I was at. Thank you from my heart for being such a great Dad, Thank you for the wonderful upbringing I had, Thank you mostly for teaching me what it means to be a Dad, If I am only half as good as you then my kids won’t do so bad.
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32
INFJ - T I grow exhausted at the exuberance of crowds. Not able to ignore that nagging voice that whispers the evils of them Feelings of fear overpower the simple formula of conversation Jutting into remind me of my appearance compared to theirs - Too weak to fight against it. It’s not easy to speak my mind. Never daring to even introduce myself Following a very strict line Just taking each day step by step - Thinking someday I’ll be able to explain. Inside, I judge everything. New situations make the feelings shake Fear and turbulence expand within Jaw clenched and sweaty palms - Thin skin begins to bruise. Introverted and intuitive Nervous, yet calm From day to day Just a puppet - To a never-ending nightmare
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Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
Personality Poem
Tibetan Brimstone butterflies wave wings madly at their paradise valley In the beginning, before the beginning, and in the beginning Their shaken snow globe makes them flutter in wild exuberance As they reveal a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again Peace, followed by chaos, and then by peace Mother Luna's kaleidoscope of enlightenment Protected by the hooded one Holds all worlds and shakes the four seasons Nothingness, creation, abiding, destruction The wheel of time Moves the wind as it’s blown by vast circles of water Aqua marine is washed again by golden earth And in the center, the great opal mountain song of La Nature's peace Beyond white leopard snows, icy winds, and empty husks of death Butterflies are born again Shambhala’s mindful beat opens passage for light through darkness Poets squint and ride on wings toward the hidden sunset kingdom Watching another world's Avalon alive beneath a blue moon Insulated chrysalis of love for all seasons A fisherman, a carpenter, a shepherd, a merchant, a caterpillar Discover a lush, isolated, peach grove Nosing thickly scented nectar and purple primrose honey In the jade valley of the kings, queens, and beggars They meditate under the Bodhi Tree Deep brown ****** lines are carved into their soft olive skin Smooth hands are made rough, and then smooth again Young, then old, and then young once more Wisdom setting beside Queen Spirit Mother of the West Sharing a bowl of her rice milk in harmony Being in the realm between man and nature as Kalachakra turns For six years the caterpillar eats of fig And then the wheel breaks for flight one last time Radiating light as she sheds her glorious wings Here, the snow globe explodes flying petals of wild exuberance Revealing a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again Transcending all, turning tears into the suns joyful rays As they rise, then set, and then rise again Nirvana Beyond our Lost Horizon © 2019 MJL
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Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC
Valley of the Blue Moon
Tibetan Brimstone butterflies wave wings madly at their paradise valley In the beginning, before the beginning, and in the beginning Their shaken snow globe makes them flutter in wild exuberance As they reveal a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again Peace, followed by chaos, and then by peace Mother Luna's kaleidoscope of enlightenment Protected by the hooded one Holds all worlds and shakes the four seasons Nothingness, creation, abiding, destruction The wheel of time Moves the wind as it’s blown by vast circles of water Aqua marine is washed again by golden earth And in the center, the great opal mountain song of La Nature's peace Beyond white leopard snows, icy winds, and empty husks of death Butterflies are born again Shambhala’s mindful beat opens passage for light through darkness Poets squint and ride on wings toward the hidden sunset kingdom Watching another world's Avalon alive beneath a blue moon Insulated chrysalis of love for all seasons A fisherman, a carpenter, a shepherd, a merchant, a caterpillar Discover a lush, isolated, peach grove Nosing thickly scented nectar and purple primrose honey In the jade valley of the kings, queens, and beggars They meditate under the Bodhi Tree Deep brown ****** lines are carved into their soft olive skin Smooth hands are made rough, and then smooth again Young, then old, and then young once more Wisdom setting beside Queen Spirit Mother of the West Sharing a bowl of her rice milk in harmony Being in the realm between man and nature as Kalachakra turns For six years the caterpillar eats of fig And then the wheel breaks for flight one last time Radiating light as she sheds her glorious wings Here, the snow globe explodes flying petals of wild exuberance Revealing a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again Transcending all, turning tears into the suns joyful rays As they rise, then set, and then rise again Nirvana Beyond our Lost Horizon © 2019 MJL
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41
I woke up very happy This joy isn't for me alone, But for nearly everybody Who calls this world home. I woke up energized To continue my journey For me and those marginalized For the poor who has no money. I woke up determined To continue with the hustle My exuberance remains untamed In spite of my personal struggle. I woke up feeling blessed For dear life and its woes. I, yesterday was depressed Today I care less about what life does. I woke up very pumped Determined to do better. Yesterday I erred and stumbled, Excellence today is what I'm after. I woke up feeling rejuvenated To change the poetic narratives So I remain resolute and obligated Hoping my poetry will impact lives. ©IvanBrooksPoetry 22/8/2018
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 9:36 PM UTC
Reasons I woke Up
#9 | 31 Poems for August 2016 She unapologetically loves each and every crevice of her canvas. Each part regally resonates to the woman who birthed her. Each part elegantly exudes the exuberance of its own beauty. The curves on her body are more than just her dress or jean size. More than the heads of men which turn as she walks down the street. Her curves are her heritage – a beautiful sign of where home is. Through pain she found love and through love she found herself. We meet in the pages of our story where the ink intimately holds us together. These words I write become intertwined in the veins of our loving hearts. In the rain of her presence, my words will always form a rainbow. I can never get enough of her love; I’m always left yearning for more. In a world ravaged by cold wars, we both know what we’re fighting for. She has never spent a day letting the world turn her starry sky into a ceiling. She wears her crown proudly and embraces the queen that she is. The curves on her body are more than just her dress or jean size. More than the whistles which dissipate the silence as she enters the room. Her curves are her heritage – a beautiful sign of where home is. The world is my canvas and I hope this African queen will always be my muse.
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Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 8:52 AM UTC
Canvas
Crescent orb radiates its crystalline sight, languid lips coalesce like a tessellation, the vexing vines wilder the incandescent- glimmer but the burning impression remains. Celestial bodies affixes a soliloquy amongst- a halcyon tongue that revelate a rhapsodic- episode. Quiescent ambience rings a plethora of- sentiments stinging on the mellifluous lullaby. The lithe wildflower murmurs- the euphonious recital of a sonnet that- is unacquainted to the mind. Luminous assemblies of fireflies retire- behind the myriad of evergreen forest as the insouciance wildflower approach. Precocious primrose locked from the scorching sensation of a wildflower exhibited a lassitude facade like a - waning lantern fiery on its final residues. In the distant a wildflower and in the presence, an idyllic primrose: so scarce and so strange.
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Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 7:37 AM UTC
Exuberance Aflamed
I have left, pig-mudding drunk, having sipped from stock to stock on fraying cheer, stages. I have stood in foreign basements; sweaty cellars of youth; begot by attitude breeding spaces of the hip; drawn circles searching for love in recreating nonsense: a silly pupil, moon-eyed, out of breathe. I have heard them quack, reveal their cords; heard them whisper a thousand and one secrets, heard them deconstruct their circumstances as pilgrims, penniless and sick. I have their memories now, an image of a depressed, ass-imprinted pillow soaked in liquor and a feeling of nausea where ribs sleep on this couch tonight, every night. I have heard one refute the weight of living, ****** on the banks of his best friends hospitality, and thought How much is it worth? And I have envied every **** greasy pored hipster, the ones fixing on makingitnew now kind of clan; stared blankly at fashion, a culture back door where pink fish scales sparkle high from runway halters to the tops of grown men, bearded and chesty. And your mothers pearls sit, not your mother’s pearls but your mother’s, mother’s pearls, that old world clout ornamented around those hairy ******* Oh yes, I have seen men become peacocks, charmed animals of ********** seen them teeth at discourse in the noise they create, wide-mouthed and pointed; I have seen them masked like frantic felines: wooly bully cats trying-to-roll their own meter, their tobacco stained black charcoal over soft bricked lips quiver to their beats: those painted lemmingings, without a parachute: kamikaze felons. I have desired absolute sterility: white china, in the egg of a toilet bowl I spewed out, shut-up my exuberance for the night; sorry-pleaded my resolutions to gag out the naughty nouns in my life. I have quit; turned in my lust for performing the lioness, paw-licking, snarly creature: the predator of my youth, and now, I am pretty-headed, tamed in bath oils and schedules; a spotted fox, in plain view, one medium-sized mammal getting by.
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Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
From the Barn
I have left, pig-mudding drunk, having sipped from stock to stock on fraying cheer, stages. I have stood in foreign basements; sweaty cellars of youth; begot by attitude breeding spaces of the hip; drawn circles searching for love in recreating nonsense: a silly pupil, moon-eyed, out of breathe. I have heard them quack, reveal their cords; heard them whisper a thousand and one secrets, heard them deconstruct their circumstances as pilgrims, penniless and sick. I have their memories now, an image of a depressed, ass-imprinted pillow soaked in liquor and a feeling of nausea where ribs sleep on this couch tonight, every night. I have heard one refute the weight of living, ****** on the banks of his best friends hospitality, and thought How much is it worth? And I have envied every **** greasy pored hipster, the ones fixing on makingitnew now kind of clan; stared blankly at fashion, a culture back door where pink fish scales sparkle high from runway halters to the tops of grown men, bearded and chesty. And your mothers pearls sit, not your mother’s pearls but your mother’s, mother’s pearls, that old world clout ornamented around those hairy ******* Oh yes, I have seen men become peacocks, charmed animals of ********** seen them teeth at discourse in the noise they create, wide-mouthed and pointed; I have seen them masked like frantic felines: wooly bully cats trying-to-roll their own meter, their tobacco stained black charcoal over soft bricked lips quiver to their beats: those painted lemmingings, without a parachute: kamikaze felons. I have desired absolute sterility: white china, in the egg of a toilet bowl I spewed out, shut-up my exuberance for the night; sorry-pleaded my resolutions to gag out the naughty nouns in my life. I have quit; turned in my lust for performing the lioness, paw-licking, snarly creature: the predator of my youth, and now, I am pretty-headed, tamed in bath oils and schedules; a spotted fox, in plain view, one medium-sized mammal getting by.
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33
Unleash your inner creativity Where the mind and heart Yearns to sketch the exuberance Of the beauty of so many feelings The soft inaudible utterances Of the ink that flows through you Becomes audible in murmurs Louder and louder, they flow Almost at the brink of insanity Giving inspiration to creativity Turmoil so revolutionary Creativity is sometimes unsettling Yet, so encompassing and revealing Truth does find its way
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
Creativity
The sunset sky dazzling with the golden hues, Taking bow in brilliant sparkle of experience Is it not a ****** of the story so far, that was today? Or is it building anticipation of the night yet to come. Watch the days go, some proud of their accomplishments Some leaving sighs of disappointments, Leaving all in awe of its Amaranthine twists and turns And the fortunate get to see the moon trying to steal the show from setting sun, Oh she is such a show off, isn’t she, basking in reflected glory Its magical, the sunset sky, Puzzling, sometimes just like a riddle, Leaving the nature stunned and amazed For it has been filling the canvas whole day with colours And now the sunset threatens to hide them all And in dark all the colours will be same A cue for the wise. Sunset sky has so much to offer, is she not a fine example of how uncertain a life can be Often reminding no matter what you planned, there will be some unexpected returns For End has its own brain, its own script Charting its own course So why just the beginning, every moment of the life should be grand, meted with equal passion and fervor She has been so clever; the sunset sky Leaving Twinkling cryptic messages for the night sky For even the dark has sparkle and hope if you keep your head up, A constant reminder that exuberance is an attitude of deep, rich, warm hearts **I want my sunset sky to be grand, magical, and full of stories of my life that has been And its memories to linger on in this world, in the tomorrow and a few more years to come**
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Jun 27, 2011
Jun 27, 2011 at 7:45 AM UTC
In The Sunset Sky
The sunset sky dazzling with the golden hues, Taking bow in brilliant sparkle of experience Is it not a ****** of the story so far, that was today? Or is it building anticipation of the night yet to come. Watch the days go, some proud of their accomplishments Some leaving sighs of disappointments, Leaving all in awe of its Amaranthine twists and turns And the fortunate get to see the moon trying to steal the show from setting sun, Oh she is such a show off, isn’t she, basking in reflected glory Its magical, the sunset sky, Puzzling, sometimes just like a riddle, Leaving the nature stunned and amazed For it has been filling the canvas whole day with colours And now the sunset threatens to hide them all And in dark all the colours will be same A cue for the wise. Sunset sky has so much to offer, is she not a fine example of how uncertain a life can be Often reminding no matter what you planned, there will be some unexpected returns For End has its own brain, its own script Charting its own course So why just the beginning, every moment of the life should be grand, meted with equal passion and fervor She has been so clever; the sunset sky Leaving Twinkling cryptic messages for the night sky For even the dark has sparkle and hope if you keep your head up, A constant reminder that exuberance is an attitude of deep, rich, warm hearts **I want my sunset sky to be grand, magical, and full of stories of my life that has been And its memories to linger on in this world, in the tomorrow and a few more years to come**
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31
1. A broken path of pleasure, Confronts my waking mind, Skeletons line the carpet, The path I seek to bind. 2. Uncertainty surrounds me, But so the way of life, An infant artist, An unconscious exuberance, The perverse I secretly entice. 3. Duel opposition's approach in unison, Fighting for peace with each, The true anima hides beneath the blood, Narcissistic emotions naked on a beach. 4. Forbidden in reality, The dark caves of the primal soul, The lost murmurs of effrontery, Tortured desires repressed explode.                                              ………………………………………………………
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May 18, 2010
May 18, 2010 at 10:34 PM UTC
The Real and Wayward Dreams
waking with joyful exuberance choosing what attitude to wear with the day grey skies call for a sunny disposition determined to keep negatives away light streams gently from fingertips delicately touching others with warmth surprising them with smiles unfurling calm in your wake
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Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 12:04 PM UTC
Attitude
Boundless dusk above forsaken intuitions Stones with ancient seeds Yet the roots can breathe The earthly exuberance                                                                               The naked secret of our song That manipulates my tounge Redden from you and I The contact of our lips Simulating my hunger for your groin The nerves of my vertebrates  harbor your weight As my breast shudder from your touch Primal delicious desires I thirst for  the fluids of your flesh With nurture and greed I moisten your fingers Help you find my sensitive  pearl Relishing the trail of the garden of youth Primal delicious desires explode in need Delicate softness of my mystical place Lifting my body with much response As my fingers dance, pinch and **** at my peaks Repeatedly as you   ****** me I gasp and beg for your caress I shudder as I chase my wave Reaching as I whimper into a ****** Simulating my hunger for your groin Inflaming my pores I enlarge you ever so slow Working my hands holding you from behind One swift lick of your rigid flesh You pull in a lungful of air Your hot flesh started to grow I ease you into my mouth Circling as you keep the pace Against me you put me in deep The sweet taste of you makes me weak Intense intervals underneath Between your thighs Intoxicating the very layers of my juice I enlarge you once again Moist and ready I open my sweetness just for you As I arch down onto you Your hands rest on my hips I begin to feel my flower grow A whispering rouse escapes from my lungs We flow inside each another Deeper in my heat Your aggressive arousal Provoking me to quiver The barrier surrenders to you and I Vivid blossoms of tranquil harmony Through the gateway of my womanhood As you nurish the nutrients you covet for My protruding pale pink buds Plump with need I'd hollow out to place you inside I'd linger in this universe to pave your delicious desire As you surrender  pushing me down You penetrate my mouth once again As you reclaim my mouth soft and pink
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Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Inflaming My Pores (Adult Content)
Boundless dusk above forsaken intuitions Stones with ancient seeds Yet the roots can breathe The earthly exuberance                                                                               The naked secret of our song That manipulates my tounge Redden from you and I The contact of our lips Simulating my hunger for your groin The nerves of my vertebrates  harbor your weight As my breast shudder from your touch Primal delicious desires I thirst for  the fluids of your flesh With nurture and greed I moisten your fingers Help you find my sensitive  pearl Relishing the trail of the garden of youth Primal delicious desires explode in need Delicate softness of my mystical place Lifting my body with much response As my fingers dance, pinch and **** at my peaks Repeatedly as you   ****** me I gasp and beg for your caress I shudder as I chase my wave Reaching as I whimper into a ****** Simulating my hunger for your groin Inflaming my pores I enlarge you ever so slow Working my hands holding you from behind One swift lick of your rigid flesh You pull in a lungful of air Your hot flesh started to grow I ease you into my mouth Circling as you keep the pace Against me you put me in deep The sweet taste of you makes me weak Intense intervals underneath Between your thighs Intoxicating the very layers of my juice I enlarge you once again Moist and ready I open my sweetness just for you As I arch down onto you Your hands rest on my hips I begin to feel my flower grow A whispering rouse escapes from my lungs We flow inside each another Deeper in my heat Your aggressive arousal Provoking me to quiver The barrier surrenders to you and I Vivid blossoms of tranquil harmony Through the gateway of my womanhood As you nurish the nutrients you covet for My protruding pale pink buds Plump with need I'd hollow out to place you inside I'd linger in this universe to pave your delicious desire As you surrender  pushing me down You penetrate my mouth once again As you reclaim my mouth soft and pink
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61
*Ignorance is bliss they say There are many who might agree But I have a secret to share today That once was shared with me If you should ever chance to gaze into the eyes of the young and bold You might discern a glowing light that neither flickers nor grows cold What sustains this constant spark- Night or day, light or dark? Whence flows the river of joy and peace That gushes forth through gentle souls? What is the secret of peaceful sleep Enjoyed by minds of simpler mould? Tempting though it may be to attribute to lacking wit The exuberance and ecstasy discarded with the training bit, Wisdom urges a second glance beyond the proverbial looking glass In the hope one might contrive to visit with the other side A world of simple charms and grace, far from this one’s treacherous maze And so this deeper, delving look Might relight that failing spark While in the pages of a thousand books One may languish in the dark!*
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Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
Sparkling Simplicity
Lush green hope Springs from the ground Replenished with love Carpeted landscape Soft on the feet Every step cushioned Exuberance of nature Caresses you Soft kiss of the sunrays Glittering dewdrops Priceless solitaires Every facet of nature Held within them As I skid along the green To roll down eternity
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Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
Enchanting Landscape
I cannot recall the precise moment  of my arrival at Anhedonia memories blindsided by a phantasmagoric comorbid collage of cant precipitated by some newspaper reportage or holocaust story some creepy instance that breached the precipice between simple sorrow and permanent melancholia some fatal blow that cinched the deal some horrid event that could not heal some dejected disappointment that could not be resolved some moment of unguarded clarity when integrity dissolved nevertheless I have arrived at this mangled juncture élan a mania not even Edison's medicine can extirpate I was quite lighthearted before the inferno before my brain broke ennui now a   turgid companion feeding on gaiety, never sated, seeking famine esurient unrelenting usurper of  happiness go away, leave me alone, relish some other  soul's  madness gone is any exuberance, glee or mirth miseries are mine, many the days since birth better I was carried  from the womb straight to the grave a fatuous existence, clamoring and grasping in vain it's as if I was born into a well but these waters they burn the bludgeoning alcohol a liquid hell Oh florid loquacity, you are an impostor your verse is an adversary a foray of jagged rhythm justifying a storm a sordid verbosity  assuring no norm a plaintive scratching guild of recriminative collaboration some alliance of fulminating disquietude the cost for the fare on the adventure to: the stunning moment  you too will visit Anhedonia
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Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
Destination Anhedonia
I cannot recall the precise moment  of my arrival at Anhedonia memories blindsided by a phantasmagoric comorbid collage of cant precipitated by some newspaper reportage or holocaust story some creepy instance that breached the precipice between simple sorrow and permanent melancholia some fatal blow that cinched the deal some horrid event that could not heal some dejected disappointment that could not be resolved some moment of unguarded clarity when integrity dissolved nevertheless I have arrived at this mangled juncture élan a mania not even Edison's medicine can extirpate I was quite lighthearted before the inferno before my brain broke ennui now a   turgid companion feeding on gaiety, never sated, seeking famine esurient unrelenting usurper of  happiness go away, leave me alone, relish some other  soul's  madness gone is any exuberance, glee or mirth miseries are mine, many the days since birth better I was carried  from the womb straight to the grave a fatuous existence, clamoring and grasping in vain it's as if I was born into a well but these waters they burn the bludgeoning alcohol a liquid hell Oh florid loquacity, you are an impostor your verse is an adversary a foray of jagged rhythm justifying a storm a sordid verbosity  assuring no norm a plaintive scratching guild of recriminative collaboration some alliance of fulminating disquietude the cost for the fare on the adventure to: the stunning moment  you too will visit Anhedonia
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31
Yes, mechanical leaf mover, create the shrillest sounds known to man. See if it doesn't just slowly make the world a ******** place by taking away the joy of crunchy leafs, which gradually become moist, squishy leafs, then, after a long period, emerging from a snow covering thaw and lie there, fully exposed, recumbent, depriving the dormant seed of grass its sunlight, preventing grass, freeing up water for infrastructure needs more urgent and rational than supporting the most boring of decorative plants encompassing our lives. I guess what I'm saying is that, not only are your sounds annoying, they're just another of the short-sighted endeavors our present society insists on. You are the "circumcision-for-hygiene-purposes" of our urban planning. **** you, leaf blower. **** you and the excruciating environmental ignorance you represent. I SAID **** YOU, LEAF BLOWER, YET YOU PERSIST! You need to let that leafy-foreskin grow, covering the shaft of ground. Rid it of the pleasure-impeding growth of grass! Let the earth cry out for the sensation of tiny points of pressure moving delicately along its surface. Let the ground erupt with wild flowers, or at the very least, the trampled exuberance of plodded soil and the desperate levels of human debris that would collect upon it. Or are you trying to hide our wastefulness from us by removing something which is nothing, a nothing, invisible barrier? You've already succeeded in giving my apartment complex the ambience of an industrial production complex which I suppose it always was. Maybe your attempt at concealment has been a revelation. Or maybe I just can't think straight, because there's been a ******* leaf blower circling below my window all morning and now a heavy, riding lawn mower is coming to cut the grass that hasn't grown since September but has been watered every day even though it froze last night and it's almost November.
0
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
For fuck's sake with the leaf blowers!?
Yes, mechanical leaf mover, create the shrillest sounds known to man. See if it doesn't just slowly make the world a ******** place by taking away the joy of crunchy leafs, which gradually become moist, squishy leafs, then, after a long period, emerging from a snow covering thaw and lie there, fully exposed, recumbent, depriving the dormant seed of grass its sunlight, preventing grass, freeing up water for infrastructure needs more urgent and rational than supporting the most boring of decorative plants encompassing our lives. I guess what I'm saying is that, not only are your sounds annoying, they're just another of the short-sighted endeavors our present society insists on. You are the "circumcision-for-hygiene-purposes" of our urban planning. **** you, leaf blower. **** you and the excruciating environmental ignorance you represent. I SAID **** YOU, LEAF BLOWER, YET YOU PERSIST! You need to let that leafy-foreskin grow, covering the shaft of ground. Rid it of the pleasure-impeding growth of grass! Let the earth cry out for the sensation of tiny points of pressure moving delicately along its surface. Let the ground erupt with wild flowers, or at the very least, the trampled exuberance of plodded soil and the desperate levels of human debris that would collect upon it. Or are you trying to hide our wastefulness from us by removing something which is nothing, a nothing, invisible barrier? You've already succeeded in giving my apartment complex the ambience of an industrial production complex which I suppose it always was. Maybe your attempt at concealment has been a revelation. Or maybe I just can't think straight, because there's been a ******* leaf blower circling below my window all morning and now a heavy, riding lawn mower is coming to cut the grass that hasn't grown since September but has been watered every day even though it froze last night and it's almost November.
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38
I saw a golden river, You see it only in dreams I am no special than you are, But the river, oh it streams. In curls where the locks lie, The unstoppable river slowly strides, Down the silver mount of hope Into the chasm it merrily rides. In the darkest point where ever you are, It glows with great exuberance, It shines, it's northern star, With darkness it summons for a dance. Its shiny pearls ray on roofs, Of the deepest parts where you hide, You've lived a lie, you see that proof? the truth illuminated by northern lights. The blissful river brims and swells, Where you can't reach it, it pardons, Though it's a dream it may somewhere, Steal from the gardens, It may be obscure, hidden behind, Oh, it steals from my mind. It was a partial sober bliss, To seek a heaven on earth but in sleep, My haze vision was sweetly kissed And pulled out from the river so deep. Oh, the river of golden hills, I'll find you if I have to keep my breath still Oh, the river of golden hills, You will forever echo in me with your sweet trills. Oh the river of golden hills.
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
The River Of Golden Hills