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"indescribable" poems
when you put your lips on mine, that feeling is something indescribable, delicate. and i though i would get used to that magical feeling. but as soon as i experienced it, you were gone, forever. and i never tasted your lips again, or saw your face again, or heard your voice again. you were completely gone. and i was not prepared for it.
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Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 7:48 AM UTC
lips to lips
Above the mountains the geese turn into the light again Painting their black silhouettes on an open sky. Sometimes everything has to be inscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that first, bright and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. Sometimes with the bones of the black sticks left when the fire has gone out someone has written something new in the ashes of your life. You are not leaving. Even as the light fades quickly now, you are arriving.
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
'The Journey' / A poem by David Whyte
I admire from afar Your charm and your grace Only from afar, I will admire For we have not shared but two words I do not know you and you do not know I Though I feel like I know you in some indescribable way A way in which is unspoken A way in only admirers may know It will go no further than admiring But, sometimes I like to dream Dream that one day, we should meet Dream that one day, I may admire Not from afar but up close Not only admire the beauty I see But the faults I know you have I want to admire all of you But that is only a dream So, for now I will admire from afar I will see what I see And dream what I dream
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Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 12:01 AM UTC
Admire From Afar
You once asked me that question and all I could answer was, "I just love you." My answer to your question might seem so simple, but believe me when I say it's more complex than that. My love for you is too vast, there's no amount that can measure it. It is by itself indescribable, no words can do it justice. I would say that you're my whole universe, but to me you're more than just an immense number of galaxies. I would say that I love you to infinity, but I know that I love you more than what's beyond the infinite. I would say that I could love you for eternity, but to me even eternity seems like a short period of time. I could write this for as long as I want, but I know that this won't even be enough to explain my love. So dear, if you ever ask me again of how much I love you, know that my answer would still stay the same. Within those four words my love remains indefinable. Within those four words my love remains immeasurable. "I just love you" and that is all I can say.
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Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 3:42 PM UTC
"How much do you love me?"
The light you bring to our friendship is indescribable. It’s like a melody that makes me smile every time I hear. You could’ve burned me from the start, but instead showed a gentle glow. It allowed me to gain a deeper and larger view of the world. We walk different paths, see life in different ways, but make each other better. Remember you’re powerful enough to burn through all the storms of life.
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Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
Girl blessed by the Sun
i have slept restlessly for  nights now, reliving the events that have conjured within the past 72 hours. i think to myself, how would anyone want to bring another into this world knowing the pain they will endure? yes. you will feel pain, indescribable, chest filling, body aching pain from your head to your toes. i wont try to paint a perfect picture of this world and let you down. hating me every moment for the things i never said. you will be beaten down by others, torn away from the connection you thought you had. you will sit in a coffee shop alone, biting your lip with anxiety, and he will call you in the dead of night pleading for you to keep him company once more. you will miss the way you looked at the world, with innocence and purity, reliving every moment of suffering and rewriting its pages. you will invest your heart in people, things that will only let you down. but sweet child this suffering that you feel will be soon over. it is how you overcome these situations of awkward confrontation and scandalous betrayal. because one day a bee will buzz past you and you will jump up and down like a child again, tugging on the end of your own dress, smiling. you will laugh once again because the perpetual love you feel from those who surround you with positive energy will fill the gaping hole of disappointment that the world has so willingly handed you. like i said, i will not paint a perfect picture for you, because every artist has their flaws, but they cover them oh so well. and you should never have to carry that kind of burden. love always, me
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Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
to my future daughter
i have slept restlessly for  nights now, reliving the events that have conjured within the past 72 hours. i think to myself, how would anyone want to bring another into this world knowing the pain they will endure? yes. you will feel pain, indescribable, chest filling, body aching pain from your head to your toes. i wont try to paint a perfect picture of this world and let you down. hating me every moment for the things i never said. you will be beaten down by others, torn away from the connection you thought you had. you will sit in a coffee shop alone, biting your lip with anxiety, and he will call you in the dead of night pleading for you to keep him company once more. you will miss the way you looked at the world, with innocence and purity, reliving every moment of suffering and rewriting its pages. you will invest your heart in people, things that will only let you down. but sweet child this suffering that you feel will be soon over. it is how you overcome these situations of awkward confrontation and scandalous betrayal. because one day a bee will buzz past you and you will jump up and down like a child again, tugging on the end of your own dress, smiling. you will laugh once again because the perpetual love you feel from those who surround you with positive energy will fill the gaping hole of disappointment that the world has so willingly handed you. like i said, i will not paint a perfect picture for you, because every artist has their flaws, but they cover them oh so well. and you should never have to carry that kind of burden. love always, me
Continue reading...
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*erstwhile a halcyon extant universe incessantly ceaseless cradled itself in hues of violet phosphorescence laced with cobalt shimmering stars perpetually whole it nonetheless sought to know itself encompassing all that is bubbling over in effervescent ebullience intertwined with indescribable catastrophic splendor it shattered into tens of millions of splinters of eloquent efflorescent light shining in the night each splinter heretofore imbued with sempiternal felicity began to conjure sumptuous dulcet elixirs furtively seeking out savory emollients to mollify the pique of separation plummeting they fell into monstrous competition seeking demesne they lost the purpose of gaining awareness and intelligent consciousness surreptitious estrangement overflowed deluging them in excruciating agony thus an epiphany was born the carving of the beleaguered fragments inked with tremendous pain created a transfiguration of splinters to crystals hence enlightenment commenced as the gems magnetized together constructing a world where omnipotence shines the ineffable beauty formed by the reintegration of crystals far exceeds the original as they dazzle with universal light bursting from diamonds etched in deep wisdom flooding the firmament with kaleidoscopic rainbow strobes cascading the sky ©2016janetaylor
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May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
crystals of light
A siblings love Is an indescribable love A love that you are bound to By blood Connected hearts And connected minds Like tree roots intertwined An unconditional love That is unbearable to handle An unbreakable love Bound together by soul To hold you up when you fall down A love so powerful None can come between Because i am you And you are me A love to hold on to A love to give you strength A love to bring you hope And a love to carry peace
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Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
Brother
How do you describe the indescribable what is black "well its a color" no describe it what does it look like how about red? What do you think of when you think red? Apple? Firetruck? but what is it
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Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
Colors
The body was given to us as impression of the gift of love. We were conceived in love and born in order to love. The Creator has given us through the body to the world. We are therefore divine spark. Let us look at other man as at indescribable gift. Adam and Eve in paradise followed in the wake of ****** without shame. Through the body we can touch the soul. This ****** was acceptance of a man with his limitations, tangible form of love, devotion to each other without mystery, boundless openness, freedom from lust of flesh. Bashfulness has its roots in this original innocence. Discretion to the body is inscribed in man. Let us follow with pure look at man. Purity is trying to get access through the body to soul and inside. The physicality brings us childish joy, communion of souls, inner enrichment, sharing a beautiful relationship, exploration of mystery of love. Pure look at man is unconventional symphony of his gift of life. Such scrutinizing is necessary for genuine love. Beloved should first play simultaneously the same notes of feelings before the symphony will flow with sexuality. This presage will give your body speech. Sexuality should not drown out the relationship with beloved, it should build skyscrapers. Sexuality is a gift, such as body and life. Sexuality discovers endless wealth of lover. ****** expression of love is a confession of God's presence. After all, God is love. Only the perception of sexuality as gift saves from vulgarity.
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Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
Sexuality as gift
Connection An indescribable fragment of life A journey of finding ones split soul To cherish and hold And stain eahothers lips To bruise eachothers hips Dance under the glittering moon Glittering just as heaven No space, just bones entwined amongst one another for no gap to be our solace. Delight filling our stomachs soft as mellow harmony the saltiness of the ancient seas For the warmth of love And the love of warmth As I touch your inner workings I watch your powerful soul become tender The symphonies sing A bond of friendship, one so tenacious as vine Our joy In one another For our love to last as long as the tides We are forever a connection within us. Our connection as sacred as the stars. Always
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Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 7:07 AM UTC
Connection
i can't stop thinking about you why? what is it about you that leaves this lingering effect? i don’t want this i keep dreaming of you its always the same. and sometimes i get aroused at just the sound of your name in my dreams you are chaos, always unfurling in your beauty. you are indescribable to me for words are just letters working together to be beautiful, and you are more beautiful than any group of words can ever hope to be in my dreams you drench me knee deep in your wit and soundness you fill my head with such tender words. i wish i could let you know how much i love to watch you sparkle in wisdom. how can i explain to you that when i feel myself awake i try not to blink an eye so that i could live off your touch for the rest of my life. as crazy as it sounds, not even in my dreams have i ever dreamt of a girl as perfect as you and though i continue to dream in fear i think we both know i have secretly loved you for so many years
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Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 6:51 AM UTC
A Place I Know
A real man Remembers that stars are there Even when blocked out By city lights He knows patience Because more often Than not Waiting Is Worth it He does not falter With his love He does not stutter When he mutters Three Simple Words A real man Need not be rich Or giant Or aggressive But knows that family Is prosperity Love is vast And Compassion Is more powerful Than destruction When he laughs He is carrying me away On plush clouds Lightening my day Reminding me, not to feel so heavy You feel his heart Beating at once With yours Even from far away When he smiles It is not forced It is peaceful It is effortless You see the world in his Gleaming Brown Eyes When he cries (Yes, a real man cries) He is shedding away his pain Collecting tears To make a river So that he can swim He never Allows himself to sink When he loves It is almost indescribable He takes care He is devoted He is reliable Understanding Of the universe’s trials The sad truth is So many good men Go unnoticed In this world So many are Taken For granted When a girl Realizes She has a real man She must decide to Step up And become A real woman Strong Loyal Nurturing Loving Honest She gives him her heart And never thinks twice And if she’s lucky enough To be given his She treats it Like a precious stone And never lets it Out of sight.
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Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 12:14 AM UTC
A Real Man
The mirror mocks my every move Every lump I try to smooth The mirror cons me of my happiness Knot in my throat, stuck like this Dysmorphia I feel the corners of my mouth Like they're tied to the ground I try to fix it, try to heal I try to replace it, the shame I feel Dysmorphia Feeling visceral Indescribable If only I could find Something comparable Dysmorphia
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Jul 17, 2022
Jul 17, 2022 at 3:13 AM UTC
Dysmorphia (12/23/2019)
Greens, yellows, blues Indescribable hues Soft beautiful, no less Laying under the stars As colors dance in the sky All other thoughts left behind Waves of purple and pink With splashes of deep red ink Sprinkled with specks of silver and white On a canvas of a dark winter's night
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Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
Cold Winter Bliss
Simple man Complex woman One hell of a ride One hell of a bond Indescribable lyrics to every song they shared.
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Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
Simple Man (Complex Woman)
The Canvas (c)08-25-2012 A canvas sets on the edge of greatness and beauty, blank, waiting for the touch of the master’s hand. She takes charge of what is to be. Gentle strokes, broad strokes, strokes that caress the canvas… leaving the marks of imagination, transforming nothing into beauty. The image emerges revealing the thoughts and desires and power of the canvas. It is breath-taking to the beholder. She understands the difference between OK and great. Nothing will do but great. It must emulate the original. It must be the original! So it is with our canvas of life. We start life as a blank canvas. Brush strokes are made by those around us as we begin to grow. Made by mom, dad, friend and strangers alike. All try to add their image to our canvas. An image of who they think we are. As we grow into the artist we strive to be, we accept or reject the strokes of others and create a portrait we strive to become. Some strokes by others can leave an off color, covering who we really strive to be. A brush stroke that is not us can be covered by our touch, our color, our imagination of who we are, adding integrity to the texture and hue. Revealing an inner beauty as the artist of our life takes control, guiding our hand, adding the touches that transform the canvas from OK to great. The Artist chooses the colors, the brushes from which she wants to define her life. The decisions are hers to make as she selects the shades of color, or even black and white, that will define her life. She paints a portrait of peace and joy, of self-less love for family and friends.. All else is unimportant. The things of past are covered. Today and tomorrow are forming a painting that will be great. Letting the Master’s Hand guide our hand, we find freedom flowing freely onto and into our canvas. In doing His will in our life, we are set free. A freedom indescribable at times as we are lost to the distractions of the past. Caught up in the hope and love of today. The Master guides our hand, willingly or even unwillingly at times in our artistic endeavor. As we learn to relax and give Him control of our hands, He reveals the beauty that is within us. It is great. I have heard being an artist and painting described as being easy but living life as being difficult and unsure. Life can be described as a series of brush strokes, choices. Some can destroy the beauty intended for our canvas. Some strokes can create breath-taking beauty which radiates outward, inspiring the ones observing our portrait. This was inspired by a young friend of mine, she left a few brush strokes on my life. They will not be painted over. They will be treasured, remembered for a long time to come. When I look into a mirror, I want to see Jesus, the Creator of my portrait.
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Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 11:58 PM UTC
The Canvas
The Canvas (c)08-25-2012 A canvas sets on the edge of greatness and beauty, blank, waiting for the touch of the master’s hand. She takes charge of what is to be. Gentle strokes, broad strokes, strokes that caress the canvas… leaving the marks of imagination, transforming nothing into beauty. The image emerges revealing the thoughts and desires and power of the canvas. It is breath-taking to the beholder. She understands the difference between OK and great. Nothing will do but great. It must emulate the original. It must be the original! So it is with our canvas of life. We start life as a blank canvas. Brush strokes are made by those around us as we begin to grow. Made by mom, dad, friend and strangers alike. All try to add their image to our canvas. An image of who they think we are. As we grow into the artist we strive to be, we accept or reject the strokes of others and create a portrait we strive to become. Some strokes by others can leave an off color, covering who we really strive to be. A brush stroke that is not us can be covered by our touch, our color, our imagination of who we are, adding integrity to the texture and hue. Revealing an inner beauty as the artist of our life takes control, guiding our hand, adding the touches that transform the canvas from OK to great. The Artist chooses the colors, the brushes from which she wants to define her life. The decisions are hers to make as she selects the shades of color, or even black and white, that will define her life. She paints a portrait of peace and joy, of self-less love for family and friends.. All else is unimportant. The things of past are covered. Today and tomorrow are forming a painting that will be great. Letting the Master’s Hand guide our hand, we find freedom flowing freely onto and into our canvas. In doing His will in our life, we are set free. A freedom indescribable at times as we are lost to the distractions of the past. Caught up in the hope and love of today. The Master guides our hand, willingly or even unwillingly at times in our artistic endeavor. As we learn to relax and give Him control of our hands, He reveals the beauty that is within us. It is great. I have heard being an artist and painting described as being easy but living life as being difficult and unsure. Life can be described as a series of brush strokes, choices. Some can destroy the beauty intended for our canvas. Some strokes can create breath-taking beauty which radiates outward, inspiring the ones observing our portrait. This was inspired by a young friend of mine, she left a few brush strokes on my life. They will not be painted over. They will be treasured, remembered for a long time to come. When I look into a mirror, I want to see Jesus, the Creator of my portrait.
Continue reading...
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I am a wall, A thick, stone wall, At least a man, Surrounded by walls. I built them myself, I'm sure it would help, At least a little, Those amazing walls. From the outside it looks grey, Thick colourless stones of pain, Of no interest, of desolation, In total isolation. But inside, oh wow, I've painted it with amazing colours, And those very walls who keep people away, Comfort me in ways indescribable. The walls are lined with rich tapestry, The floors of lush carpets and pillows, The from the ceilings hang lights, To illuminate a hundred rooms. And yet, no one... No one to share the beauty, The richness of my inner walls, The walls I made.
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Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 9:09 AM UTC
Walls
What is Poetry? Is it emotions flowing onto paper? Or is it the tranquil sea that holds the world's tears? What is Poetry? Is it the outpouring of emotions onto A canvas of beauty? Despair? What is Poetry? Look around you. The lives of those surrounding yours are Poetry. Those feelings that extend and pour out to one another is Poetry. What affects you, runs through your being and Makes you who you are. Who you are is Poetry. Poetry, the undying form, style, wanders through the generations. An emotion? Love is Poetry. An indescribable emotion flowing from the depths of the soul. Such is Poetry. Reader, listener, friend. No poet can say what Poetry is. Similes, metaphors, analogies, All just chalk on the board of life. A poet can't describe Poetry. Even now I am left in the fog of understanding, contemplation, and wonder. So, friend, again I ask, What is Poetry?
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Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
The Undying Question
Swirling spiral of anti-matter Cascading down an endless ladder In non-corporeal states Spirits search for their soul mates One taste and we miss our goal And cling to a second-hand role One state that we all share Bittersweet and unaware Feed on life, consumed to death We devour the world with every breath Forged by chance, nurtured in deceit We glimpse the truth and quickly retreat Our description becomes indescribable Our delusions become undeniable You were once mine for a moment in time I embraced your accustomed wounds Used and abused, starving for love You shone like a Samhain Moon Yet love is alive, not a lie Not a manifestation of will Not a statue of god or paradise façade Nor some unholy devil’s deal I was once young with mind undone Chasing a somber moon Yet time has devoured Those dead flowers Upon that empty tomb
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Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 3:20 AM UTC
SOMBER MOON
We lay on our backs, looking up to the sky, watching the clouds drift and dance across the indescribable expanse of summer blue. Shameless, we shout the first things that come to mind, whatever we think see floating above us. Turtle. Sailboat. Dragon. Elephant. Chair. Fire truck. And we laugh, because we know they’re just amorphous masses of water vapor, floating without reason or destination. And the clouds, they lay on their stomachs. They look down with wonder, pointing and giggling. They tumble and roll across the sky, watching our lives below. Shameless, they whisper to each other the first thing that comes to mind, whatever they think they see below them. Mother. Leader. Writer. Musician. Son. Lover. And their laughter thunders across the sky, echoing raucously through the air because they know we’re just amorphous masses of water vapor, wandering across the earth without emotion or purpose. Who do we think we are?
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 3:08 AM UTC
CeeVee, Texas.
Red, orange, yellow; the fire. Scarlet, gold; the Phoenix rises from the flame. He screeches. The earth shakes. The people cower. A shadow blocks the sun. All fall to the ground before the mighty firebird. From the ashes he has risen, and to the ashes he will return, only to be reborn. Phoenix immortal; Phoenix eternal; Phoenix undying. All powerful, and indescribable. Phoenix of the ember; Phoenix the firebird.
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Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 11:52 AM UTC
The Phoenix
once in my sanctuary it came in a loud gallop followed by a wallop my sorrowful lumbar detaching the fear of a clumsy blunder shifted away from the law of physics   an emptied vessel unmoved like a sealed vacuum certain a final curtain pin drop in code of silence light time alliances whooshing me into ethereal plains a sublime hemisphere of infinitesimal space, time an indescribable beyond gentle breezes feathery light teases soon a star-gazing eyes darted through a zero gravity galaxy of an endless empyrean expanse a’turnin spherical sight orange white stripes rosely red spot churning roiling clouds speckled dusty rings what beauteous it shrouds why am I here a knowing voice appeared melodically close but I can only behold afar of an ethereally existential interstellar manifold questioning mind told of convoluted ways as seen and heard the rhymes and seasons but for one and the only reason mankind's whisper'd words entrance to the portal as did my dawned immortal   met a peaceful assembly I lay in days, this rapturous gifts what divine effulgence of a truly cosmic lift
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Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
Astral-Ordinary
there's this need -- in my heart.. wait. no. it's my soul. my soul is the one that has this need.. it's oh so strong and keeps returning. there's this deep ache and craving for the physical touch in a way i don't get everyday. my soul craves to hold someone in a way thats indescribable. my soul craves to be held by someone in a way that makes me heal from inside out. it's not even manageable anymore. it's taking over me, the feeling washes over in red and blue -- craving more and more each time.
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Sep 6, 2025
Sep 6, 2025 at 9:57 PM UTC
craving