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"intriguing" poems
She lives a quiet life, she tiptoes around, she whispers when she speaks, she hardly ever makes a sound. Although her words are quiet, her mind is very loud. She has so much to say, but no one listens for soft sounds. She's an invisible girl, who doesn't want to stand out, she just wants to be heard, without having to shout. Sometimes the loudest people, aren't saying much at all. Empty words and promises, just leave their mouths and fall. But whispered words fly high, and catch peoples attention, they're intriguing, so amazing, but only when they listen. So look outside the spotlight, because often the real star, isn't anyone on stage, but the mind behind it all.
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Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
Whispered Words
You come in late, wiping your lips. What did I leave untouched on the doorstep--- White Nike, Streaming between my walls? Smilingly, blue lightning Assumes, like a meathook, the burden of his parts. The police love you, you confess everything. Bright hair, shoe-black, old plastic, Is my life so intriguing? Is it for this you widen your eye-rings? Is it for this the air motes depart? They rae not air motes, they are corpuscles. Open your handbag. What is that bad smell? It is your knitting, busily Hooking itself to itself, It is your sticky candies. I have your head on my wall. Navel cords, blue-red and lucent, Shriek from my belly like arrows, and these I ride. O moon-glow, o sick one, The stolen horses, the fornications Circle a womb of marble. Where are you going That you **** breath like mileage? Sulfurous adulteries grieve in a dream. Cold glass, how you insert yourself Between myself and myself. I scratch like a cat. The blood that runs is dark fruit--- An effect, a cosmetic. You smile. No, it is not fatal.
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17.8k
The Other
Hello Friends & Happy Holi to all my hello poetry friends ,Writers & Family.. May this holi brings you and your family a very bright, colourful joyful holi, With love of Peace, happiness , prosperity & success in Every ones life.. Today writing this letter by expressing my Feeling for one my favourite Indian festival, I know it is strange but this is what my excitement is all about.. what you like the most express it by Writing or enjoy it!! Holi is a religious festival of the Hindus. Though, it is most popular in India, it is celebrated in every corner of the world as a Festival of colours. Today describing you the importance of the different colors(Gulal) of holi festival which significance your face life with a different colorful world!!. the face behind your colour are followed below: Auspicious Red Colour bright the love of happiness Divine Green colour binds you in the life of prosperity Forever Blue color bleed your soul in a Blissful world Pretty orange color mild your Elysian mind as a silence peace Beautiful Pink color scents intriguing personality of life Sunflame yellow color kisses your beautiful moment of time!!. Well colour is a beautiful life were you experience the beauty of joy, beauty of passion, beauty of love , beauty of everything that you will experience in this festival !!.come once and get yours new experience of life ....Thank-you..
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Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 8:34 AM UTC
Happy Holi!!..
My flaws are not pretty. My imperfections are not endearing, my vices are not quirky, and my regrets are not intriguing and elusive. They’re ugly and unsettling; better off buried in the catacomb that is my memory. better off dormant, hibernating through all four seasons. They destroy and ravage anything that they can get their hands on. They spread like wildfire through any self-respect that might be living inside me. Burning up every last trace of my dignity until all that’s left is a shower of ash and things I wish I could forget. They don’t add character or substance and leave me blinded by contempt. They whisper to me that I don’t deserve to be happy. And I listen to them. They’re angry and want revenge.
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Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”
I like to think that I'm a mixture of a sunflower, a lioness, and a tortoise. why? simply because a sunflower is exuberant, vibrant in color, flows softly and carelessly with the wind, plain and simple, Intriguing to say the lease. why a lioness? because she is Queen of the Sahara desert. she is loyal, she is independent and does not fully need to depend on a male, though when given the right one, she'll go through many lengths to accommodate him. she is also full in color,  plastered with battle scars to prove that she is of worth and can handle the meat thrown at her with nothing but scavengers surrounding her, tempting her. why a tortoise? because they are slow and steady, live on land with feet as claws, being able to dig into troubles and come out more wise than before. Also they can retrieve back into their cave for as long and as endless as they want, solitude is acceptable and perfered. one is noticeable yet, easily breakable and disposable. one is lazy, yet keen one is small, yet can take on the world for three hundred and thirty years. I'll be forever, and memorable, and radiant.
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Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 5:22 AM UTC
SLR
Prolog: Foreplay opens with an aphrodisiac dubbed the mind caressing private chambers with passion, over time words stimulating nerve-endings for the ideal tease like the skin dripping of honey from the nectar of bees exploiting the fragrances of scented oils and balms or maybe vib’ing lyrics inducing a seductive calm compelling forces bombard the intellectual’s sanity as the proximity of the blackhole distorts humanity Love’s Play: Costars entwine heated bodies for love’s embrace as moments become endless as vectors of subspace sporadic movements take the form of blissful spasms while the players combine to mold a single plasm ringing chimes fulfill the awareness with sensations too diverse to classify for logical deliberations yet finally, the mountaintop of cliffs can be reached where there is no retreat and no return from its breach Epilog: Aftermath closes basking from the physical exertion as two kindred spirits epitomize timeless insertion gazing deeply into the abyss of the partner’s soul only to find comfort and compassion ruling the role can this be the earthly heaven that one truly beholds written in the historic words as the heavens foretold feelings ignite once again burning deeply within opening yet another intriguing act, one must attend.
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Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 10:06 AM UTC
Love’s Play
Airports are intriguing lately. They're your refuge. They wake when ordinary people are in a sleepy bliss. They hold secrets. And runaways. And hidden doors to the unknown. Tender kisses. Solemn cries. Broken hearted lovers No chance to say goodbye. These airports feel things only poets seem to write down. Emotion fills the halls. As passengers avoid the fall.. This airport seems so lonely. Take me with you. Let us fly.
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Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
Airports
i miss you, still no longer in a deep, aching way, but rather in the dull hum of my car radio i hope you smiled today and while you’re getting swept up in the excitement and mystery and passion of this confusing, intriguing, heartbreaking, beautiful life, i hope you never forget what is most important i hope you remember that it’s not about finding someone to complete and write sappy poems about, it’s not about listening to soft music on repeat with your eyes closed, wishing you were somewhere else or someone else, and it’s not about doing well on exams, or traveling the world, or always being artificial sunshine instead of being real because it’s okay to have sad days, and a number in the corner of a page can’t give you lasting satisfaction, and you can’t be everyone’s prince charming, and while music stirs up something so beautiful inside of us, you can’t hide in your melancholy world of D minor, forever every night i pray that you’re not lost, that you’re somehow finding your way, and although i can’t speak these words to you directly, i hope you know i’ll always care
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Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
i wrote this for you
Why do you love the one you do? Arrogant as he lives Intriguing minds have not a clue. He cheats, he lies and receives your endless forgives Security he cannot propose Financially, spiritually, emotional or otherwise. Love unfaithfully he bestows Disguised as Christian he justifies. Smothered in the cocoon of his limited sphere, Hinders flight for the beautiful butterfly, Egotistically the coward oozes insincere. Sadly pondering, inquiring minds ask Why?
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Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
Why
As scared as I was, I remember climbing my first mountain. Then there was a second That wasn't as demanding. The third one was a task Because it was much too rocky to be easy, And the fourth one was intimidating As much as it was frightening. The fifth one was intriguing And the six was the most humbling Experience up until then. The seventh, I thought, would be my last one But alas, I'm climbing an eighth mountain. I fell in love Climbing up the first one, I took a chance Climbing up the second. I knew it wouldn't be easy But I took a chance with the third, And I wanted to go higher And higher after the fourth. I wanted something different From the fifth, And I very much enjoyed The smooth scaling of the sixth. I was too careless Thinking I had enough experience for the seventh, But I learned my lesson, And not taking it easy on this next trip
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Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
Climbing Mountains Isn't Easy
i want to get to know you. i remember thinking that when i first met you. i wanted to get to know everything about you. what you look like in the morning, what you look like at night, what your hair is like if you jokingly put it up in a towel, what your family is like, what words you use a lot. what your favorite scent of febreeze is, what color you describe the sky as, what you think of when you see something beautiful. what your favorite creamer is to put into your coffee or if you even like coffee, what you look like at 2am when you're feeling alone. how you speak when you are angry in comparison to when you are sad (so i will never get the two mixed up), what you want as a tattoo, what you believe in. i wanted to know everything that i could fall in love with. and i learned that there is no one else i would rather know, than you. because absolutely everything about you is intriguing, from what you look like in the morning to what you dare to believe in.
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Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC
know you
Poet : " Hey peeps" Singer : "sup" Artist : " Hiii" Poet : " I was wondering, its quite intriguing how we are all quite similar , yet different as well " Artist : "How so ?" Poet : " Well, we all show , some feeling or emotion or portray any message in some sort of form, one way or another " Singer : "Thats true , I use my voice so that many can hear my lyrics whether cryptic or not " Poet : True, but you also forgot... Artist : "Poet does this as well , despite the words on paper for many to read , poet doesn't quite sing in melody , but speaks so that many can hear the words to tell the message " Poet : " Exactly , thank you Artist " Artist : " No problem , as for me I neither Sing nor speak , my art paint the words I want to convey in the mind as an image " Singer : "Yes,Yes, But don't you at times say what your art means , so technically you do speak kinda" Artist : " Hahaha , ******** yes but I would only say 15-20 per cent of the time , to convey what i'm trying to define " Poet : " Fair enough but technically poets can do this as well , in fact there is a type of poetry called... Artist : " Concrete, Yes I know , such a flattering name by the way, hahaha " Singer : " Hahaha" Poet : " Anyways! , to add to poetry we need not have to create art , for our message to be visualized " Singer : " Thats all well and good , however in the rhythmic sway in the melodies of song , I quite literally move people , you could even say the way they dance to my songs to show how it makes them feel , expressing themselves, as well as painting a picture ...." Poet : "Hahaha damnnn, are you trying to show your the best ?" Singer : " Just saying facts , not my fault it might come across as me being the best " Poet : "Do try and remember us Poets do move those who read or listen to our poetry , they can relate. On the words , they think and meditate plus with those lines an image in there mind they do, re-create" Singer : " Really , you just couldn't help not rhyming ? " Poet : " Don't hate , appreciate.. " Singer : " Oh gosh... " Artist : " Hahaha" Artist : " Don't forget us Artists , our art , can move people , maybe not as physically as you Singer, but we can cause a sway of thoughts for a painting can have a multitude of meanings" Artist : " Sometimes it is better not to tell them my definition of the painting, but to see what it means to them and how it makes them feel " Singer : " Sigh fair enough you got me there... " Poet : " Its like I said , we are similar in the fact , that we portray something in our own unique act , to wonder and see how the viewer will react , to see the thoughts and feelings in our different dealings... To..." Singer : " Oh my gosh we get it... No need to rhyme us to oblivion" Artist : " We all basically show some sort of message just in a different way " Singer : " See , why couldn't you just say that poet ? " Poet : " Oh shut up." Artist ; " Hahaha"
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Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
A chat between ; Artist , Poet and Singer
Poet : " Hey peeps" Singer : "sup" Artist : " Hiii" Poet : " I was wondering, its quite intriguing how we are all quite similar , yet different as well " Artist : "How so ?" Poet : " Well, we all show , some feeling or emotion or portray any message in some sort of form, one way or another " Singer : "Thats true , I use my voice so that many can hear my lyrics whether cryptic or not " Poet : True, but you also forgot... Artist : "Poet does this as well , despite the words on paper for many to read , poet doesn't quite sing in melody , but speaks so that many can hear the words to tell the message " Poet : " Exactly , thank you Artist " Artist : " No problem , as for me I neither Sing nor speak , my art paint the words I want to convey in the mind as an image " Singer : "Yes,Yes, But don't you at times say what your art means , so technically you do speak kinda" Artist : " Hahaha , ******** yes but I would only say 15-20 per cent of the time , to convey what i'm trying to define " Poet : " Fair enough but technically poets can do this as well , in fact there is a type of poetry called... Artist : " Concrete, Yes I know , such a flattering name by the way, hahaha " Singer : " Hahaha" Poet : " Anyways! , to add to poetry we need not have to create art , for our message to be visualized " Singer : " Thats all well and good , however in the rhythmic sway in the melodies of song , I quite literally move people , you could even say the way they dance to my songs to show how it makes them feel , expressing themselves, as well as painting a picture ...." Poet : "Hahaha damnnn, are you trying to show your the best ?" Singer : " Just saying facts , not my fault it might come across as me being the best " Poet : "Do try and remember us Poets do move those who read or listen to our poetry , they can relate. On the words , they think and meditate plus with those lines an image in there mind they do, re-create" Singer : " Really , you just couldn't help not rhyming ? " Poet : " Don't hate , appreciate.. " Singer : " Oh gosh... " Artist : " Hahaha" Artist : " Don't forget us Artists , our art , can move people , maybe not as physically as you Singer, but we can cause a sway of thoughts for a painting can have a multitude of meanings" Artist : " Sometimes it is better not to tell them my definition of the painting, but to see what it means to them and how it makes them feel " Singer : " Sigh fair enough you got me there... " Poet : " Its like I said , we are similar in the fact , that we portray something in our own unique act , to wonder and see how the viewer will react , to see the thoughts and feelings in our different dealings... To..." Singer : " Oh my gosh we get it... No need to rhyme us to oblivion" Artist : " We all basically show some sort of message just in a different way " Singer : " See , why couldn't you just say that poet ? " Poet : " Oh shut up." Artist ; " Hahaha"
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34
The pencil scraping along the paper, forming a masterpiece taken straight from the mind and the nerves along my spine was a lullaby. And so I drew a gorgeous, full moon and shaded its craters, I drew furious ocean waves because my Science teacher told me there was a relationship between the moon and the ocean. It was so intriguing to know the closer the moon, the more revolting and furious the waves. But my Art teacher also told me that art is a form expression. I was expressing my feelings, explaining our situation, and my brain and hand agreed to compare us to the moon and the ocean because that's what we were. You were always so beautiful yet distant; watched and loved by everyone, but explored by few. I was always so revolting and mysterious, no one willing or able to reach the depths and hollows of me; better maps of the surface of Mars than my vast ocean floor. We were so distant and different yet I needed you to be. You were always waking up every emotion I thought I had been drained of; turned my lowest tides to crashing, fierce waves; always dependent of your full or new state. You are my moon and I am your ocean; so different yet it feels so right. The ocean wasn't so realistic until I felt salty tears of it run down my cheeks, there was no more silence. I was at low tide, and I needed my moon.
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
I Need You
Written December 1, 2015 "I feel like I'm having the same conversation with guys Hi's turn into Bye's lies in turn make me cry How am I supposed to summarize all of this into one line? I'm trying. 'Babe' and "Baby, you're the one' But have you heard, that one means none when you're blind sided and reminded that there is other's who you'd rather be with? And you realize, your words are myths, spitting out the syllables you just want me to hear Pet names are  nothing but music to our ears The day-to-day conversations from dawn to dusk are intriguing But when you really look deeply, they're just words with no meaning A lonely tactic, a feen for something more Until the conversation closes, for I was a bore From here it's the same love story, the way it always tends to end I'll get the last word, press send, and then pretend as if your lack of response doesn't hurt me, although it's killing me inside Then I wish upon 11:11 for you to at least come to a compromise You'll come around the bend again, and I'll try and act strong But strong just isn't strong enough, I've missed you way too long The story then repeats itself, a fairy tale no one enjoys Welcome to your 'happily ever after' when talking to a **** boy."
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Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
******* Fairy Tale
I may hate you more tomorrow , but i'll never love you less for you're the one person i can always count on , you're simply the best and everyone who knows us predicted we won't last a sec it's like we're the opposite end of a spectrum, yet a single entity violating the norms of this hypocritical society simple,yet so **intriguing ** And girl , we go on so well together like bread and butter like milkshake and cookies YOU'RE THE MELODY..TO MY LYRICS and God only knows, the inspiration behind how many songs! the ones i've lost and also the ones i carry in my heart And without Nancy(my bestie) , where would Aditi(me) be? without you ...well that just can't be you're always sure of somethings, like the sun will always rise, that's the way you make me feel you're probably the only thing ..that drags me to the boring premises of dav{my school} (also the fact that 75%attendance is required but you get the idea) and looking at you , and looking at me .. and looking at the **** and crazy stuffs we do and we did i wonder how effortless it is how the kind of girl i'm ..everything looks scary to me but you just make it better somehow ,without even doing a thing and sometimes, i get this blurry pic of you and I we're close to being 75 silver hair , wrinkled cheeks sitting on a park bench,eating(that's her aka my bestie's favorite thing..eating) talking about the same old senseless thing and looking at each other with contempt and say "hey ,we made it to the end♥ "
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Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
*me and my bestie *
My smooth vermin, you inspire me to write. How I hate the way you infest, Invading my mind day and through the night, Always dreaming about the wicked rest. Let me compare you to a contender? You are more ugly and more disgusting. Hot frost nips the robins of December, And wintertime has the shocking busting. How do I hate you? Let me count the ways. I hate your intriguing infestations. Thinking of your many legs fills my days. My hate for you is the implications. Now I must away with a loathsome heart, Remember my fast words whilst we're apart.
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Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 1:12 AM UTC
Ode to the Vermin
Such potential space navigating technologically intriguing dreamers thinkers lovers Killers destroyers fighters haters If you see potential then nurture it If you're in space the see it If you create technology then create for good If you are a dreamer then dream big If you're a thinker then think of new If you're a lover then love all If you must **** then **** stereotypes If you must destroy the discrimination If you must fight then fight to be free If you must hate then hate war
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Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
Human
this one girl I used to be friends with, she was so beautiful and never ever did she see it in herself. I used to look at her though, and I used to wish I looked just like her or had a personality as kind and sweet and determined as her. I used to want to be as free of a soul as her and sometimes, even as guarded. It made me sad a lot of the time because she was so depressed and mysterious to me; her life kinda ****** back when I had first met her. I remember we dropped acid together twice and I told her that if ever there was someone I didn’t want to lose, it was her. And then the following year we had a fall out and we don’t talk anymore. I guess people change and that should be okay but sometimes I still wonder about her and what she is doing now and how she spends her friday nights. then there was this other friend, who I may have even considered myself closer with but in a different way. We used to sneak out of my house during sleepovers when we were younger and sit on the curb and share a cigarette. we’d talk about all the people we miss and how afraid we were of the future. I always felt like I hardly knew her even though she shared most of herself with me. the first time I saw her cry was terrifying to me, but I didn’t tell her that. I remember how pretty I thought she was. physically though. and physically alone. She had a lot birthmarks that made her intriguing and skinny legs with pretty knees. however, she was mean and usually very bitter. one time she told me “I hate people until they give me a reason to like them” and hearing that disappointed me. I tried the most to be her friend again after she walked away but it was no use. another friend I had I was friends with since I was six. I knew her from pre school and we were inseparable. I could write paragraphs and paragraphs about how amazing that girl is. I could do the same about how bad I felt for her. she was a friend who I never thought I would lose and I remember we had the type of friendship where our parents used to sign us up to do the same sports (horseback riding, gymnastics). after we stopped being friends I heard she fell off the deep end and was doing a lot of drugs. I got back in touch with her recently however she never seemed interested in hanging out and some of my texts went unanswered so I gave up. when I think about her, I still see my 12 year old self, playing mermaids in her pool as if time had stood still. if any of the people I’m writing about read this post, I hope it’s her most of all. miss you.
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Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 7:54 AM UTC
little paragraphs about some people I don't talk to anymore but wouldn't really be bothered if they read this
this one girl I used to be friends with, she was so beautiful and never ever did she see it in herself. I used to look at her though, and I used to wish I looked just like her or had a personality as kind and sweet and determined as her. I used to want to be as free of a soul as her and sometimes, even as guarded. It made me sad a lot of the time because she was so depressed and mysterious to me; her life kinda ****** back when I had first met her. I remember we dropped acid together twice and I told her that if ever there was someone I didn’t want to lose, it was her. And then the following year we had a fall out and we don’t talk anymore. I guess people change and that should be okay but sometimes I still wonder about her and what she is doing now and how she spends her friday nights. then there was this other friend, who I may have even considered myself closer with but in a different way. We used to sneak out of my house during sleepovers when we were younger and sit on the curb and share a cigarette. we’d talk about all the people we miss and how afraid we were of the future. I always felt like I hardly knew her even though she shared most of herself with me. the first time I saw her cry was terrifying to me, but I didn’t tell her that. I remember how pretty I thought she was. physically though. and physically alone. She had a lot birthmarks that made her intriguing and skinny legs with pretty knees. however, she was mean and usually very bitter. one time she told me “I hate people until they give me a reason to like them” and hearing that disappointed me. I tried the most to be her friend again after she walked away but it was no use. another friend I had I was friends with since I was six. I knew her from pre school and we were inseparable. I could write paragraphs and paragraphs about how amazing that girl is. I could do the same about how bad I felt for her. she was a friend who I never thought I would lose and I remember we had the type of friendship where our parents used to sign us up to do the same sports (horseback riding, gymnastics). after we stopped being friends I heard she fell off the deep end and was doing a lot of drugs. I got back in touch with her recently however she never seemed interested in hanging out and some of my texts went unanswered so I gave up. when I think about her, I still see my 12 year old self, playing mermaids in her pool as if time had stood still. if any of the people I’m writing about read this post, I hope it’s her most of all. miss you.
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3
Her hair was painfully black and strong enough to end wars with Her eyes reminded men of the sea Just as intimidating as intriguing And she would sing her serenades to the moon And they would break their necks just to stare at her This goddess trapped on earth Poor Medusa All she wanted was to be loved
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Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
Medusa
Artificial      abracadabra Gibberish        grammar Intriguing       illusions Confused        crowds
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Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
Magic men
Did you know that since I met you I haven’t finished a single cup of coffee, or had a dream that I could remember or gone to bed the same day that I got up? I’m not complaining mind you. I just find it intriguing the little things you have changed in my life without even realising it, without any effort. My life used to be mostly empty, as in devoid of things, vacuous perhaps, if that means like a vacuum. I mean there was lots of space in it that wasn’t filled with anything in particular. But you have managed to fill all of that nothingness up. The times when I used to sit here and daydream about nothing, suddenly there you are. When I close my eyes before going to sleep and used to spend on average seven minutes thinking of nothing (and that a scientific fact not one I made up) I now spend (on average) seven minutes thinking about you. In that fraction of a second when breathing in turns to breathing out, there you are. In that fraction of a second when I blink, its you I see. Because its you I yearn for. Because its you I want to have and hold and kiss and caress and so much more that I dare not write, even in a poem. But how? How did you do this? How did you invade my very psyche, my soul, my spirit so completely so effortlessly and with such subtlety that I never even noticed. Until I noticed. And its not like I noticed you were here and watched as you spread to there but you were suddenly everywhere. Places no one else had ever been before. Ever. Places that people I had known for much longer and much more intimately had never been able to reach. And yet there you are. Sitting on a swing. Waiting. I just wish I knew what for.
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Sep 17, 2010
Sep 17, 2010 at 7:47 PM UTC
Unfinished drinks and missing dreams
Did you know that since I met you I haven’t finished a single cup of coffee, or had a dream that I could remember or gone to bed the same day that I got up? I’m not complaining mind you. I just find it intriguing the little things you have changed in my life without even realising it, without any effort. My life used to be mostly empty, as in devoid of things, vacuous perhaps, if that means like a vacuum. I mean there was lots of space in it that wasn’t filled with anything in particular. But you have managed to fill all of that nothingness up. The times when I used to sit here and daydream about nothing, suddenly there you are. When I close my eyes before going to sleep and used to spend on average seven minutes thinking of nothing (and that a scientific fact not one I made up) I now spend (on average) seven minutes thinking about you. In that fraction of a second when breathing in turns to breathing out, there you are. In that fraction of a second when I blink, its you I see. Because its you I yearn for. Because its you I want to have and hold and kiss and caress and so much more that I dare not write, even in a poem. But how? How did you do this? How did you invade my very psyche, my soul, my spirit so completely so effortlessly and with such subtlety that I never even noticed. Until I noticed. And its not like I noticed you were here and watched as you spread to there but you were suddenly everywhere. Places no one else had ever been before. Ever. Places that people I had known for much longer and much more intimately had never been able to reach. And yet there you are. Sitting on a swing. Waiting. I just wish I knew what for.
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23
I don’t understand how you could me mine. (What does the proud oak want with the pine?) I can’t imagine how my long, skeletal hands are the ones yours long to hold. I am tough and coarse, like a pine, Ever-green, constant, covered in spines and needles, unpleasant and sharp to the touch. While you, my love, are an oak. You are strong and beautiful. Your leaves change colors, fiery or verdant, you are loud when all others shrink from speech. You, love, are dynamic, intriguing, a tree that inspires poetry. Your roots hold you fast, they run deep and true, while mine fan out, shallow. I fear with no roots to hold me, the wind could take me away. (The wind will tear me apart.) You are the one tree that grows tall and straight in a place where the wind, fed by anger and hate forces others to bend, to grow crooked, they’re lost and confused, with nothing to reach for. My branches are short – I offer no comfort (from lack of ability or knowledge, I’m not sure). Your branches stretch wide, embracing with smooth bark, But an oak cannot love a pine.
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Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
The Trees Grow Diagonally in Texas.
The crowd sits patiently Waiting For magic At the hands of this Magician He smiles at them Connecting With every soul The first trick of any Magician They prepare themselves Trusting To not be cheated By this intriguing Magician He entertains them into Loving His every act Reassuring the conniving Magician The crowd goes wild Loving The magic on stage Erupting from this Magician He smiles once again Secretly Knowing the deciet Of a trap set by a Magician The audience has been made Foolish For believing In this insincere Magician
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Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 6:22 AM UTC
Magician
Eyes on Ancient times in going back and intriguing the mind Hercules pillar being his strength Challenging all odds A man being his own mode Hercules strength in conquering evil Deceit of destruction confined to the Devil The Greek Gods that sit above They have spiritual divined powers thereof The Gladiators have come to attack But the Greek Gods have Hercules back The pillars of evil Kingdoms have steadily come down The rattle of the chains and the demons that remain Hercules the conquer with the strength of solid bound A man of force with the lean sound Hercules stands on a throne with lightening bolts on both sides The sun casts a shadow with the man of victory It’s Hercules labours of sustaining history The mystery of challenges of an unknown tomorrow The enemy being defeated in sorrow Hercules legacy with having moral of morrow and eyes keen like a sparrow.
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Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
HERCULES IN VERSE
i'd seen it burning, it was me the one who'd set it up. i'd never tell, never be seen, but always be around. there was some beauty to it that i couldn't really share. The flame and i were different, but both always gasped for air. i've seen it taking, felt the fear it's gotten me before. yet somehow it would lure me in and ask to feed it more. it's made itself known on my skin, gently dabbing my hands. i always knew that we were kin, i knew it understands. a rapsody of life and death, a fable so intriguing, you couldn't picture warmth so fatal, or love so unforgiving. it didn't leave no silver scars, no petty, goudy patches, i'm just a never dying spark trapped in a box of matches.
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Feb 22, 2025
Feb 22, 2025 at 4:27 AM UTC
No silver scars