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"fleecy" poems
’Twas noontide of summer, And midtime of night, And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, through the light Of the brighter, cold moon. ’Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens, Her beam on the waves. I gazed awhile On her cold smile; Too cold—too cold for me— There passed, as a shroud, A fleecy cloud, And I turned away to thee, Proud Evening Star, In thy glory afar And dearer thy beam shall be; For joy to my heart Is the proud part Thou bearest in Heaven at night, And more I admire Thy distant fire, Than that colder, lowly light.
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Evening Star
Build me a slow boat to Timbuktu via China Heave down a fleecy cloud and let me float to Nirvana Hunt me a unicorn and let me ride to the Enchanted Forest Find me a giant eagle and let it lift me to Outer Mongolia East 'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces' Show me a Church and I'll show you a hall full of Sinners Point out a wife and I'll reveal a liar and a fake and none dimer Call a Doctor and its a Monster who betrayed the Hippocratics That Government Boss is a cruel heinous snake without ethics 'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces' See that Preacher and see a spineless hypocrite back-stabber That lover was nothing but a sick deranged false **** twister My dear acquaintance a heartless corrupted shyster unhinged A Newsagent full of pitiless, gloomy, vile, psychotic joy-suckers 'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces' That friend of years a bloodsucking Judas who betrayed and stole Uncles who rained terror with sadistic pleasures in parts unwhole Show me nieces and find two-faced ******* with poisons in veins Neighborhoods full of silent killers and Rapists of truthful genes 'please don't me leave here amongst demons with human faces' A vicars' daughter wielding angst axes better than a viking The pathetic Moors zombies tearing flesh on masters beholding The dead-eyed Arabs salivating madly or at daggers drawn Contemptible Men-kids with pin ****** used as King's pawns 'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces' Build me a cottage in rolling green fields with blue skies Find me a fair maiden with a true heart and warming smiles Show me a place that holds fairness and justice real and dear A world with humanity we're all sisters and brothers for care 'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces' [email protected] August2018
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Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
Please Don't Leave Me Here.........
Build me a slow boat to Timbuktu via China Heave down a fleecy cloud and let me float to Nirvana Hunt me a unicorn and let me ride to the Enchanted Forest Find me a giant eagle and let it lift me to Outer Mongolia East 'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces' Show me a Church and I'll show you a hall full of Sinners Point out a wife and I'll reveal a liar and a fake and none dimer Call a Doctor and its a Monster who betrayed the Hippocratics That Government Boss is a cruel heinous snake without ethics 'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces' See that Preacher and see a spineless hypocrite back-stabber That lover was nothing but a sick deranged false **** twister My dear acquaintance a heartless corrupted shyster unhinged A Newsagent full of pitiless, gloomy, vile, psychotic joy-suckers 'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces' That friend of years a bloodsucking Judas who betrayed and stole Uncles who rained terror with sadistic pleasures in parts unwhole Show me nieces and find two-faced ******* with poisons in veins Neighborhoods full of silent killers and Rapists of truthful genes 'please don't me leave here amongst demons with human faces' A vicars' daughter wielding angst axes better than a viking The pathetic Moors zombies tearing flesh on masters beholding The dead-eyed Arabs salivating madly or at daggers drawn Contemptible Men-kids with pin ****** used as King's pawns 'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces' Build me a cottage in rolling green fields with blue skies Find me a fair maiden with a true heart and warming smiles Show me a place that holds fairness and justice real and dear A world with humanity we're all sisters and brothers for care 'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces' [email protected] August2018
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Swept in on the sixth of the first Icy winds sluiced on dripping fleecy snow showers I saw a raging storm coming with vile foreboding nursed Staple in peace in love in goodwill laid a fitting banquet for all hours Rewards for toil and strive in minds attuned and goodness versed I knelt supplicant before my Lord Laid my just heart bare and without fear or dread laid a ringing vow as in warmth or bellowing thundering cold I rest in the forethought I am girded to sail sun's flames un thread For no blooded being can justly state I harmed or injured in my fold I will walk this vale of tears Meet with demons and the ****** of the outer worlds Face the volcanoes in hell and shame blazing red lava ingots I will not cower before deadly serpents or baulk at icy frozen walls If I fall I will stand again an again till God's time uneaten by maggots I implored my Faithful Lord Take me down grind and cast me asunder and bereft If this be ordained that an innocent soul pays an unjust price The darkest storm has raged wild and furious a depraved joy theft My God upholds me and holds that truths and honesty never a vice [email protected].
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Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 5:34 PM UTC
I Stand Accused...........
My hands fly across the key board as I search around. Not for anything in particular, just watching people cross in front of my eyesight. A girl walking in circles in  a blue fleecy vest, talking on the phone. I remember my father telling me the importance of leaning to type without having to look at the keyboard. I thought he was stupid. I thought it was silly. I ****** at typing. I still use three fingers only, mainly. Pinky for the shift key occasionally. Right ring finger for the return key. I don’t even use the thumb for the space bar Like you’re supposed to- I use my right pointer finger. I always had to endure the agony of typing with The Box Over my fingers in elementary school. My best friend can recreate fond memories of a 10-year-old me Squeezing My eyeballs shut, Lining up my fingers, my tongue sticking out, Only to discover I had typed everything Wrong Start over. But having entered the college age. I’m happy to be able to Glance Around While I work. Makes it seem like some automaton is recording my thoughts, which I don’t even have to think About as I Consider a flowerpot full of yellow flowers…pansies? So the poet was right. He was always looking out windows. Like all his poems would come streaming through them. Bits of cloudy thoughts captured on paper, because his Eyes were free to wander. Silly poet. Silly little girl. Asdf Lkjh G
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Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
Some Thoughts on Typing
Love is the scent with the lotus born. It is the silent choirs of petals Singing the winter’s harmony of uniform beauty. Love is the song of the soul, singing to God. It is the balanced rhythmic dance of planets - sun and moon lit In the skyey hall festooned with fleecy clouds – Around the sovereign Silent Will. It is the thirst of the rose to drink the sunrays And blush red with life. ‘Tis the promptings of the mother earth To feed her milk to the tender, thirsty roots, And to nurse all life. It is the urge of the sun To keep all things alive. Love is the unseen craving of the Mother Divine That took the protecting father–form, And that feeds helpless mouths With milk of mother’s tenderness. It is the babies’ sweetness, Coaxing the rain of parental sympathy To shower upon them. It is the lover’s unenslaved surrender to the beloved To serve and solace. It is the elixir of friendship, Reviving broken and bruised souls. It is the martyr’s zeal to shed his blood For the well-beloved fatherland. It is the ineffable, silent call of the heart to another heart. It is the God-drunk poet’s heartaches For every creature’s groans. Love is to enjoy the family rose of petal-beings, And thence to move to spacious fields - Passing by portals of social, national, international sympathy, On to the limitless Cosmic Home – To gaze with looks of wonderment, And to serve all that lives, still or moving. This is to know what love is. He knows who lives it. Love is evolution’s ameliorative call To the far-strayed sons To return to Perfection’s home. It is the call of the beauty – robed ones To worship the great Beauty. It is the call of God Through silent intelligences And starburst of feelings. Love is the Heaven Toward which the flowers, rivers, nations, atoms, creatures – you and I Are rushing by the straight path of action right, Or winding laboriously on error’s path, All to reach haven there at last.
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What is Love?
Love is the scent with the lotus born. It is the silent choirs of petals Singing the winter’s harmony of uniform beauty. Love is the song of the soul, singing to God. It is the balanced rhythmic dance of planets - sun and moon lit In the skyey hall festooned with fleecy clouds – Around the sovereign Silent Will. It is the thirst of the rose to drink the sunrays And blush red with life. ‘Tis the promptings of the mother earth To feed her milk to the tender, thirsty roots, And to nurse all life. It is the urge of the sun To keep all things alive. Love is the unseen craving of the Mother Divine That took the protecting father–form, And that feeds helpless mouths With milk of mother’s tenderness. It is the babies’ sweetness, Coaxing the rain of parental sympathy To shower upon them. It is the lover’s unenslaved surrender to the beloved To serve and solace. It is the elixir of friendship, Reviving broken and bruised souls. It is the martyr’s zeal to shed his blood For the well-beloved fatherland. It is the ineffable, silent call of the heart to another heart. It is the God-drunk poet’s heartaches For every creature’s groans. Love is to enjoy the family rose of petal-beings, And thence to move to spacious fields - Passing by portals of social, national, international sympathy, On to the limitless Cosmic Home – To gaze with looks of wonderment, And to serve all that lives, still or moving. This is to know what love is. He knows who lives it. Love is evolution’s ameliorative call To the far-strayed sons To return to Perfection’s home. It is the call of the beauty – robed ones To worship the great Beauty. It is the call of God Through silent intelligences And starburst of feelings. Love is the Heaven Toward which the flowers, rivers, nations, atoms, creatures – you and I Are rushing by the straight path of action right, Or winding laboriously on error’s path, All to reach haven there at last.
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Taking pictures of the high mountain. I see a spectacular site; She's floating with the clouds, Sunny, white, fleecy clouds. Wearing a pink kimono with wings covered in Sakura flowers, Doves flying around her head, Snow capped mountain towering in the background Peeking through Sakura trees. Is she playing with me? She's playing hide and seek in the mist. When, I look at her playing, She fills me with joy and makes me feel like a child, She makes me smile. Alas, she hides among the clouds once again. I look and look but do not see.  I am concerned. I miss our hide and seek game. Where did you go?   We haven't finished our game. Suddenly! I feel safe and warm all over me, Like a warm blanket covering me on a cold day, A tickle on my cheek. And Then, hearing a calming voice whispering in my ear saying, “Love, take my hand come with me. Let's go dancing high amongst the clouds this day.” “You will never be alone again...” Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
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Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
Dancing Among The Clouds (Regional Japan)
Greenish hills and alice blue skies whimsical faeries wander along the timberlands play hide and seek around pine groves brimming the atmosphere with liquid of blithe. a pair of cerulean eyes glitter under a lucid sun, and reflected a thousand rainbows. the feet you danced, headed forth to the ethereal grounds. in those fleecy palms held a bouquet of fresh peonies. as the wind huffs and grins, the fruit trees leafs begin to compose as if in an orchestra house. around my body flew a rabble of butterflies, your psyche is surreal. "You came back" I grasp to his muscular limbs, to fracture and to feel with seraphic love. By the night the archaic moon hangs, all my dreamless night pulverized. gory scenarios in my brain surrendered for an escape. My heart pumps, my collarbones shrieks, on our old bed, up-down, up-down, in-out, in-out.... "ah." the hue of a merry-go-round. As the summer reborn, the reality seizes..                     our love is immortal without a fullstop -l.r
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
As Summer Reborn
I may behave like one at times, But I don't want to look like a giant baby. This hideous thing Has been made for a giraffe-legged, short-bodied blob with no ***** And it takes up a single wash in my machine. It's only redeeming feature Is that it made my daughters laugh until they needed to *** So it's a good job I didn't find it funny, As I'd have to take the whole thing off for such an act. Off to Oxfam with it. I hope it finds a loving home. I've made my mind up; not a onesie fan And besides, I sleep naked And have no need for a giant fleecy sack.
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Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:10 AM UTC
Unwanted Onesie (Thanks, but no thanks!)
Our fingers dropped snowballs, and laced together in heated pockets. Our cheeks dusted icy white, with hot insides from rich cocoa. Our eyelashes clutched flurries, later happy tears by the fireplace. Our bodies shiver stripped of clothes, embrace and cling under fleecy covers. Our whispers rose in the cold, vapored souls eloping with lover's warmth.
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Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
Winter is our love in heat
Sara L Russell, 22nd January 2014, 01:26 Sometimes things make it harder letting go. We made some progress on the first day; gathered clothes and books, some random pieces of costume jewellery, laptop cables, pens, lighters, shampoo and makeup. I could see her in everything; the rock chick aura of her CD collection, the dalek key ring, a book on Camelot; only she could carry off that Wonder Woman tee shirt, only she could stand outside in Mum's garden, in that fleecy dressing gown with hearts, cawing back at the crows, cigarette in hand. The photographs hit us the hardest. To look into those merry blue eyes and know that they no longer look back into ours; They only keep their smile lines for eternity, laughing at a secret we will never know, lost in two dimensions, In the flat worlds of the past.
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 6:20 AM UTC
My Sister's Things
Some think this world a vale of tears, or worry and of sighs; That Life's a great big lottery, in which few win a prize. I read some hopeless verses once that don't deserve to last, They told how the mill can never grind with water that is past. I'd like to change that fallacy which has caused so many a tear, And by transposing make it bear a message of good cheer And point the way of winds of hope, like pennant on a mast, For I know that the mill can grind again with water that is past. A mountain stream comes trickling in the sunlight down the hill, And gathers volume until it has strength to run the mill; It happily continues then, upon its useful way, Turns other mills still further down, until it joins the bay. Its temporary mission o'er, it sweeps out to the sea With other useful waters bearing it company; And there all peacefully they rest, beneath the shining sun, Who seems to think their mission is scarcely yet begun. With gentle force He lifts them up in vapors to the sky, And gathers them in fleecy clouds in His domain so high, Where kindly winds then waft them back to that mountain home, From which a few short hours before we saw them start to roam. The cooling night then causes them to fall in gentle showers, A blessing to that mountainside, to grass and trees and flowers; And in the dawn of early morn we find them back once more In that same little mountainside, but stronger than before. They gather volume as they come a-tumbling down the hill, And then with added vigor again they turn the mill; And then in play they rush away, through meadowland and town, And every mill again is turned as they go dancing down. The brightest day is no more useful than the darkest night,-- Our troubles soon would disappear if we'd view them aright. Good fortune may be holding back her best things to the last, For I know that the mill can grind again with water that is past. And that same little mountain stream Has always been to me But one of Nature's many proofs Of Immortality.
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Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
Immortality - William Tomkins (1929)
Some think this world a vale of tears, or worry and of sighs; That Life's a great big lottery, in which few win a prize. I read some hopeless verses once that don't deserve to last, They told how the mill can never grind with water that is past. I'd like to change that fallacy which has caused so many a tear, And by transposing make it bear a message of good cheer And point the way of winds of hope, like pennant on a mast, For I know that the mill can grind again with water that is past. A mountain stream comes trickling in the sunlight down the hill, And gathers volume until it has strength to run the mill; It happily continues then, upon its useful way, Turns other mills still further down, until it joins the bay. Its temporary mission o'er, it sweeps out to the sea With other useful waters bearing it company; And there all peacefully they rest, beneath the shining sun, Who seems to think their mission is scarcely yet begun. With gentle force He lifts them up in vapors to the sky, And gathers them in fleecy clouds in His domain so high, Where kindly winds then waft them back to that mountain home, From which a few short hours before we saw them start to roam. The cooling night then causes them to fall in gentle showers, A blessing to that mountainside, to grass and trees and flowers; And in the dawn of early morn we find them back once more In that same little mountainside, but stronger than before. They gather volume as they come a-tumbling down the hill, And then with added vigor again they turn the mill; And then in play they rush away, through meadowland and town, And every mill again is turned as they go dancing down. The brightest day is no more useful than the darkest night,-- Our troubles soon would disappear if we'd view them aright. Good fortune may be holding back her best things to the last, For I know that the mill can grind again with water that is past. And that same little mountain stream Has always been to me But one of Nature's many proofs Of Immortality.
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When the sun glowed warm with brighter sheen The Earth that lay inert in drunken sleep Woke up suddenly to greet the glorious dawn Casting aside the blanket of fluffy wool Beams of light thawed and melted the icy crust Leaving the land, bare, bright and new A clean slate for life to make a fresh start And give our Earth a lovely face lift As winter slouched away in staggering steps Spring, came down gracefully on dancing feet Like an ingenious wizard with the Mida’s touch Turning everything into glittering green n’ gold So awesome it is to watch with widening eye The first burgeoning of life with the kiss of spring Every tree n’ every shrub, dressed in sudden sprout of leaves And every plant and every bough bursting into newer buds Daffodils on wayside nodding in blooms of gold Pansies and daisies springing close to passing heels The laburnum and lilacs, getting ready to burst into bloom Flowers yellow, red and blue on every fence and field Butterflies flitting round and round on colorful wings And exotic blooms in gentle breeze swinging their heads The birds that ere migrated to warmer climes Coming back once more to fill the aerial space Sparrows merrily twittering around tiled eaves The robin springing, throwing a livelier note The lark disappearing into the sky of fleecy clouds The swallows shooting out into giddy heights The feathered minstrels, filling the air in riotous rings And Nature covering the Earth in quilts of lovely designs Lovers leave their fireside hearths and coming out To ramble through country paths, hand in hand Oh! Spring has come to wipe away the frosty tear And fill the hearts with overwhelming cheer Let us join this array of happy crowd And sing a song of joy with this mirthful brood
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Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
Lovesome Spring
When the sun glowed warm with brighter sheen The Earth that lay inert in drunken sleep Woke up suddenly to greet the glorious dawn Casting aside the blanket of fluffy wool Beams of light thawed and melted the icy crust Leaving the land, bare, bright and new A clean slate for life to make a fresh start And give our Earth a lovely face lift As winter slouched away in staggering steps Spring, came down gracefully on dancing feet Like an ingenious wizard with the Mida’s touch Turning everything into glittering green n’ gold So awesome it is to watch with widening eye The first burgeoning of life with the kiss of spring Every tree n’ every shrub, dressed in sudden sprout of leaves And every plant and every bough bursting into newer buds Daffodils on wayside nodding in blooms of gold Pansies and daisies springing close to passing heels The laburnum and lilacs, getting ready to burst into bloom Flowers yellow, red and blue on every fence and field Butterflies flitting round and round on colorful wings And exotic blooms in gentle breeze swinging their heads The birds that ere migrated to warmer climes Coming back once more to fill the aerial space Sparrows merrily twittering around tiled eaves The robin springing, throwing a livelier note The lark disappearing into the sky of fleecy clouds The swallows shooting out into giddy heights The feathered minstrels, filling the air in riotous rings And Nature covering the Earth in quilts of lovely designs Lovers leave their fireside hearths and coming out To ramble through country paths, hand in hand Oh! Spring has come to wipe away the frosty tear And fill the hearts with overwhelming cheer Let us join this array of happy crowd And sing a song of joy with this mirthful brood
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Oh! How like you, I long to be a singing lark Who among the fleecy clouds like a tiny speck Remains hidden, drowning the air with music sweet Rising higher and darting up with movements slick In our ears, falls your song like peals of chiming bells In clear, crystalline notes on this radiant day so bright Why do you stay unseen in the far fringes of heaven? Oh! Come out from the veils that cover you from our sight!  Are you warbling of love in inextricable lays Or chanting hymns to the God of greater heights Diving up and down like a mysterious sprite Are you trilling of the charms of enchanting sights Soaring and swaying like a flitting dot of light You ascend higher and higher to dizzier heights I guess your wings brush against the sailing clouds As you reel round and round in ecstatic flights Have you bade farewell to the verdant groves beneath Have you flown for good from your woody nest? Why do you dwell in the heights, solitary and alone? Have you made the firmament your haven of rest? Hovering over unseen, you pour out melodies sweet That fills our gloomy hearts with euphoric delight Sweeping away from weary heads all sullen thoughts And flaming our souls as ever blazing beacons of light!
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May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
To the Singing Lark
Regular as clockwork the spotters gather there binoculars and notebooks as up the track they stare assembled on the platform with all the day to spare they put the world to rights and wait without a care clad in finest anorak tweed caps are in this year their fleecy inners covering heads once thick with hair Every day I see them sometimes just a pair shuffling on the concrete sometimes with a chair Pensions less than peanuts Blame young Tony Blair But everything forgotten at sight of one thats rare Life is breathed to tired legs nostrils start to flare sweaty palms note hastily with eager thank you prayer And oh the day the Queen came They stood in open air and cheered to see that engine sweep in with royal flare I'll not be hear to watch you From comfy office chair From now on I'll be missing But I know you'll still be there
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Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 9:50 PM UTC
Trainspotters from my window
King Rat gnawed at the piece of wood for to bite and dine! God's pure name was inscribed upon the battered sign, But King Rat continued to snack like it was the flesh of freshly caught cod, What was this then, maybe Rat was God? Aha, oh no, but along came slinky Mistress Cat! So quick and nimble was she, up she snapped and gobbled up fat King Rat, She licked her lips upon a fallen slab of greasy salty lard, What was this then, maybe Mistress Cat was God? Aha, oh no, but along came faithful Master Dog! Away he chased crafty Mistress Cat into the swampy mired bog, Hardworking Master Dog surveyed his domain and his tail stood up to attention like a rigid rod, What was this then, maybe Master Dog was God? Aha, oh no, but along came Chief Wolf! He bites and shakes hard into the collar of Master Dog, the neck tears like fleecy wool, Blood ran down Chief Wolf's chin and he smiled with victory as he sat down by the warm coal road, What was this then, maybe Chief Wolf was God? Aha, oh no, but along came the Queen of Fire! Into Chief Wolf she passionately burns, into ashes was he burnt upon her sultry bed of burning pyre, The gleaming Queen of Fire burned with glowing glory, there was red life yet in her pulsating bud, What was this then, maybe the Queen of Fire was God? Aha, oh no, but along came a river of Mighty Water! The fiery Queen of Fire hisses and fizzles and soon she is nothing more than steam, all slaughtered, Mighty Water flows vast and rampant, he rules his oceanic valley just like a pea in a pod, What was then, maybe Mighty Water was God? Aha, oh no, but along came a pure-hearted Man! Very thirsty was he and so away he gulps and guzzles the Mighty Water in the glen, He channels the Mighty Water to quench his dry farmlands, this was indeed a smart farming lad, What was this then, maybe Man was God? Aha, oh no, but along went the Man licking a ripe red cherry **** Into the hallowed building of prayer he does go and gently picks up the Rat bitten name of God, Down falls the Man upon his knees, he prays, he bows, he silently nods, he wishes his soul was resting in the blissful garden of his beloved God, What was this then? Maybe... *God IS God!* ©Rangzeb Hussain
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Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 11:08 PM UTC
Art Thou God?
King Rat gnawed at the piece of wood for to bite and dine! God's pure name was inscribed upon the battered sign, But King Rat continued to snack like it was the flesh of freshly caught cod, What was this then, maybe Rat was God? Aha, oh no, but along came slinky Mistress Cat! So quick and nimble was she, up she snapped and gobbled up fat King Rat, She licked her lips upon a fallen slab of greasy salty lard, What was this then, maybe Mistress Cat was God? Aha, oh no, but along came faithful Master Dog! Away he chased crafty Mistress Cat into the swampy mired bog, Hardworking Master Dog surveyed his domain and his tail stood up to attention like a rigid rod, What was this then, maybe Master Dog was God? Aha, oh no, but along came Chief Wolf! He bites and shakes hard into the collar of Master Dog, the neck tears like fleecy wool, Blood ran down Chief Wolf's chin and he smiled with victory as he sat down by the warm coal road, What was this then, maybe Chief Wolf was God? Aha, oh no, but along came the Queen of Fire! Into Chief Wolf she passionately burns, into ashes was he burnt upon her sultry bed of burning pyre, The gleaming Queen of Fire burned with glowing glory, there was red life yet in her pulsating bud, What was this then, maybe the Queen of Fire was God? Aha, oh no, but along came a river of Mighty Water! The fiery Queen of Fire hisses and fizzles and soon she is nothing more than steam, all slaughtered, Mighty Water flows vast and rampant, he rules his oceanic valley just like a pea in a pod, What was then, maybe Mighty Water was God? Aha, oh no, but along came a pure-hearted Man! Very thirsty was he and so away he gulps and guzzles the Mighty Water in the glen, He channels the Mighty Water to quench his dry farmlands, this was indeed a smart farming lad, What was this then, maybe Man was God? Aha, oh no, but along went the Man licking a ripe red cherry **** Into the hallowed building of prayer he does go and gently picks up the Rat bitten name of God, Down falls the Man upon his knees, he prays, he bows, he silently nods, he wishes his soul was resting in the blissful garden of his beloved God, What was this then? Maybe... *God IS God!* ©Rangzeb Hussain
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36
The clouds are thin Like a piece of silk They keep rolling in In a blue glass as milk Warm and tender Of white, yellow, and fire With the air, they linger As if they don't get tired They're our fleecy goodbye From the light in our eyes Weightless of all Though leaves a sullen fall But truest promise Lives as it leaves We're tomorrow's fate On horizon's brightest gate
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Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 5:16 AM UTC
Tomorrow's Promised
I have shut the doors to my mind, I shut myself out          For inside my head there exists a thick darkness that seeks to engulf me.               Pain – Fear – Rage and Love.                           Shapeless monsters hiding – waiting to devour me; Now to the heavens I look, towards the enchanted skies; glittering and shimmering with cold- but warm enough to house my sullen soul. I will look towards them; and find my solace. Everlasting and steadfast, I am enthralled by you. Tales from the surface of my within, The ones I won't tell no man, I let you hear In the beauty of the night, you wink and glisten.                                                                                                                  I look up at the night sky, our eyes meet in the appreciation of devotion;   of a love between man and kind.   Enshrouded in the warm embrace of fleecy clouds; she covers my world with her glorious silver smiles;   Lady Moon, Queen of the nighttime cohort. I look up at the night sky,           and there he remains like a friendly old man frozen in his seat;   pointing the way to that may need it, his hand remains steady as he guides.   He is a lone star, shunning communion with comrades and compatriots; he shines alone, a jewel in solitude. I look up at the night sky,       they glide past on the wings of the wind like gracious phantoms. They weave and churn showing off their flexibility and volatile dancing skill;       Teaching me how to survive in a world which loves a few. The grey clouds flip and flop, they boil and bubble.       Rejoicing in the fellowship of flying embroidery;     they promise the gift of life giving rain. I look up at the night sky,   my eyes cannot see them, but yes they speak to me.     From places out of the reach of civilization;       intuition and heartwarming reassurance flow;           from matter and energy, at the bounds of space and time, from regions further than the confines of the known multiverse; at the feet of God.                                                  The black of the night and the blue of day – the only barriers shielding them from my sight; They reignite my spirit and set alight the torches of hope inside the rooms of my soul;             I know not what they are,             but they watch over me and they watch over you.   Look into the skies and you too will hear their silent voices.   Stare into the splendor of the night and commune with your inner beauty. You will be set ablaze.    WordSmith_Wiz 26/07/2018
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Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 5:40 PM UTC
NIGHT TIME FANTASIA
I have shut the doors to my mind, I shut myself out          For inside my head there exists a thick darkness that seeks to engulf me.               Pain – Fear – Rage and Love.                           Shapeless monsters hiding – waiting to devour me; Now to the heavens I look, towards the enchanted skies; glittering and shimmering with cold- but warm enough to house my sullen soul. I will look towards them; and find my solace. Everlasting and steadfast, I am enthralled by you. Tales from the surface of my within, The ones I won't tell no man, I let you hear In the beauty of the night, you wink and glisten.                                                                                                                  I look up at the night sky, our eyes meet in the appreciation of devotion;   of a love between man and kind.   Enshrouded in the warm embrace of fleecy clouds; she covers my world with her glorious silver smiles;   Lady Moon, Queen of the nighttime cohort. I look up at the night sky,           and there he remains like a friendly old man frozen in his seat;   pointing the way to that may need it, his hand remains steady as he guides.   He is a lone star, shunning communion with comrades and compatriots; he shines alone, a jewel in solitude. I look up at the night sky,       they glide past on the wings of the wind like gracious phantoms. They weave and churn showing off their flexibility and volatile dancing skill;       Teaching me how to survive in a world which loves a few. The grey clouds flip and flop, they boil and bubble.       Rejoicing in the fellowship of flying embroidery;     they promise the gift of life giving rain. I look up at the night sky,   my eyes cannot see them, but yes they speak to me.     From places out of the reach of civilization;       intuition and heartwarming reassurance flow;           from matter and energy, at the bounds of space and time, from regions further than the confines of the known multiverse; at the feet of God.                                                  The black of the night and the blue of day – the only barriers shielding them from my sight; They reignite my spirit and set alight the torches of hope inside the rooms of my soul;             I know not what they are,             but they watch over me and they watch over you.   Look into the skies and you too will hear their silent voices.   Stare into the splendor of the night and commune with your inner beauty. You will be set ablaze.    WordSmith_Wiz 26/07/2018
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55
I hate overly yellow bananas and cilantro in my salad I hate fleecy sweaters and pony tails that are too tight I hate when I can't sleep because I drank too much coffee and when nobody tells me goodnight I hate when you promise the sky because you can and when you don't care I hate when you yell and my eyes start to burn I hate when you're never around and that you never were I hate that you try and control me but know nothing about me I hate that I have never been a priority and I know that I never will...
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Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC
Hate and Hatred
FANCY Matloob Bokhari I listened the sound of refreshing rain And heard the dearest song of nightingale. I saw Baby walking in the gentle rain Fleecy clouds laying arms round her neck Silver drops in pure delight kissing her lips Sweet-smelling breeze blowing through her hair Rainbow by raindrops studded on her rosy cheeks I woke up when she called my name. My soul knelt down to thank my Lord. Who blessed me fancy – the greatest artist O When the door of my soul is opened, Ideas descend as drops of rain from sky Sitting alone by fire in my study , I hear Whistling wind and symphony of raindrops I smell wet soil , perfume of meadow flowers See Baby appearing as a column of light And the sky with rainbow in her hand. COMMENTS OF POETS Laura Bailey Thank you Matloob Bukhari for the very beautiful poem Rukiah Annuar awesome poem ... bleeding ink magnificently on the page . Such a wondrous gift ... for love of poetry, love~faith~gratitude~ Black heart (cards) ... my heart sings reading your poetry and touches my soul to the silent symphony of your poetic heart Black heart (cards) Ch Navakanta Mishra ‎Matloob Bukhari- Beautiful words Leo Riccio My baby is like this... thanks, blessings. Poet Love wow I love the way you wrote. Beautiful, well-done xoxo Kevin M. Hibshman All love!!!! Mike Eric Soffer very lovely Gaudreault C Marie hhhhhhhhhhh.. I am speechless with the lines .. and also with the image.. I love them both so much !! .. I am fascinated by your works.. and cannot thank you enough for the pleasure it brings.. .. :D .. never stop this .. :D xoxoxo .. and I am grateful !! .. so very grateful.. THANK YOU .. LOVE ALWAYS, :D Black heart (cards) xoxoxo . Black heart (cards) you are a treausre !! xoxoxo Cmarie .. Margaret Gudkov ohhh wow.. Fancy is such beautiful write.. my soul danced with your words Carmel Mawle So beautiful. I especially love the fleecy clouds laying arms around her neck. Jann Gail Jones your words were so precious . They brought such beautiful images to mind and softness and beauty to my heart that tears welled in my eyes. I was reading and dancing. Such magical words Thank you for having such a beautiful heart to be able to write such beautiful things. I thank God for sending blessed people like you. You poems give me faith in humanity. Blessings to you!
0
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
FANCY
FANCY Matloob Bokhari I listened the sound of refreshing rain And heard the dearest song of nightingale. I saw Baby walking in the gentle rain Fleecy clouds laying arms round her neck Silver drops in pure delight kissing her lips Sweet-smelling breeze blowing through her hair Rainbow by raindrops studded on her rosy cheeks I woke up when she called my name. My soul knelt down to thank my Lord. Who blessed me fancy – the greatest artist O When the door of my soul is opened, Ideas descend as drops of rain from sky Sitting alone by fire in my study , I hear Whistling wind and symphony of raindrops I smell wet soil , perfume of meadow flowers See Baby appearing as a column of light And the sky with rainbow in her hand. COMMENTS OF POETS Laura Bailey Thank you Matloob Bukhari for the very beautiful poem Rukiah Annuar awesome poem ... bleeding ink magnificently on the page . Such a wondrous gift ... for love of poetry, love~faith~gratitude~ Black heart (cards) ... my heart sings reading your poetry and touches my soul to the silent symphony of your poetic heart Black heart (cards) Ch Navakanta Mishra ‎Matloob Bukhari- Beautiful words Leo Riccio My baby is like this... thanks, blessings. Poet Love wow I love the way you wrote. Beautiful, well-done xoxo Kevin M. Hibshman All love!!!! Mike Eric Soffer very lovely Gaudreault C Marie hhhhhhhhhhh.. I am speechless with the lines .. and also with the image.. I love them both so much !! .. I am fascinated by your works.. and cannot thank you enough for the pleasure it brings.. .. :D .. never stop this .. :D xoxoxo .. and I am grateful !! .. so very grateful.. THANK YOU .. LOVE ALWAYS, :D Black heart (cards) xoxoxo . Black heart (cards) you are a treausre !! xoxoxo Cmarie .. Margaret Gudkov ohhh wow.. Fancy is such beautiful write.. my soul danced with your words Carmel Mawle So beautiful. I especially love the fleecy clouds laying arms around her neck. Jann Gail Jones your words were so precious . They brought such beautiful images to mind and softness and beauty to my heart that tears welled in my eyes. I was reading and dancing. Such magical words Thank you for having such a beautiful heart to be able to write such beautiful things. I thank God for sending blessed people like you. You poems give me faith in humanity. Blessings to you!
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31
When someone asks, “What did you do today?” I answer, with a smile, “Lived,” because what can be more Fulfilling than watching Rain drops streak down a Cheek of a lover pushing against The wind in a limitless Dance, or more Satisfying than slipping into A fleecy coat and boots and Splashing down a stream in the Woods, the damp trees dripping with Greenery on the one who is kept so Dry? And hearing a kettle as it Steams and screeches, ready to Drink after being poured over tea, Coupled with butter and honey Drizzled on toast, as the rain gently Clangs on my tin windowsill Reminds me of the time that the Phone rang, and the woman on the line Had to say, “We hoped it wouldn't be today, But your Grandfather recently passed away,” When it wasn't sky water that streaked my cheek On a rainy day.
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Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 6:42 PM UTC
Rainy Day
Six friends, All huddled under the cover of night. They have known each other for eternities, Yet each only for a day. Sharing memories that they shared From thousands of miles away Before they even met. The fleecy down of cloud cover Is stretched over their heads A secretive sleepover tent But the only secrets they tell Are they have only been keeping From themselves. And they begin to fill with something Even lighter than air. And they rested their heads in each others' laps - The only thing That kept them held down to the ground. The damp, soft earth underneath them Cold grass and the chilly morning dew Forming beneath their fingers Were the only things To remind them that this life was real. This moment was real. Above them, the sky turned purple Then orange Then pale light blue. And the morning came Whether they wished it to or not, Pressing into the next day as it did the last. Only somehow, this was different.
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May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
Under Victor
Light emanating from distant ***** of burning gas are intimidated from the children’s vision by the unruly, central licks fluffing about their little fire. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The wind, streaming in from the warm side of the nearby ocean, picks up waves of genuine laughter and stunning, off-key voices. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A bloodline of salt water curls the group into a circular haven where there is no need for corners to shadow defensive secrets. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is a time of absolute purity as the children’s minds drift to Never-never land and their hearts float within the red wine spilling into their mouths. =============================================================== They are all the happiest that they have ever been - on the seams of their spines, dallying until the currents will overtake them someday to bury their bodies at the bottom of the sea. =============================================================== Darkness thickly pastes the surrounding beach, longing for the fleecy little fire to cease its bravado so that the children can fall deeply into sleep. ===============================================================
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
Comfortable Ending.
Each day she went to her garden, to look at him pass by Her eyes unblinking, she watched him, circle in the sky. Fleecy clouds veiled the sunlight, so she would not go blind The girl was filled with love for him body, soul, and mind. Yet he never even noticed her, for his mind was overwrought, For he was in love with another, and it was her that his eyes sought. As time passed, her passion for him, never diminished in size, She longed for him to acknowledge her, and look into her eyes. So one time she sat for nine days, just watching him from afar, No food or water did she consume, her love burnt like a star. On the tenth day the Gods took pity and so upon the hour, They turned the love struck girl into a beautiful sunflower. The flower is turned toward the sun from sunrise to sunset, Still watching her loved one fly, never wanting to forget.
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Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 4:15 AM UTC
Sunflower
I reach to touch but all I find is fragrant vapor in my hand That once had been perfume, I think and now is not but ghostly form I look to see but everything is faded moonlight on the breeze The shadow of a dream forgot with nothing but specter's life I try to hear but all is silence the scream of snails across the sea muffled by fleecy clouds between leaves only dim remembered sighs
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Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 11:10 AM UTC
{no title}
The frost-feathered birches are a heavenly white, knuckled and rigid as elderly spines, Holy as naves and as filled with esteem November announces my season of dreams Long nights south to the tree and the lake For happiness sake, and lying with stars The comforting sounds of a million cars Rubber on tar, rubber on tar Flights of romance and my supper outside A tangle of shadows fiercely flailing at my sides, and over tables of oak I am sat near silent others in their scarves and winter coats They accompany me so, although none by invite We are strangers breaking bread beneath a milky way of lights Here where lofty leagues above, the storm begins to croon Where fleecy clouds in motion seem to overtake the moon
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Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 7:36 AM UTC
Season of Dreams