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"exults" poems
Easily Tux Laxity Use Laxity Sue Taxis Yule Taxi Yules Tau Sexily Axe I ***** Yea Xi **** Yea Xi Lust Aye Xi **** Aye Xi Lust Ail Yes Tux Sail Ye Tux Ails Ye Tux Italy Ex Us Laity Ex Us Taxi Lye Us La Suety Xi Talus Ye Xi Lax Yeti Us Lax Suety I Lax Ye Suit Lay Exit Us Lay Suet Xi Lay Tuxes I Lay Ex Suit Sat Yule Xi Taus Lye Xi Sax Yule Ti Sax Yule It Say Lie Tux Say Lei Tux Say Lute Xi Say Exult I At Yules Xi At Yule Xis At Yule Six Tau Lyes Xi Tau Lye Xis Tau Lye Six Tax Yules I Tax Yule Is Ax Lieu Sty Ax Yules Ti Ax Yules It Ax Yule Tis Ax Yule Its Ax Yule Sit Ax Lye Suit Ya Isle Tux Ya Lies Tux Ya Leis Tux Ya Lutes Xi Ya Exults I Ya Lute Xis Ya Lute Six Ya Exult Is Ay Isle Tux Ay Lies Tux Ay Leis Tux Ay Lutes Xi Ay Exults I Ay Lute Xis Ay Lute Six Ay Exult Is A Lyes I Tux A Lye Is Tux A Ex I ***** A Ye Xi **** A Ye Xi Lust La Yes I Tux La Yet Xi Us La Ye Is Tux Las Ye I Tux Lax Yet I Us Lax Ye Ti Us Lax Ye It Us Lay Ex Ti Us Lay Ex It Us As Lye I Tux Say El I Tux At Lye Xi Us Tau Ex I Sly Tax Lye I Us Ax Lye Ti Us Ax Lye It Us Ax Ye I **** Ax Ye I Lust Ax Ye Lit Us Ya El Is Tux Ya Let Xi Us Ya Ex I **** Ya Ex I Lust Ya Ex Lit Us Ay El Is Tux Ay Let Xi Us Ay Ex I **** Ay Ex I Lust Ay Ex Lit Us
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Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
Sexuality
A cool December morning! Today I rose much earlier than usual I watch the night stealing away Like an accused convict under cover Sunlight peeks through the leaves. In the haze of overhanging mist, Only the blurred silhouette of trees in sight The crows have begun their raucous call The leaves of grass are misted with dew A cool zephyr blows from the south Clouds float like shredded cotton Even Sirius, the brightest star has paled Life is slowly beginning to unfold And men like shadows have begun to move The sun has now climbed to the Eastern hills In scintillating glory like a mighty king Shattering the mist with his lance like beams He exults like a victorious warrior His crystal rays rouse the sleeping birds And they begin their chorus in wondrous rhyme I enjoy the sweetness of this lovely morn In serene silence, I stand and watch The light that slowly fills the Earth, Dispelling all trace of overhanging darkness!
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
A December Morning
WHISTLING AND SNIFFING SIMULTANEOUSLY Whistling and sniffing at the same time Can’t hold hands or rather get married United and collaborative in any case This duo may perhaps land into the life of some person The kind of man whose who acts, Performs duties of the shepherd on the flock. Like his initial master, He condemns wickedness, Goes against what is religiously evil, And exults the righteous. But he soon he craves for another pair of his robe For he does accumulate an avalanche of resources, His eyes are soon blinded. Would his robe evade being soiled? Co-operative sniffing and whistling, Can hatch into temptations to anybody, Even the half-human, half God Did he not get tested in the wilderness? Our big man opens his eyes one day, Finds himself campaigning and competing for, Trying to woo for citizens’ keys, Essentials for serving the people in a wider circle. Perhaps his whistling guides his path. Brings him in the companionship of Other servants of the people. Any devoted service present in that house really? Brotherly whistling and sniffing, May make one’s conscience slither backwards, Two or more steps into mud. He is now influential, A famous societal figure. His fat salary seconded with some allowances. Or even thirded with public developmental resources, Guarantees him total luxury. Is this not an opportunistic opportunist? Our Sniffer and whistler is contended, Complacent with his success. Jubilant with him servant is his ‘first Master ’ For keeping to the ‘sacred’ scriptures. The vehicle which carried him straight, One way to heaven gets crippled, It can’t manage to hit the road Like its American, British and Chinese counterparts, His sincere promise goes unfulfilled Unmet due to his pretentious pretence. His ‘second’ Master gets extremely mad. For loyalty and faithfulness denied. And furiously plucks him from glory. Simultaneous whistling and sniffing, The ‘initial’ heaven can’t simply put up with them. A wise servant of the masses A true leader should only whistle at a time, Sniff at a time. But not sniffing and whistling simultaneously.
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May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
Whistling and Sniffing Simultaneously
WHISTLING AND SNIFFING SIMULTANEOUSLY Whistling and sniffing at the same time Can’t hold hands or rather get married United and collaborative in any case This duo may perhaps land into the life of some person The kind of man whose who acts, Performs duties of the shepherd on the flock. Like his initial master, He condemns wickedness, Goes against what is religiously evil, And exults the righteous. But he soon he craves for another pair of his robe For he does accumulate an avalanche of resources, His eyes are soon blinded. Would his robe evade being soiled? Co-operative sniffing and whistling, Can hatch into temptations to anybody, Even the half-human, half God Did he not get tested in the wilderness? Our big man opens his eyes one day, Finds himself campaigning and competing for, Trying to woo for citizens’ keys, Essentials for serving the people in a wider circle. Perhaps his whistling guides his path. Brings him in the companionship of Other servants of the people. Any devoted service present in that house really? Brotherly whistling and sniffing, May make one’s conscience slither backwards, Two or more steps into mud. He is now influential, A famous societal figure. His fat salary seconded with some allowances. Or even thirded with public developmental resources, Guarantees him total luxury. Is this not an opportunistic opportunist? Our Sniffer and whistler is contended, Complacent with his success. Jubilant with him servant is his ‘first Master ’ For keeping to the ‘sacred’ scriptures. The vehicle which carried him straight, One way to heaven gets crippled, It can’t manage to hit the road Like its American, British and Chinese counterparts, His sincere promise goes unfulfilled Unmet due to his pretentious pretence. His ‘second’ Master gets extremely mad. For loyalty and faithfulness denied. And furiously plucks him from glory. Simultaneous whistling and sniffing, The ‘initial’ heaven can’t simply put up with them. A wise servant of the masses A true leader should only whistle at a time, Sniff at a time. But not sniffing and whistling simultaneously.
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55
There is a class Across the sea That's small in size With students, three The students' names And average grades Are A, B, C The roll-book states Of the trio A's the one Who aces tests And frowns on fun The apple of His teacher's eye A has nary Cause to cry Kid C exults In being bad He signs his name "Rebellious Lad" His afternoons He's proud to mention He spends with teacher In detention A classic class Don't you agree? What's that you say? Oh, pardon me! There's also B! I quite forgot An oversight- Thanks a lot!
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Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 10:10 PM UTC
To B: (or not To B)
Spirit soaring high not just flying by my own sky bit shy yet bloom fully with pride in petals few freedom beauty before the fall Enter mine eye apeacing, kind bubbly as champagne willow it's all right on this mirror wall a note by and by yours or only mine. La rose magnifique. trust exults understanding of love's rose in bloom ~~~~ Karijinbba
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Sep 20, 2021
Sep 20, 2021 at 10:28 AM UTC
Magnifique
So many worlds, so much to do, So little done, such things to be, How know I what had need of thee, For thou wert strong as thou wert true? The fame is quench'd that I foresaw, The head hath miss'd an earthly wreath: I curse not nature, no, nor death; For nothing is that errs from law. We pass; the path that each man trod Is dim, or will be dim, with weeds: What fame is left for human deeds In endless age? It rests with God. O hollow wraith of dying fame, Fade wholly, while the soul exults, And self-infolds the large results Of force that would have forged a name.
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1.6k
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: Part 073
Somewhere in a strange land An unknown heart throbs for me Etching an amorous graffiti On the blank walls of my mind Where ever I am, I feel a pair of eyes Fondly surveying and scanning me, Speaking to me in silence And keeps me awake in the night I feel it all, I hear it all Filling me with a sweet ache! When night birds croon in the woods And their mates answer the serenade, When the moon begins her somnambulistic walk And light beams percolate through pine needles, When a hundred eyes open in the blue heights To watch over the sleeping Earth, When the whistle of a train is heard far away And its music wanes into a monotonous drone, When the rooster makes his first clarion call Breaking the serene silence of the night, When glow worms float in darkness Like cruise ships over the sea, When night gales shake the slender coniferous trees And wind whistles among their leaves, When sailing clouds blind the stars And the night turns into an ebony shade, When the opening Jasmine secretly exults In her own exotic scent, Sitting in my dimly lighted room I draft this message of love Pouring all my warmth into it Thus emptying my love laden heart That blazes with the fire of love And encode it in cryptic script To be mailed to you, my love! Oh, it might take much time Better it be a whispered endearment Sent through this perfumed night breeze That shall carry it from this end to that end So kindly leave your window open!
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Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
To My Anonymous Lover
Where contemplation finds her sacred spring, Where heav’nly music makes the arches ring, Where virtue reigns unsully’d and divine, Where wisdom thron’d, and all the graces shine, There sits thy spouse amidst the radiant throng, While praise eternal warbles from her tongue; There choirs angelic shout her welcome round, With perfect bliss, and peerless glory crown’d. While thy dear mate, to flesh no more confin’d, Exults a blest, an heav n-ascended mind, Say in thy breast shall floods of sorrow rise? Say shall its torrents overwhelm thine eyes? Amid the seats of heav’n a place is free, And angels open their bright ranks for thee; For thee they wait, and with expectant eye Thy spouse leans downward from th’ empyreal sky: “O come away,” her longing spirit cries, “And share with me the raptures of the skies. “Our bliss divine to mortals is unknown; “Immortal life and glory are our own. “There too may the dear pledges of our love “Arrive, and taste with us the joys above; “Attune the harp to more than mortal lays, “And join with us the tribute of their praise “To him, who dy’d stern justice to stone, “And make eternal glory all our own. “He in his death slew ours, and, as he rose, “He crush’d the dire dominion of our foes; “Vain were their hopes to put the God to flight, “Chain us to hell, and bar the gates of light.” She spoke, and turn’d from mortal scenes her eyes, Which beam’d celestial radiance o’er the skies. Then thou dear man, no more with grief retire, Let grief no longer damp devotion’s fire, But rise sublime, to equal bliss aspire, Thy sighs no more be wafted by the wind, No more complain, but be to heav’n resign’d ’Twas thine t’ unfold the oracles divine, To sooth our woes the task was also thine; Now sorrow is incumbent on thy heart, Permit the muse a cordial to impart; Who can to thee their tend’rest aid refuse? To dry thy tears how longs the heav’nly muse!
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To A Clergyman On The Death Of His Lady
Where contemplation finds her sacred spring, Where heav’nly music makes the arches ring, Where virtue reigns unsully’d and divine, Where wisdom thron’d, and all the graces shine, There sits thy spouse amidst the radiant throng, While praise eternal warbles from her tongue; There choirs angelic shout her welcome round, With perfect bliss, and peerless glory crown’d. While thy dear mate, to flesh no more confin’d, Exults a blest, an heav n-ascended mind, Say in thy breast shall floods of sorrow rise? Say shall its torrents overwhelm thine eyes? Amid the seats of heav’n a place is free, And angels open their bright ranks for thee; For thee they wait, and with expectant eye Thy spouse leans downward from th’ empyreal sky: “O come away,” her longing spirit cries, “And share with me the raptures of the skies. “Our bliss divine to mortals is unknown; “Immortal life and glory are our own. “There too may the dear pledges of our love “Arrive, and taste with us the joys above; “Attune the harp to more than mortal lays, “And join with us the tribute of their praise “To him, who dy’d stern justice to stone, “And make eternal glory all our own. “He in his death slew ours, and, as he rose, “He crush’d the dire dominion of our foes; “Vain were their hopes to put the God to flight, “Chain us to hell, and bar the gates of light.” She spoke, and turn’d from mortal scenes her eyes, Which beam’d celestial radiance o’er the skies. Then thou dear man, no more with grief retire, Let grief no longer damp devotion’s fire, But rise sublime, to equal bliss aspire, Thy sighs no more be wafted by the wind, No more complain, but be to heav’n resign’d ’Twas thine t’ unfold the oracles divine, To sooth our woes the task was also thine; Now sorrow is incumbent on thy heart, Permit the muse a cordial to impart; Who can to thee their tend’rest aid refuse? To dry thy tears how longs the heav’nly muse!
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43
Your body is the ocean rippling and unfathomable, eyes a wavering, wandering, azure blue set always to be drawn away before rushing back; sending salted spray slaps against my skin. I wax and I wane and you're set, sometimes, to do the same as this your tempestuous tides do echo, with your ebb and your flow, our highs and our lows but when we're both at our greatest height there's glory in our gravitation. you shiver when you look into my eyes, these beacons of sharp, darkening grey, and sometimes, only sometimes, just as the spring tide exults, it seems like the oceans in love with the fickle full-moon.
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Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 4:31 AM UTC
Your body of water.
1. My mother hates me! My father hates me! Oedipus screams to the stealthily silent Sphinx. He scatters riddles like laurel leaves waiting to be braided into a playwright's crown. It is too grandiose to fit his cracked. cramped cranium. His unconscious mind flies open like the Sphinx rocketing to the sky. Sacred haunches soar. Wings beat steadily to reach titanic heights. Blind to his murderous fate, Oedipus cannot know himself. Before the Delphic Oracle, his life shrivels, unexamined by his bleeding eyes. 2. Freud exults in triumph. Maternal love births eternal love: endless comfort and affection for the newly bloomed beloved. Soon, comfort metamorphoses into feral eros, unspeakable, unthinkable, beyond the bounds of catastrophic evil. Submerged desire sullies the chastest kiss. Jacosta embraces her son as her new living king, her husband's royal blood bubbling brazenly on the bitter road to Thebes. His hands stained, Oedipus strives to transmute his trauma as our own. We become him when Freud deigns to interpret our darkest, direst dreams. Blindly, we mimic him: carnal union with the mother, lethal rage against the father. Mourning Becomes Electra beckons to the wary second *** 3. The Sphinx belies its own riddle: How can prophecy spring from the sculpted, smooth stone of these perfect ******* Only blind Teiresias plumbs the depths of Oedipus' fate: Judgement lies blinded, action lies blinded by the ventricles of violence, the twisted telos of the mind. Humans sin against the world, against nature, siphoned of joy. They sin without a sacred perch to rise from. Blood and ***** mud and blindness fashion their Oedipal souls.
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Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 3:21 PM UTC
Oedipus Rex
1. My mother hates me! My father hates me! Oedipus screams to the stealthily silent Sphinx. He scatters riddles like laurel leaves waiting to be braided into a playwright's crown. It is too grandiose to fit his cracked. cramped cranium. His unconscious mind flies open like the Sphinx rocketing to the sky. Sacred haunches soar. Wings beat steadily to reach titanic heights. Blind to his murderous fate, Oedipus cannot know himself. Before the Delphic Oracle, his life shrivels, unexamined by his bleeding eyes. 2. Freud exults in triumph. Maternal love births eternal love: endless comfort and affection for the newly bloomed beloved. Soon, comfort metamorphoses into feral eros, unspeakable, unthinkable, beyond the bounds of catastrophic evil. Submerged desire sullies the chastest kiss. Jacosta embraces her son as her new living king, her husband's royal blood bubbling brazenly on the bitter road to Thebes. His hands stained, Oedipus strives to transmute his trauma as our own. We become him when Freud deigns to interpret our darkest, direst dreams. Blindly, we mimic him: carnal union with the mother, lethal rage against the father. Mourning Becomes Electra beckons to the wary second *** 3. The Sphinx belies its own riddle: How can prophecy spring from the sculpted, smooth stone of these perfect ******* Only blind Teiresias plumbs the depths of Oedipus' fate: Judgement lies blinded, action lies blinded by the ventricles of violence, the twisted telos of the mind. Humans sin against the world, against nature, siphoned of joy. They sin without a sacred perch to rise from. Blood and ***** mud and blindness fashion their Oedipal souls.
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51
There's a place that I go back to- and it's a garden, filled with flowers   and it's somewhere in the Northwest    where the forest moths and stretching firs wait quietly for showers it's there where Monarchs     gather in        kaleidoscopes and my densely swollen shadow    next to piercing sun    elopes There's a place that I go           back to where the plague of   dreams engulfs me and it's at the end of a nestled street   I find a     fever that exults me.
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Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 9:29 AM UTC
Kaleidoscope
At 10:30, Silence Dispersed,every edge withdrew with dark, The moon  is pale,  still brighten as diamond spark, At the tree, an owl hoots, at surface dogs barks. Sudden, I heed,   the sound of footsteps appears from the street, exults my isolated heart. My soul sing, my body dance, the longing ends, desperate for having my lover's glance. O! the perfume of him that mingled in air , I feel , O! the sound of his gentle cough , I am acquitanced. O ! The heavenly night with him, that I will deal. But O despair heart , you knit the misassumption. The perfume you smell, the steps you hear , Just fictionary dreams and false perceptions. Oh ! Control your glistening tears. Yet, loose  you satraches arm , blink your awaitful sight , The lover of yours , cannot reach here in the darkened night.
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Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC
At 10:30
Oh, the jar exults high holding what we find to be dear Oh, the marinaras keen zest, umami, and as I close my eyes I hum the hunger tune. Oh, but without the curved ridge and open space the sauce would never grace my face The jar! The jar, the vehicle of delicious who was passed through many hands and crafted with hot sand. Oh, tomato, garlic, and onion so sweet and delivered neat, for me to eat.
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Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
Ode to Marinara
At nightfall, gazing skyward, he exults. Godlike, he projects himself upon the darkness. At first light, gazing farther, no sign of life... Still Searching for what he knows not, and finding nothing. Does what he seek even exist? Did it ever? Riddled with emptiness beyond and within, his search is in vain. The void is a mirror reflecting nothing. Casting a swarm of machine seeds of a new life Propagating like a plague upon new worlds Far outreaching fragile flesh, touching new worlds Inseminating celestial womb with our new life
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Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
Seek
Dawn of man, Eden crumbles. Dawn of destruction, Man struggles Evil inner battle, Torment dispersed to all. Evil outward release, Even the innocent fall. Two men at fault, The world in one's hands. Power exults, Bow down as he lands.
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May 30, 2020
May 30, 2020 at 10:30 PM UTC
Dawn
Do you give the horse his might? Do you clothe his neck with a mane? Do you make him leap like the locust? His majestic snorting is terrifying. He paws in the valley and exults in his strength; he goes out to meet the weapons. He laughs at fear and is not dismayed; he does not turn back from the sword. Upon him rattle the quiver, the flashing spear, and the javelin. With fierceness and rage he swallows the ground; he cannot stand still at the sound of the trumpet. When the trumpet sounds, he says ‘Aha!’ He smells the battle from afar, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.
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Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
Horses