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"gleem" poems
As the sunflower drops in afterglow of shade   And the gloss of the gleem fades across the moonlit shadow We are summoned by the horizon into the magnificent light that offers no shadow The light of God is perched on love without  side effects... without a shadow of doubt... crossing the night into dawn
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 5:46 PM UTC
The Light of Hope
Cherish the little things Cherish the little things Iike good morning texts Good morning smiles And greetings from friends. Cherish the hugs lasting a little longer The smiles just for you And the gleem in the eyes of those held close. Cherish the laughter of loved ones And the sound of wind blowing The glitter in the dew And the sound of conversation. Cherish silence Music words sent in silence And love said in looks. Cherish the sound of pages And words captured in ink In pencil Dancing Singing And paint. Cherish words that will never be said again In love And words of love meant to be repeated. Cherish the second chances And moments spent in purity Moments spent living for small little things. Cherish your beliefs And hopes. Hopes for better days. Cherish those better days. Cherish smiles Cherish friends Cherish what you can, Because they are the most precious things. Cherish I Love You Cherish I Miss You Cherish Warmth and Comfort Cherish morning coffee Little touches Sunbeams Rain Clouds the sights and sounds. Cherish what you can. It can disappear in a moment.
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Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 3:24 AM UTC
Cherish the Little Things
Love can be so fleeting like the brightly shining sun to leave you feeling sorely burned sometimes or relieved when days are finally done times to leave you feeling empty or leave you feeling perfect- full sometimes love is high so grand sometimes there is a quiet lull sometimes it's awful easy true other times it's like a stupid an stubborn bull either way - we always seek it elusive like a distant dream we chase it an ever wander on to seek a perfect shining gleem, like the rays of the sweet warm sunshine to finally bask in the lovely glowing beam that's what love is I think.
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Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 10:13 PM UTC
love can be so fleeting
Strung out in heaven, I fell from the start, Deep pools of ocean blue, you captured my heart Waited forever for lips to set me free, But the haunt of your smile now imprisons me, Standing on the corner, I hear the devil sing Notes in the darkness I don’t dare to dream, Late last summer, is farther than it seems My charmed life has lost its gleem, I keep finding my way, my way back to you again I keep fighting my way, my way back to you again I keep praying my way, my way back to you again I keep stumbling my way, my way back to you, again. Some say a poet, some call me a cad, You call me ****** for living with a past, You know I waited for you to change your mind, I’m standing a shadow, Running out of time Battered & broken, Thirteen across this chest, Scarred & defeated,The wicked get no rest, You know I waited for you to change your mind, I’m only a shadow, running out of time.
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Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 9:05 AM UTC
Finding My Way
I'd like to begin by pointing out the color of the walls; the pink under the plaster, and the tubes, red and blue, that keep my shower water warm. This is my home, that some call a temple, with two brightly lit halves of an attic, and no trouble keeping them full. Its windows are always open, except when the lights go out and the shutters are pulled closed and all that's left breathing is the fireplace and the attic. the fire place is a grand face of grout and proud brick cradling the humblest coals under his black, stuffy nose clogged with no longer solid logs. His breath keeps the attic warm, with the help of the coals, who ask for no thanks. I'd invite you in if it wasn't for the moss on the threshhold. That emerald green. Those gems that seem, with dew, to gleem   a blue and gold sheen of umpteen citrines. The sun's careen is seen by these green finger leaves. When I turn out the lights and retreat to the attic, I hear the moss sigh like some sort of static. Her breath reaches the crest of my gentle home's breast. The ceiling beam shudder with a reeling like no other; A sound that makes me cry, while my cluttered attic comforts me, and I speak no word but why. The moss, she makes me cry. I'd like to end by pointing out the color of the windowpanes, and the gray of the drywall. The tubes, red and blue, still keep my shower water warm. This is my home, that some call a temple, with two brightly lit halves of an attic, and no trouble keeping them full. Its windows are rarely open, except when the lights go out and the shutters flutter open and all that's left breathing is the fireplace and the attic, and the colors.
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Jan 4, 2011
Jan 4, 2011 at 1:29 PM UTC
A Brief Tour
I'd like to begin by pointing out the color of the walls; the pink under the plaster, and the tubes, red and blue, that keep my shower water warm. This is my home, that some call a temple, with two brightly lit halves of an attic, and no trouble keeping them full. Its windows are always open, except when the lights go out and the shutters are pulled closed and all that's left breathing is the fireplace and the attic. the fire place is a grand face of grout and proud brick cradling the humblest coals under his black, stuffy nose clogged with no longer solid logs. His breath keeps the attic warm, with the help of the coals, who ask for no thanks. I'd invite you in if it wasn't for the moss on the threshhold. That emerald green. Those gems that seem, with dew, to gleem   a blue and gold sheen of umpteen citrines. The sun's careen is seen by these green finger leaves. When I turn out the lights and retreat to the attic, I hear the moss sigh like some sort of static. Her breath reaches the crest of my gentle home's breast. The ceiling beam shudder with a reeling like no other; A sound that makes me cry, while my cluttered attic comforts me, and I speak no word but why. The moss, she makes me cry. I'd like to end by pointing out the color of the windowpanes, and the gray of the drywall. The tubes, red and blue, still keep my shower water warm. This is my home, that some call a temple, with two brightly lit halves of an attic, and no trouble keeping them full. Its windows are rarely open, except when the lights go out and the shutters flutter open and all that's left breathing is the fireplace and the attic, and the colors.
Continue reading...
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Still breathing But gave up trying Heart still beating Though I feel I've lost my life Living proof grief hits harder than dying I don't want to stop trying And yes, I'd love to stop crying 'Cause life can be so deflating I spot the gleem of the razor edge And it looks so inviting Death defying I stole this pale horse I'm riding Wrath and vengeance shouldn't be so enticing What will it take to get my life back on track? Hell, has it ever been? I'm... I'm having trouble remembering ©2024
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Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 2:32 PM UTC
~•§•~ Lost & (never) Found ~•§•~
Irish Immigrants found when they stepped Onto the Ground, Their Pockets full of Donnegal Potatoes. The Dirt beneath their Nails Was a Mark of how they'd Failed Famine and Starving brought them But the Slurs of the Dublin Micks From those who Looked Down on them Determined them to Show off their Pride Some, teamsters worked horses and Frieght Some nimble fingers Stitched Linen and Lace Some Irish tenors the Rage of the Stage Some with a Swing were the Sting of the Ring Bringing down Boxers Seasoned Sparring Fiddlers fiddled and coleens were maids And through it all Heads held High Shined the Gleem of Irish Pride
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Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
The Pride of the Irish
I can't do what you need me to do Not naturally capable Unable to be who you want me to be Impossibly impossible I might fight the fight you wish me to fight Adrenaline is incredible Shouldn't have to bow or bend to your will Especially if we're equal I refuse to kiss the ring like you're expecting Laughably satirical This polished **** won't gleem like you'd like it too Completely unreasonable ©2024
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May 8, 2024
May 8, 2024 at 1:10 PM UTC
~•§•~ Reasonably Unreasonable ~•§•~
young blood boils hearts burst Daring earth to do her worst. eyes they spark and grins they gleem full speed running through our dream. hand in hand hearts apart faith in knowing this is the start
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Apr 23, 2010
Apr 23, 2010 at 11:06 PM UTC
hum
How can i take the monetary subtance, a miserably deceitful good, from a brother a shy less than flesh and blood; Whom gave me more than i could ever imagine. her name was hope. Her maternal twin is love. And our brothership is intensified by both, as one truly trifled heart could ever gleem. He slaved over brick and mortar to provide for himself, for i cannot steal his earnings when i have no right to any fortune. He gave me shelter when i lost my path. He fed me and clothed me when i lost my life. His arms wrapped around my shoulders when the tears trembled down my face. Death, I and he, faced eachother and nothing felt closer. But I, a devil in sheeps clothing, could never accord such heartfelt care in a multitude of life times to come, netherless todays nor tomorrows. Thus, i leave him my belongings, my manmade tinkerings, and all he may ever need. As i depart,It is the least i can do for a brother. O' brother.
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Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
O' Brother
This is all so pointless I’ve lost all interest In experiencing life All I feel is strife I’ve lost so many I'm feeling down again Now i'm falling off the deep end Falling into nothing but pain and sorrow Not wanting to wake up tomorrow I have but one I care for Among all the violence and gore She stands out like a bright light Blinding me until I lose my sight In all the broken things I seen Like that feeling you get when you are clean It feels so obscene But I can’t help but gleem She overwhelms my darkness She makes me ignorant with bliss She brings me up when I feel down She holds me and doesn't make a sound Because sometimes the best advice Is to just to listen not entice
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Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
Lost and Found
12 Spheres of Good, Of Life , Of Fruit Each Way a Passage NOW by Sleuth The Soul is Vision, Guidance, RIGHT For JUSTICE stands for Holy MIGHT What Truth is Done thats Born in Lies? Gods Vision Sees and Never DIES By ONE-ness is God’s Justice ART As others look, Love’s Words now start How sad they say, for all shall loose The Prise now Gone, For those who Choose Stand in the Light of Truth and Grace Before the Witness shows their Face For if the Prize is worth so much then stand as Life’s Creative Touch. The Job is Angels Gift from God Not Yours, Courts Say, to Give , or ROB Procedures of the Council Poor Removed the look but not the floor The Rainbow Flag of JUSTICE say, Read Now the Truth both Night and Day conflicted Interest, Built Your Stand from slander, lies, and falling sand What Now, you Say? I ask the Same How shall I end this Holy Game? For one is Guilty of a crime And All will Fall, soon is the TIME The choice is yours, so set the stage Prayer meets with LIFE that now may Gauge For one does not an ORDER make with two said God does Life Relate You heard the thought Create Anew and Yet you kept the same old View! Creator, not within your Team the 13th Fruit is mine to Gleem I give you choice, to make this Right For God is Witness and All have Sight.
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Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
The 13th Fruit
When a poet is in love with you You'll have an experience of which you had no clue They'll notice how your hair fall on your tiny shoulder Nd how your eyes get lost into nothingness when you wonder how the big diamond fit itself into the hollow of your collar bones Nd how your eyes gleem on hearing their name like gemstones They will notice how you bite you lip everytime you are shy Nd how your lips swells nd nose turn red when you cry They will see you through their own as well as the world's eyes Nd they will kiss your tears away telling you some unbeliveable lies They'll speak of you as a godess they pray to Nd write down all they see nd feel just for you.
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Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 6:49 AM UTC
Poets in love
Being paranoid is being stuck in a prison in my mind, i and yet i know i comitted no crime, and yet with time i still see no rhyme or reason why i m being blamed fo this teason. It feels like i am going cray or maybe i am just too lazy to look on the bright side of things, oh how i hate how much it stings. Being trampled by your own thoughts is a horrible way to go, i think i'd rather freeze to death in the freezing snow. Everything is real, at least that's how it feels, i feel like i haveto *** but i can never make it gleem. Oh this feeling i dread, sometimes i think i'd rather be dead or at least hit in the head, to get these thoughts out of my mind or at least find a fine line between fiction and reality but thats not going to happen on a little caesers salary. Everything feels real but i know its not, sometimes i wanna go back to smoking *** i know i need help before i start to yelp. If i dont i feel like ill hang by my neck and by then it will be too late to correct. Being paranoid is being stuck in a prison in my mind, i feel like i commited no crime...
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
Paranord
Silence on the outside,                                         loud chatter on the in. Perfecting my facade,                                         to hide the pain                                                                      within. A fake smile on my face,                                         as they start to spill out: The demons in my closet,                                         the pieces of my                                                                      heart. Doubting I can do it,                                         I shake the thought from my mind. Replace the pieces and the gleem,                                         and live as though I'm                                                                       fine.
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Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 5:20 PM UTC
S.A.D.
Singled out in a crowd, by that one girl's passionate eyes.... A stare from across the room, thar sent chills down my spine...... She was hot as a pistol, and just grabbed my heart...... She walked by me, with a flip of her hair...... Then said to me, will you be mine...... I started to choke, but I did reply....... I said to her, with that gleem in my eye's..... I can take you places, were you will think you are high..... We walked off together, hand in hand..... We made passionate love, that seemed to never end...... We still stay in touch, she has her man.... But she says he just doesn't saisfy her, like I can.....
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Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 10:56 AM UTC
Satisfy
She was shower fresh and some kind of happy brushing her hair humming a song. There was a gleem in her eye as she finished dressing a knowing smile as she put her high heels on.
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Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
Have a good night out ladies
Aubade It is till season and morrow anew once winter flower resin gown grew... Fleeting birds that churp humming seasons oh reveal at might gleem Prom outer beetin eyes sight window dawn shall hail to you dear sir! Ballad Human do tell more then stars Tower blocks sight Lamps that make moon & mars races fountain of light coming back you will, see! When I grow up inferno hold embue fee touch laces & cup Belief and breath tide wake Everything steels to stoop I leave and fall for sea & the ships heart dicontented we knew
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Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 11:09 AM UTC
No PtC
She lay basting In the sun rays Gleem Her eyes of green In the calmest of This summers breeze
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Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC
Summers Bath