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"floret" poems
the beginning You dropped a seed. I picked it up and gave it a home in myself. the middle It grew in my heart. I cared so much for it, Watered it, As hard as it was, I even changed the soil surrounding it. Blossomed into such a beautiful floret. the end You left. The sacred efflorescence shed its petals. My soil wasn't enough for you.**
0
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 5:00 PM UTC
Life Cycles
__Body__ Let me love and care for the art piece of your body- every pulsating touch of your spasms. Jumping wildly; while washing me in your spring water on top a mountain of passions. I’ll spurt within you, from its tip. And in kind; let the wetness of your lips sooth my skin. Kissed by your sensual soul, as it echoes every word of thirst, running down your throat; chasing after every breath we lose in a moment.                        _Still, let us not love in haste._ __Amazon Queen__ I gaze at you, as my sprouting rose in bloom. But not something so delicate; she is tall, shapely, and sturdy— my Amazon Queen that keeps me in the centre of her rainforest. As she lets my words water her floret by their tip- its warmth and gentleness spoke of a love so deep and fulfilling. __Foot fetish__ Oh, how she stimulates my eyes, as I make out with her eye’s persuasion; my mind often rehearses how I’ll love her in it’s imaginations- my mind’s perfect simulation; For our desires are much sweeter, by every bite of her smooth chocolate skin I adore her more than I would have yesterday- to quietly bless each step she’ll take tomorrow. And a reason for me to kiss her feet. __Moist__ Surely as the night is washed by the gentle rains- I have these saturated thoughts, pondering how she’ll drown me over another night’ As she could never have the most without I in the middle; her underwear feels so moist. __Climactic Prelude & Conclusion__ Would you love to experience a climactic prelude; a middle so sweet in its time; While my eyes ripen at the sight of your ripening fruit, Oh, so sweet in its time, let me capture and savour that juicy fruit, For yes indeed we had fallen in love- but let not that fruit eventually fall; From its tree, to rot off its vine; let me bite you as mine- to taste your heaven’s ecstasy; In this climactic prelude; I promise the middle is filling, and its conclusion won’t be short lived.
0
Jul 1, 2024
Jul 1, 2024 at 8:22 AM UTC
Poetica sensual
__Body__ Let me love and care for the art piece of your body- every pulsating touch of your spasms. Jumping wildly; while washing me in your spring water on top a mountain of passions. I’ll spurt within you, from its tip. And in kind; let the wetness of your lips sooth my skin. Kissed by your sensual soul, as it echoes every word of thirst, running down your throat; chasing after every breath we lose in a moment.                        _Still, let us not love in haste._ __Amazon Queen__ I gaze at you, as my sprouting rose in bloom. But not something so delicate; she is tall, shapely, and sturdy— my Amazon Queen that keeps me in the centre of her rainforest. As she lets my words water her floret by their tip- its warmth and gentleness spoke of a love so deep and fulfilling. __Foot fetish__ Oh, how she stimulates my eyes, as I make out with her eye’s persuasion; my mind often rehearses how I’ll love her in it’s imaginations- my mind’s perfect simulation; For our desires are much sweeter, by every bite of her smooth chocolate skin I adore her more than I would have yesterday- to quietly bless each step she’ll take tomorrow. And a reason for me to kiss her feet. __Moist__ Surely as the night is washed by the gentle rains- I have these saturated thoughts, pondering how she’ll drown me over another night’ As she could never have the most without I in the middle; her underwear feels so moist. __Climactic Prelude & Conclusion__ Would you love to experience a climactic prelude; a middle so sweet in its time; While my eyes ripen at the sight of your ripening fruit, Oh, so sweet in its time, let me capture and savour that juicy fruit, For yes indeed we had fallen in love- but let not that fruit eventually fall; From its tree, to rot off its vine; let me bite you as mine- to taste your heaven’s ecstasy; In this climactic prelude; I promise the middle is filling, and its conclusion won’t be short lived.
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52
Chrysanthemum, Rose, Buttercup. Each morning he would guess a floret that might match Her loveliness. And every night, When he pulled her close under Periwinkle sheets He would admit defeat. "Of course how foolish I've been! No Chrysanthemum can compete With the way your velvet lips flood pink After I kiss you, my love. Not even the brightest rose can compare to the sunshine that pours from your soul every day, my darling."
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Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
Chrysanthemum
As shadows begin to engulf, The hues that come from a well lit day. From the multicolored palette, Pastels turn to gray. Shadows are forming , It's near the end of day. But still, In the eve's half light, I spy the glimmering , A floret of white. The first to catch the new mornings rays, And the last to show through the darkening haze. And so it cycles from light to dark. The familar becomes unknown, And place's of refuge, Are now a gambit to run. The darkness seems to lessen the gap, That the dawn had once split wide. But all's the same 'Cept the loss of light. And maybe just a tiny fright From the circuition, This will pass. To convert  the obscurity to comprehension. And so reveal, It's all a trick of the mind's eye.
0
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 10:41 PM UTC
"Minds Eye"
What kinda flowers would you like to have? besides my own tulips, I have I honestly don't know much about the garden or the seeds I know not every day is greeted by dandy lions Or as fertilized in the fruits of its daily labor No one owes your favor We're all petal pushers Waiting to blossom from the buzzin' Not everyone has the will to stem tall Some may wilt away; Some may brighten the day But, I just want to floret And never look back Dancing on the breeze like a leaf Forgetting the roots What a relief
0
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 3:22 PM UTC
Spring Forward
Bleak bones crumble to snow covered soil, Flesh floret wilted flower, Empty bottle blood sinks, and poisoned pills pour, Swaying sparrow feathers rot to feed my gentle grave.
0
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
Suicide
*There'll come days when you'll have nothing to write and trust me even that nothing will be enough you'll try to embrace the hollow of deficiency but choke in the dark fumes of attempting to put up a fight against the void whilst you search for your efficiency you will scratch your mind for just a word but in vain shake you will the trees and nothing will fall,it will pain no single leaf will, not even a dry little twig you'll wander all over the gardens of creativity but find no soft alluviums,not a single spot to dig it will feel an unfair election that fate is going to rig yet your petition will yield no fruit, not an apple,nor a fig your fingers will itch worse than infestation by a jigger with the enema of motivation present but meagre you'll miss the days whence it rained rhymes oh! how much you'll long for those flooding times like a pauper loitering the streets hopelessly thirsty for dimes and the bells of your emotions will ring melancholic chimes as you remember that sweet piece that got many hailing your prowess and like a snail, return will your abilities in an unbearable wait, call it a steady progress you will be an active volcano whose vent's blocked from within forced to abide by the nonentity blank of where to begin unlike the usual floret and bombastic sweet nothings you'll draw the fly speck in ink of unclear etchings to give definition to the infinity of your nullity and the insubstantiality of the ink sprayed will be tattered clothes that patch your mental ****** you won't be satiated, but you'll survive the monsters of obsession that hide in the furthest corners of your psychomotor, deep inside and you'll appreciate the philosophy, sometimes obstacle's the path for the scratch and naught from your struggle'll bear worth so never take shelter under the sunless tree of the writers block the wave of emotions poets command can break any stumbling block*
0
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 2:22 PM UTC
Writer's Block
*There'll come days when you'll have nothing to write and trust me even that nothing will be enough you'll try to embrace the hollow of deficiency but choke in the dark fumes of attempting to put up a fight against the void whilst you search for your efficiency you will scratch your mind for just a word but in vain shake you will the trees and nothing will fall,it will pain no single leaf will, not even a dry little twig you'll wander all over the gardens of creativity but find no soft alluviums,not a single spot to dig it will feel an unfair election that fate is going to rig yet your petition will yield no fruit, not an apple,nor a fig your fingers will itch worse than infestation by a jigger with the enema of motivation present but meagre you'll miss the days whence it rained rhymes oh! how much you'll long for those flooding times like a pauper loitering the streets hopelessly thirsty for dimes and the bells of your emotions will ring melancholic chimes as you remember that sweet piece that got many hailing your prowess and like a snail, return will your abilities in an unbearable wait, call it a steady progress you will be an active volcano whose vent's blocked from within forced to abide by the nonentity blank of where to begin unlike the usual floret and bombastic sweet nothings you'll draw the fly speck in ink of unclear etchings to give definition to the infinity of your nullity and the insubstantiality of the ink sprayed will be tattered clothes that patch your mental ****** you won't be satiated, but you'll survive the monsters of obsession that hide in the furthest corners of your psychomotor, deep inside and you'll appreciate the philosophy, sometimes obstacle's the path for the scratch and naught from your struggle'll bear worth so never take shelter under the sunless tree of the writers block the wave of emotions poets command can break any stumbling block*
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34
*Even when I know they're but unfinished stories, accepted pain and acknowledged sorrys, virtual realities reflected from mirrors of a lost paradigm and engineered metaphorically vocalized  pantomime even when I know that they're not the end of the road (that there're even many more miles to walk) or even  blossoms of life within a spectral pod but merely a beautiful view of the vast and rough ocean from the calm of a floret mental dock through tinted glasses in pink of perception with utmost optimism a fairy born of refraction through a phantasmal prism even when the universe disputes the truism of a magic wand I still fantasize about holding your hand and matching with you through thick and thin for better for worse, against the torrents from foe and keen in turbulence of rage and storms of tears till we find laughter until the bruises of souls and hearts shattered find mending in the enema of our blending so we can have a happy ending even when I know forever and for always is just a true lie and we are likely to more than anything make us cry, I still believe in pulchritudinous endings, in happily ever after in you and I, in the beauty of wilting roses and those in the rain in sticking together through the pleasure and pain... Even when I know love is just a word, we can lend it every meaning we've ever dreamed I still believe in real romance, in the broken being fixed in forever being now and now being forever in never saying never, in you and I truth or lie, do or die... roads and bendings long as it's with you, I believe in Happy endings...*
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Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 7:58 AM UTC
Happy endings
*Even when I know they're but unfinished stories, accepted pain and acknowledged sorrys, virtual realities reflected from mirrors of a lost paradigm and engineered metaphorically vocalized  pantomime even when I know that they're not the end of the road (that there're even many more miles to walk) or even  blossoms of life within a spectral pod but merely a beautiful view of the vast and rough ocean from the calm of a floret mental dock through tinted glasses in pink of perception with utmost optimism a fairy born of refraction through a phantasmal prism even when the universe disputes the truism of a magic wand I still fantasize about holding your hand and matching with you through thick and thin for better for worse, against the torrents from foe and keen in turbulence of rage and storms of tears till we find laughter until the bruises of souls and hearts shattered find mending in the enema of our blending so we can have a happy ending even when I know forever and for always is just a true lie and we are likely to more than anything make us cry, I still believe in pulchritudinous endings, in happily ever after in you and I, in the beauty of wilting roses and those in the rain in sticking together through the pleasure and pain... Even when I know love is just a word, we can lend it every meaning we've ever dreamed I still believe in real romance, in the broken being fixed in forever being now and now being forever in never saying never, in you and I truth or lie, do or die... roads and bendings long as it's with you, I believe in Happy endings...*
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30
i. Cryeth not mine unearthly floret, for thou art good enough Cryeth not, thine tear's art mine tear's, thine fear is mine fear; Cryeth not mine pet, thine bijou vision's art met with mine own Cryeth not holy apostle, thine anguishing jostle's across interweb. ii. Frowneth not mine protector, thine room awaiteth me to arrive Frowneth not O' ethereal ressurector, I'm stuck sweetly in mind; Frowneth not core of mine existence, thou art mine daily bread Frowneth not, thine Thorn's art off, now they sit upon mine head. iii. Smile mine delicate sweet, I'm begging at thy feet for one laugh Smile mine elegant treat, I'm more than happy, with thee blessed; Smile mine earl Jane nagley, soon to taketh mine hand, two ring's Smile mine dandy, we shalt meet soon, in ourn room, Bell's ding. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane nagley dedication
0
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
aoibh gháire, reyna mianach ( Smile, mine reyna) old irish tongue
You, the ashen alyssum homing in on dark bushes breeding maggots feeding on flesh.   You the fetid parasite   carrion, the rotten stink a toxin laced tongue devouring pith. You, the stench of malignant blossoms a venomous creeper, you had to attract snakes. You live among the graves the poison pollinator, a corpse floret of foul odour. You the venin cloaked in smirk a shrew, spiked with malice must be crushed, must die.
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Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 4:06 AM UTC
You live among the graves
wintry sun, brief, byplay yard shadowed in cold and yet powdering golden tones, drafting a fire, a mirage. heyday adjourned. ethereal hibernaculum of the light, tilting floret in full-blown decay.
0
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
capitulation of a sunflower
i. I canst not thanketh thee enough, for assuaging mine pang's On earth, in heaven, on the dwarf planet's, in thy kiss of leaven; When thou art down, I'll taketh thine frown, when broken, when hopeless, I shalt giveth thee mine own gladness; lifting thy smile. ii. In cities, in town's, aloft the skies, on the ground, in the open, in the wild, cadmium yellow floret's, mine Asian child, in thy eye's; In thy laugh, passed the noise, of hellish mess, passed the pain's, madness and stress; I shalt always be by thy waistside, mine pet. iii. In ourn life, and beyond ourn death's, we shalt meeteth at the place of holiness, tis not a place sculpted by hand's of men; Tis a place of dominion's and kingdom's. Inside God's house wherein we shalt be in peace, the angel's shalt singeth, halo sleep. ©Brandon Nagley ©Earl jane Nagley (Pookie) dedication ©Lonesome poet's poetry
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Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC
fo̱tostéfano tou ýpnou ( Halo sleep) greek tongue
She was a spectacular tree. People called her the flame of the forest, for she was obviously striking, vivid and classy. I need not narrate the superlative majesty of the flame – tree, for one time or the other we have all been breath-taken by her peerless glamor. What matchless artistry! I am here to quickly share my ruminative gloom for that lovely assembly of flower, leaf and wood, which grandly stood in a grove of possibilities, and possibilities can be such a torment, such a calamity. ❋ For years galore, caterpillars of choices had been steadily eating away at her core. They came from different directions, at different trajectories, with varied objectives and fluctuating proclivities. Sometimes, they came rushing in as family, and sometimes they came slowly, a little formally, a bit watchfully, somewhat officially. At times they came in fiery fascination and yet, ever so often, they were charged with marauding indignation. Many times they arrived as blazing ambition, but more often than not, combusted the flamboyance leaving behind an ashen illusion. Oh.....those craving larvae of oblique, wily opportunities. ❋ The foliage was feverishly guzzled till photosynthesis was no more possible. From my distant window from where I had once watched her variegated flair, I felt the Poinciana moan in simmering despair. ❋ With biting sensitivity, I still look on, a tad tearfully, as she continues to tumble into conscious torpidity. My words may slip and sway, as with each wilting leaf after each withering floret, she progresses towards an abject decay; imploding methodically, and transposing gradually from being the flame of the forest to being a sprouting forest of flames.
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Jan 22, 2020
Jan 22, 2020 at 9:11 AM UTC
The Moribund Poinciana
She was a spectacular tree. People called her the flame of the forest, for she was obviously striking, vivid and classy. I need not narrate the superlative majesty of the flame – tree, for one time or the other we have all been breath-taken by her peerless glamor. What matchless artistry! I am here to quickly share my ruminative gloom for that lovely assembly of flower, leaf and wood, which grandly stood in a grove of possibilities, and possibilities can be such a torment, such a calamity. ❋ For years galore, caterpillars of choices had been steadily eating away at her core. They came from different directions, at different trajectories, with varied objectives and fluctuating proclivities. Sometimes, they came rushing in as family, and sometimes they came slowly, a little formally, a bit watchfully, somewhat officially. At times they came in fiery fascination and yet, ever so often, they were charged with marauding indignation. Many times they arrived as blazing ambition, but more often than not, combusted the flamboyance leaving behind an ashen illusion. Oh.....those craving larvae of oblique, wily opportunities. ❋ The foliage was feverishly guzzled till photosynthesis was no more possible. From my distant window from where I had once watched her variegated flair, I felt the Poinciana moan in simmering despair. ❋ With biting sensitivity, I still look on, a tad tearfully, as she continues to tumble into conscious torpidity. My words may slip and sway, as with each wilting leaf after each withering floret, she progresses towards an abject decay; imploding methodically, and transposing gradually from being the flame of the forest to being a sprouting forest of flames.
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46
Flowers upon my page as I doodle my life away
0
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
Faded Floret [10w]
*The Universe was  molded for you and I to share We are created with big Hearts so that we care   blessed with flawless eyes so we can see the road and the might it takes to lighten a neighbour's load these feet are built tough for the miles to walk we have developed brains to digest and think and the courage to sail through life like we can never sink we have these warm arms to tightly embrace not folding fists, holding weapons to bring unrest We are born with curiosity,cause life's an adventure and a difference made by you is your presence in absensure the beautiful teeth are designed to **** your smile not to greet in unnecessary coarse envy and bile our experiences are for us to inspire and tell to uplift them whose lives feel like a living hell the mountains and hills were built for us to hike ensure each fresh climb beats your previous height rainbows are hope after rain, pleasure after pain why give up the struggle when you can start again? the gardens of life are floret scented with consolation for broken hearts trapped in the darkness of desolation the scars are a testimony that wounds do heal don't let a moment the rest your life steal the starved hunter surrenders not when he has no **** for the sweet glowing Sun often rises after the bitter chill these ugly poems are penned to emphasise that the beautiful souls are seeded to empathise. leave your footprints in Hearts and not on sand the dust in the heart holds firmer than that on land so use your arms, feet, might, heart and soul use your greatest possession for the good of us all*
0
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 2:51 AM UTC
Start Again
*The Universe was  molded for you and I to share We are created with big Hearts so that we care   blessed with flawless eyes so we can see the road and the might it takes to lighten a neighbour's load these feet are built tough for the miles to walk we have developed brains to digest and think and the courage to sail through life like we can never sink we have these warm arms to tightly embrace not folding fists, holding weapons to bring unrest We are born with curiosity,cause life's an adventure and a difference made by you is your presence in absensure the beautiful teeth are designed to **** your smile not to greet in unnecessary coarse envy and bile our experiences are for us to inspire and tell to uplift them whose lives feel like a living hell the mountains and hills were built for us to hike ensure each fresh climb beats your previous height rainbows are hope after rain, pleasure after pain why give up the struggle when you can start again? the gardens of life are floret scented with consolation for broken hearts trapped in the darkness of desolation the scars are a testimony that wounds do heal don't let a moment the rest your life steal the starved hunter surrenders not when he has no **** for the sweet glowing Sun often rises after the bitter chill these ugly poems are penned to emphasise that the beautiful souls are seeded to empathise. leave your footprints in Hearts and not on sand the dust in the heart holds firmer than that on land so use your arms, feet, might, heart and soul use your greatest possession for the good of us all*
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31
my mother told me that I was nothing but a nymphet, young, frail and beautiful with lips tinted with the colour of a rosy floret my mother told me that I had turned into a goddess ever so divine young, shrewd and elegant with lips tinted with the colour of red wine my mother told me that I was a rose that bloomed ever so gracefully for once I was the damsel in the distress that became the damsel in the scarlet dress.
0
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
metamorphosis
*Her soul a sky filled       with twinkling stars               eyes two pearly globes of magnetic innocence                with a red rose fragility and floret fragrance             even when she carries a heart dotted with scars    from painful inflictions during        the battles of life     fought and overcome*
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Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
An Imperfect Masterpiece
Reflections are a deadly thing Peeling the skin off my face this repulsive pulse Hoping there is no longer I inquiring me be me mirror eyes of tears pools of fears for only my own reflection I've been me for 16 years 16 years of fears of a reflection An unwanted flower in a green house of orchids, laughing daffodils and bright smiling sunflowers who would want a **** Even cacti are alluring but a **** there is no need Pluck and pull out the sight of I no longer a **** maybe there is a seed maybe (just maybe) i can blossom and bloom into the floret you will not forget When i see my shadow i will not ring the blues and my color will be a ravishing hue is this true?
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May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 3:20 PM UTC
reflections of a ****
it is raining, with a smokiness lisping through the stifling air. the haze tightens its fist around my neck - red tremors in my eyes the trembles of the fog are grace in my ears; but smoke alarms still tick in these halls.
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Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 1:43 PM UTC
floret
O, morning that brings thrill and peace Will revive my physique at ease My core ignited by the sun A dream to see her having fun Down the road walking, wondering There she is playing and singing O, this sweet black haired creature Undisturbed, an angel so pure Wish she could turn around and look I'll do whatever to show-off She stand up and our sense connected My soul exploded unprotected Instantly I ignore her eyes And gaze the lovely butterflies I drain myself to capture one To present to her but she's gone She's walking toward her big house I ‘am down cause she never look back She paused outside and throws something I dash to fetch the lovely thing Innocently laid on the ground A beautiful floret, I'm bound To pick and lay it near my heart And I walk a beautiful start..
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Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
Act 3...
They see castles in the air, I see air in the castles They see the end of the road as I see the road in the end the treacherous enemy in every friend whilst I see potential allies in every adversary they see the peril in crossing the sea while I tap the perilous adventures in what they see they see the horizon of the dawn I see the dawn of the Horizon They time love, I love time they see a storm in the thickest of clouds I see a silver cloud in the heaviest of storms they see the future, I see the millennium they see the maximum, I see the minimum they sleep to dream, I dream to sleep they keep to give, I give to keep They find a burden in the load yet I find the Lord in my burden... They see the words in the lines, I see the lines in the words They see shards in the whole as I see the whole in the shards They see a Caterpillar even in the most beautiful butterfly I see a floret butterfly in the spine-chill of Caterpillars they see stalagmites and stalactites, I see future pillars They see death in life, I see life in death... because whilst they are people of the world I am a world of the people, an outsider beating the odds, going against currents breaking the rules and gladly paying the price... they view the game of life by the odds I view the odds by the game instead and truthfully speaking, odds don't count... We all look at one thing, but I see different, I always will...
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Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 3:24 PM UTC
Where Odds Don't Count
He gave me a rose on rose day, that shrieks of love. An ethereal blood red rose, that made her smile. An ordinary move, that shows nature's art. The queen of buds, that ordinance the heart. A valiant floret, of mystique romance.
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Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 8:22 AM UTC
7th of Feb
They said I could be anyone I wanted to but they were wrong I wanted to be like your favorite song to be a part of your magical fairytale, your heart's charm and your soul's breathtaking Dale I wanted to be a sunrise in your awakening the floret that greets your smile while you reconcile reality from the panoramic view of Wonderland the first voice that seeks to know what Morpheus had to say and the feet that shuffle right next to yours along the isle as you walk into the much loathed cacophonic routines of everyday I wanted to be the thoughts in your head as you ply your trade from dawn to dusk the inspiration that helps you crack every labyrinthine task, like a lonesome butterfly dancing in elation to relax your mind and mitigate any tension, to help you endure racaous that comes with responsibility and the arms that hold yours to congratulate you upon getting through every other day, I wanted to be the mouth that acknowledged your milestones or the palms on the wheel driving you home I wanted to be the shoulders you lean on plus the arms you laugh and grieve in, a place where your comfort does truly begin I wanted to be your companion on this life long journey many have deemed the rest of our lives your blessing, alas! Your for better for worse... I wanted to be your biggest fan as you concur the elements to share with you proceeds from my dream tenements... for thee so much I craved to be and tried to do more than just want but the more I embraced desire the bigger and more excruciating her flames burnt I said hello you said goodbye, making me think "You can be anything" was merely a big fat lie... Countless is the much I wanted to be, it's still haunting that ultimately the best I could do was "wanting"... Nothing more.
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Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 7:01 PM UTC
The Big Fat Lie
They said I could be anyone I wanted to but they were wrong I wanted to be like your favorite song to be a part of your magical fairytale, your heart's charm and your soul's breathtaking Dale I wanted to be a sunrise in your awakening the floret that greets your smile while you reconcile reality from the panoramic view of Wonderland the first voice that seeks to know what Morpheus had to say and the feet that shuffle right next to yours along the isle as you walk into the much loathed cacophonic routines of everyday I wanted to be the thoughts in your head as you ply your trade from dawn to dusk the inspiration that helps you crack every labyrinthine task, like a lonesome butterfly dancing in elation to relax your mind and mitigate any tension, to help you endure racaous that comes with responsibility and the arms that hold yours to congratulate you upon getting through every other day, I wanted to be the mouth that acknowledged your milestones or the palms on the wheel driving you home I wanted to be the shoulders you lean on plus the arms you laugh and grieve in, a place where your comfort does truly begin I wanted to be your companion on this life long journey many have deemed the rest of our lives your blessing, alas! Your for better for worse... I wanted to be your biggest fan as you concur the elements to share with you proceeds from my dream tenements... for thee so much I craved to be and tried to do more than just want but the more I embraced desire the bigger and more excruciating her flames burnt I said hello you said goodbye, making me think "You can be anything" was merely a big fat lie... Countless is the much I wanted to be, it's still haunting that ultimately the best I could do was "wanting"... Nothing more.
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35
i. Floret of the zenith, Shower down upon Me; with thine arm's Wrap and garb me, With a diadem Hemmed As a rose Petal's Stem. ii. Lass, of mine desire. There's a shimmer aside The fire; ourn silhouettes Trace ourn love's attire, I calleth thee Reyna, as I heareth the whisper "Sire", I gently kiss Thine hand; we tire. Falling asleep, in ourn Dream's, with thee I squire. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
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Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
Thy squire, at thy service, mine reyna......
*Our Hearts will collide and I will find reason to love again That reason will be you, you'll teach me the sweet side of pain* **I'll look at the sunsets then on but through my eyes I'll see hope for there's little difference but direction twixt the glow of dusk and the shine of sunrise** *our words will reciprocate in the wonderful texture of hello and we will greet each other with honest smiles like ours won't live to savour goodbye our bodies will magnetically bombard in embrace our eyes will lock and like diamonds will reflect the future to fill us with hope as we foot what's left of our miles we will realise our palms were made for each other our lips will be honey, with the pollen of desire we will burn and yearn,falter and learn you will burry your past and fade will my scars and for the wonder of the sparkle in your eyes there will be fault in the perfect construct of the stars like flowers seasons will come to fade and to bloom and I will stick through the joy and the gloom we will drink from the adulterated cup of gossip which poison will intoxicate us with one sip but we won't let that permanently suffocate our amour You will be my Queen, and I your knight in shining armour and like magical fountains down a stream we will sprinkle our passion and dare to dream, in the face of melancholy we will wipe our tears or pop a few tops off vintage wines and beers you will be my story and I too'll be in your tale and we will on and on narrate our escapades through Hell how we sailed over and past the waves till we found calm it will be a floret narrative of struggles overcome someday we'll meet and you will give a **** I will be surprised and probably freak out because my entire existence rests upon pillars of doubt yet I'll give us a try without a sigh on that fateful day that's very yet to come you will be the aris of love that flies me high I'll be drunk in love, contented with my addiction and satisfied with the small room I'm given in your heart where  I will rent without anticipating eviction we will fight to make up, wound each other just to heal you will get over your fears and I'll learn pride is a pill we'll realise that albeit at times we're bad for each other those are just the small defects present on the best deal and we'll find reason to cherish and love each other still because that's what happens when we find someone true someone who means it when they say "I love you" this happens when Hearts are meant, I'm not a prophet how different can it be yet lovers suffer a similar fate?*
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Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
A Letter to the Love of My Life (2)
*Our Hearts will collide and I will find reason to love again That reason will be you, you'll teach me the sweet side of pain* **I'll look at the sunsets then on but through my eyes I'll see hope for there's little difference but direction twixt the glow of dusk and the shine of sunrise** *our words will reciprocate in the wonderful texture of hello and we will greet each other with honest smiles like ours won't live to savour goodbye our bodies will magnetically bombard in embrace our eyes will lock and like diamonds will reflect the future to fill us with hope as we foot what's left of our miles we will realise our palms were made for each other our lips will be honey, with the pollen of desire we will burn and yearn,falter and learn you will burry your past and fade will my scars and for the wonder of the sparkle in your eyes there will be fault in the perfect construct of the stars like flowers seasons will come to fade and to bloom and I will stick through the joy and the gloom we will drink from the adulterated cup of gossip which poison will intoxicate us with one sip but we won't let that permanently suffocate our amour You will be my Queen, and I your knight in shining armour and like magical fountains down a stream we will sprinkle our passion and dare to dream, in the face of melancholy we will wipe our tears or pop a few tops off vintage wines and beers you will be my story and I too'll be in your tale and we will on and on narrate our escapades through Hell how we sailed over and past the waves till we found calm it will be a floret narrative of struggles overcome someday we'll meet and you will give a **** I will be surprised and probably freak out because my entire existence rests upon pillars of doubt yet I'll give us a try without a sigh on that fateful day that's very yet to come you will be the aris of love that flies me high I'll be drunk in love, contented with my addiction and satisfied with the small room I'm given in your heart where  I will rent without anticipating eviction we will fight to make up, wound each other just to heal you will get over your fears and I'll learn pride is a pill we'll realise that albeit at times we're bad for each other those are just the small defects present on the best deal and we'll find reason to cherish and love each other still because that's what happens when we find someone true someone who means it when they say "I love you" this happens when Hearts are meant, I'm not a prophet how different can it be yet lovers suffer a similar fate?*
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